DINING OUT NEW RESTAURANT REVIEWS Seventeen Seventeen: The Art of Fine Dining

SEVENTEEN SEVENTEEN

beauty, they do say, is in the eye of the beholder.

At the Dallas Museum of Art, I do say, beauty is also on the beholder’s plate and palate. The museum’s new restaurant, named for its North Harwood address, finally puts food on an equal footing with the art it’s meant to complement-and could easily come to rival as a destination draw.

Not to be too flowery about it. the restaurant itself is simply lovely, transformed by designer Paul Draper (Anzu, the Riviera, et al) into a setting that would do credit to a major exhibit. All serene restraint, with pierced blond wood panels and vast blocks of black and natural carpet, one wall of Frank Lloyd Wright windows, another of plate glass overlooking a tree-centered terrace and the downtown skyline, the space depends for its own color solely on the gold-orange glow of Tiffanyesque glass mini-shades on four dozen track lights suspended from the lofty ceiling. During Sunday brunch, the glow is echoed in long-stemmed globes of orange juice that seem to float alongside champagne flutes on white linen-covered tables.

Even more breathtaking is the food. Chef Kent Ratbbun (formerly of the Omni Melrose Hotel’s Landmark restaurant), DMA executive chef George W, Brown, Jr., and pastry chef Katie Brown present fare pretty enough to preserve under glass, but too seductively appetizing to allow that possibility. Our brunch visit’s soup, tomato-Pernod broth, was a muted masterpiece, the aromatic liqueur a subtly darkening influence on pastel tomato essence, flung with perfectly crisped croutons and shaved Parmesan. A splendid, if small, comino-rubbed, baby lamb T-bone on musky black-chile mole sauce was sided by a symphony of color-a corn pudding tamale, creamy in its little shuck canoe, was glorified with shredded red and blue corn tortillas, purple and white cabbage, bell peppers of every hue. On the breakfast-like side, a honey-granola waffle starter wore a toss of pecans beside caramelized oatmeal-crusted fried banana on vanilla bean syrup; smoky-flavored wild boar sausage partnered an omelet stuffed with charred bell pepper confetti and spilling a toasty ooze of white Cheddar cheese.

A lunch visit’s starter plates exploded with still-life energy-toasted ravioli triangles, a trifle tough but nicely stuffed with corn kerhels and goat cheese, rested on a pale wash of cilantro butter studded with tart golden coins of candied kumquat under white chay-ote squash juliennes, with a huge grilled shrimp for garnish. Blue crab cakes scented with lemon grass on sweet coconut-corn butter sauce partnered a crunchy salad of field-fresh baby greens and papery rice noodles. A grilled portobello sandwich, too, might have come from one of the more fevered French impressionist palettes-scarlet bread, studded with bits of the beets that colored it, held yellow tomato and ripe green avocado slices along with the meaty mushroom and pale alfalfa sprouts.

The most memorable desserts we sampled were a pink-and-white layered mousse cake wearing a high collar of chocolate ribbon, and heaped with fresh raspberries and a single huge blackberry, on a particularly virile coffee sauce; and a trio of petal-shaped house brulées-mango-lime, raspberry-chocolate, orange with vanilla cream, each distinctively identifiable-with sliced fruits fanned between them. A lemon-ginger sorbet bombe’s torched swirl of meringue was exceptionally beautiful but too sweet; the kumquat-tangelo soup that lapped it was not, perhaps, as tart as it was meant to be for balance.

Servers, by the way, are as stylish as the setting in black-and-white striped shirts, black trousers, and willing smiles; our extra-long wait for the brunch check could have been caused by the extra-large crowd of spiffy folk lingering over their mid-Sunday revel ($24.95 per person, including juice and champagne). Be advised-reservations are recommended: Dallas has discovered Seventeen Seventeen.

-Betty Cook

Seventeen Seventeen. 1717 N. Harwood St., 922-1260. 11 a.m.-2 p.m., Tuesday-Saturday and Sunday brunch. Moderate to expensive.



BISTRO LOUISE

AFTER A SEASON OF SOMNOLENCE SO SEVERE the scarcity of new restaurant openings had Dallas-Fort Worth area restaurant critics falling on their forks in frustration, the dining scene is in bloom again. In Fort Worth, particularly, a half-dozen intriguing eateries have blossomed-none more eagerly awaited than Bistro Louise.

For some years, Louise Lamensdorf’s has been a name to conjure with in Fort Worth food circles-the European-trained co-owner of the much-praised French Apron School of Cooking also set culinary standards at Cafe Aspen, La Maree, and the Fort Worth Club. By the time she realized her 15-year-old dream of opening her own restaurant, the dream was shared by enthusiasts already happily habituated to her fresh fare.

Located in a brand-new and not particularly grand shopping center on South Hulen Street, Bistro Louise bills its food as “New American cuisine with a Mediterranean attitude.” Its decor translates the philosophy with sunny grace: Outside, a sheltered terrace offers comfortable al fresco seating. Inside, the casual bistro ambience is authentic, from the bar’s tiny tables and blackboard tapas listing to the main dining room’s pale yellow walls hung with pretty plates and framed menus gathered on the owner’s world travels-from, she says, the places she has eaten and worked that have influenced her cookery. An antique Aubusson tapestry she’s been waiting to hang for 25 years is one focal point; the handmade Portuguese lace cloth on the dessert display table is another. An adjoining room’s blue-sponged walls, visible through glass-paned double doors topped with transoms, somehow suggest a Latin coastal character. So do watercolor-printed vinyl tablecloths and servers’ solid black shirts and trousers.

