French Pizza?
Tin Fork
By Ed Bedford
Published May 24, 2007
A funny thing happened on the way to the opera.
Hank and I had headed downtown for some lunch. But he couldn't find a parking
spot. Dropped me off by the Sandford Hotel at Fifth and A. That's when
I spot this place. New! French! Ópera, Patisseries Fines. Can't
be too much beyond my budget, up here. I step right across Fifth into a,
wow, pistachio-green room. Pistachio-green walls and ceiling, and a black
marble floor. That new-with-old thing is everywhere. Track lighting surrounds
a great antique chandelier, and cute modernish metal tables and chairs
border red velvet furniture that looks as if, maybe, Louis XV could have
sat here. Louis Cans, as we said in French class.
Classy is what it is, with all sorts and shapes of breads on display, bottles
of olive oil, food art on the walls, and, in the one big glass-and-steel
display cabinet that runs half the length of the room, the most exquisite
pastries and chocolate and Lord knows what other kinds of cookies you've
ever seen, in this life, anyway. They're talking directly to me. Help us!
Get us out of here!
I force myself to look at the markerboard menus above. French pizzas --
small square ones -- ciabatta, that rough-bread sandwich deal, quiches,
and oh yes: croques, melted-cheese sandwiches with ham and eggs.
But I've decided I've got to start with the breakfast thing. Because --
oh yeah -- there in the display case, they have their home-baked croissant
stuffed with chocolate. I ask this real-life Parisian gal Gabrielle for
that ($2.25) and a medium coffee ($1.75, no refills). Keep me going while
I watch out for Hank. Man. You can tell they make their own croissants.
Soft, buttery. The chocolate is strong. No better way to start the day.
So I'm sitting here, watching crazy-coiffed babes stream up from the Paul
Mitchell hair school when hey! Talk of beauties and the beast: Here's Hank.
"
Walked miles. I'm pooped," he croaks.
"
Don't have a cow, have a croque, dude," I say. "That'll crank
you up."
I want both: to check out these French pizzas, but also the croque monsieurs
and croque madames, which I love. And to my surprise, Hank doesn't fight
me on this. "Fine," he says. "Gimme a croque, m'sieur." He
looks up at the board. "I'll take the ham." Except it's not just
ham. He's pointing to the Black Forest ham and Gruyère and smoked
Gouda cheese and peppered turkey croque ($5.50). Charlotte, a second cute
Parisienne, who's behind the counter, sets that croque a-cookin', while
Romi, the third gal, puts my square fromage blanc, onion, and bacon pizza
into the Blodgett oven. It's on special today at $6.
It comes out sizzling and dripping with cheeses. Romi rushes it over to
the counter. She adds an arugula-type salad, then a dressing, and brings
it all out.
I want to not like it. I mean, French pizza? On the other hand, the simple
combo of that rich white cheese and the onion and bacon is pretty delicious.
Goes with the coffee too.
Thierry, the owner and chef, comes around, seeing how everybody's doing.
Turns out he was executive chef at the Ritz-Carlton in San Francisco, L'Orangerie
in L.A., and Paradise Point here in San Diego. It was after 9/11, when
the business and tourist travel dropped to almost zero, that he had to
let go his pastry staff and outsource for desserts.
Then he let himself go.
"
I found there was a real gap in the market. What was out there wasn't that
good." So Thierry, who had also specialized as a pastry chef, started
up a wholesale business, based in Kearny Mesa, that now makes pastries
for high-end places as far away as Mandalay Bay and the Venetian in Vegas.
Wow. Ópera is almost an afterthought.
Andrea, the office-worker gal at the next table, says her six-buck prosciutto
ciabatta is pretty good stuff. "But I knew it would be good when I
first saw this place," she says. "It looked European. I am European,
from Romania."
"
Here, man, take this." Hank hands me half of his croque. The Gouda
covering it is still hot. "Not Gouda-nuff for you?" I ask.
"
No, man. Nothin' wrong with it. And cheese ain't the problem. I'm just
watching my carbs is all."
Me, on the other hand, I lose control, big time. In addition to my own
food, I eat Hank's extra stuff, and then, well, they have all those beautifully
sculpted pastries, tea cakes, cheesecakes, chocolate truffles...Gimme some
credit: I resist all except, uh, five of the French macaroons. Not the
big heavy tooth-cracking coconut macaroons I remember from my childhood.
These are delicate, golf-ball-size, almond-based cookies sandwiched around
cappuccino, chocolate ganache, pecan-caramel, cinnamon, and raspberry marmalade
fillings. Thierry says these exact cookies have been around since 1533,
when Italian Catherine de Medici married King Francis II and brought her
recipe and chefs with her to France.
They're 65 cents each, so we're talking $3.25.
I bite into the cappuccino flavor. Oh yes. The lightest crunch-through,
the slurp of coffee, the moment of mental miasma -- then the guilt.
"
Well, the way I look at it," says Thierry, "is it's bad ingredients
that damage you. I see myself as a missionary of life. We need to enjoy
the moment! Escoffier said, 'Good eating is the real foundation of true
happiness.' Uh, try the pecan-caramel. With coffee, perfection."
Sigh. I take a deep breath. Hank shakes his head. I bite in.
I tell you, it's a conspiracy. The French are taking over the world, one
sweet tooth at a time. On the other hand, what a way to go.
The Place: Ópera
Patisseries Fines, 1354 Fifth Avenue, downtown, 619-234-0425
Type of Food: French
Prices: Chocolate breakfast croissant, $2.25; quiche lorraine, with smoked
bacon, $5.50; Black Forest ham, Gruyère, smoked Gouda, peppered-turkey
croque, $5.50; fromage blanc, onion, and bacon pizza, with arugula salad,
$6; French macaroons, 65 cents each
Hours: 8:00 a.m.-4:00 p.m. Monday-Friday; 9:00 a.m.-3:00 p.m. Saturday.
Closed on Sundays
Bus: 3
Nearest Bus Stop: Fifth and Ash (northbound); Fourth and Ash (southbound)
Trolley: Blue and orange lines
Nearest Trolley Stop: Fifth and C Read other reviews
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