M. Allegretti kept a quiet little restaurant on Eighth Avenue where he cooked honest Provençal dishes served by a welcoming staff, who poured nice wines without too much discussion. We liked it because even though the food was very good, you could always get a table. We should have known. After the restaurant had been closed for what seemed like a very long time, M. Allegretti's name popped up again as chef-consultant to a new restaurant soon to open in Midtown. Accompanied by our friends Enthusiastic and Moderate, we found ourselves at La Petite Maison on a cold night in late December. E raved, M nodded, the Diner liked his soup, I had an assortment of *10* appetizers *10*!
I'm thinking about La Petite Maison now because Sam Sefton reviewed it in this morning's New York Times, and I find myself in complete agreement with him, except that we got a teeny tiny taste of the truffled macaroni as a freebie-apology because our table had to be changed for reasons of noise. And no way would I order Salade Niçoise on that cold a night. Well, I'm not going to review Mr. Sefton's review, but here's a link, because we found it very amusing:
Au revoir, M. Allegretti.
