At Jules, Montparnasse comes to Gastown

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      Chance it if you like, but I'd say that right now, reservations are mandatory at Jules, the new French bistro in Gastown. Like the rest of the city, I'm smitten. This is the real thing, with the same authentically French atmosphere as La Regalade, the kind of boisterous, cheerful feeling that puts you in an upbeat mood right from the start.

      The players: Out front is Stephan Gagnon from Montreal; in the open cuisine, chef Emmanuel Join ­ville from Dijon (the restaurant is named after Joinville's 17-year-old son, who helps out on weekends). The place: what this has over most new spots is the ambiance and patina of age; the building has been here since around the turn of the 20th century.

      Wisely, when Gagnon and Joinville took it over, they kept the lofty ceiling and red-brick wall, put yet another coat of dark paint round the big front window, hung some atmospheric art, and installed a black-and-white-tiled floor that looks original but isn't. Twinkling over the scene at night is a large chandelier plus a trio of petite ones lighting a mirror-backed bar that's straight out of an Edgar Degas painting. You're teleported to Montparnasse. Table-hopping occurs, and even un-Vancouverly inter-table banter. Hands express, shoulders shrug. When Jules is packed, which it usually is, it's a shouty place, but at the same time you can hear what your dinner partner is saying, which in my case was, "Okay if I have the steak frites?"

      The menu is 100-percent pure laine traditional bistro. Not fancy bistro helmed by a Michelin-eer, but the kind of hearty food that half of working France sits down to twice a day with friends and an appetite. Let me read you the starters: onion soup, garlicky snails, and jambon persille (from Joinville's native Burgundy), a salade nií§oise and another of beets, green onions, and warm goat cheese. That got the juices going?

      The $21 prix fixe gets you a simple but competent salad that paired well with a shared í  la carte slab of terrine de campagne, made with chicken livers and pork shoulder so you get the smooth with the rough, and heady with garlic. It comes with audibly crackly-crusted bread; little white Emile Henri pots of cornichons and pickled onions and hot mustard; and a dollop of sharp, mellow compote of onions slow-cooked in red wine. I'd call it lunch for a light eater.

      Mains also stay on a long-established track: beef bourguignon; pan-seared duck breast; slow-cooked salmon with leek-and-tomato sauce, ratatouille, and couscous; moules frites (steamed mussels and fries), of course; beef tenderloin with morels and cream; and even a vegetarian shepherd's pie.

      The cassoulet holds double-smoked bacon, a bit of duck confit, and a big, skin-busting Toulouse sausage, bread crumbs freckling the surface and scarlet tomato speckling the beans, which are cooked less than they would be in France but are still deep with meaty flavours. Another concession to North American tastes is the lack of a base layer of couennes (small rolls of pork skin) that, in France, helps a cassoulet lay you flat for 24 hours. With Joinville's version, I could manage a small yogurt the following morning.

      Salty, crisp, sizzling, the frites here are just fine. The steak, a triple-A rib eye, cut thin so it's more like an entrecí´te, cooked í  point or whatever way you want it, comes with a peppercorn or mushroom sauce or a pat of herb butter.

      Next time, we'll include a cheese plate and do a full French four courses. This time, we cut straight to a chocolate terrine, as dense, dark, and rich as the interior of a truffle. What else in the scribbled notes? The place was jammed but service was smooth and congenial. The value is enormous. At lunch, you can be in and out with a croque monsieur or a Merguez hot dog with salad or fries and a glass of red for under $20. Speaking of wines, almost all on the Old-World-meets-New list come by the glass, with the majority under $8.50. Starters are mostly around the $7 to $8 mark. Mains range from $12 to $22 for the large-size steak, beef tenderloin, or duck breast.

      Dinner with a kir and a gutsy southern Domaine de L'Olivette each (served in good big glasses–bistros in France still tend to go with small ones) was $71 before tax and tip. One final note: As of May, Jules will be open Mondays, and that includes a patio.

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