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2013-11-27
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Sometimes, I daydream about walking down the street in France and just walking into an unassuming little French bistro, taking in the air of freshly baked bread, and sitting down to have myself a simple French meal cooked to perfection and enjoying the warm hospitality of the locals; and I’d like to think I’m not the only one who dreams such romantic dreams.One fine evening, I found myself doing just that; except instead of France, it was Bangsar. The unassuming little French bistro goes by the
Sometimes, I daydream about walking down the street in France and just walking into an unassuming little French bistro, taking in the air of freshly baked bread, and sitting down to have myself a simple French meal cooked to perfection and enjoying the warm hospitality of the locals; and I’d like to think I’m not the only one who dreams such romantic dreams.
One fine evening, I found myself doing just that; except instead of France, it was Bangsar. The unassuming little French bistro goes by the name of Yeast; Frenchmen and scents of freshly-baked bread included.
I couldn’t resist ordering the soup of the day that evening; and I’m still not sure if it was because it was sweet pea veloute with smoked duck, or if it was because I could practice saying “soup du jour” to a stereotypically droopy-eyed French server. It proved to be a great decision. The veloute was silky smooth without being creamy, rich in natural sweetness and a subtle tickle of saltiness from the duck, which lay quietly at the bottom of the bowl. Well-executed, and plenty to share between the two of us, we thought it great value for money at 12 bucks.
At first sight, the bouef bourguignon didn’t seemed very overpriced; and since we were sharing this between the two of us, it did not seem like it would satisfy. Our initial impression faded with every bite of this immaculately-executed dish. I don’t think there is any way this could have been done better! The silken mash of root vegetables was so light yet rich and filling, with a light cheesy taste to it. I could hardly believe the best mash I ever had isn’t even made with potatoes, but healthy root vegetables! Braised in red wine, the beef submissively gave way to gentle pokes of our forks, so tender and soft that I could hardly withold my audible disbelief. Two juicy, caramelized shallots accompanied the beef, brilliantly sweet; disappointing only in the fact that there were only two of them, though I would think such scarcity was purposeful in achieving a balance that only the French could. Texturally contrasting fried onions lent a mild sweetness and saltiness to the dish, without being greasy or intrusive. The rich flavours and perfect execution left us feeling very satisfied despite sharing the small portion between two; and we even felt the price tag was commensurate with its quality.They say French food is very expensive. They say good meals are always too heavy. They say good food is rich in fat and carbs. I say leave it to the French to prove us wrong.
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