Published February 2010

When it comes to authentic French fare, Orange County has a modest selection of laudable cafés and bistros. But until recently, if you had a hankering for a genuine, laid-back brasserie—a large, bustling scene with a huge menu of casual classics served all day—you were out of luck. No wonder Francophiles swooned mid-2008 at the predicted arrival of David Myers’ Comme Ça—a repeat of West Hollywood’s white-hot restaurant with a red-hot chef.

Comme Ça is more than a year late now, with no opening in sight, leaving room for Pascal Olhats to swoop in and save the day with his lively brasserie. The restaurant handily reclaims Fashion Island’s former French 75 location, another casualty of Culinary Adventures’ ongoing reorganization. What results is a refreshed operation that feels more focused and, dare I say, more French.

The rambling room was conceived in 2005 as the sexy Café Rouge, by concept maven David Wilhelm, and as such oozes with Gallic design touches that feel appropriate now that the conversion to Brasserie Pascal is complete. The vintage octagonal floor tiles, the art deco light sconces, the mirror-lined bar, and waiters in long black aprons “speak” French much the same way crisp white linens and hefty knives say steakhouse.

Apart from some minor structural changes that open up the setting, Olhats wisely saves his biggest changes for the menu. Gone are the inconsistent, cliché dishes that never quite won over fans of savvy French cuisine. Now the menu is sweeping and informal, covering that grand range typical of a brasserie—from oysters to onglets, soups to soufflés, crepes to croques, steak frites to steak tartare. The menu is packed with all the classics and then some, most served all day.

Tradition demands French onion soup be commendable. So I launch my first lunch with soupe à l’oignon, thinking if the kitchen fails here, going forward will be rough. I was a fool to worry. The steaming crock bubbles over with pale Gruyère, browned in spots. One dip of the spoon releases dark amber broth, aromatic with white wine and caramelized onions. A thick slice of properly dried bread hides within to soak up the soup without disintegrating. The dish is wholly satisfying and far better than one night’s watercress soup, a thin potage promoted as vegetarian and dairy-free. Just a bit of butter or cream would add the resonance and body this soup needs. Yet again, I’m reminded why I could never be a vegan.

The sad green soup is quickly forgotten once the fragrant pot of steamed mussels arrives. Tiny but sweet, the tender orange gems are an appetizing sight, their blue-black shells awash in a balanced blend of butter, herbs, and sauvignon blanc. The white wine broth is one of four variations; next time I’ll try the saffron and chorizo version for $1.50 more. Shellfish options are many, both hot and cold, from chilled bulots (sea snails) with aioli, to oysters baked with spinach and Champagne cream—a lineup rarely seen around here. Of course there’s a grand assortment of iced oysters, shrimp, crab legs, bulots, and poached salmon with rich rémoulade. It’s an impressive spread for group sharing; a more modest version is an affordable splurge for two.