Pascal Cayet grew up in Argenteuil, just outside Paris, and trained at the Médéric culinary school before landing his first real job at La Tour d’Argent — the legendary Paris restaurant perched above the Seine with Notre Dame Cathedral filling the window. He was in his twenies and cooking in one of the most storied rooms in the world. Then he came to America, worked in Indianapolis alongside a young Wolfgang Puck at a restaurant called La Tour, spent a year in the French Army, five years running food and beverage in Bermuda, and arrived in Dallas in 1982 with a clear idea of what he wanted to build.
He cooked briefly at the Mansion on Turtle Creek, then at Calluaud on McKinney, and in 1984 opened Chez Gerard on Upper McKinney Avenue — a French country restaurant that Stanley Marcus called one of his favorites and that became the template for serious French dining in this city. He ran it for twenty-three years. When he sold it in 2007, he had already opened Lavendou in 1996, following Dallas’s migration north to Preston Road, and it has been his singular focus ever since. The sheaves of dried lavender that hang at the entrance, the blue and yellow Provence palette, the Pierre Deux fabrics on the walls — none of it is decorator shorthand. Pascal grew up with this. It shows.
Tonight we’re going. Here’s what we’re ordering.
We start with the Foie Gras en Terrine au Sauternes. A generous slice of duck liver terrine with Sauternes aspic, served cool, spread onto bread that arrives alongside it. Foie gras terrine is a dish that rewards patience — it asks you to slow down, to stop treating dinner like a transaction and start treating it like an occasion. The Sauternes aspic brings a faint sweetness that cuts through the fat of the liver without competing with it. It is rich without being heavy, which is the whole trick, and Pascal’s kitchen has been getting that balance right for thirty years.
The Mussels follow. Lavendou does them in the classic Provençal tradition — steamed open in white wine with shallots, garlic, herbs, and a touch of cream, the broth at the bottom of the bowl as important as the mussels themselves. You need bread for this. You will use all of it. The mussel arrived in European kitchens as peasant food, pulled off rocks and cooked fast over fire, and somewhere along the way the French realized that simple preparations were the point, not a limitation. This version doesn’t overcomplicate anything. It doesn’t need to.
For the main course we’re splitting the table. One of us is having the Dover Sole. Dover sole is one of those fish that separates kitchens — it has a delicate, almost sweet flesh that forgives nothing and rewards precision. Overcooked by thirty seconds and it collapses. Handled correctly and it is one of the finest things the ocean produces. At Lavendou it comes with crabmeat and a sauce that has been described by more than one regular as the reason they come back every time. The fish arrives whole or filleted depending on the evening, pale and perfect, the crab adding a sweetness that complements rather than overwhelms.
The other half of the table is having the Rack of Lamb with Rosemary Sauce, served with ratatouille and roasted potatoes. Rack of lamb at a French restaurant is where you find out how serious the kitchen is. Pascal’s version arrives cooked to a precise medium-rare, the rosemary sauce built from the pan drippings with the herb running through it rather than sitting on top of it, the ratatouille underneath doing the kind of quiet work that makes you notice it only when it’s gone. The lamb has a following at Lavendou that goes back decades. There are people who have been ordering it since 1996 and see no reason to stop.
To finish, a soufflé. At Lavendou the soufflés come in three flavors: chocolate, raspberry, and Grand Marnier. You order before the entrée arrives because the kitchen needs the time. The Grand Marnier is the one most people order first and keep ordering — warm, fragrant, the orange liqueur working through the egg with a deft hand, the center still soft when the spoon breaks through. The chocolate is the one for people who know what they want and want it completely. The raspberry is the lightest of the three, more fruit than richness, the one to order if you’ve already worked through the foie and the mussels and the lamb and have some dignity left. We usually don’t.
Pascal is almost always in the room. That has been true since 1984 and it is still true now. He will come to the table at some point and it will feel like a friend checking in rather than a restaurateur making rounds. That is not a small thing after forty years in the business.
Lavendou Bistro Provençal is at 19009 Preston Road, Suite 200, Dallas. Tuesday through Saturday, lunch from 11:30 a.m. to 2 p.m., dinner from 5 to 9 p.m. Closed Sunday and Monday. Reservations at (972) 248-1911.
For more information on Lavendou, read our earlier feature A Fortunate Feast: Lavendou Bistro Provençal.
