Dining Review: Claudine in Providence

Claudine’s seasonal amuse bouche of pimenton crackers with Burgundy truffle and honey butter alongside martinis. Photography by Angel Tucker

Wild Goose oyster with Maine sea urchin. Photography by Angel Tucker

There’s been ample talk about Claudine coming to Providence and whether this small city is up to the task of supporting a restaurant on the same aesthetic, culinary and economic plane as a New York City headliner. Owners, chefs and partners Maggie McConnell and Josh Finger met in the kitchen of Per Se, a restaurant that offered them technical experience and developed the ambition to create a meal so performative, so all-consuming, that diners have no choice but to deem it art.

The blueprint of Claudine puts the spotlight entirely on the food, with service in the critical supporting role. Once you enter the restaurant, even Providence falls away, shrouded entirely by thick green velvet curtains and lighting so diaphanous that dinner at five feels as lavish as dinner at eight. The dining room holds just over two dozen people, widely spaced, with nothing on the walls other than a domed mirror above the open kitchen so guests can get a behind-the-scenes look at the culinary magic.

There is a massive urn of flowers, and the kitchen is flanked by an awning of dried herbs, blooms and fish skins. Otherwise, the room is unobtrusively beautiful, a lush backdrop for plates that vacillate between demure and avant-garde. The soundtrack follows suit, alternating between old-school instrumental pieces and hip-hop or smooth R&B — an expansive spectrum that Claudine uses as a template for meals that always run eight courses or more.

Claudine’s interior design. Photography by Angel Tucker

Osetra caviar with squid ink capellini and grilled Rhode Island squid. Photography by Angel Tucker

It’s obviously an expensive dinner: $165 a person with an optional wine pairing for $100 — or $65 nonalcoholic beverage pairing — and several supplementary options that can add $150 to a single meal. The issue is not whether it’s worth the cost (it is) but, rather, whether someone would spend that amount of money on any meal. But, like theater or a concert or travel, dinner here is about fundamentally shifting the perspective of the audience — not just in the moment but well beyond.

Elevated dining is not a new game. There are plenty of chefs who have become celebrities for redefining the experience of eating. What might set McConnell and Finger apart is that they do their work without gimmicks. There’s no smoke escaping from cloches, no edible utensils, and no directions on how food should be eaten. What Claudine does offer is an exploration of the season that’s so intricately designed and ardently executed that a diner of any background walks away feeling that they have fallen deeply in love with farming, or cattle raising, or the science of baking. It may be technical on the kitchen side of things but on the table, dishes are simply poems of adoration.

Oysters generally start the meal, sometimes laced with vanilla sabayon, other times with vermouth and horseradish. Each rendition is a minute universe, a study of subtle contrasts in a single bite. The dishes
that follow, however, are uniformly bold — though extravagance is always found in the third course. It could be a bright plate of raw hiramasa served with makrut lime and avocado or a seared foie gras with smoked yogurt and savory granola. But this is also where the caviar supplement shows up ($50–$55) and, if caviar is your love language, it’s obligatory. Often draped over beef tartare, it’s like freebasing decadence. “Yes,” as James Joyce would say, “yes I will Yes.”

The three dishes that follow are all meat (fish, poultry, game, beef) and, while protein is at the center of the plate, it’s the interplay between the meat and its sidecar vegetables that thrills (vegetarian, allergies and gluten-free diets can all be accommodated with forty-eight-hour advance notice).

As for the proteins, a cube of rich short rib is paired with shaved turnips, a diminutive millefeuille of beets and a toss of toasted walnuts. Lamb — both a saddle and a pastry-wrapped sausage — is served with raw chicories and a quenelle of fennel braised deeply enough to caramelize. Sockeye salmon with beans and clam chowder is a fully integrated homage to New England, but roasted halibut with country ham and habanada peppers pulls from Southern American roots. The latter is hyper-savory but, like much of Finger’s cooking, it’s the inclusion of the unexpected — in this case, Persian cucumbers — that highlights an exception to the rule.

Smoked steelhead trout with pistachio cream. Photography by Angel Tucker

But with all this intensity, it’s the second course that lingers with me the longest. It’s a forgettable slot in a series of eight, and it’s a salad that seems, at first glance, more preamble than main text. And yet, after nearly three hours of eating, and many iterations of the season, this is the one that endures with extraordinary clarity. On one night it was blanched and peeled Sungold tomatoes with a sliver of Dansk blue cheese custard in pastry. On another, it was pluots with sweet garlic and a scoop of burrata sorbet. More raw than cooked, it’s a course that gets so close to the essence of agriculture that you’d almost believe the dish made itself.

Of course, it’s highly interpretive and yet meanders through technical skill and artistic vision to the very kernel of a given food. I wish only that it would show up later
in the tasting, not only to interrupt the triumphant parade of meat, but also to take its place during the final bow.

That bow does ultimately end with dessert, which is offered as a duet. It’s a course that feels younger than the rest — as sugar often does — both playful and familiar in its experimentation. Jams, creams, puddings, gelees and cakes all live in these bowls, striking contrasts with each other in texture but all working toward a joyful finale of a sometime cerebral meal. There may be less seasonality in dessert (chocolate knows no off-month) but McConnell orchestrates a dance that never loses its momentum.

All of Claudine’s creativity is equally evident in the made-in-house, nonalcoholic beverage pairings ($65), which are as intriguing as the wine. Sparkling cucumber or Granny Smith apple juice, melon kombucha, jasmine tea with purple basil, peach black tea with oat milk and cinnamon — all manage to channel the kitchen’s culinary reverence in a single sip. That’s ultimately the way Claudine puts forth its philosophy: not as a unified meal but as a series of epiphanic bites, all of which add up to a symphony performed both in the soil and on the stove.

People can keep asking if it’s worth the money and I’ll keep insisting that art is priceless.

___________________

CLAUDINE

Butter pecan ice cream with chocolate fondant and caramel whipped cream. Photography by Angel Tucker

225 Weybosset St., Providence, 808-6195, claudinepvd.com 

Reservations necessary and available Thursday–Sunday, 4:30–8:30 p.m. Wheelchair accessible. Street parking.

CUISINE: Big city tasting menu.

CAPACITY: Twenty-six.

VIBE: The best of all things.

PRICES: Tasting menu, $165; supplements vary; cheese course, $35.

KAREN’S PICKS: Caviar is a necessity, and someone at the table should order a nonalcoholic pairing.