Review - Busch's Grove

An old St. Louis standard is reborn with a new look and a simple yet sophisticated menu

By Dave Lowry

Busch’s Grove. For years the name epitomized genteel, gracious dining in St. Louis. After a heyday in the ’60s, the Ladue landmark languished in mediocrity for a while, finally closing, the site to be reincarnated, one gloomily supposed, as an aesthetically sensitive and charming orthodontist’s office. Instead, what emerged last year is a considerable triumph. In one of the most dramatic renovations ever of a St. Louis restaurant, Busch’s Grove is back, and it’s best not to even think what this return cost. The interior is sumptuous. Rustic beams, exposed wood and a thatched ceiling of birch limbs lend rustic touches. The dark paneling, sconces and overstuffed chairs in the bar’s dining area evoke a private-club atmosphere. The main dining room is bright and airy, with a delightful “rocks flying on piano wire” display overhead. From the massive Nakashima-style benches in the foyer to the small, delicate, faded “BG” initials on what look like original service plates, it is an experience simply to walk through the place.

Details set Busch’s Grove apart. Bread arrives—not slices but epi, little “ears” of French bread, so every diner gets a crusty end. Although it’s called couscous on the menu, the cloud of perfectly cooked pasta pearls accompanying a fillet of Norwegian salmon is really pea-sized maghrabiyeh, a version of the grain from West Africa. The wild-caught salmon’s robust flavor, nicely balanced on the palate by the texture of the grains, is brought together with the pasta through the use of a citrusy spritz of limoncello liqueur. Lobster bisque is served in a broad coupe bowl, displaying the soup’s deep-pink gloss and allowing the spoon to scoop up the silky, fragrant liquid.

The fare here is simple: steaks, chops, seafood. Happily, all these remain the focus of the plates, with creative additions and sides playing a supporting rather than a distracting role. A 22-ounce “cowboy” ribeye, with its frenched bone, and a boneless version of the same cut are each drizzled with a Cabernet–and–roast shallot reduction and accompanied by dark-green broccoli rabe, sautéed with a hint of garlic, and cippolini, a small, sweet onion with a taste that effectively complements the meat. As for that meat, we hope you know by now to always go with the bone-in version; the flavor is inevitably superior. With a New York strip, you get sides of sautéed spinach and plump oven- dried tomatoes, their concentrated sweetness balancing the texture and taste of the meat nicely. “American Kobe beef” is, at best, a misleading appellation; in any case, the meat is misused here as chopped steak. A better choice is the veal rib chop, roasted over fire, dressed in a sauce of Madeira and thyme and served with a wild-mushroom risotto and roasted artichokes ($30.50). Chicken is roasted and presented with a big dollop of mashed potatoes and a rich, superb fig compote. Rather than mask the essential taste of the chicken, the luscious compote and a sauce of Madeira with a touch of truffle oil both do their part to highlight it.

An extensive display of seafood and a kind of sushi bar dominate the restaurant’s entrance. Although several fish are offered as sushi (along with wrapped sushi rolls), the cuisine is out of place in a restaurant such as this; when we visited, the preparation was adequate at best, and what our waiter described as a fatty toro cut of tuna was actually the less succulent chu-toro. Other seafood, however, is outstanding and wonderfully prepared. The just-spicy crawfish risotto adds a welcome dimension to a meaty grilled swordfish steak. A generous fillet of sea bass is topped with slivers of fried prosciutto. The skin of the bass is crackly and sweet from a flash-searing, the flesh glistening white and flaky. The presentation, with the bass atop a pillow of braised leeks and fennel and surrounded by a small pool of balsamic vinegar reduction, is artistic and inviting—and easy to eat. A dish such as this one reminds us that the fantastical food sculptures so prevalent in upscale restaurants today often do not take the process of actually eating them into consideration.

Among appetizers, a platter of oysters— they were Malapaques on the night of our visit—are arranged in their shells with a bed of bacon and braised leeks and a topping of garlic-roasted aioli. A bowl of French onion soup was suitably hearty, gloppy with Gruyère, the onions so slowly cooked that they retained all their caramelized sweetness. The Caesar salad is creditable, but even better is the frisée salad. Strips of candy- sweet beets and a delicate roasted-shallot vinaigrette offset the tangy bitterness of the prickly green chicory. Desserts include a chocolate bombe cake that, with the first cut, oozes a rich, fudgy chocolate sauce. The crème brûlée here is masterfully made and presented. So is a frothy lemon sorbet, the grains of lemon-infused ice so fine that the sorbet swirls across the palate more like a custard.

There is no wine list here—rather, it’s a treatise. Along with amusing asides and quotes in the margins is a textbook of wines, hundreds of them. Wine racks line both the first-floor walls and a soaring second story in the bar’s dining area. It’s an oenophile’s dream. Prices, unfortunately, are more nightmarish. Costly vintages demonstrate a place that cares about wine. But having fewer than a dozen or so of them below $50 demonstrates a lack of sensibility. A couple of other odd notes: There are on the menu “seafoods” and “simply grilled,” the latter no different from the former save being served “simply” with a potato and vegetables instead of the more imaginative accompaniments of the former—and a buck cheaper. Huh? And an array of “family style” sides, such as lovely garlic mashed potatoes and wild mushrooms in a white wine–and–butter sauce, is offered separately, giving the impression, as you study the menu, that you aren’t going to get enough with a main course.

Service, frequently criticized when the restaurant first reopened, appears to have improved significantly, if ours was any indication: timely, friendly and informative. Valet parking remains a problem, however, because the fee is assessed on the spot, causing frustrating backups right at the door.

Finally: Prices here? Well into the “Yikes!” range. An evening spent at the new Busch’s

Grove? Worth it