THE high points of my recent visits to Tosca Café were the soufflés. A house specialty held over from the cafe’s predecessor, the esteemed and stubbornly French L’Europe, soufflés float through the dining room in a continuing spectacle, a parade of sugary blimps. Chocolate, raspberry, Grand Marnier, they rise above their ramekins, poufed with egg whites, enriched with yolks. Their golden domes wiggle-wobble, a sign that they are baked to perfection. The waiter slits the crust and spoons a silky sabayon into the crevice before stepping back with an unspoken “ta-da!” When her soufflé arrived on a recent night, one diner let out a whoop that could be heard throughout the restaurant.
Besides their ability to excite emotion, soufflés can also have something of an amnesiac effect: once you’re deep into one, you tend to forgive and forget the low points of the meal that led up to dessert: the bland chestnut and celeriac soup, the chewy jumble of seafood and salty cream sauce that filled a soggy vol-au-vent, the indifferent waiter.
When Tosca’s owners, Ruhi and Aris Toska (brothers who opened L’Europe in 1988), renamed their restaurant and updated the menu in October, they must have hoped to move things into this century. But the reality of the food undercuts any impulse toward modernity. Soufflés, escargots in puff pastry, asparagus with hollandaise — all these faded icons of fine dining appear at Tosca, and there is little to show that the owners or the chef have much regard for the revolution that has taken place in restaurant food over the last few decades.
Which is not to say that there is no place for a comfortably old-fashioned place to eat on the eastern frontier of Westchester. On a Saturday night early this month, 10 of 12 tables in the front dining room were taken. The food, denoted on the menu in a quaint, looping script, might be uninspired, but Tosca clearly has an audience.
The spartan, carpeted dining rooms are painted the pale green of a pillow mint; white linens and pretty Austrian porcelain are the stuff of Sunday dinner at a European roadside restaurant. In what could have been a metaphor for the whole experience at Tosca, one of the forks in my place setting was well-weighted and silver-plated; the other was a flimsy gauge of stainless steel.
But there were warm rolls and big squares of sweet butter, and the small staff worked hard. The Toska brothers are congenial hosts, and are not above filling a water glass. (One night, though efficient, our waiter seemed bored waiting tables; two weeks later, the same waiter was droll and more engaged.)
Those who have pronounced the demise of the traditional entree would find no evidence of that at Tosca, where appetizers are perfunctory and entrees prevail. Veal cheeks braised with red wine and morels were tender and just a little fatty, the way they should be. Robust, peppery sirloin steak came with sautéed fingerling potatoes. The rack of lamb was fragrant with rosemary and roasted to a perfect medium rare.
Smoked duck breast was nicely pink, flanked by green beans seasoned with bacon and fork-mashed potatoes. Flavorful, crisp-skinned organic chicken came with primly cut carrots and potato au gratin. Persillade brightened a thick, well-timed salmon fillet. In an uncharacteristically homey dish, broad ribbons of tender pappardelle were bound with a richly flavored short-rib ragout made with peas and pearl onions.
If you must have an appetizer, the crisp Caesar salad is worthy. (Parsley-flecked escargots in a Champagne sauce with puff pastry were good, but they are not on the regular menu.) At $13, a fussy tableau involving a mini crab cake, a single shrimp and a single scallop seemed extortionary. Smoked lobster salad with “fruit carpaccio” looked like something assembled from a cruise ship buffet, and fresh pineapple was the only flavorful item on the plate.
The wine cellar has good depth in Bordeaux ($60 to $600), and standard bearers and more coveted bottles from California and Washington State. We enjoyed a half-bottle of the rich, figgy 2004 Chalk Hill chardonnay ($42). The 2002 “Clos la Marche” Mecurey from Domaine Louis Max ($42) was disappointingly tart and thin. A glass of fruity Bouvet sparkling wine from the Loire Valley was $9.50.
For dessert, the “hazelnut forest” — Tosca’s take on warm chocolate cake — was excellent, and the straightforward créme brûlée and puckery lemon sorbet were both good. I also liked the light-textured cheesecake, featuring drizzles of raspberry-flavored “cotton candy syrup” and caramel sauce. And then there are those soufflés.
Tosca Café
407 Smith Ridge Road (Route 123)
South Salem
(914) 533-2570
GOOD
THE SPACE Spare but attractive dining rooms with white tablecloths and traditional landscape paintings. An appealing alcove is lined with mirrors and French doors. Outdoor dining in fair weather.
THE CROWD Mostly older, with some young couples and families.
THE BAR It doubles as a foyer; a TV facing the entrance is less than welcoming. The wine list has expensive Bordeaux and more affordable New World selections.
THE BILL Appetizers, $7 to $13; entrees, $15 to $32; desserts, $7 to $10. Major credit cards accepted.
WHAT WE LIKE Escargots with puff pastry (special), pappardelle with short-rib ragout, organic chicken with mustard-seed sauce, roasted salmon with persillade and mushroom butter, grilled sirloin steak, veal cheeks with red wine sauce (special), lamb chops with rosemary sauce (special), Grand Marnier and chocolate soufflés, “hazelnut forest.”
IF YOU GO Dinner only, Tuesday to Sunday, 5 to 10 p.m.Reviewed Sept. 20, 2008
