Handsome Addition to City’s Restaurants : Le Corbier Cuisine Reflects the Talents of Chef

Doug Organ is a good chef, as chefs go, and as chefs go, he’s going.

Having reigned both as the enfant terrible of local haute cuisine and the darling of the county’s self-described “foodies,” this 24-year-old master of the roasts and hashes (and the beurre blancs and sautes a la minute) soon will be departing his home range in search of more scintillating foreign stockpots.

Organ made his mark early on the local cooking scene, and his reputation and popularity have risen ever since, rather like a souffle that just won’t quit. Six years ago, he picked up the apprentice’s paring knife in the kitchen at the chic Frederick’s bistro in Solana Beach, and in no time his sauces and clever innovations earned him the chef’s toque.

In 1984, he departed Frederick’s to open his own place, 926, an instantly well-received establishment that proved too small and non-commercial to be profitable. The announcement of its closure a few months back provoked dismay in food circles; this, coupled with the news that Organ would be decamping to France to study under several top chefs, caused numerous of his fans to cry into their croissants.

But this talented fellow (and he is talented--his is the special sort of talent that rises in gifted people like yeast in moistened flour) has managed to make his departure memorable by sticking around long enough to open a new restaurant that probably will come to be considered one of the two best in the county. (Just when Organ will leave is uncertain; he says it may be as soon as the end of the month, possibly rather later. And he will be going first to Los Angeles, where he hopes to work in one or two of the better kitchens before tackling France.)

This new restaurant is Le Corbier, a sumptuous place that would make a handsome addition to any city’s stock of restaurants and is a particularly graceful addition to La Jolla’s. Le Corbier is, quite simply, the sort of restaurant that San Diego has needed for ever so long but has been forced to do without. A truly elegant establishment, the place is almost seductively attractive--the decor strikingly incorporates black, white and pink as a background for the stylish guests and beautifully presented foods. Modern artworks, including pieces by Miro and Vasarely, hang on the walls, and all are for sale; this is the product of one co-proprietor’s professional involvement in the art world, and plans include the monthly presentation of one-artist shows.

Organ was to have been just the sous-chef here, but the Parisian master who was hired to open the restaurant had to cancel out, at least temporarily, when a family member became ill. The cuisine has Organ’s stamp upon it in certain ways, but the format is strictly Le Corbier’s. The menu, which in the local context can be considered quite daring, poses an exciting challenge to other top-grade San Diego restaurants. Set at a prix fixe of $35 for five courses, it allows guests to build choice dinners by selecting from an expansive array of dishes; these can be traditional, and begin with soup and end with cheese, or more contemporary meals that start with complicated salads and conclude with cuisine moderne desserts.

Le Corbier’s style is, shall we say, quite stylish. This restaurant stresses luxury knowledgeably, and it is a pure delight to see things done so well. Place settings bloom with pink silk blossoms that turn out to be napkin covers, and the silver, china and crystal all are from the finest French and Belgian houses. The tables are spacious and set apart from their neighbors, the lighting subtle (and partly supplied by candles in tall crystal holders), and the service so polished that one barely notices the presence of the waiter, although everything one wishes always is at hand.

That such a sense of chic should pervade the place becomes less surprising when one learns that Le Corbier is sibling to a well-established restaurant of the same name in Brussels’ fashionable Place du Sablon. One of the La Jolla restaurant’s co-owners, Jean-Pierre (for rather complicated reasons, both he and his partner, a young woman named Cher, insist on being known by their first names only) has been proprietor of the Belgian establishment since he was 24, which perhaps explains why he and Organ get on so well--they both have enjoyed early success.

The menu changes weekly and can only be considered exquisite. For the week that commenced June 16, it opened with a mussel soup flavored lightly with red peppers, saffron and dill; this was basically a Billi Bi (creamed white wine-mussel stock) taken to new heights. This was but one of eight preliminary course choices that included several salads and a fresh honeydew melon and lime sorbet ; the lighter salads and the sorbet reappeared under the fourth course heading, as a follow-up to the entrees.

A dish of fettuccine with sun-dried tomatoes, basil and a light garlic sauce seemed out of place on this menu but was most satisfactory in the eating. Sliced tomatoes (the real kind, ripened by nature rather than artifice, and correspondingly tasty) moistened with balsamic vinegar and topped with crumbles of California goat cheese, also made a good early course, although one that paled in comparison to a clever arrangement of Scottish smoked salmon, golden caviar, creme fraiche and paper-thin slices of warm boiled potato. Called a galette, there was a Japanese artistry to the plate, but a purely French taste--a remarkable flavor chemistry took place between the salmon and the potato.

The ne plus ultra among the pre-entree choices, however, was the chilled parsley soup, a simple idea whose time evidently has come. When elaborated into soup, this under-valued herb displays a peculiarly refreshing charm, one that hints at piquancy and yet reveals an underlying sweetness.

The Organ style shines most noticeably in the entree department, which features simple sautes and grills moistened with thin but intensely flavorful sauces. Grilled veal rib-eye steak in onion confit, and filet of black Angus beef in red wine with tarragon both sounded good but were passed by in favor of three elegant presentations of salmon, lamb loin and fowl.

Grilled Norwegian salmon in a cool tomato-mint vinaigrette (a type of sauce normally reserved for salads) turned out to be a most unusual dish, the flavors juxtaposed for the sake of contrast, yet balanced, too. The temperatures--hot fish, cold sauce--similarly were poised in an intriguing juxtaposition. The waiter had announced that the fish would be somewhat under-done, so as to preserve its moistness; this has become a common practice, but the salmon probably exceeded the rareness liked by the average taste.

Grilled squab and duck breasts (a half of each) tasted faintly of mesquite and benefited from their sauce of ginger and dry sherry lightly bound with a touch of pear puree; these, too, were served somewhat rare, a suitable fate for fowl whose flavors hint at the wild. A faint wildness (as opposed to gaminess, which is something else altogether) also pervaded a neatly carved section of lamb loin; this arose from the earthy flavors of thyme and morel mushrooms that gave it a subtle perfume.

The fourth course salads neatly followed these strong dishes, and both the greens in coarse mustard vinaigrette and the somewhat crisper (to the palate) combination of endive, walnuts, apple and blue cheese can be recommended.

A dessert of lemon mousse cake was certainly lemony and light, if not at all unusual. An ambitious fruit soup of pureed raspberries, strawberries, mango and papaya, served in quantity around a small mound of caramel mousse, came off tasting rather bland; perhaps it needed a little lemon or a little extra sugar. In any case, a modest but tasty selection of cheeses made every bit as satisfactory a conclusion as would have a sweet.

Le Corbier’s wine list pulls few punches and tends to be as grand and extravagant as the restaurant itself. There are, however, a couple of eminently drinkable bottles priced under $20, including the house white, a Macon Lugny, that went perfectly well with the first courses, and a Merlot (the list includes but one of these even-tempered wines) that was equally happy with both the meat entrees and the Norwegian salmon.

With one of the bottles mentioned above, dinner for two with tax and tip should cost about $115. Aperitifs, more extravagant wines and certain additional charges (there is a supplementary charge attached to those entrees that have a particularly high food cost) can raise the bill rather quickly.

Le Corbier

6941 La Jolla Blvd., La Jolla

456-8088

Dinner served 6 to 11 p.m., Monday through Saturday; closed Sundays.

Credit cards accepted.