Avenues Bistro-Leawood attracts an in crowd
I don’t know all the details of the behind-the-scenes drama at the attractive Leawood restaurant called Zest. But there must have been some kind of culinary coup because one day last July, the restaurant’s charismatic co-owner, Joe DiGiovanni, and the executive chef, Linda Duerr, were suddenly unemployed.
The surviving partner, Mike Schreiber, brought in the management team at Avenues Bistro–Brookside (including chef and co-owner Joe Birch) to run Zest. Avenues Bistro–Brookside is a small, comfortable neighborhood gathering spot. Zest was a big, flashy, suburban joint. But the two venues had one important thing in common: an older, upper-middle-class clientele. The Leawood demographic was, maybe, a little older and a little wealthier, but both restaurants attracted patrons who appreciated good wine and stylish (but not too expensive) cuisine.
Avenues Bistro–Brookside is a recognizable brand; it has been successful since it opened in 2006. Zest, on the other hand, lacked a defined personality. Yes, it had DiGiovanni, but his Joe de vivre works best in a more intimate setting (like his first success, Joe D’s Wine Bar, a Brookside institution for many years). It didn’t play so well in a big, awkwardly designed restaurant.
So Birch and his investors bought the business and wisely turned Zest into another Avenues Bistro. It was a shrewd move, and — despite all claims to the contrary — the new Avenues Bistro–Leawood, which officially opened last month, is not simply a copy of the Brookside original. The menu and, to a certain extent, the wine list are the same, but the original Avenues Bistro is now the dowdy older sister to the more flamboyant and vital Leawood restaurant. Both serve lobster macaroni and cheese, but the dish tastes creamier in south Johnson County.
The restaurant’s glossy luxuriance comes through with the waitstaff, too. Avenues Bistro–Leawood appears to be dominated by men and women who have comfortably retired, so they may not care about this so much, but Birch and company got rid of a few older (as in over 40) veteran servers, and they staffed the joint with a lot of handsome young waiters and pretty waitresses. It’s like being served by the cast of How I Met Your Mother or Friends. (One waitress even looks like Jennifer Aniston.)
In this economy, restaurateurs have to play every card in the deck just to get customers in the door. Birch is a pretty good gambler, and he has given this space what it needed most: an identity.
If that identity has a name, it’s popularity. That’s the underlying theme at this restaurant, beginning at the entrance where two youthful hostesses, looking like high school cheerleaders, operate a computer seating chart with all the intensity of an algebra exam. Their chore isn’t easy. There isn’t one dining room in this restaurant but several: some tucked into cubbyholes, others in narrow corridors. There’s also a “private” room with a curtain that can be drawn, just like the first-class compartment of a plane.
While dining with Steve and Gloria in Leawood, we were seated on the wrong side of the curtain. The patrons in the private room were watching a movie. “Is it porno?” Steve asked a passing waiter.
“No,” the server said. “It’s about selling pharmaceuticals.”
I’ve always liked the food at the Brookside restaurant. What’s not to like? It has style and is uniformly consistent. And the well-priced dinner menu isn’t saddled with clunkers.
Popularity is the menu’s guiding principle: Birch’s new menu happily informs diners which starters and entrées are top-ranked. The shrimp gratin and the baked artichoke gratin (more artichokes and fewer breadcrumbs, please) are among the “Top 3” best-selling starters here. Why would you order anything less, well, popular?
We opted for popular choices that night in Leawood. The delicious bacon-wrapped dates round out that “Top 3,” and deservedly so. The chewy dates, though, tightly bound in crispy bacon, were practically floating in a pool of the sauce (brown sugar, Madeira and balsamic vinegar). Too much of anything, even this Miss Congeniality of sauces, is too much.
Three dipping concoctions may be selected from a list of six options to accompany the terrific, addictively good pommes frites. We chose unwisely. The pesto aioli needed something (more basil), and the rémoulade was bland beyond repair. The Bavarian mustard was tasty but would have been better on a hot dog.
There might be a reason for these failures of flavor: Johnson Countians of a certain age are notoriously resistent to intensely seasoned foods. So Leawood’s “fiery garlic shrimp” needs more fire — a lot more. More ginger, too.
The dinners can be perfect. The braised-short-rib stroganoff (a “previous top seller,” according to the menu), on a bed of risotto, was decadent, thanks to the Marsala wine, the veal stock, and a supple sauce finished with cream and butter. After six bites, I was so woozy that I was ready to watch the pharmaceutical film myself.
Chef Birch’s calories-be-damned attitude is one reason that the original Avenues Bistro remains so beloved, and the Leawood satellite gives no quarter. The grouper — beautiful, flaky — came generously stuffed with lump crabmeat, and the Basque-style chicken would rank on my own “Top 3” list of meals to eat again before I die (or diet). A plump bird breast with a crisp yet evanescent crust was draped in melted cheese and white-wine-cream sauce, then heaped with salty prosciutto, roasted red peppers, artichoke hearts and sun-dried tomatoes.
Too full even to contemplate a pastry, we refused to listen to the dessert list. “You’ll have to have dessert when you come back,” the lovely Alexis said as she handed over the check.
I did leave room for dessert on my next visit, when I ate alone at the bar and listened in on the 30-ish couple at the next table having one of the clumsiest first-date conversations ever. Hey, it was too dark to read a book — or even the menu. I depended on the kindness of the Jennifer Aniston look-alike — “I hear that a lot,” she said — to help me choose a dinner from the restaurant’s “Top 5 Sellers.” Her advice was No. 4, the Steak & Cake: a plate of tender, expertly grilled beef medallions served with a fine (and properly crabby) crab cake. The béarnaise sauce was gorgeous. Oh, but that rémoulade? Still blah.
I forgot to ask “Jennifer” how the desserts ranked, but the list was simple enough: chocolate gâteau, red velvet cake, carrot cake and, the most interesting offering, an apple-cider crème brûlée. It wasn’t as tart or refreshing as I’d hoped, but unexpectedly creamy and tongue-bracing, it evoked fall in a way no mere swig of apple cider could.
As I spooned up the last of it, I watched the early dinner crowd — their checks paid, their Chanel jackets on — walking toward the exit. One woman, with elegant hair and accessories just right, strolled regally on her husband’s arm. Anyone could tell she was “Top 3” all the way.
