Brive: The Skate Hath New Wings

        It’s almost like a neurological affliction, a nervous tic, Bobby Pritsker’s infamous irreverence. The little inside jokes on Brive’s menus. “The skate hath new wings.” “Franks and beans, ballpark style.” “Honestly, it’s been in remission for the past to or three menus,” says Pritsker. “Then suddenly, working on this menu, I couldn’t control it. I need to laugh about things.”

        There he was one day, experimenting with exquisite squid, small clams, and juicy chicken wings marinated in saffron, his own play on paella. “I was thinking, ‘The emperor hath no clothes.’” Perhaps instead of “salmon, en sauerbraten,” it would have been less coy to call it salmon in a red-wine sauce infused with ginger. As for “surf as turf,” why would anyone be offended? Seafood and pork. “They’re eating it every day all over Chinatown. And aren’t veal Marengo (with crayfish) and sweetbreads with lobster French classics?

        Isn't it enough that his surf as turf sings with flavor? The gathering of lobster on shredded pork (almost Szechuan but not quite, marinated in shallots, garlic, jalapeno, and balsamic vinegar) beside fragrant meatballs, sweet freshwater chestnuts, and sesame-sautéed scallion tops, all in a classic lobster sauce with cream and coral, is indeed bizarre, but truly delicious.

        Pritsker has always been the man on the flying trapeze. He takes rash risks, and not all of them work. Some men fight boredom with parachute skiing, commodities bets, long-legged beauties. Bobby might have kept his sophisticated fans happy with his inimitable calf’s liver, vegetable sausage, oysters with red radish, but he needs a challenge. “This paella, creating something I’ve never done before… that’s the thrill for me.”

        True, the dining room crew lacks snap. Tonight, the greeting is somewhat dazed, the captain seems barely to comprehend English. “This is mussels with tomatoes and times,” advises the sulky woman who presents the opening lagniappe. But Brive is still romantic and beautiful, with its eccentric salvage of charming antiques and the tall windows overlooking the garden.

        The menu has its moments of solemnity – roast rack of veal, braised sweetbread-and-fennel pie, tournedos of lamb with eggplant dumplings. The three-course prix fixe, $52 to $63 (determined by the price of the entrée), is no more expensive than dinner at most upscale feederies. Of course, as soon as you read “roast rabbit and its lettuces” you do start thinking of Peter Cottontail. But then, I’ve never been put off by Pritsker’s self-mocking wit.

        All the senses are wooed by the small basket of lush flowers. Eli’s good chewy bread, an extravagant crock of butter, the way the brininess of oysters rings through celery cream under a wild tangle of fried leek tops and julienne of celery root. Small pasta pillows filled with parsley float in thick lentil soup with poblano-pepper cream. And a shrimp-artichoke-and-white-bean salad is complemented by three little tuffets of toasted polenta, the pigeon terrine by heavenly homemade hazelnut brioche. Besides the peerless seafood “paella” (with its meager ration of rice) and the savory surf as turf,  there is splendid, beefy Muscovy duck, serviced in grill-singed slices with Pekin-duck balllotine stuffed with crumbed olives.

        A poppy-seed truffle flanks lovely warm lemon-and-poppy-seed tart on espresso cream, and variations on chocolate are hot and runny, frozen, crackling – a chocoholic’s need fulfilled. But the prankster butts in again with “peanut-butter-and-marshmallow” sandwich (actually peanut-praline ice cream and Italian meringue) and a Venetian glass of malted milk, surprisingly good, and the strawberry hot dog in a Génoise bun, ballpark style, with candied beans and kiwi relish, mere silliness with no redeeming thrill.

        “Andy Warhol had fun,” says Pritsker, “why shouldn’t I?” As an admirer, I’ll play along. He’s promised to revive the dining-room crew. And a new menu is off to the printer this week. Those of us who love Brive and cherish Pritsker’s untamable high jinks can’t wait to see what he’s up to next.