Le Rendez-Vous: You Can Pronounce Name <i> and </i> Enjoy Food

Le Rendez-Vous seems an obvious name for a French restaurant; in fact, a small bistro of that name briefly flourished in La Jolla just a few years ago.

In a rather delightful example of French pragmatism, a pleasant new eatery in Old Town has been christened Le Rendez-Vous precisely because the name is so obvious.

According to Danielle Renaud, who, with partner and close friend Andre Vautrin, opened this restaurant last November, choosing a name was vastly more difficult than designing the menu.

“We were afraid of every name we considered,” she said, adding that one fear was that the rejected names might twist American tongues. “Finally, we chose Le Rendez-Vous because it is a word that Americans know and can pronounce.”

Paris-born Chef Vautrin, who apprenticed in a restaurant kitchen at the age of 14 and has spent 30 years at a succession of stoves, said he is trying to steer a middle course between the rigid, codified cooking established by the Escoffier school and the mad chaos that rules some of today’s most innovative (or experimental) kitchens.

“I wanted something more imaginative, lighter and more sophisticated than the traditional cuisine,” he said.

Soup With Depth

A sampling of Vautrin’s cooking on two occasions suggests that he is realizing his desire. Many of the dishes are simultaneously familiar and strange, like old friends who have been away for a bit and have returned thinner and bearded.

Take, for example, a soup innocently described as “cream of vegetable.” Although it ultimately proved deserving of the name, it looked so unlike the anticipated pale, creamy puree that a small fraud seemed to have been perpetrated. It was a soup of depth and mystery: The burnt umber color suggested the presence of much tomato, but the flavor spoke clearly of broccoli; this meant that carrot puree had provided the orange tint. A splash of cream in the center of the bowl not only legitimized the “cream soup” designation, but assured that each spoonful would be of a different richness. Quite a trick, all in all.

A similar tempering of tradition with innovation characterized the beef Stroganoff served as a special one evening. If ever a dish was familiar in this country, Stroganoff is it, the general recipe specifying sliced, sauteed beef finished with mushrooms, onions and sour cream. Vautrin switched the rules, by sauteing a filet mignon whole, and preparing a quick pan sauce that skipped the mushrooms and incorporated a stunning quantity of paprika. This dish made a speedy hit with the palate.

Presentation Stressed

Presentation is stressed to a delightful degree. The food actually looks French, in what might be described as a Sunday-best sort of way; it is reposeful, pretty, thoughtful, almost Proustian in its elegant symmetry, and, ultimately, quite appetizing. (“You eat with your eyes before you taste the food,” commented Renaud.)

Thus it seemed something of a shame to disturb a plate of boeuf Bourguignonne (Vautrin’s most classic preparation, nicely herbed but perhaps in want of a bit more red wine), which was ringed around with a coronet of spinach leaves and tiny carrots, and featured an edible nasturtium tucked shyly into a purple-veined beet leaf. A separate dish contained a heap of crisply sauted sliced potatoes, and a third plate offered broccoli florets poised in an artichoke half, a timbal of pureed broccoli and carrot, and a couple of tiny petit pain squash. All were superb.

The menu also offers a seafood crepe, a dish that turned into a cliche in American restaurants and lately has been shunned for that reason. This one was nice, though, a fat, fluffy pancake folded over a filling of salmon and tiny shrimp, the whole moistened with a creamy white wine sauce that shared the characteristics of a good homardiere (lobster) sauce.

Also likable was a tender, nicely bronzed game hen, which arrived in a carefully modulated sauce of cream and Dijon mustard. Among other standing entree selections are halibut in a tomato-basil sauce; prawns in lemon sauce; sliced chicken in cream sauce; lamb chops with shallots and a steak finished with herbed butter. Prices are moderate, ranging from $8.50 to $13.

The first-course offerings are few but pleasant. In addition to a couple of salads, there is a handsome plate of charcuterie (which accurately if inelegantly could be described as French cold cuts), containing pates and sausages, and an excellent, warm salad of sauteed chicken livers arranged over a bed of crisp spinach leaves.

The desserts are extremely French, very mannered and refined. Candied orange peel and Cointreau give a lovely polish to a richly bitter chocolate mousse; a crepe filled with mixed fruit and daubed with strawberry puree has an air of homely goodness, and the creme caramel is as chastely creamy and sweet as could be desired.

Renaud and Vautrin’s adherence to a middle ground in cooking gives way in the decor department; with its aquamarine and pink color scheme, and open kitchen, the place has an extremely contemporary look. The colors may reflect the pair’s first impression of San Diego, an impression gained when they sold their restaurant of 10 years in Montreux, Switzerland, and arrived here in late 1985.

“It was a coup a foudre, “ said Vautrin. “Love at first sight. We fell in love with the sun and the quality of the light, and had to be here.”

LE RENDEZ-VOUS.

2391 San Diego Ave., Old Town.

298-3032.

Lunch served daily, dinner nightly except Mondays.

Credit cards accepted.

Dinner for two with a moderate bottle of wine, tax and tip, $35 to $55.