Little Fox is a dining gem in Fox Park

×

Expand

Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Stracciatella with puréed squash and shards of toasted housemade bread

Editor's Note: This review was originally slated to appear in SLM's April 2020 issue—just as the restaurant temporary closed at the onset of the pandemic. With Little Fox recently named to The New York Times' The Restaurant List for 2021, we're revisiting the review. (Some of the dishes have since changed, but dining critic Dave Lowry's impressions still ring true.) 

Photo by Iain Shaw

Fiddle lox? Huh? Oh, sorry. My hearing’s a little iffy.

Little Fox, in the Fox Park neighborhood, recently replaced the Purple Martin, and the space has been handsomely rehabbed. Brick walls, geometric oak panels, and muted colors intersect with blond wood tables and comfy chairs. There’s enough of the early–20th-century feel to lend a nostalgic note, but it’s plenty hip as well. And yes, at least during pre-pandemic times, it can be loud, even by current standards, in which eateries compete in decibel production with an AC/DC concert.

The French onion soup’s perhaps the most powerfully concentrated broth you’ll ever try. It’s a dark-caramel slurry, graced with onion slivers, shavings of Comté cheese, and a marrow-stuffed roasted shank bone, upended in the bowl. It’s amazing.

Photo by Iain Shaw

Just try to ignore the noises your pals might make when a “tomahawk” pork Milanese arrives. Roughly the dimensions of a cow’s leg, this mega-chop is flayed open, breaded, and fried just long enough to produce a magnificent golden crust that gives it a schnitzel-like crunchiness. The meat’s less porky, more like veal. It’s moist and delectable. A dollop of pickled mustard seed is dribbled beneath, adding a welcome piquancy. Atop is a gribiche sauce of chopped eggs with a hint of mustard and herbs, all emulsified in oil, that does its part in cutting the opulent lustiness of the crusty chop.

The concept at le Petit Renard is small plates for sharing, with just a few larger entrées on the menu. In addition to that tomahawk chop, there’s a flatiron steak and a fish of the day. Sliced and slathered with an aromatic herb butter that accentuates the beef, the steak is pink, luscious, and splendidly textured. The fish (a whole trout, on our visit) is boned and stuffed with lemon slices and a cilantro-flecked salsa verde. It’s then grilled to a perfect golden crust.

×

Expand

Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Littleneck clams in sherry broth

The small plates are equally worthy. They display even more creativity than the main offerings, and it’s tempting to make a leisurely meal of them alone. There’s that remarkable onion-thick soup, but consider sharing it. Don’t hesitate to tackle a tureen of littleneck clams on your own, though. The steaming broth, fragrant with sherry and garlic, is restrained, heightening the sweetness of those chubby clams. Or try the stracciatella (think of it as a creamier burrata), which arrives as a buttery lagoon surrounded by shores of puréed squash, all of it to be swiped up on cloud-like bread. A sprinkle of bottarga (the finely grated cured mullet roe that Anthony Bourdain so loved) lends a briny smack.

A small plate of wild mushrooms deserves special mention: You’ll likely order it because the menu says they’re dressed with a soubise sauce. The oniony sauce is mild and fragrant; the mushrooms are sautéed to a dark brown. A spritz of sherry and chive oil makes things even more interesting. Every ingredient works to highlight the taste and texture of those mushrooms. It’s a great dish. Two versions of crostini are available. One, topped with cannellini and escarole, was lackluster on our visit; the other, loaded with a house-cured leaf of smoky pancetta and mushroom butter, was lovely.

Speaking elevated dishes, this is one place where you don’t want to skip dessert. If that’s simply a platter of cheeses served with a cherry-and-apricot mostarda, that’s fine—but if you’re the kind of diner we know you are, you’ll try the tartlet, a Reese’s cup–looking puck of dark chocolate dusted with sea salt and a cocoa crumble and filled with a luxuriant ooze of caramel that spills out beneath your fork, mixing into a stream of raspberry curd. Oh man, is it good.

Though you might not be able to conduct an intimate conversation over dinner, you will find excellent fare at what’s one of the better new restaurants in town, L’il Flocks—at least that’s what I think we heard.

The Bottom Line: Little Fox is hip, charming, and bustling with excellent food, mostly small plates.