In Guadalajara, a city fairly well endowed with authentic French restaurants, what can the new Frenchman on the block offer patrons — both the legions who flock to myriad establishments at midday to gobble down traditional comida corrida (a complete, fast dinner) for around 50 pesos and the few who patronize the city’s handful of French, haute cuisine establishments?
The answer, in a word: a bistro.
I found I didn’t really know the meaning of this familiar word. But Parisian chef Bernard Resve explained it to me, along with other restaurant lore, as we sat in his bright, cozy bistro, Clafuti, with Lopez Mateos traffic whizzing by just the other side of a row of cars parked in front, silenced by a pleasant, glass vestibule that Resve constructed at the entrance (located directly across from the much better established eatery Libanes).
Clafuti (the restaurant’s name is the Hispanicized version of clafoutis, a dense, flan-like tart) is probably the only French eatery in Guadalajara using the bistro concept, Resve explained.
“It’s an authentic Parisian atmosphere, but informal, without tablecloths, and using traditional recipes that are 30, or 50, or 100 years old.” (One such recipe is quiche, which, surprisingly, was invented in Germany as Küche, he said. And — another nugget of lore — the word bistro is Russian in origin and means “rapid.”)
“It’s a concept that’s a bit difficult here,” he continued. “My comida corrida, which includes an appetizer, main dish, agua fresco, bread and dessert, is $100 pesos — double the price of the average comida corrida but far cheaper than a comparable meal at one of the other French restaurants in town.”
I had planned to take advantage of Clafuti’s incredible 28-peso breakfast special. As it includes omelette or eggs with chilaquiles plus juice, fruit yogurt, coffee and bread, Resve calls it “the promotion of the century.”
But with unexpected setbacks on the home front, I arrived after noon and had to linger over delicious clafuti and coffee until 2 p.m. when the day’s comida corrida sallied forth from the tiny but open three-chef kitchen. (All trained by Resve himself, he pointed out.)
The comida that arrived was no puny puny entree lost on a huge plate in the “new cuisine” style, as Resve explained it, but a generous piece of Pollo Antillano (Antilles-island-style chicken with rice, carrots, potatoes and a nice, brown sauce delicately flavored with black pepper), preceded by a substantial appetizer (a small salad and cheese bread covered in warm mushroom sauce) and accompanied by wonderful French bread, agua fresca made from what is possibly the world’s best tasting fruit — guayaba — and, lastly, Pastel Vasco, a Basque style cake. (I am not a fan of cake and like very few of them, so this was the day’s only disappointment, but the jam and creamy frosting concoction may suit the Mexican palate.)
“My recipes are not fusion style,” Resve said. “Fusion combines ingredients from various cuisines in a single dish.” But he has apparently adapted traditional French cuisine to Mexico and adopted recipes from around the world. For example, he cooks with native Mexican foods such as chayote and his menu may include Beef Stroganoff and a Moroccan, Sri Lankan or Brazilian soup or salad.
Besides France itself, two of Resve’s other interests figure heavily in the soul of Clafuti. Not surprisingly, they are bicycling and art.
Biking and photography were evident in the many black-and-white photos decorating Clafuti’s walls and, sadly, in Resve’s arm. (It was in a sling the day I visited, after his encounter with an errant car and a large pothole. But normally he bikes to work every day.)
And art, of course, is practically synonymous with being French. Sure enough, Resve explained that painting was his vocation when he first came to Guadalajara in 1990. But since it proved to be harder to earn a living as a painter than as a culinary artist, he eventually gravitated to the latter, which, happily, was backed up by his education in Paris.
Resve used to have a French restaurant in Guadalajara’s famed Nueve Esquinas area, although he noted wistfully that it didn’t meet patrons expectations (for birria) and so went out of business after two years. Clafuti is hampered, as he explains it, by its location along the service drive of busy northbound Lopez Mateos, although there is ample, free parking right in front as well as in a public lot located 50 meters before the restaurant. (Clafuti can also be approached by walking or driving along the pleasant street Constelación.)
But as for advantages, there is Resve’s eye for quality ingredients (including excellent espresso) and the surprising quantity and variety of his daily menu (with numerous French offerings in addition to the specials at both breakfast and dinner — Blanquette de Veau, Boeuf Bourguignon and Filet de Sole Bonne Femme which I must leave the reader to decipher).
Besides these, there is the optimistic smile always playing on Resve’s lips as well as his penchant for welcoming new and old customers, sometimes by sitting right down with them with a bottle of beer or glass of wine.
Not to mention his “promotion of the century,” which I plan to take advantage of soon.
Clafuti French bistro, Lopez Mateos Sur 577 between Glorieta de la Estampida and Inglaterra (almost at the corner of Constelación), (33) 3121-5726, www.clafuti.com.mx, This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.. Hours: Monday to Friday, 8 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. (Breakfast is from 8 a.m. to noon and dinner from 2-5:30 p.m.)
Prices: breakfast special 28 pesos; comida corrida 100 pesos; wine 45 pesos a glass; beer 18 pesos; Almond fish 80 pesos; Green pepper steak 130 pesos; pork loin with mustard sauce 85 pesos.