Last night I probably bored you as I extolled the virtues of small. Tonight I’d like to reaffirm my position that small, in order to receive deserved accolades, must be better than big. Our dinner excursion took us to H Kitchen around the corner from our old favorite Chez Dumonet Restaurant Josephine and roughly a solid three wood and a long 7 iron from our hotel. (For you non-golfers that’s on the order of 550 yards as the crow or golf ball flies.) At 26 seats H is even smaller than last night’s venue, with a menu even more tightly focused and a wine list which exists only to enhance the dining experience.

We were greeted cordially and seated at what is arguably the best table in the house – if I can manage the technology I’ll send along a picture – nestled in a corner created by the service bar in the middle of this jewelbox restaurant. MiLady had a full view of the comings (but no goings) as a crowd of Japanese business men (fully a dozen of them) threatened to overwhelm the serenity of the place. The hostess/waitress (again tonight the staff seems to have been comprised of a single human in the front of the house, the chef, and a jack-of-all-trades apprentice hidden in the back) remained calm, unruffled and more than willing to make our dinner special.

We ordered the most expensive wine (68€) on the carte des vins – a 2012 Morey-Saint Denis from the negociant Joseph Frey & Fils because we have a similar wine in the cave at home and had recently read a review which suggested tasting them now, before mortgaging the grandchildren to lay in a sufficient quantity to warm one’s old age. The grandchildren need not worry, as lovely as this pinot noir is, they are infinitely more likely to mature well. It opens a touch thin, in the best Burgundy traditions, with a touch of funk that disappears almost instantly as the wine catches its breath. Not as round or as full-bottomed as the big Oregonian or Tasmanian pinots, the Frey is traditional with a touch of stone and an acidity that tickles the palate rather than swathing it in softness. A great accompaniment to simpler, lighter food preparations, but not a show-stopper like a really huge cabernet or an exuberant shiraz.

MiLady is a soft touch for any offering of white asparagus, whether as a tasting, a starter, an entree, or as and accompaniment to a main dish; she’ll order it. (Go back and read about her encounter with white asparagus at Lassere during our 2014 trip.) Tonight’s preparation was inspired – grilled stalks set on slices of smoked duck breast. No wasted sauce, no unnecessary distractions, only the subtle smokiness of the meat and the indescribably wonderful asparagus.

I enjoyed a one of a kind dish of artichoke stems and hearts poached in a broth of tiny white baby clams, white wine and borage. Exquisite!

The John Dory special was a gorgeous filet laid on a bed of steamed fresh market vegetables. Milady’s tastebuds confirmed the fish was fresh and a treat for her jaded palate, grilled to perfection and then encouraged to be its own best advocate. My “faux filet de boeuf Normande” was grilled to exactly sangiant and seasoned with nothing more exotic than simple salt and pepper. I expected a bavette, but this cut was thinner and longer – while not approaching the size or thinness of an American hanger steak (and far from what I think of as a skirt steak). It was tasty, and gave my jaw muscles a bit of exercise but rewarded me with a deep beefy flavor that makes a filet mignon seem pale by comparison. It was accompanied by tiny roasted potatoes that soaked up the natural juices and made me smile at the perfect simplicity of the dish.

We shared the chocolate dessert – best thought of as a “fire and ice” pairing. Hot chocolate sauce, a frozen chocolate cake log and softened chocolate ice cream. The underlying chocolate ran from an incredibly rich soup of sweetness to a lovely dark chocolate balance in the log, to a creamy, not pudding but not offering any resistance to the spoon, glace. It garners a *sigh* and two [slurps]. Being completely sated, we skipped the proffered coffee and tea, and requested the check. Surprise of surprises, the entire food portion was less than the wine – including, in best French tradition, both the GST and the service. Contented, we dawdled our way home to write up the experience while it was still fresh in our reptilian (not, I assure you, avian) brain. Another place to return to for an exquisite evening. Bravo!