Deuxave
Tuesday, January 24, 2012 at 04:12 PM | Posted by caroloc
371 Commonwealth Avenue
Boston, MA 02115
By Rebeccah Marsters
Atmosphere
In an industry where even the minutest detail can make the difference between a successful restaurant and a short-lived one, street address cannot be ignored. People talk of certain locales being cursed, with a revolving-door procession of unremarkable businesses unable to last longer than a year. 
If the real estate industry’s motto is correct, location can be a boon or the bane of even the best restaurant, and while the corner of Commonwealth and Massachusetts Avenues in Back Bay seems like a fairly propitious spot, several failed predecessors prove otherwise. When Chef Christopher Coombs, also of dBar in Dorchester, decided to take on the ostensible onus of the site, a period of construction followed before doors were opened in September 2010. Apparently, the overhaul exorcised the demons, so to speak, because it’s been almost a year and a half now, and Deuxave is going strong.
Whether you’re heading east on Comm. Ave or South on Mass Ave, Deuxave announces its presence, shining like a beacon of polished stone and gleaming windows. The rotunda design of the bar makes for an impressive façade, and the effect doesn’t wane upon entering. Surfaces of dark wood, tile, and leather abound but the space manages to feel warm and inviting, with upholstered chairs flanking cozy tables for two, and a vast fireplace. 
An antique map of Boston hangs on the wall, grounding the room in both space and time, and driving home the theme of location—these people are proud of their city, and proud of their place within it. In a utilitarian touch, wine bottles fill overhead niches equipped with rolling library-style ladders, and 
while I was tempted to take one for a spin a la Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady, I restrained myself, and instead took my seat at an elegantly-laid table; I was determined to at least try the food before I got myself ousted.
Starters
An approachably-sized menu of starters and mains is peppered with culinary buzzwords and trendy ingredients, but balances gels and two-hour eggs with traditional French sauces and local ingredients. Terms that I haven’t heard since culinary school jumped out at me—coulis, verjus, soubise, sauce bordelaise—and speak to Coombs’ classical training. Although I’ve heard raves about the 9-hour French onion soup ($12), served with a bone marrow crouton, and was equally intrigued by duck confit ($14) and tuna sashimi ($16), we had put ourselves in the capable hands of the chef that evening, and eagerly awaited whatever would come our way. As it turned out, we started with an amuse-sized portion of the tartare and Wagyu beef carpaccio (starter size: $14). The tartare, made from prime beef, was subtly seasoned, but a few meaty bites bordered on chewy. 
A paper-thin slice of herb-encrusted Wagyu beef carpaccio, however, was a perfect morsel, with floral thyme balancing savory meat, and a rosemary-mustard aioli driving home the richness. Accompaniments of chanterelle escabèche, a crispy potato gaufrette, and cornichons finished off the plate. Next, the playfully named “Night Moves” Scituate lobster with gnocchi ($19) 
paired the two headlining ingredients with mushrooms, green grapes, curried walnuts, and pearl onions in a citrus butter sauce. This was a beautiful plate of food; rich but not over the top, made unique by the addition of grapes and lightly-spiced nuts, but still boasting a logical combination of ingredients. The lobster was well cooked, and while the gnocchi were tender, they missed a bit of the characteristic chew. The next plate lacked the restraint of those previous, but if you’re going to indulge in culinary excess, it might as well involve foie gras. The seared Hudson Valley foie gras ($21) paired a sizeable hunk of the stuff with a decadent gingerbread cake, tart grapefruit marmalade, and a salad of grapefruit and daikon. A swoosh of sweet potato-citrus puree and a smattering of pomegranate seeds and microgreens (their third appearance in as many courses, in fact) around the perimeter of the plate brought to mind the composed chaos of a modernist painting. The sweet spice of gingerbread and bitter bite of marmalade were classic matches for the heady liver, and finishing with the refreshing citrus was a natural progression, but the dish felt a bit disconnected, lacking the clarity of a cohesive whole.
