Palouse Dreams

On the Palouse, the wheat is high this time of year, and the rolling fields shimmer in the height-of-summer heat. But wheat is not what draws us south from Spokane on this blisteringly warm Saturday; we’ve come in search of one restaurant inspired by the Slow Food movement, and another serving classical French cuisine in an elegant yet comfortable atmosphere.

We’ve come to dine in Moscow.

Really. The one in Idaho. Farm town, home to the Vandals. Earthy, artsy Moscow.

First stop is the Red Door, a restaurant founded a decade ago on the Slow Food vision of simple, creative dinners highlighting local flavors. Weekend brunch is a new addition. Despite the heat, we chose a sidewalk table, but rather than coffee we tried the sparkling grapefruit juice ($3) — a tall glass the color of a late-summer sunset, and as refreshing as it was beautiful. Treats from the bar, including a mimosa, Bloody Mary and wines by the glass, are also available.

A complimentary basket of fresh-baked scones comes with the meal. The classic current scones have the flavor and texture of an extra-rich buttermilk biscuit and are served with butter and house-made berry preserves.

Among entrées, the BLT with avocado, the elk taco and the Dungeness crab po’ boy ($10-$13) sounded tempting, but those will have to wait for another visit. My dining partner chose the smoked salmon broiled egg ($10.50), served with a small salad of baby greens. Layers of spinach and Swiss cheese with shallots were topped with smoked wild Alaskan salmon and the egg in this well-balanced dish — the egg yolk, still runny, was a lovely golden-yellow color, a hue that only comes from true farm-fresh eggs. The salmon was mild, not salty, with a good, strong kick of wood smoke.

I chose the farmers market special omelet ($10) — a dish that changes weekly. (With the Saturday farmers market nearby, the Red Door has easy access to an abundance of local produce.) This week, morels — with shallots and Swiss — were the stars, adding a delicious earthiness to the not-too-big omelet. A little side salad of baby arugula leaves, also from the market, was tender and not too spicy, with slivers of sweet red pepper for contrast.

Service was comfortable and confident, even though we arrived within the last hour of brunch service. Now that we’ve tried brunch at the Red Door, we want to return for dinner on another day.

With one success under our belts, curiosity drew us to West of Paris. I’d heard rumors of the authentic French cuisine at this dinner-only establishment, and I wanted to see it for myself.

Reservations are a good idea: As our server, Daniel Foucachon — son of Chef Francis Foucachon, the owner, who trained in Lyon — explained, once a party is seated, the table is theirs for the evening. In France, the enjoyment of the meal is paramount, he said.

The long, narrow dining room is dressed in white-tablecloth elegance, with tall vases shaped like the Eiffel Tower on each table, holding a single red rose. Piano jazz standards burbled overhead. Yet the ambience is not stuffy; windows overlook Moscow’s lively Main Street, and several families with children came in while we dined.

The wine list offers an extensive selection from France and the Northwest, with several available by the glass; we chose a reasonably priced ($32) bottle of white Burgundy (aka, chardonnay) from Joseph Drouhin. Diners may order from fixed-price menus (three, four or eight courses for $35, $48 and $58, respectively), or — as we did — from the a la carte menu.

With our wine, Daniel delivered an amuse-bouche (the name means “amuse the mouth”) for each of us — tangy, tart avocado cream with a single peeled shrimp. The tiny mouthful was a prelude to our seasonal-special carpaccio d’avocats appetizer ($9.50): avocado, pear and parmesan cheese, each thinly sliced, with a drizzle of olive oil and lemon juice. This simple dish was exquisite — sweet pear and buttery avocado, each perfectly ripe, brought together with the zing of lemon and the salty punch of parmesan. It was cool and refreshing and tasted like summer.

For the entrée, my companion chose another summer special, the pork tenderloin in a Reisling reduction sauce ($23.50), served with Dauphine potatoes and steamed vegetables (green beans, carrots and peas, from the farmers market). The pork tenderloin medallions were tender and flavorful yet lean, but the sauce is what made this dish extraordinary. Sauces are king here, incredible sauces made the classic French way, with butter, wine, cream and fresh herbs, all reduced and reduced to their savory essence. This sauce was no exception, with just a hint of mustard to balance the richness of the pork.

“This dish is like a fine dance,” my companion noted. “The pork is Fred Astaire, but the sauce is Ginger Rogers — echoing the steps backwards and in heels.”

I chose the saumon sauvage à l’échalote et au vin blanc ($24.50) — or, as the menu’s translation thoughtfully provides, wild salmon with shallots, dry white wine and cream. (Other entrées include mussels, venison sausage, chicken, lamb, quail, duckling and grass-fed beef, $20-$35.) The salmon was firm and tasty, but once again the sauce — thick with pungent chopped shallots — made the dish. The accompanying green beans had been steamed to tender-crisp perfection, and the Dauphine potatoes — like small, deep-fried mashed-potato croquettes — were surprisingly light and not at all oily.
Portions were adequate but not overwhelming, and the richness of the dishes came from concentrated flavors rather than an overabundance of salt and fat. So we had to try the dessert special — soufflé au Grand Marnier flambé ($14).

The soufflé must be ordered 25 minutes ahead of time, and there’s a minimum of two orders, because it is prepared entirely from scratch then flambéed at the table while still at its puffy zenith. As Daniel told us, “The customer may wait for the soufflé, but the soufflé never waits for the customer.”

The soufflé gasped as the flaming liqueur was poured over it, and air bubbles popped as it cooled and settled. The texture was close to an airy bread pudding — light and barely sweet. The liqueur gave it a nice astringency, along with moisture and the essence of orange.

The pace of our meal was leisurely — more than two hours passed — but service throughout was knowledgeable and friendly. The only thing that had us scratching our heads was the presence of canned Nestea and soft drinks on the beverage menu. Perhaps this is a concession to life in a college town, but we couldn’t help wondering if a more elegant — not to mention healthier — alternative like the sparkling juice we’d had earlier wouldn’t better serve the continental flavor of the place. Still, we felt pampered and content after our meal and happy to know that fine French cuisine doesn’t require plane fare from Spokane.