Episode Twenty: Restaurant Review: Chouchou's

Chouchou
400 Dewey Blvd
San Francisco, CA
415-242-0960
Five out of five stars

A few episodes ago, I made a list of my favorite places to dine in, and apparently, I must have made a colossal mistake by not including Chouchou’s. Pronounced shoushou, this little French bistro in Forest Hill is an absolute find, a polished gem hidden in a somewhat odd place to have a French restaurant, right across from Laguna Honda Hospital (which still gives me the Haunted-House-eerie vibes every time I pass by it), smack down in the middle of residential homes.

I’ve been to Chouchou’s previously, but it was under a different management. This time around, I went with Kat, whom I went to Paris with, and Megan, her co-worker and my dear friend who makes THE best chicken schnitzel and green beans casserole EVER.

Megan was friends with Nick Ronan, the owner of Chouchou’s, so reservations were a breeze, especially for a Saturday night. We elected to be seated at the bar, so we can people watch and so we wouldn’t feel bad for taking up prime real estate for too long. Chouchou’s definitely have the Parisian bistro vibe, right down to the close proximities of tables that you’d have to be a skinny Frenchie to get through.

We got started with a bottle of white wine, the name of which is escaping me at the moment. I’m not a huge white wine fan, but given that we were going to have mussels later, I made an exception. By the time the appetizers rolled out, we were already on bottle number two; I’m not sure if that’s a testament of the service time, which I thought was excellent considering the place was crawling with patrons, but more of our thirstiness and eagerness to have a good time.

We decided to order a bunch of appetizers and share mussels for the entrée. The French Onion Soup Gratinée was delicious, though, I’ve had better ones. The Warm Goat Cheese Tart was absolutely incredible. There’s something about goat cheese that makes it a holy-union-good companion with tossed salad, especially when it is accompanied by crispy pancetta and balsamic vinaigrette. The Home Made Foie Gras au Torchon was so good that Shakespeare would be inspired to write a sonnet trumpeting its greatness. The sautéed dry plum figs reduction sauce that came with the foie gras was a nice touch, complimenting the dish superbly. The Masami “Kobe” Steak Tartare was incomparable; I don’t think I’ve ever had it better, and this includes Parisian bistros and restaurants. It was so good that I forgot that I have endangered myself eating the raw meat with each bite, especially since I get food poisoning quite easily.

The Steamed Mussels Marinieres, oh were they to die for! It’s pretty unassuming enough, with only shallots, garlic, parsley, and white wines as ingredients, but boy do they do the job well! It’s the kind of sauce where you throw all caution to the wind, abandon your Atkins attitude towards carbohydrates, and carelessly dip your bread in this heavenly concoction to your hearts’ content! Or sometimes, sip it by itself like soup! The possibilities are endless!

With its convenient location near the Forest Hill MUNI station, Chouchou’s is pretty accessible (though parking could be a bit of a problem, given their tiny parking lot). But what makes this place special for me is the overall atmosphere. It’s that kind of place where you feel like you’re home, almost like a “Cheers Bar” type vibe. It’s that kind of restaurant that you can come to in a weekly basis and make it “your” restaurant, with friendly faces to greet you. Chef Nick was very accommodating, and not just to us, but to his other customers as well. He would check on us every so often, and every so often, he’d pour us some kir royale and we’d be chin-chin!-ing to the wonders that is Paris, after which, he’d give you a bear hug that makes you wonder where the bitchy French stereotypes come from. Aya, the bartender, was a delightfully insightful young woman; she tolerated my feeble attempts at speaking French, and we had that living-in-the- seizième-arrondissement experience in common. Anatoliy, our Bulgarian server, was an excellent source of entertainment; we especially liked how he turned making cappuccinos into an artform. They seemed to be allergic to the notion of empty wine glasses, so we definitely got our share of whites and reds, champagnes and dessert wines. My share of the dinner came out to be around $55 with tax and tip, which is not too bad, considering the amount of food and wine we had throughout the night. I’m definitely coming back here for more!

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PS: Last week’s column was my April Fools’ edition. So, for the record, I’m NOT engaged, nor did I get swept off my feet by an Italian hottie and his irresistibly romantic yet cheesy proposal at the cliffs at sunset. To those who were tearing up and filled with happiness, I’m glad that there’s still hopelessly romantics out there as my friends, and for those who saw through it, well, at least you have two things going for you: an eye for detail and a dose of cynicism.