A taste of Paris, just up the street

I didn’t mention where we were going when I invited two girlfriends out to a French bistro with my husband and me. I knew they both loved French food -- foie gras! moules! coq au vin! -- and that one thrilled at the prospect of a honeymoon in Paris, her very first trip there. Mais oui, but they would love to come! What time? The two showed up at my door at the appointed hour dressed up for the occasion in little black dresses, heels, dangly earrings and French perfume.

On y va? Shall we go?

Neither said a word as I revved the car onto the 101 going north. It’s in Burbank, I volunteered, and it’s new. Hmm, came a noncommittal murmur from the back. And when I turned into the parking lot behind a Vons, Michelle blurted out, “It’s in a mall?” I guess she was expecting L’Orangerie. Or something more, shall we say, chic.

“Cut with the snobbism,” I grouched. “It’s good. You’ll see.”

There it is, I said, next to the beauty parlor. A forlorn table out front, its white tablecloth buckling in the breeze, marked the spot. A menu was posted beneath a generic sign that read Bistro Provence.

Strange, but true: Interesting little restaurants like this are popping up in far-flung neighborhoods all around L.A., from Avenue in Manhattan Beach and Nook in West Los Angeles, to Literati II in Brentwood, Boneyard Bistro in Sherman Oaks and even Hungry Cat in Hollywood. In every case, the owners are chefs who’ve done time in the trenches at serious restaurants and when it comes to opening their own places, they do the smart thing: Instead of a sexy -- and pricey -- West Hollywood or Beverly Hills address, they choose a neighborhood dying for a good restaurant.

Rents are lower and potential diners are not only hungry, they’re not that crazy about driving across town for anything less than a special occasion. Give them a restaurant that has not only good food, but polished service and soulful charm, and they’ll swear undying loyalty. And bring all their friends.

Still, I could tell my friends were feeling more and more dubious, until I opened the door onto the happy clamor of the dining room. They perked up.

We ordered, and the food began to arrive. We all used our bread to greedily soak up the garlicky juices of plump mussels steamed in white wine with ribbons of zucchini. Michelle delved into her endive and watercress salad. Everybody makes some version, but Bistro Provence’s is uncommonly good, the greens perky and perfectly dressed, the Roquefort creamy and pungent, the caramelized walnuts fresh and crunchy. The sole male in our group had, of course, gone for the grilled lamb sirloin appetizer, a salade composee of sorts, actually, with a piquant beet tartare and fresh goat cheese as part of the graceful composition.

I made sure everybody got a taste of my pale orange pumpkin soup. Garnished with a swirl of creme fraiche, this was no ho-hum vegetarian puree, but an elegant soup from someone who loves the genre and gives it its due respect.

OK, so perhaps my friends were a tad overdressed for this neighborhood bistro, but they were getting into the spirit of things. Every table was taken, and the feeling was festive, especially for a weeknight. A handful of regulars hung out at the bar at the back of the room, some of them having dinner there. And at one point, chef-owner Miki Zivkovic came out to survey the company with affectionate eyes, stopping to say hello to friends who know him from Pinot Bistro, where he was executive chef.

Bistro Provence, though, is very different from a Patina Group production like Pinot Bistro. It feels very personal, and that’s what makes this fledgling bistro so appealing. After working for others for most of his career, Zivkovic is now working for himself. He writes the menu. He runs the show. And he’s hired some very personable and capable staff to run the dining room.

Working with an obviously tight budget, Zivkovic did much of the remodeling and decorating himself. And though you’d never mistake Bistro Provence for a Patina Group production, with lots of elbow grease and a soupcon of imagination, he’s managed to turn an unprepossessing storefront space into a working bistro.

My first time there a couple of months ago, the place was awfully stark, and so new you could practically smell the fresh paint. But on each subsequent visit, there was something new -- oak armoires, banquettes in striped silk, a chandelier, more flowers. The walls are sponged ocher, red velvet curtains hang at the windows, and the chairs are updated silver metal versions of Thonet’s classic bentwood bistro chairs.

