Nonna Cherubina

A charming Italian

by Johnette Rodriguez

960 Hope St., Providence, (401) 421-4422
Open Tues-Fri, 11:30 a.m.-2 p.m.;
Tues-Thurs, 5:30-9 p.m.; Fri-Sat, 5:30-10 p.m.
Major credit cards
No smoking
Sidewalk access

Gallic traditions being what they are, you're liable to get a little hauteur along with the haute cuisine at some French restaurants. Too many waiters fantasize themselves the bastard sons of Charles de Gaulle, rather than Jacques Pepin. Not at Chez Pascal, though. The place combines the precision of a culinary chemistry lab with the comfortable atmosphere of a Montmartre bistro.

A neon Eiffel Tower in the front window signals a sense of humor, and white neon steam curls from one of the teapots shelved on the far wall, for some visual stereo. In the middle is a pleasant space, with cream stucco above mahogany paneling. There's a street map of Paris, and posters advertise cognac and bières, reminding you of the small bar at the entrance. An extensive wine list offers many selections by the glass. Edith Piaf and others serenade us from speakers, not too loudly.

As with any potential love affair, little things mean a lot at a restaurant. The breadbasket itself was the occasion for a couple of pleasing moments, besides the fact that the warm French bread was the light crusted, melt-in-your-mouth version that I like so much. First, when we asked whether it was kitchen-made, we learned it was baked there from commercial dough, because they found that the crispness of local bakery loaves varied along with the humidity. Secondly, our waiter was supportive when I spurned the butter -- this from a customer who was about to order the fat-packed duck -- and requested olive oil. (Our waiter, Evan, entertained us on a prior visit by refolding our napkins into a different design each time we left our seats. He's also more knowledgeable about the wine and menu than most of the waitstaff we encounter.)

The appetizers include two pates, one of which is the recipe of chef Pascal Leffray's mother. Escargots in puff pastry are on the regular menu, and sautéed frog legs were a special on the evening of our visit. Inspired by the traditional offerings, I chose the soupe de poisson ($5.95). In a tomato base, the bisque was beefed up, so to speak, with shellfish as well as garlic and saffron. Intensely flavorful, but not overwhelming. Johnnie had the watercress and endive salad ($6.25), a tasty assemblage accented with walnuts, apple and Roquefort in a balsamic vinaigrette.

On Sunday, and from Tuesday through Thursday, Pascal's offers its popular $25 soup-to-dessert prix fixe, with glass of wine and choice of four entrées. Selections include the top-shelf duck confit, and hanger steak, although in smaller portions than the à la carte versions. I hadn't had the duck ($18.50) there before, and it proved to be a definitive preparation. As a confit it was slow-cooked in its own fat; then the two legs and thighs appeared to be baked quickly. The high temperature made portions of the fatty skin puff up as they got crisp, ready to explode into flavor in my mouth. Delicious, although other portions of the skin and flesh had unfortunately dried out, probably before baking.

My dining partner had another traditional dish, coquilles St. Jacques ($21.50). Instead of the heavy cream and wine sauce you might expect, it was prepared Provençal-style, in a Mediterranean mixture of tomatoes, black olives and garlic. The five fat scallops could not have looked more at home on a sea bed, although another predator might disagree.

Since I had been so virtuous in foregoing a pat of butter at the beginning of the meal, I figured I could indulge in the most decadent of the desserts, the chocolate fondant ($6.50). Baked to order, the crusty rectangle, molten inside, was as scrumptious as it sounds, presented attractively with strawberry sauce inside a drizzled pattern. Johnnie is such a model of restraint and delicate sensibility that she had the apple tart ($6). Rows of still-firm apple slices spilled out of a pastry triangle, into a buttery caramel sauce. Ah, the French can make even a light sorbet decadent, as the blood orange version, a special that night, suggested.

Chartres-born, and trained in kitchens from Paris to New York to Club Med, Pascal Leffray first opened Chez Pascal in Narragansett with his wife, Lynn, back in 1993. The restaurant quickly gathered an appreciative South County following. They moved to their present Hope Street location five years later, and once again began to make a name for themselves. Clearly, and understandably, word has gotten out farther than they originally anticipated.

Evan couldn't fold Johnnie's napkin into my requested Eiffel Tower when she stepped away, but his fleur-de-lis was worthy of the Louvre. Can he do a de Gaulle profile? I think I'll go back soon to find out.