As the worst of the cold snapped, I was in search of a French place to dine with a favorite cousin. I came upon Batifol, a French brasserie/bistro-ish place on Third Street tucked into Kendall Square, Cambridge. I’d not heard anything about it, but was eager to try. We arrived early on a Friday evening and were seated in a quiet area at our request. Thereupon ensued the calmest and most flavorful meal.
We began by sharing the $1 oysters, available between 4 and 6 pm (thus the early-ish reservation). They were ultra-chilly, full of briny liquor, and came with a tart mignonette. The brown and white striped oysters were immaculate, elegant, and deep-cupped. Some of the best we’ve had in a long time. Our attentive server told us they were Aquidneck Cup Oysters from Portsmouth, Rhode Island.
For dinner, my cousin chose Poulet Forrestiere─a tender and juicy bacon-wrapped gift of chicken breast sitting on a chestnut/parsnip puree, with sweet whole carrots, fingerling potatoes, two types of mushrooms, and a cream sauce. I was surprised she didn’t lick her plate, but she is better mannered than that!
I opted to begin with traditional Escargots de Bourgogne, which were tender and bathed in a garlicky parsley butter. Sans shells. Those were followed by a Gruyere-topped Soupe à L’oignon Gratinée plus a side of the same parsnip puree. All of it was wildly indulgent and enough to take a bit home for lunch the next day.
Wine service couldn’t have been nicer. Cousin opted for a flinty Ste.-Emillion and I a crisp Malbec. Good to the last drop.
The long room is beautifully decorated and service was exceptional. In addition to our congenial primary server, other young men and women attended to our needs seamlessly. Behind us, a table for six was giddily sharing Batifol’s Fondue Special. As the place filled, we expected to find a similarly growing decibel level, but while the place buzzed, it was never too noisy for comfortable conversation.
I’d characterize our meal as a ‘special event’ type of splurge – probably not for a Tuesday night. But that said, we would most def come back again and again.
PS: ‘batifoler’ = to lark or frolic about.
