SA Weekend restaurant review – Garcon Bleu at the Sofitel Adelaide
The interior fit out of Garcon Bleu looks magnifique but ooh la la, this place needs better service at these prices, writes Simon Wilkinson.
SA Weekend
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Opening a serious French restaurant in Adelaide requires self-assurance on a Napoleonic scale. While we continue to devour vast quantities of brioche and bearnaise and creme brulee in burger bars and cafes, more comprehensive explorations of le cuisine francaise have always seemed to struggle here.
The exceptions – Hey Jupiter and Delicatessen for example – can be counted on one hand.
Given this backdrop, Garcon Bleu, the big-ticket dining component of the new Sofitel Adelaide, would seem a risky strategy.
Not only is this restaurant fly-the-flag, storm-the-barricades French, it is also built with the kind of epic scale and extravagant finishing that makes accountants very nervous.
Not even the opulence of the lobby will prepare you for the moment the lift doors open to an elaborate tiled floor embossed with the GB insignia.
Beyond that, the entire ninth level has been turned into a luxurious labyrinth of beautifully finished timber cabinetry, fluted panels, cobalt upholstery and polished fittings that put the brass in this brasserie.
Curved cut-outs frame a view across the city skyline, while the interior walls are filled with abstract prints.
While the overall footprint is huge, it has been broken into more intimate, atmospheric sections such as the space in the far corner where our table is grouped with 10 or so others in various configurations.
But this does have a downside. Distances from the kitchen and broken sight-lines would make managing service difficult with a veteran crew let alone this inexperienced bunch whose stress levels are palpable.
More training is urgently needed. Responses such as “It’s kind of a soup” won’t cut it at this level. Entree orders are muddled up. Twice. And building an extensive cellar of French vintages is worthless if no one has the confidence or expertise to make a recommendation.
The cooking, overseen by chef de cuisine Gianni Delogu, is, for the most part, technically sound and attractively plated but lacks the moments of exhilaration and wonder you would be hoping for at these prices. Comme ci, comme ca, the French might say.
Smoke is a recurring theme, most dramatically when its wafts from beneath a cloche lifted above a plate of salmon. Folded slices of the luscious house-cured fish are accompanied by blobs of avocado, salmon roe and translucent strips of shredded kohlrabi.
A glossy-surfaced dome of liver parfait is verging on perfection and the surrounding wreath of saltbush leaves a successful marriage of classic French and contemporary Australian.
A patty-shaped disc of hand-cut beef tartare is made without the usual salt/acid hit of capers and cornichons so the focus stays squarely on the natural savouriness of what must be exceptional meat. It is topped with shavings of macadamia and the yolk of a quail egg.
From a trio of pieces of lamb loin, the two rarer, pinker bits are the best eating, though none really is pronounced about its origins. Delicate little onion cups, charred along the rim, are filled with a puddle of well-balanced sauce but the heavy smoke put through a rough mash of green peas feels out of kilter.
A duck combo – the breast coated in a honey glaze and leg meat in a crumbed “bon-bon” – comes with an iridescent apricot and carrot puree and orange sauce. It’s a bona fide crowd pleaser but, at $56 (and $16 for a broccolini side), I can’t see the value.
The same goes for a $25 “tart au citron” that turns out to be a moulded cigar of mildly lemonish mousse on a white chocolate base. The sugar-dusted choux pastry of a “Paris Brest” with fresh peaches and yoghurt creme is a better bet.
Everything about Garcon Bleu is ambitious – the concept, the scale, the prices. To have a fighting chance, its foot soldiers need to be better prepared. Otherwise, as history shows, bold plans can quickly turn to nothing.
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