Zivkovic cooks with a quiet confidence. I’d be happy to eat the roasted chicken -- half a bird with a deep gold skin and moist flesh served with a small mountain of frites -- any night. Beef bourguignon is tender and wine-soaked, the stew and braising juices ladled over horseradish-accented mashed potatoes, a lovely rendition of a French classic. Bouillabaisse, studded with mussels, shrimp and chunks of red snapper, is credible too.

There’s also a version of the cassoulet of southwest France, this one a casserole of slow-simmered cannellini beans with apple-wood smoked bacon topped with thin slices of tender pork. It’s sort of cassoulet lite, minus the sausage and duck and the breadcrumbs on top, but still a nice supper dish. Zivkovic does a competent job with risotto too. Right now, it has a little duck confit and wild mushrooms in it. (I’m not sure whether arugula really works with that combination, though.)

Occasionally the kitchen stumbles. One night the beef bourguignon tastes diluted. On another the paella seems to be missing its saffron. The menu doesn’t change much either, or at least not yet, though almost every night there are a couple of specials worth ordering, like the Alaskan halibut the chef’s friend had brought from a fishing trip. It was served with sauteed mushrooms, spinach and a slice of rich potato gratin.

The bistro is still waiting for a wine and beer license. Meanwhile, it has purchased good all-purpose glasses, albeit made of thick glass, and a waiter will open any bottles patrons bring with a well-practiced flourish. A bistro sans wine? It is a handicap, all right. But they’re doing everything in their power to move their application along.

*

Finishing touches

DESSERTS are simple and straightforward. My vote goes to the lemon curd served in a stemmed glass with a swirl of soft meringue on top. Chocolate lovers would no doubt beg to differ, touting the warm chocolate truffle cake. OK, it’s a cliche, but the bistro’s happens to be an excellent version.

Bistro Provence is not particularly ambitious. And that’s a good thing. It’s a neighborhood restaurant, not a destination restaurant. Zivkovic is more interested in feeding people well than racking up the stars. And he’s smart enough to stay within his game, cooking the kind of soulful, satisfying dishes he’s been cooking his entire career.

I’ve noticed that the regulars at Bistro Provence are proprietary about the place, volunteering their favorite dishes to a newcomer, for instance. Burbank is not exactly a paradise in terms of restaurants, so people can’t quite believe their luck that something with this much personality and soul has set down in their neighborhood. And with main courses priced at well below $20, eating at Bistro Provence doesn’t need a special occasion. It’s inexpensive enough to make it a frequent indulgence.

I couldn’t help pointing out to my Francophile friends that you’d be very lucky to find a neighborhood bistro this good in Paris these days. Yes, really. Quelle chance!

*

Bistro Provence

Rating: **

Location: 345 N. Pass Ave., Burbank, (818) 840-9050.

Ambience: Sweet little neighborhood bistro with an enthusiastic local crowd, yellow ochre walls and striped banquettes. At the back is a bar with a few additional seats.

Service: Warm and personable

Price: Dinner appetizers, $6 to $9.25; main courses, $12.75 to $17.25; desserts, $5 to $6.

Best dishes: Pumpkin soup, steamed clams with zucchini, endive and watercress salad, grilled lamb sirloin with beet tartar, roast chicken with frites, boeuf bourguignon, Spanish paella, cassoulet with twice-cooked pork, penne with Bolognese sauce, lemon curd with soft meringue, warm chocolate truffle cake.

Wine list: Wine license pending.

Best table: The banquette on the right of the dining room.

Details: Open for lunch noon to 2 p.m. Monday through Friday; for dinner 5:30 to 9:30 p.m. Monday through Friday and 5:30 to 10 p.m. Saturday; closed Sunday. Lot parking.

Rating is based on food, service and ambience, with price taken into account in relation to quality. ****: Outstanding on every level. ***: Excellent. **: Very good. *: Good. No star: Poor to satisfactory.