Lost in translation

Bistrot Pierre is a chain of French-themed brasseries. The first opened in 1994 in Nottingham. The ninth opened this summer in Ilkley. Mission statements include “staff who care” and “great food” and lots of other enticements to draw you in – things you’d expect anyway. “We’re a family of individual restaurants and our aim is to make everyday dining feel special. That’s why we create delicious French bistrot dishes that are affordably priced and use only the finest quality ingredients.”

At Ilkley, the BP team has taken over the Crescent Hotel, which dominates one corner of the town’s crossroads. The property is demarcated thus: the Crescent Inn, the bistrot and a “boutique” hotel. It all looks splendid, helped by the grandeur of the early, listed, Victorian building. Behind the curved facade is a fine staircase to the bedrooms, and doors which open on to the bistro – or bistrot in the Parisienne style. It is open from breakfast through lunch to dinner.

On a Sunday evening, 8pm, it is alive and bright and gay with laughter and chatter in the various rooms. The open floor plan is divided by walls so there is a relative snugness and privacy wherever you sit. We are on a banquette, leather or a very good imitation, dyed faded pink.

It is all very smart. Most conversation we heard was from the next room, broadcast through wall openings. Bistrot Pierre Ilkley is of course new, but with 17 years of experience the concept and management and staffing should be slick and smooth and perfect. On this occasion, there were a few skids. Mostly, the picture is good. The place is lovely. When you see the dining room you want to go in. High ceilings, plenty of space between the tables, the sound of people enjoying their evening. The young staff are energetic and courteous, with neither a body piercing nor tattoo in sight. We were offered a choice of table, and never felt things were being rushed. The pace was just right.

French signs endorse the theme pointing to Toilettes. When you get there the doors are labelled Lasses and Lads. Eee bah gum, that’s reet northern. How the visiting French person manages to get the right door is another matter. “Pardon madame!”

Appetisers include large Provençal olives that were delicious, and a roasted garlic corm which you squish onto some very good bread and dip in oil and balsamic, after a gin and tonic that was served with sugar-free tonic and a slice of lime and was sickly sweet.

There are plats pour deux (the Frenchness can get a bit tiring) such as a tasty-sounding assiette Méditerranéene, other entrées, eg crayfish risotto and soup du jour – the latter nothing more engaging than carrot and coriander which is a lazy choice, and not familiar in the France I know. A starter of fricassée of mixed mushrooms on toasted brioche with Alsace bacon lardons was yummy – a lovely supper on its own. Maximum points, too, for the filet de mulet rouge, its skin a crisp shrimpy pink, the flesh firm and moist, on ratatouille that had just enough bite for me.

Main courses include a few steaks, a marinated free range poussin (a young chicken) from Janzé, near Rennes, one or two vegetarian recipes (a vegetable tian, a salade printanière with goat cheese from St Maure (Touraine), roast pork, overnight-roasted shoulder of lamb and so forth. Side dishes may be chips or dauphinois potatoes (each spot on) or broccoli (arguably undercooked) or red cabbage (with too many cloves).

Waitresses make regular visits to check on your enjoyment. Dutifully, since she asked, I mentioned the cloves. She’d tell the chef. I heard nothing back. A 9oz rib eye steak (£16) was cooked as requested but there was a lot of inedible sinew.

The left-overs looked a mess. How was it? she asked. We told her. This rebuff was clearly not in her repertoire, a sort of nonplussed sorry ensued. There is plenty of food provenance on the menu – albeit knocking up the food miles with all the French produce. Obtusely, given the excellent and particular recipe of Normandy boudin noir, or indeed that from Yorkshire and Lancashire, the blood pudding in poulet suprême au boudin noir is from the Isle of Lewis – good, but a quite different taste. Ah, puddings. Apple tart in the familiar French puff pastry used thinly sliced fruit from the Loire (“fresh apples” said the menu – as if?), served with ice cream. Delicious. I sent the plateau de fromages back to the place it never should have left. The celery was weirdly translucent, the brie de Meaux was discoloured on the top. The bleu d’Auvergne was the outer rind, which you might eat at home but not in a restaurant. The Tomme de Savoie was curling and sweating. The waitress later returned to announce that I would not be charged. An apology or an explanation? Mais non.

With two coffees and extra french beans, the food bill came to £56.75. The disappointing G&Ts were £8.40. A pleasing bottle of 2009 Corbières Chateau du Vieux Parc, which you can buy for under £8 retail, was £24.50. House reds start at £13.95 for a 2009 Pay d’Oc. The tap water is chilled, free and very good.

Bistrot Pierre, Brook Street, Ilkley, West Yorkshire LS29 8DG. Tel: 01943 811255. www.lebistrotpierre.co.uk.