Audio By Carbonatix
No city is more revered for its culinary prowess than Paris, and certainly, its restaurants boast gastronomic delights without equal. Still, after several visits and many, many meals there — sometimes I ate two dinners in a day just to get to all of the places “they” said I had to “experience” in order to get my culinary card punched — the meal that I remember most fondly didn’t cost $200 and wasn’t in any guidebook.
After landing in a warm, cozy hotel bed after a long plane ride, I’d tossed and turned all night. So when dawn finally broke, I got up and out into the misty Paris morning. I found myself walking along the Seine — all the while, of course, delightedly repeating to myself, “Hey, look at me, I’m walking along the Seine!” — and then spied a little café across the street that was just throwing open its shutters and sweeping the dust off the sidewalk. I settled into a tiny table under the awning, ordered a pain au chocolat and a café au lait, and proceeded to feel like I was a part of Paris in a way I never had before and never will again. Street cleaners buzzed up and down the boulevard, merchants picked up their copies of Le Monde as they opened the gates to their shops, and the folks around me acted as though I were just another Parisian out for that first jolt of joe before the day kicked in.
Seventeenth Avenue isn’t the Seine, but The Biscuit has that same je ne sais quoi, a connectedness to the city’s routine that makes it seem like it has always been part of the urban landscape. Actually, this funky, quirky little café just opened in January, and it’s still a work in progress. Although a string of eateries has filled the space — most recently Petit Louis — it’s never before looked so adorable. Normally, I’d raise an eyebrow at the rolling pins and other kitchen utensils that hang on the walls, but here they work. And removing the mirrors that covered the windows allowed natural light to come through, giving the room a warm glow that’s reflected in the cheery staff. As those employees take the pulse of their customers, they add and subtract ideas and objects; the menu is expanding, too. But watching each step of this evolution has been a joy.
Over the past few months, I’ve become a regular at The Biscuit — not that they know it. Part of the beauty of this place is that you can choose how to use it. You can hide behind a newspaper, or you can get as much attention as you think you need and deserve. You can sit inside at one of the little tables, lulled by the low, soothing hum generated between the friendly, always-busy employees and customers placing their orders at the mahogany bar, a fine acquisition from a Minneapolis tavern that adds a lot of class to the surroundings; or you can sit outside in the warm sun and listen as the clink of root beer bottles on faux-marble tables cuts through the continual drone of traffic.
The Biscuit is the brainchild of Sean Kelly, who a few years ago gave us the exquisite Aubergine Café. That eatery’s former baker, Hillary Gallagher Webster, is a managing partner at The Biscuit, along with Chuck Rojo, who owns Luna coffees. Rojo had been looking for a café-type place to serve as Denver’s exclusive Luna outlet; he found it with The Biscuit. The restaurant’s hours were another good fit: While Aubergine is a dinner-only restaurant, The Biscuit serves just breakfast and lunch, so much of the food can be prepared at Aubergine’s kitchen a dozen blocks away and then trucked over twice a day, at 7 and 10 a.m., to beat the big rushes.
And what fabulous food it is. Like Aubergine, The Biscuit is awash in the Mediterranean. Although here those flavors are offered in more casual ways, the emphasis is still on the sharp, pointed tastes that come from fresh, top-notch ingredients, including locally produced organic eggs, hormone-free meats, and herbs and greens just picked at local farms that morning. Tracy Thuiller now makes the baked goods for both Aubergine and The Biscuit, freeing up Webster to oversee latter’s operations and concoct made-to-order items in its limited kitchen.
At breakfast, which runs until 11 a.m., those items include poached eggs, which arrive still warm, wet in the middle, and sided by large, thin slices of Denver Bread Company bread that have been lightly toasted and liberally brushed with a melted European-style sweet butter. You can get the eggs with prosciutto ($8) or four slices of a beautifully smoked salmon ($10); the salmon also comes on a plate with thick-cut, house-pickled red onions, capers and toast ($8). Naturally, The Biscuit does biscuits, as well as scones ($2.25) and muffins ($1.50). Although the selection changes daily, I can vouch for the chèvre-and-chive biscuits ($3) — cream-colored, faintly oniony, sharp from the cheese but oh-so-soft and feathery — as well as the blueberry scones, which crumbled and then melted in my mouth, releasing big, sweet hits of fruit.
Like the baked goods, the soups are made at Aubergine but lose none of their flavor en route to 17th Avenue; the cream of asparagus ($3 a cup) I tried one day had a creamy, smooth texture and the wonderfully rich flavor found in this early-spring vegetable. A cup of the soup and a salty, garlic-strong Caesar ($6), featuring lots of ice-cold, crispy romaine and big shards of parmesan, made for a more-than-satisfying lunch.
Things can get hectic midday, and if you’re ordering a sandwich with your soup or salad, you’ll encounter the only glitch I’ve found in The Biscuit’s setup. Since the panini grill can handle only four sandwiches at a time, about ten minutes may elapse between order and table. The staff has tried to be sensitive to the delay –“You can usually tell by body language when someone’s in a hurry, and so we ask if we might suggest something else,” says Webster — but the situation can be frustrating. Still, if you have the time, the Italian-style sandwiches are worth the wait. The prosciutto-and-mozzarella version ($7) layered good-quality Parma ham with fresh mozzarella and a smattering of red-chile flakes, with everything holding together tight between two triangles of buttery focaccia. Another winning sandwich was the pan bagnat ($5). (Pronounced “pan bun-yaht,” the name of this Provençal creation translates to “bathed bread,” referring to the dousing of vinaigrette the scooped-out roll gets before the fixings are added.) At The Biscuit, a chewy, soft-centered Boulder Breadworks bun is stuffed with kalamatas, tomatoes, slices of hard-boiled egg, arugula, roasted red peppers and red onion; the vinaigrette creates an interplay of flavors that you won’t find in an American sub.
In addition to the noteworthy Caesar, The Biscuit also mixed a tangy arugula salad ($7) with pine nuts and parmesan, drenched in a not-too-tart lemon vinaigrette and showered with black pepper. The hummus plate ($4) featured tahini puréed with chickpeas until they combined in a tempting texture just short of creamy peanut butter; tons of parsley and a healthy dose of lemon juice brought up the flavors. For snacking, The Biscuit offers two Aubergine favorites: Provençal spiced olives ($3) and addictive roasted almonds ($3). And then, of course, I had to dig into the to-die-for chocolate pudding ($4), with its comfort-food chocolate overload and an orally fixating creaminess, as well as a toothsomely sweet-and-sour lemon tart ($4), which sported a shortbread-like crust and a blob of freshly whipped cream the size of a baseball. Wash one — or both — down with a Limonata or a cup of the excellent Luna coffee (which is also sold by the pound here).
The Biscuit isn’t supposed to be some “big-deal place,” Kelly says. But while its delights are modest, they’re undeniable. Denver dining isn’t all about buffalo steaks and chi-chi interiors that ape those in New York City; it’s also about intimate eateries that make diners feel they’re a part of the city. With first Aubergine and now the Biscuit, Sean Kelly’s captured not just the feel of Denver, but also its flavor.
You could say he’s on a roll.
