New Sign Signals Continuation of Classic French Cuisine in Pacific Beach

The “La Chaumine” sign that hung just about forever (or so it seemed) over a typically nondescript stretch of Garnet Avenue in Pacific Beach has finally come down.

The new, equally unimposing sign reads “The Manor Inn.” Thus is announced a restaurant that is much in the same style as the one-time bastion of Gallic tradition that, less than a decade ago, was widely regarded as San Diego’s best purveyor of French cooking.

Times and tastes changed enormously in that decade, but La Chaumine chef/proprietor Roland Chassang did not, nor did his menu, which remained devoted to the solid (and sometimes stolid) dishes of classic French cuisine. This was not, in other words, the place to bring an appetite for extra-rare duck breast sauced with kiwis, anchovies and rusty paper clips.

The result was that Chassang maintained an older, more conservative clientele, while failing to attract any attention in younger or more adventuresome quarters. He recently tired of the game and sold out to Andre Vernon, a French-born restaurateur who said that he, too, thought he had retired from the business--until he bought La Chaumine.

The Manor Inn is in many ways indistinguishable from its predecessor. The matchbooks still advertise La Chaumine, the same lace curtains hang in the windows, and the checks still are delivered, most quaintly, in wooden shoes, a touch that seems uniquely appropriate in a place that is as comfortable as an old shoe. The wine list was written by Chassang; Vernon said that a new list, with the emphasis shifted from French to California vintages, shortly will be installed.

A Classical Pose

Vernon has changed the menu, but it continues to hold a classical pose, as exemplified by such dishes as the roast duck in orange sauce, the roast rack of lamb and a dessert cart that, wonder of wonders, offers mile-high, flaky napoleons stuffed with silky pastry cream. This is the sort of cooking that a whole new generation of diners, venturing out for something rather more sophisticated than the franchised burgers of their adolescence, may find as strange as they would the ancient Roman dish of peacock tongues in peppered honey.

But those newly arriving in the realm of classic French cooking (as well as those returning after sojourns in less steady parts) may come quickly enough to appreciate why this is the cooking that came to be accepted as the international style of cooking, and the one to which all other cuisines were at most but second-best.

Vernon might not encourage this point of view, but Sunday evening seems the optimum time to visit the Manor because the mood and menu strike such a pleasantly Sunday-supper-in-old-France note. The style is thoroughly bourgeois, not in the modern sense of the word, but in the original sense that denotes solid well-being. Some of the cooking--with a stress on some --captures this mood as beautifully as papery roses found pressed between the leaves of the family Bible.

One dish that struck just such a note was a simple steamed artichoke served with a dish of hollandaise for dipping, which was hardly exotic but at the same time was entirely satisfying and quite well presented. In keeping with the French emphasis on details, the heart and bottom of the artichoke had been carved away and placed atop the mound of leaves so that the most succulent bits of the artichoke could be enjoyed first, with the leaves following at a more leisurely pace.

An avocado stuffed with crab and doused with a very French cocktail sauce--a type of mayonnaise tinted with tomato and flavored with Cognac, though in this case a bit of American-inspired horseradish was added--was similarly simple and savory, though the crab was on the stringy side. In the absence of fresh lump crab meat from Chesapeake Bay, however, it is hard for restaurateurs to find crab that isn’t unsatisfactory in one way or another.

The Perfect Starter

A slice of duck pate, a dish that when served as an appetizer these days seems a bit musty and old-fashioned, was in fact the perfect starter. We currently tend to think of pate too often as a snack or cocktail hour food, to be smacked on a piece of bread and downed at a gulp, whereas correctly it appears as a course, to be eaten with knife and fork and appreciated for the little tricks with which the chef has attempted to make his version unique. The Manor’s pate was quite nice, the flavor mellow and subdued and nicely accented by the traditional, sour, pickled gherkins and onions that garnished it. Other first-course choices include clams casino, mushroom caps served sizzling in a pungent garlic butter, mussels steamed in white wine and shrimp in a vermouth-and-cream sauce.

Dinners rather nicely include small servings of both soup and salad (another detail that reinforces the Sunday supper feel). The soup often is a cream of watercress, a peppery, pleasant classic that probably owes its favor with French chefs to the ease with which a basic potato soup can be transformed into something dressier by adding a handful of tart cresson . The salad, a simple assemblage of greens, is better with the astringent house dressing than with the cheerless blue cheese concoction that seems primarily a bow to American tastes.

The entree list begins promisingly with frog legs sauteed with garlic and tomatoes, and moves along to tiny bay scallops in a mustard sauce (this was a quiet, simple but very satisfying preparation, a good choice for anyone with a special fondness for scallops); the house version of shrimp “scampi,” and the several fresh fish of the day. Some fine dishes can be found among these daily offerings; one that was particularly likable was a serving of sauteed monk fish dressed with a suave, very well done lobster sauce. Popular conception has it that monk fish tastes like lobster; it really tastes more like monk fish, which is to say quite good. The delicate flesh mates quite nicely with lobster sauce, a robust preparation that extracts flavor and character from crushed lobster shells.

Basically Robust

The meat choices include roast chicken flavored with tarragon--it is hard to imagine anything more typically French--as well as broiled lamb chops seasoned with aromatic herbs, the inevitable New York Steak dabbed with herb butter, and filet mignon with sauce bordelaise. These are all basically robust; for something a bit more delicate, look to the sauteed medallions of veal served with an unctuous, fully flavored Madeira-mushroom sauce. All entrees are quite generously garnished with a vegetable plate that usually includes a stuffed baked potato, broccoli with hollandaise, and gently cooked carrots.

The most interesting offering on the pastry cart, the tarte tatin (probably the most fabulous apple pie ever invented), featured a burned crust on each of two visits. The napoleon was nicer, as was a house ice cream combination that paired the guest’s choice of fresh raspberries or strawberries with vanilla ice cream and a couple of liqueurs. French grandmothers were serving this sort of thing more than a century ago, and it is easy to understand why.

In an age of flashy restaurants, the Manor is not likely to wield a particularly noticeable influence over local dining trends. But it is nice to have on hand when a reliable, old-fashioned French meal suits the mood of the moment.

THE MANOR INN

1466 Garnet Ave., San Diego

272-8540

Dinner served Tuesdays through Sundays, closed Mondays.

Credit cards accepted.

Dinner for two, including a modest bottle of wine, tax and tip, about $45 to $90.