Every cloud has a silver lining.
World War II brought us nuclear power and the jet engine. The black plague set the stage for the Renaissance. David Hasselhoff created Baywatch.
Le Rêve is closing in eight days and every table is booked solid. Swine flu is spreading across the country at ever-increasing rates. Oh – just in case you forgot – we’re struggling through one of the worst recessions in history. The clouds look ominous today.
As a public service I feel that it's my patriotic duty to illustrate my October 2nd dining experience. Although in light of the impending closure I’ll admit that my review is a bit like describing a bacon cheeseburger to an orthodox Jew – it’s really good and you can’t have it.
Le Rêve is easy to miss, as the most notable feature is an unremarkable valet podium across the street from a Greyhound station. It almost makes you feel special to know that it’s there, like it’s some sort of prohibition era speakeasy serving illicit French cuisine.
Every time I walk through the door I am struck by the tiny size of the restaurant. There are just twelve tables seated with staggered reservations to allow Chef Weissman to keep up in the diminutive kitchen. Don’t worry about lingering too long over your dinner – the table is yours for the evening. That’s a good thing, because you’re in for a 3+ hour affair.
“Affair” is a good word for it. Every time we go there are always exclamations of joy, lustful facial expressions, and anyone dieting will certainly be cheating. If the food was any better Le Rêve would be condemned by the National Organization of Women.
We ordered a four course meal with wine pairings and it was worth every penny of the ~$200 per person ($90 food / $70ish wine / $40ish tip). Don’t skimp on the wine pairings; Le Rêve’s sommelier will make it worth your dough. Not only can he select wines that make love to the paired food, he explains each glass in a way that never feels condescending or patronizing – an impressive feat for such a knowledgeable young man.
The rest of the staff follow suit, and there weren't any prepubescent college kids working the tables. Each team member performed their tasks with the logistical precision of a Navy Seal and the demeanor of a Tibetan monk. There was never any indication of the complex timing and stress inevitably occurring just a few feet away in the kitchen.
This caliber of service was leagues above anything else in San Antonio and will be sorely missed. Little touches made all the difference. A champagne toast started your meal. Tiny ottomans kept the ladies’ (or men’s, if you’re European like that) purses off the floor. A fresh napkin (either white or black – depending on the color of your pants) was placed on your lap each time you sit down. Complimentary tasting samples excited your palate between courses. And the valet placed cookies with a thank-you from the chef in your car. For three hours you felt like Megan Fox at a comic book convention.
The food makes you feel as special as the service.
Exhibit A: An Ice Cream Sandwich
If you are thinking “Big deal. I’ve had an ice cream sandwich before” then you don’t get it. This ice cream sandwich is as much a Blue Bell as a Lotus 25 is a Camaro. It’s bespoke. It’s one man’s vision, and there is no need to compromise anything because it started from scratch. My hat goes off to Colin Chapman and Andrew Weismann. These aren’t men who use axles from trucks or pie crusts from Sara Lee.
I’ve been thinking of ways to describe the food and decided that I can’t do it justice. So I won’t bore you by saying how every flavor is balanced and engaging. And I won’t say that the each bite is as memorable and thought provoking as a trip to the Guggenheim. I’ll save you from page after page of descriptive food porn because, after all, Le Rêve is closing in only eight days. And I wouldn’t want to torture you like that.
So where is the silver lining? Tables are booked, swine flu is looming, and we’re all just a bank failure away from abject poverty. But you never know – there just might be a blue-blood with a Le Rêve reservation contracting swine flu in his foreclosed home at this very moment.
Embrace your schadenfreude and enjoy a wonderful meal.
World War II brought us nuclear power and the jet engine. The black plague set the stage for the Renaissance. David Hasselhoff created Baywatch.
Le Rêve is closing in eight days and every table is booked solid. Swine flu is spreading across the country at ever-increasing rates. Oh – just in case you forgot – we’re struggling through one of the worst recessions in history. The clouds look ominous today.
As a public service I feel that it's my patriotic duty to illustrate my October 2nd dining experience. Although in light of the impending closure I’ll admit that my review is a bit like describing a bacon cheeseburger to an orthodox Jew – it’s really good and you can’t have it.
Le Rêve is easy to miss, as the most notable feature is an unremarkable valet podium across the street from a Greyhound station. It almost makes you feel special to know that it’s there, like it’s some sort of prohibition era speakeasy serving illicit French cuisine.
Every time I walk through the door I am struck by the tiny size of the restaurant. There are just twelve tables seated with staggered reservations to allow Chef Weissman to keep up in the diminutive kitchen. Don’t worry about lingering too long over your dinner – the table is yours for the evening. That’s a good thing, because you’re in for a 3+ hour affair.
“Affair” is a good word for it. Every time we go there are always exclamations of joy, lustful facial expressions, and anyone dieting will certainly be cheating. If the food was any better Le Rêve would be condemned by the National Organization of Women.
We ordered a four course meal with wine pairings and it was worth every penny of the ~$200 per person ($90 food / $70ish wine / $40ish tip). Don’t skimp on the wine pairings; Le Rêve’s sommelier will make it worth your dough. Not only can he select wines that make love to the paired food, he explains each glass in a way that never feels condescending or patronizing – an impressive feat for such a knowledgeable young man.The rest of the staff follow suit, and there weren't any prepubescent college kids working the tables. Each team member performed their tasks with the logistical precision of a Navy Seal and the demeanor of a Tibetan monk. There was never any indication of the complex timing and stress inevitably occurring just a few feet away in the kitchen.
This caliber of service was leagues above anything else in San Antonio and will be sorely missed. Little touches made all the difference. A champagne toast started your meal. Tiny ottomans kept the ladies’ (or men’s, if you’re European like that) purses off the floor. A fresh napkin (either white or black – depending on the color of your pants) was placed on your lap each time you sit down. Complimentary tasting samples excited your palate between courses. And the valet placed cookies with a thank-you from the chef in your car. For three hours you felt like Megan Fox at a comic book convention.
The food makes you feel as special as the service.
Exhibit A: An Ice Cream Sandwich
If you are thinking “Big deal. I’ve had an ice cream sandwich before” then you don’t get it. This ice cream sandwich is as much a Blue Bell as a Lotus 25 is a Camaro. It’s bespoke. It’s one man’s vision, and there is no need to compromise anything because it started from scratch. My hat goes off to Colin Chapman and Andrew Weismann. These aren’t men who use axles from trucks or pie crusts from Sara Lee.I’ve been thinking of ways to describe the food and decided that I can’t do it justice. So I won’t bore you by saying how every flavor is balanced and engaging. And I won’t say that the each bite is as memorable and thought provoking as a trip to the Guggenheim. I’ll save you from page after page of descriptive food porn because, after all, Le Rêve is closing in only eight days. And I wouldn’t want to torture you like that.
So where is the silver lining? Tables are booked, swine flu is looming, and we’re all just a bank failure away from abject poverty. But you never know – there just might be a blue-blood with a Le Rêve reservation contracting swine flu in his foreclosed home at this very moment.
Embrace your schadenfreude and enjoy a wonderful meal.
Food: 5 Cuy
Service: 5 Cuy
Ambiance: 4.5 Cuy
Value: 4.5 Cuy
Ambiance: 4.5 Cuy
Value: 4.5 Cuy
Overall: 
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.
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Marry her. Now.
