The restaurant, in a small block of local shops just past Eden Park, is a plain, white space which has been minimally tarted up with some nice touches: a huge old window frame reincarnated as a wine shelf is set into a tiled back wall behind the bar; the tables, including a large communal one in the centre, are made of rough-sawn timber; and the spare adornments include a pleasing cluster of Henri Cartier-Bresson photos on one wall. The impression from the street is perhaps slightly cold (although that will matter less as the weather warms up) but undeniably chic.
Le Petit Bocal is the work of Paris-born Matt Gosset and partner Jess Brewer who started the La Boulange bakeries, and it's the epitome of the simple bistro. It operates all day, and the breakfasts have a French accent (sardines with your boiled egg; cream with the mushrooms). Lunch is soup or savoury tartes or baguette sandwiches, and their croque monsieur (the French version of a ham and cheese toastie) is celebrated.
The Professor and I were in for dinner, though, and I was keen to have her try the board of pates and terrines that Andrew had introduced me to. That first night it had been titled "Pigs and Pickles", which would not have endeared me to the Professor, who has a great fondness for pigs (rather than pork, if you see what I mean).
Fortunately there was an alternative called "Duck, Duck, Goose", proof positive, if proof were needed, that brevity is the soul of wit. This turned out to be a terrine made from confit duck, the coarser and chunkier rillettes and a rich goose-liver pate (in a jar, of course) sealed with a plug of butter so substantial that I swear I could hear cheering in the Fonterra boardroom. I presume the bread it came with was from La Boulange and it was damn fine (although I still reckon La Voie Francaise in Dominion Rd makes the best baguette in Auckland) and we dawdled over it and a couple of glasses of the excellent Heron's Flight Matakana sangiovese.
They don't have a mains menu at this place, but rather two or three "plats du jour", which is a great French habit. They'd run out of the chicken supreme, the French classic that was one of Julia Child's signature dishes. What remained was something involving pork belly and a veal blanquette (a creamy stew), which was what I chose.
It was not a happy choice. Having made the dish a few times myself, I know what it's meant to be like, and theirs was quite nice. But it contained five (count 'em) small cubes of veal and a slice of carrot next to a pile of rice, which seemed a bit tight-fisted for $28.
The Professor thought the grilled goat-cheese atop her pear and walnut salad was also perfectly nice but the walnuts were not fresh. There was however, no faulting the desserts - this is a French joint, after all.
I have enjoyed an excellent soup and steak frites here, and I think the lapses were one-offs. I'll certainly be back.
Vive le bocal.
Verdict: Simple and satisfying
