La Petite Auberge

A winning way with French classics

by Johnette Rodriguez

19 Charles St., Newport, (401) 849-6669
Open Sun-Thurs, 6-9 p.m., Fri-Sat, 6-10 p.m.
Major credit cards
No handicapped access

With French cuisine coming back into vogue, and with an abiding curiosity about this Newport landmark -- local denizens feted director Steven Spielberg here when he was in town filming Amistad -- Bill and I approached our dinner at La Petite Auberge with reverent expectation. In the process, I learned an important lesson about making assumptions without verifying one's guess.

In 1976, French immigrants Roger and Martine Putier opened this restaurant in an 18th-century house that had been the homestead of a French immigrant family, the Decaturs, two of whom distinguished themselves in the US Navy during the American Revolution and the War of 1812. Chef Roger comes from Lyon, a center of French gastronomy, and he worked for three years as maitre d' for President de Gaulle.

Stepping into this low-ceilinged house, you feel its history and its Gallic spirit. Lace tablecloths cover royal blue ones, and that color is picked up in the napkins, vases, and woodwork of the two downstairs dining rooms. Around the corner and down a narrow hallway is a full bar with similarly attired dining tables. For once, the prevalent smoking-only-in-the-bar policy makessense.

Our table was also graced with a candle under a large glass globe and a small bouquet of red and white carnations, completing the tri-color theme. Windows with floor-length floral drapes, several gilt-edged mirrors, a fireplace, and several 19th-century prints enhanced the intimate atmosphere.

We came to La Petite Auberge determined to try some of their classics, and Bill stuck to that principle through all three courses. To begin, he ordered the escargots "Petite Auberge" ($8.75), sauteed in butter with cépes. The snails were as tender as the mushrooms, and the cognac in the sauce rounded out both earthy tastes.

Eyeing the chicken with morels (poularde "Petite Auberge") and the frog legs Provencale, Bill chose a long-time favorite -- duck, which, in its raspberry sauce ($26), must be a long-time favorite with Auberge diners as well, judging from its inclusion in the 1983 edition of A Taste of Newport. There, it is called "duck with raspberries a la façon du chef," and the description details the orange juice and raspberry vinegar reduction sauce that is served on the pre-roasted, de-boned duck. Served with fresh raspberries garnishing the duck sections, Bill commented that he "hadn't hadbetter."

Meanwhile, I went against our pact by ordering two of that evening's specials: the soup du jour ($6.50), a velvety spring vegetable soup that intoned carrots and asparagus in each bite; and a lobster special that was a pound-and-three-quarters lobster, broiled, split in half, and filled with a duxelles of portobellos, spinach, shallots, and port wine over sea scallops. It was every bit as luxuriously delicious as it sounds. But therein lies the rub.

In considering the lobster, I looked at the brochure menu put out by La Petite Auberge, in which lobster tails with truffles were $26. Not figuring in the whole lobster, its size, the current high price of lobster, and the complex stuffing, avec scallops, I estimated the price of my entree at $30 to $35. The menus had no prices; a waiter listing specials often doesn't give prices unless queried. I thought about asking him, but didn't.

When the bill showed my dish to be $44,I was startled, not just by the expense but by my obtuseness (and shyness) at not having ascertained the price ahead of time. Certainly the tails would have been plenty to eat, accompanied as both our meals were by nicely scalloped potatoes and sauteed spinach. As it was, I consumed half of my lobster special and made the other half into a second dinner for both of us. Lesson learned.

Bill had his heart set on Auberge's cherries jubilee ($8.50), one of a trio of flambéed desserts on the menu (also baked bananas and crepes Suzette, the latter at $20 for two and never on Saturdays). The dark Bing cherries were blazed with cognac and kirsch, and served over vanilla ice cream -- the very essence of elegance and comfort food all in one dish.

In my indecisive mood, I dallied over a dessert decision. The strawberry puff pastry and the floating island meringues were alluring (created by pastry chef Lindsay Kusic). The Auberge parfaits tempted me. But it's no surprise what won out: a dark chocolate mousse with meringue called megeve. With crisp pre-baked meringue on the bottom and in the middle of the mousse, the crunchy and creamy textures were a delight in contrasts.

So, for a special splurge, or a dessert and coffee in the outdoor bistro alongside this tiny inn, budget in a trip to La Petite Auberge. The pricey menu is worth every dollar, but don't stay blissfully in the dark, as I did. Just ask.