Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
Food, really extraordinary food, has transportational powers. With a single bite of the Diner Burger at The Libertine, we were sent to a tiny burger joint in summery southeast Kansas, the former Maid-Rite in Chetopa, though we were still sitting in a handsome dining room in downtown Clayton.
Commanding the kitchen here is Josh Galliano. Remember Monarch? That, of course, was his baby. The Libertine is a new chapter in the chef’s story, but the plot will taste familiar. Galliano expresses himself with subtle flavors and unexpected combinations, always with a concern for pleasing customers.
Our server explains the menu. (Translating menus is part of the job nowadays.) Portions of seafood, meat, and vegetables at the top of the columns are modest; “hungry man” fare collects at the bottom. And so you wisely pick a couple of the former and settle on one of the latter.
Among the former, a pumpkin “burrata” shares the shape and texture of that classic cheese preparation. It’s a delicious, plump pumpkin-pudding purse, absolutely creamy, sprinkled with crumbled roasted pepita, and drizzled with a black-walnut butter that lends a balance to the pumpkin’s sweetness.
If squeamish diners thought they were eating sausage, they would rave over the crispy pig tails. A paper-thin crust holds a tender, fragrant interior—it really does taste like a delectable sausage, and the accompanying whipped Gorgonzola and polenta just add to the flavor. Far too rich for a main course, this quartet of piggy tails is a memorable starter. An amuse-bouche of panisse—like the sort sold as beach snacks in Marseille, France—comprises crispy fried chickpeas dusted with powdered guanciale. The result is mildly addictive; The Libertine should consider packaging them for at-home snacks.
Most vegetable dishes here work best as sides. An earthy mélange of creamed celery root, beets, rutabaga mostarda, and sweet potatoes gets a kick from Mugolio, a sweetish syrup made from pine-cone buds. Potato slices are braised in beer and served as a raclette, with leaves of Swiss cheese, brightened with a coarse mustard, crispy leek chips, and savory puffed wild grains.
The kitchen’s got a thing for octopus. It’s appeared in several of the changing menus: fried with kimchi, charred, cooked with a piquant vinaigrette, or, as on a recent visit, stewed in pozole. The pozole is wonderful, studded with nubbins of hominy and tomatoes, along with generous ribbons of shredded pork in a spicy broth. Few Mexican restaurants do it better. While perfectly tender, the slices of octopus tentacles added nothing to this great stew, their delicate flavor lost in the dish’s bold spices.
“Thin” pork chops are just that. Meaty chops arrive “brined” in coffee and grilled; the flesh has all of that juicy succulence that we adore in pork. A jus fortified with pan juices and stout adds another level to the chops and glistens on a pile of smashed potatoes alongside.
The seafood here is inventive and utterly fresh: shrimp and andouille with seared spoonbread; she-crab soup with a surprise take on the sherry; deepwater hake or whatever else is fresh. Mahi-mahi was a special on one visit; the finely textured fillets were perfectly pan-roasted, served with mushrooms that had a smack of what tasted like five spice and a crunchy sweet relish of sultanas and scallions.
A signature dish here is the Three Little Birds. The flesh of game hen, quail, and chicken is layered and served in a slab—a sort of turduckenish approach that looks impressive, especially stacked atop a mound of rice grits and surrounded by smothered greens. Galliano has a knack for poultry: His fried chicken is Poultry Legend. But each of these birds is deserving of particular attention; it would be worthwhile to focus on them that way, rather than treating them like interchangeable Versace ensembles.
Given the panoply of excellent burgers in town, we usually pass when dining in a place of this caliber. We took a chance here—which resulted in the Proustian moment that took us back decades and hundreds of miles. “Diner Burger” is a brave boast: Few places can produce a diner-worthy burger. The Libertine delivers, splendidly. The patty is thick, juicy, beefy. On top are rashers of molasses-spiked bacon, blobs of caramelized onion, and an unusual and tasty house-made cheese “Whiz.” It’s an experience, alloyed by some superb fries.
Desserts include a pumpkin pie with a pleasant, custardy filling, though our crust was too hard, perhaps the only real blunder of the evening. The “candy bar” salted caramel semifreddo—with chocolate dacquoise, ganache, and hazelnuts—is a must-try.
Read the wine list online before you go. It’s brilliant. Somehow, it manages to work the likes of Rudy, Tom Waits, and Lindsay Lohan into the wine descriptions. We sampled a 2010 Vietti Barbera with that burger and didn’t regret it.
The Libertine’s interior is sleek. Exposed brick and an understated gray color scheme add a classy atmosphere. Polished tables gleam under subdued lighting. A diminutive bar up front turns out some intriguing cocktails, including the Fear & Loathing, a startling rum–and–house-made “cola.”
A few notes: Service is exemplary. The music, though far from overbearing, is too loud. And while Galliano is presenting his justly famous fried chicken on some Sunday nights, charging $30 is a bit steep. Other Sunday evenings are devoted exclusively to the cuisines of Germany, Mexico, Sicily, etc., and have become wildly popular.
The advertised aim at The Libertine is to become a “neighborhood eatery.” You’ll find it’s a lovely neighborhood.
The Bottom Line: A first-class St. Louis chef brings his flair to a continually changing menu in an attractive setting.
7927 Forsyth
Clayton
314-862-2999
Lunch Tue through Fri, dinner Tue through Sun
Average Main Course: You’ll drop about $40 here, not including drinks, for a full dinner.
Reservations: The Libertine’s still holding the hot hand, so yes.
Dress: As car valet service is complimentary, you won’t be walking far. Wear your favorite uncomfortable shoes.
Chef: Josh Galliano
