Like most native St. Louisans, I’ve heard folks mention “Remy’s” for the past 15 years. All the reviews I’ve internalized are positive and I’ve been intending to visit, but always ended up at Blue Water Grill (RIP) or Big Sky Café, Remy’s sister restaurants. So it was with a fair bit of enthusiasm that I arrived (finally) at Remy’s Kitchen and Wine Bar for food and drink.
As indicated by the name, Remy’s is a wine bar, but within seconds of entering the door, my eyes landed on a martini offering freshly chalked above the bar. The major components: Blood orange, Grand Marnier, and ginger. I could imagine those three flavors mingling on my palate. The bright citrus, the warm Marnier, and the spicy ginger. It proved too much to resist after a week of blisteringly cold weather.
It sounded so good, in fact, that I expressed my enthusiasm to my dining companion, and executive chef Lisa Slay, standing nearby, echoed my sentiments.
“I had one a half hour ago,” she said, “and I can still taste it – it’s that good.”
Can one really refuse a drink after it’s been recommended by the chef? We couldn’t. The combination was stellar. Marnier, as it can, overwhelmed much of the ginger flavor, however. When Chef Slay stopped by our table to get our reaction to the drink, we mentioned the lack of ginger. A few minutes later, she stopped by with a small bowl of shaved caramelized ginger, which we added to our drinks. With the ginger reinstated, the cocktail was fantastic.
Wine list cast flippantly aside, we found a table and turned to the menu. Our (kind, attentive) server mentioned a risotto being offered that night. She described as a “light” risotto, made with vegetable broth but featuring roast chicken, chorizo, and peas, with Manchego cheese grated on top. I have an unofficial policy to order risotto whenever it’s available. If risotto’s on special, this policy becomes iron-clad. So I was sold, although indifferent about the peas. Peas, except for fresh sugar snaps, aren’t that appealing to me. Personally, I appreciated the visual contrast they offered to a predominately orange dish. The bursts of sweetness they provided held up well against the delicately spicy choziro.
While my companion slipped to the restroom, I surreptitiously requested a dessert menu. Desert is the sort of thing that’s often automatically dismissed on a girls’ night. This isn’t usually due to caloric concerns, but simply a lack of gastronomic real estate to tuck away any additional forkfuls. But when the menu is in front of you, and you start to see words like “reduction” “raspberry” and “70% cocoa” making a little extra room becomes a possibility. Perhaps a few inches in the esophagus could be freed up.
The dessert we chose was described as a “poached pear and puff pastry served with honey-ginger frozen yogurt ” When it arrived, the poached pear was easily apprehended. Small rounds of pastry were similarly identified. But the “honey-ginger frozen yogurt” took up four minutes of the conversation not exclusively dedicated to relationship analysis. To wit:
“That’s sorbet? Is it sorbet?”
“The menu said it was frozen yogurt. But it’s not frozen yogurt. At least, not in the traditional sense”
“It’s really more like a sorbet. Or an ice. An herbed ice.
“But it’s creamy when it hits your palate. I guess it sort of transforms into yogurt, but that seems like a stretch”
Despite an imperfectly worded description, the frozen concoction was a palate-pleaser, especially along with the perfectly poached pear. Between a delicious cocktail, savory risotto and a creamy, cold desert, we left Remy’s tipsy and sated. Like its sister restaurant, Remy’s is great for serious, heartfelt talks or alcohol-fueled flights of fancy. We indulged in both. Maybe next time, we’ll try the wine.
