Frenchette — A Girl's Guide to Drinking Alone

*A perfect meal of a martini, fries, and the spring bass at Frenchette*

241 W Broadway at N Moore St, TriBeCa

The Place: A now-classic French bistro in the heart of TriBeCa.

The Time: Friday April 4, 5:30pm. To celebrate Girl’s Guide’s 10th birthday, I decided to take myself out somewhere special tonight. My boyfriend Tom and I had an incredible meal at the insanely popular Le Veau d’Or on Monday, and I’m still chasing that high, so I thought going to the first restaurant opened by the same team was a good way to scratch the itch.

The Vibe: Le Veau d’Or is an impossible reservation to get, and Tom and I only got in by showing up at 4:50pm to snag bar seats right at opening. Frenchette is a lunch-into-dinner place, so I have a bit more leeway, but still want to show up on the earlier side. Even though this restaurant has been around since 2018, I’ve been slightly brainwashed to assume that all popular places are going to be absolutely bumpin’ from the second they open. I have to tug on two very heavy doors to get in and when I arrive, I find it shockingly empty–both a pleasant surprise and honestly, a bit unnerving. (There’s no way it’ll stay like this all night, considering it’s still a restaurant where, after being around for eight years, the only reservations on a Friday a week out are for 5:30 and 9:30.)

I grab my favorite seat at the corner of any bar and settle in. The bar area is separated from the main dining room by two large archways. There are red leather banquettes, worn wood floors, a wraparound metal bar. It feels like a classic French brasserie in the era of art deco. No one is at the bar with me at first, but I’m in a prime people-watching position to eye everyone who goes to the host stand. Generally it seems like a post-work crowd, with plenty of men in jackets doing a lot of handshaking. Everyone is wearing a button-down shirt–including me! Was this some kind of subconscious notion that I was heading to TriBeCa?

The Bartender: A tall, bearded, bespectacled man named Charles who takes a while to warm up. I might’ve caught him just at the start of his shift, and I have a book out so maybe he initially thinks I’m not in the mood to chat, but by the end of my time here, Charles and I have developed a great repartee.

The Drank / The Dish (I’m rebranding this section as I’ve been finding myself eating more snacks and meals when I’m out on the town, like a responsible adult): I am craving a martini, as it feels right for a Friday night aperitif at a French place. They have a drink called the “Shifty Fifty” which only lists gin and chartreuse as the ingredients. I ask Charles what the deal is, if it’s a 50/50 martini with chartreuse instead of vermouth. He only says, “there’s also vermouth in it” and declines to tell me that it’s not quite a martini? It’s certainly gin-forward and herbaceous, but also citrusy and most importantly, on the rocks. Hmm. Ok! Their cocktail menu is small, but their wine list looks lovely, and they also have large-format beers, something I’ve never seen before. (I probably don’t need to mention this, given all the context clues, but Frenchette is pricey. $23ish for a cocktail or a glass of wine, minimum $38 for an entree. I can’t make this blog only about how stupidly expensive New York has become, because otherwise I wouldn’t have room for anything else, but it does feel worth mentioning here.)

After sipping on my cocktail for a bit, I order the smoked trout beignets as an app, and they rule. It’s like they put smoked trout dip in a batter and fried it, then served it with fancy ranch (described on the menu as ranch’ette). An upscale crispy bar snack if I ever had one. I then get the cocktail I actually wanted: a 50/50 gin martini with a twist, and I gotta say, I hate these v-glasses. Why are they using them? I see better cocktail glasses on the back bar, are we really in our nostalgic v-glass era? I hate it.

Charles and I really get going when I order my main. As a relatively new fish-eater, I’m still getting my sea legs (sorry) with entrees that are a piece of fish, some sides, and a sauce. But the bass with “spring vegetable ragout, green garlic” sounds too good to pass up. So I ask Charles how the bass is and he replies: “it’s good,” followed by a very long silence where we’re kind of just…looking at each other. I say, “cool, great” (I almost say “good talk” but don’t want to be THAT rude) and he then launches into the obligatory “it’s all things spring” etc speech they probably got at pre-shift from the chef. Just as I’m about to say, “ok I’ll do that,” Charles looks me straight in the eyes and deadpans: “the bass. Is an entree. On the Frenchette. Menu.” And that’s it, we’re off to the races, I love this man.

*why do bars still insist on using these v-glasses?*

Ok so let’s talk about this bass. It is so delicious, so spring-y, with radishes and artichokes and favas. I actually don’t know how they found peas this fresh in the first week of April. The skin of the fish is perfectly crisp, and the vibrant green sauce is so luxurious, I could bathe in it. Before he takes my empty dish, Charles asks if I would like a spoon for the remaining swipes of sauce, or if I would like him to ask the other bar guests to turn away so I can lick the plate. Charles, please, I need to maintain some dignity!! I also get a side of fries, because when I told my friend earlier that I was coming here, she said their fries are the best she’s ever had. They are, in fact, perfect fries, but by the time I’ve finished my bass, I am fully tapped out. Charles can’t even keep a straight face when he asks if I want dessert, he sees how defeated I am by the full bowl of fries.

Was I Hit On? / Did I Make Friends? (rebranding this section as well because, let’s be real, meeting cool people at a bar can also be a reason why we go out alone!): I mean, my main takeaway from Frenchette besides the food and the vibe is Charles, so I think that makes us friends. By 6:30, it’s poppin’, so maybe my night would’ve been different had I had to squish my way between button-down-clad finance guys for a spot at the bar.

Should You Drink Here Alone?: Absolutely. Treat yo’self, bb. I had such a lovely time at Frenchette and wouldn’t have done a thing differently. This is one of those restaurants that reminds me why I love living in New York, even if it occasionally costs the blood of a first born. Happy Passover, everyone!