Restaurant Review: The Self-Conscious Luxury of Frenchette | The New Yorker

"In Tribeca, if you can’t get a reservation at Frenchette — and you probably can’t — you can try your luck as a walk-in, though that often means waiting in a line that snakes down the block (I witnessed German tourists unsure why they’d queued and two young women hustling toddlers to the front to check on high chairs, with tots soon bouncing on a leather banquette). Opened in April, the restaurant feels exceptionally glamorous, perfect for mid-century “Mad Men” Martini cosplay and people-watching (I even saw an elderly woman in a pink pillbox hat), and its chefs Riad Nasr and Lee Hanson bring pedigrees from Balthazar, Pastis, and Minetta Tavern. Frenchette has enthusiastically embraced natural wines, particularly fizzy pét-nats, and early press and social media turned certain dishes into instant status symbols: the brouillade with escargot is a vigorously scrambled-egg dish topped with buttered snails (the eggs’ texture has been likened to polenta, which left me wondering why), while the duck frites is gloriously meaty with crispy, fatty skin and star anise — though the oddly designed knife served with the duck is a safety hazard, with the straight side of the blade being the sharp one. Other highlights include a rotisserie lobster bathed in a luscious curry beurre fondue that you can eat with a fork, and a ropy but tender bavette (the French term for flap steak) finished with anchovy butter and herbs; entrées range from $21 to $103, and I might try to snag a bar stool around eight one night if I thought I stood a chance." - Hannah Goldfield