Margaux

Address: 
486 N. Robert St., St. Paul, 651-407-6438

The Scene
The room is spare and simple. The comfiest part is the bar—a large and cheery spot in which to snack and sip wine. A pair of oversized farm tables sits up front, next to the open kitchen—perfect for lunching alone or with a friend. There are a few tables in a loft room up a small set of stairs. Climbing them one evening, I felt like I was being led to the gallows, because much of the downstairs bonhomie was absent. At lunch, the crowd is downtown office types; in the evening, it’s a melting pot as Margaux seeks its audience. Poured concrete floors and high ceilings are an acoustical challenge. The soaring floor-to-ceiling windows seem to wreak havoc: On sunny days, Margaux is hot, on cool ones chilly.

Our Take
Make no mistake, this is a restaurant in search of an identity. Neighborhood café? The informal service and “aw shucks” hospitality seem to say “you betcha!” But the prices and sophisticated fare achingly put Margaux into the category of ambitious Euro café. The net-net is a restaurant that is a pleasant enough addition to St. Paul’s food scene. With some work unifying Margaux’s disparate elements, it could even be a very good restaurant.

But Margaux needs to tighten up. The kitchen could start by tasting the food, because it needs stronger seasoning across the board. Onion soup cried out for salt, as did a plate of frog legs Provençal. (The chef might want to sauté the legs instead of frying them to avoid overwhelming the dish.) Duck liver mousse was superb, artichoke dip was heavy on the sour cream, and grilled herring was bold and tasty. Salads all needed tossing and a more delicate selection of greens. Entrées were consistently excellent: the duck (sliced breast, stuffed and roasted leg), crispy boneless chicken, grilled hanger steak, and seared halibut were all so good I thought I was in a different restaurant after the unimpressive start. Desserts were the typical pedestrian conclave: a worthy crème brûlée, sweet lemon curd, dull tart, and dynamite shortcake served with flavorless strawberries.

Grasp the Obvious
Derivative restaurants abound these days; you could write the menu for most of them in your sleep. Distinguishing a restaurant from the competition is necessary for survival, but restaurants like Margaux can’t afford to roll out a décor package like Salut’s nor can they cook with the Frenchy firepower of Vincent. The territory left for them to stake out is creating and executing a menu that is more authoritatively edited and fare that is more expertly plated than that of the rest of their peers (see Barbette). Food and hospitality have to make the statement. Yet Margaux and many other restaurants like it don’t seem to fully grasp that obvious fact.