Eat The Menu: Bucheron

A bucheron, as they explained to me, is kind of like a lumberjack. Bucheron is also the name of the bold new hotspot for bistronomy in the metro, occupying the site of what started out as Corner Table back in the day. But I’m betting that Paul Bunyan and his bros never supped on smoked eel tartine. Nor a terrine of foie gras. Turnips, maybe, but not plated with bone marrow and pear-ginger puree, for which one pays eighteen dollars. 

Eighteen? For turnips? Is this a misprint? No. Simply a just reward for the talents in this kitchen. (Choose carrots for $17 if you prefer. We inhaled both.)

The room was full as we walked in to honor our hard-to-snag reservation, humming with a pleasant, “we’re in this together” kind of buzz. Servers and a roving manager are Scout-troop friendly and trustworthy when quizzed for advice. “Try the venison tartare,” they instructed.

Next time—because, when I spot foie gras on a menu, like a well-trained Pavlov mutt, I start hyperventilating. The petite rectangle ($28), the size of a couple of dominoes, proved ultra-rich and uber-creamy: in other words, divine. It’s served with tiny crackles of roasted chestnuts, a spot-on sweet tart scoop of raspberry jam, and a—what? A scone. Who thought that was a good idea? But it was the only misstep of the evening. In itself, it’s fluffy as you please, but that’s not the best partner for the satiny foie.  Good ol’ toasts provide a better platform for the spread, plus contrasting texture.

But I quibble. On to those turnips! They’re roasted, sliced into ivory rounds set aside a hillock of their greens, then—rags to riches—abetted by unctuous bone marrow and a tingle of sweet-spicy pear-ginger puree. Yessss!

Next, those grilled carrots ($17). Their innate sweetness met with the sharper snap of kohlrabi “sauerkraut” tangled atop them, lashed with cilantro-scented yogurt, a balancing sweet-and-sour sauce, and a vinaigrette tempered with vadouvan (which is like curry, but without the heat). Never was the mandate from mom to eat your veggies easier to obey than at this café.

Speaking of: We then ordered the menu’s entrée starring lion’s mane mushrooms and huitlacoche (aka “corn smut” that grows like a delicious cancer on the ears), sent out upon a cushion of creamy polenta brightened by slices of sweet apple in careful balance with tart tomatillos—all bathed in a savory mushroom jus ($30). 

Three additional entrees are listed ($30-40): John Dory, a wagyu steak, and our choice, a Berkshire pork chop—husky as you please but pleasingly moist and tender. The meat’s innate sweetness is saluted by sweet(ish) cashews and apples, then balanced by savory Brussels sprouts plus a spike of chilies livening a rich, earthy, meaty, morcilla sausage sauce.  Delicious and well-balanced (but oh, those mushrooms! If you have one life to live, be sure to choose that entrée).

Yes, we saved room for a shared dessert. Four choices ($12-14) sing their sirens’ song, and, like Ulysses, we caved. A homey sticky toffee cake, straight out of the British Isles, came partnered by a sweet-tart mandarin orange sorbet, the perfect ally, along with toasted hazelnuts and tangerine. Had we chosen the lemon tart, we could have had a taste of its sidekick, parsnip ice cream. We begged the kitchen for a tiny scoop. It proved to be mild of mien and creamy: easy to like.

As was the entire experience. It’s not cheap. The price tag for this dinner for two, including two Old Fashioneds smoothed with Minnesota maple syrup and two glasses of red plus a 21 percent service charge, came to $283. That’s a hunk of money—but with a kitchen so focused and intentional in what it’s providing backed by a swell hospitality ethos, it’s money well spent.

Bucheron
4257 Nicollet Ave. S., Minneapolis
(612) 255-5632
Bucheronrestaurant.com