As for the food-how shall I say this? I’ve rarely found a single dish wonderful enough to drive 40 miles to re-experience, but this bistro’s tea-smoked duck-moist and fat-free, its satin skin smoked black as the ink on this page, its luscious meat’s near-sweetness offset by a tart cranberry-port salsa-is such a dish.

But that was a second-visit entrée. The first visit’s dishes were almost as stellar, from the first warm bite of Dijon bread spread with sweet butter. A pastry-wrapped melt of Brie and Roquefort with pear chutney was almost too sweet to be an appetizer, but a starter of shiitake mushroom and baked garlic bread pudding, cloud-light and mellow-flavored on leek coulis, was inspired. Pork porterhouse steak sauced with British ale was a lean loin cut, nicely partnered with a wedge of sweet potato-butternut squash gratin and sauteed baby vegetables. Minted salmon, a thick cut crusty with sea salt and pepper on pistachio aioli, slid apart in lush layers at the touch of a fork. Served with cucumber slices under diced gazpacho vegetables, and saffron mashed potatoes studded with lobster chunks, the entree is one of the most typically Mediterranean dishes on her menu, according to Louise. It’s also another worth repeating, according to me.

Other standout thrills ranged from Louise s locally famed signature salad-mixed greens, red seedless grapes, and diced olives in avocado-lime vinaigrette-to a vegetable tower of peas, bright diced pepper, and smoked corn kernels topped with a gorgonzola grits cake and grilled apple slice, to a Mediterranean seafood paella offered among “Little Supper” listings- the shallow bowl held a classic array of shrimp,

RUGGERI’S

YOU WOULDN’S THINK THAT ADDISON NEEDed another restau rant along Belt Line’s restau-rant row, and you certainly wouldn’t guess it needed another Italian one. But the recent addition of Ruggeri’s in the former Key West Grill’s building seems to be a big hit, perhaps because customers of Ruggeri’s original location who live north of LBJ are glad they no longer have to make the trek to Routh Street.

Owner Tom Ruggeri completely gutted the restaurant and remodeled, adding Venetian glass, alabaster saucer-like hanging lamps, and aquariums separating the huge bar area from the three main dining rooms. At lunch, sun streams in from the tall windows that line the rooms, and by night the deep red and green colors mute and soften the room, creating a romantic setting, That feeling is further enhanced with piano music every night, and Michael Gott’s golden throat croons Michael Feinstein-type songs Thursday through Saturday nights.

A double hit of garlic makes a great way to begin a meal here, with an order of tender little steamed clams in a garlicky herbed broth and a basket of delicate, cheesy slices of toasted garlic bread. The inexpensive plastic bread baskets, though, look terribly out of place in a restaurant with starched white linens, elefish, mussels, and hearty sausage bites on saffron-tinted rice, sided with Greek salad.

Only one starter came close to disappointing: lettuce timbales, little domes held together by a rather bland custard, weren’t zipped enough by their minted tomato vinaigrette to be as interesting as the concept sounded. Desserts, though, were humdingers: lemon coconut cake, three layers of tender joy; lemon pie glazed with a transparent wash of apricot; and reverse chocolate cake, pure decadence with its moist mousse filling and southern French dashes of clove and cinnamon. The cake sits for two days before it is served so the filling’s moistness infuses its layers.

Ah, but the tea-smoked duck takes three days to prepare-the first, to be marinated à la confit in sea salt and spices; the second, to be steamed to fat-free succulence; the third, to be smoked in a wok over tea leaves. How soon can we go back? A mere 40 miles, you say? I’ll walk if I have to. -B. C.

Bistro Louise. 2900 S. Hulen (south from 1-30), Fort Worth; 817-922-9244. Lunch: 11 a.m.-2p.m., Monday-Saturday (tapas from 5 p.m. to closing). Dinner: 6-9 p.m., Monday-Thursday; 6-10 p.m., Friday & Saturday. Moderate to expensive.



gant stemmed glasses, and waiters in formal attire. Despite its regal setting, Ruggeri’s projects a relaxed, comfortable image, one that makes you want to linger over coffee and the excellent homemade desserts.

You might have trouble saving room for dessert, though, if you order a daily special of a baked salmon filet with a superb dill sauce. “We’re going to be regulars here,” my companion assured me as he devoured it. The sautéed veal and shrimp combination also got high marks, and customers praise both the renowned 16-ounce veal chop and the crab-stuffed jumbo shrimp. Lasagne, a hefty 3 -inch high slab oozing with cheese and a sausage/meat mixture, sits proudly on a plate half-covered with a sprighdy tomato sauce, half with a thin béchamel sauce.

Se rvice strikes a fine- tuned note, with avery winc-savvy waiter on one memorable visit. At both lunch and dinner, waiters line the walls, discreetly anticipating needs. One need: Reposition the tables-we were jostled a few too many times. No matter. We’re going to be regulars. -Suzanne Hough

Ruggeri’s. 5348 Belt Line Rd., 726-9555. Lunch: 11 a.m.-2 p.m., Monday-Friday. Dinner; 5:30-11p.m., Sunday-Thursday; 5:30 .m.-12 a.m., Friday & Saturday. Moderate.