Photographs by Kevin A. Roberts
Remember the original Balaban’s? Us too. So Instead of the pointless, obligatory paean recalling of the good old days, let’s do as Balaban’s has done: Move on.
In this case, the move’s been to Chesterfield, where the restaurant holds down a large corner of Dierbergs’ parking lot. Walk into the spacious oval room, and you’ll assume you’re in a well-stocked wine store. Chest-high racks hold a fairly impressive inventory. This is one of the more astutely stocked selections of wines in the area. Then you notice a compact kitchen off to one side, and on the other, a dining area that can hold about 50, with small wooden tables and chairs. In between are a diminutive takeout deli and a long, comfortable bar offering beer, cocktails, and some fine single-malt Scotches. It’s a trifle odd to be seated for dinner at what appears to be (and is!) a retail wine store. Like us, however, you will tend to forget stuff like this when the menu arrives.
Celebrity sex tapes might qualify. Or emoticons. Otherwise, to this reviewer there aren’t many concepts more tired than “small plates.” Balaban’s entire menu is dedicated to these mini meals. And despite that sad cynicism in one so young, we have to admit some of these work well. The morel pasta’s a good example. A swirl of fettuccine is loaded with magnificent, walnut-sized morels; the creamy sauce of port wine, tarragon, and Romano cheese that bathes it all is so exquisitely, ruinously rich that more than the half dozen forkfuls of it on the plate would be dangerous. Other plates, though, are just too small, like the exceptional paella, which leaves you practically begging for more. Overall, plan on two or three of these to cover a normal dinner appetite. And while some—like the bruschetta, with its dollop of basil pesto, marinated artichoke, mozzarella, and balsamic reduction—are easy to share, others, like the veal chop, are likely to be enjoyed only by the alpha diner at the table.
A hearts of palm salad is attractively presented and a good starter. Fresh greens and roasted pine nuts—spattered with a light, slightly citrusy shallot vinaigrette—are enlivened with slivers of Manchego cheese and pancetta. Cucumber bisque is chilly; its tartness comes from a spritz of lemon, its richness from a generous dollop of crème fraîche. A hefty slab of cool, country-style pâté is expertly made, with just the right dosage of pistachios and cherries, and the quick grilling of tiny, buttered bread slices that go with it are a nice touch. The garlic shrimp, a tapas standard, is entirely creditable here. The broth accompanying the big shrimp is redolent of garlic, loaded with cubes of piquant chorizo and tender potatoes.
On the more substantial side, the veal chop is a meaty taste of excellence. Seared with a golden-brown crust, the interior tasted like veal should—meltingly tender, delicate, juicy—and the veal reduction drizzled on it played backup perfectly, accentuating without overpowering. A triangle of Rosti potatoes alongside is what hash browns taste like in heaven. A crispy, tan crust holds the buttery, soft potatoes together. Wonderful; perfect with the veal. Another clear winner here is the soft-shell crab. Sautéed without any distraction, and decorated with a thin ribbon of spicy chive aioli, the little guy seems to be cavorting on the plate atop a mound of succotash. He goes down nicely with a just a touch of a sweet chili soy sauce that hints at the fieriness of the fabled Singapore version, but is suitably subdued for this far more delicate dish.
Paella is Serious Food. Make it right, make it classically, or leave it alone. Balaban’s abides by this rule with only one odd exception. The clams, shrimp, chicken, and jamón (no one told the waiter the J stays quiet here) were absolutely fresh and delicious. The seasoning was deft, with just the right touch of tomato and fennel and an extravagance of saffron that perfumed every bite. The rice? Long-grain. It worked okay. We’d eat it again. Happily. But short-grain rice is traditional in this dish for a reason: It better holds the flavor of the broth.
A subcompact version of the famous Balaban’s beef Wellington makes an appearance, a chunk of beef roasted en croûte with a misnamed “mushroom pâté” that’s actually a duxelles, and one wonders if the whole thing is more a nod to the old Balaban’s days than it is a dish that can compete with so many other outstanding offerings here.
Flatbreads—think of them as pizzas made with unleavened dough—work well and are particularly suited for sharing. Tiny shrimp, sun-dried tomatoes, and nuggets of feta covered one, an imaginative and successful blend of taste and texture, with that crunchy flatbread scorched slightly on the bottom to bring it all together. The carne picada flatbread—with tomato sauce, roasted peppers, fennel sausage, pepperoni, and red onion—sounds too busy, but is a favorite among regulars.
Obviously, this is a place for wine. Suggestions for appropriate ones accompany everything on the menu. You’ll quibble with some. A Garnacha with that chunky pâté and mustard when there’s that Laporte sauv blanc on the list? Dude, no way. But the white Burgundy with paella? Inspired choice. A substantial variety is available by the glass, along with a much larger selection of bottles—both lists reasonably priced. And if you wander around between courses looking at the stock, you can select one and have it poured for a minimal corkage fee. It’s a pleasant experience to pick out one’s wine not just from a list, but by actually picking up the bottle.
There will be the usual dismissive chattering of the self-appointed City Sophisticates about the Chesterfield location, but Balaban’s has brought a leisurely, tapas-like dining experience to West County and has done so successfully. We hope this one lasts as long as the original.
Balaban’s Wine Cellar & Tapas Bar
1772 Clarkson
Chesterfield
636-449-6700
balabanswine.com
Lunch and dinner Mon–Sat
Average Main Course: $12, but you’ll need at least two
of them for a meal; do the math.
Dress: Suitably West County-ish
Reservations: Not accepted, so you’re on your own.
Chef: Kevin Sthair
