St. Louis Eats and Drinks With Joe and Ann Pollack

Proof

Serious mathematics is foreign to most people, or lots of income tax advisers would be out of work. But give us a good family squabble, or the ups and downs of a love affair, and we're glued to our theater seats. "Proof" proves that in a strong, well-balanced production by the Insight Theatre Company. It opened last night at Nerinx Hall's Heagney Theatre and will run through Oct. 10.

David Auburn's drama, which won both the Tony and a Pulitzer Prize in 2001, is a play about a University of Chicago genius-level mathematics professor, his two daughters and a young doctoral candidate. It opens in a Chicago back yard, a week after aging mathematician Robert (a solid John Contini) has died. A man of genius, he has been slowly losing his grip on reality and on the mathematical "proof" he is trying to find. His daughters are 25-year-old Catherine (a splendid Colleen Caul), who carries her father's mathematical strengths and abandoned her own college education to become his caretaker, and Claire (a rock-hard Erin Kelley), the elder, who left for New York, a career and a relationship, both obviously successful.

Hal (an outstanding performance by Matt Lindhardt) is the outsider, a math student who is an intellectual disciple who has been poring through Robert's notebooks, trying to differentiate between genius and gibberish and, perhaps, get them into shape for publication.

Robert, seen both as a ghost and in a superb, climactic flashback, is beautifully drawn by Contini, who walks a fine line between normality and nonsense. Lindhardt totally inhabits Hal, torn between lust and learning, but his sudden change of attitude toward Catherine after their passionate weekend seems odd. Caul does a superior job as Catherine, showing the variety of genetics she is handling as Robert's daughter and delivering the gorgeous first-act curtain line with real style. Claire's change of heart and desire to reunite with the sister she has scorned is rather inexplicable, but the love-hate relationship probably has existed since childhood. Kelley, her attitude as unmoving as her brass-blonde hair, is beautifully duplicitous.

Wayne Loui directed stylishly, refusing to tart things up and allowing Auburn's fine use of language to carry things along. Sarah Hoeynck's set design is just right.

Proof, produced by the Insight Theatre Company, through Oct. 10

--Joe

This Week's Wine: September 30, 2010

Many years ago, on an assignment to visit California wineries, I was cruising north on California Highway 29 through the town of Rutherford in Napa County. I slowed for intersecting traffic and saw, to my right, a small grove of giant Sequoia trees around what looked to be a winery. I turned into the driveway, gazing humbly at the trees, and was introduced to the aptly named Sequoia Grove winery.

Truly a boutique winery, Sequoia Grove's estate vineyard covers only 22 acres, but Michael Trujillo, its president and long-time winemaker, has ties to other Napa vineyards as well. The land where the winery is located can be traced back to early Mexican land grants, and it once belonged to the Diocese of San Francisco, later to the Rutherford family, which gave its name to the town and to a pair of other California wine traditions, the Rutherford Bench, a prime grape-growing area, and Rutherford Dust, which many winemakers believe is part of the soil--or terroir--that makes the wine so exceptional.

The winery was founded in 1980 by the Allen family and named for the trees that surround it, one of the few redwood groves still extant in Napa. Jim Allen retired in 2001 and control passed to the Kopf family, partners inthen winery for 15 years.

The '07 Cab, which retails for under $40, is the successor to the winery's Rutherford Reserve Cabernet, and blends four of the five classic Bordeaux grapes, Cabernet Sauvignon (82 percent), Merlot (12), Cabernet Franc and Petit Verdot (6). Winemakers Trujillo and Molly Hill decided not to use the fifth Bordeaux varietal, Malbec, in this particular vintage. The grapes came from six different Napa Valley vineyards, primarily in Rutherford.

It's an excellent wine, dark and rich and with notes of tobacco and currants in the aroma. Raspberries and dark plums are evident on the palate, and the wine is ready now, but another 6-8 months in the bottle should bring it closer to peak, which will last at least another dozen years. The balance is exceptional and the finish is long and elegant. An outstanding wine.

* * * *

Beauties from Benziger -- Kathy Benziger, member of a large family that migrated from the Bronx to the Bay (San Francisco, that is) to make new lives as winemakers, was in town on a sales-eat-drink visit recently, with a few superior red wines to accompany some of Lou Rook's kitchen wizardry.

She brought a bright '09 Sauvignon Blanc and a very friendly '07 Sonoma Coast Pinot Noir that was a great companion to a Muscovy duck confit. From there, we tasted a 2007 Cabernet Sauvignon, not quite as polished as the Sequoia Grove discussed above, and a 2006 red varietal called Tribute, a proprietary Bordeaux blend of Cab (70 percent), and lesser amounts of Cabernet Franc, Merlot and Petit Verdot. A real winner, and in the $90-$100 range, it's a brilliant wine of great complexity with a big aroma and a lot of raspberry on the tongue. Another year or so will make it a star.

* * * *

Diamonds from Dry Creek -- Dry Creek Vineyards has been making excellent, moderately priced wines for close to 40 years, working in the gorgeous are of Sonoma County. A couple of new whites are exceptional -- 2008 Foggy Oaks Chardonnay from the Russian River Valley that has superb crispness, a hint of oak and dry, fresh feelings on the palate. At about $20, I think it's a real bargain. Even more of a bargain is the 2009 Dry Chenin Blanc, at about $12. It's made like a French Chablis, with stainless steel fermentation and aging keeping it with mineral-like qualities that combine perfectly with oysters or clams on the shell. Tis one is a terrific value.

* * * *

On the Big Box Scene -- Wines in three-liter boxes are bargains, and they're fine for parties and picnics. Don't expect great wine, but some of them are quite good, and Underdog Wine Merchants, the Livermore, Calif., based winemaker and seller, does some tasty and interesting blends. Of course, one winemaker's blend is another winemaker's mixture of whatever still is hanging around the winery, but that's for an expert to figure out. Anyway, Underdog, which describes itself as "a breed apart," now has an '09 Big House White to go along with its Big House Red, a tribute to Randall Grahm, who first used it.

Underdog's white is a brisk, light little wine, easy drinking and mostly dry. It's a blend of Malvasia Bianco, Riesling, Gewurztraminer, Pinot Grigio, Sauvignon Blanc, Chenin Blanc, Muscat Canelli and Viognier and sells for about $20 in its octagonal package. That makes for four standard 750-milliliter bottles, and it won't break if you drop it.

--Joe

I Fratellini

Talk about restaurants that have settled into a happy middle age: I Fratellini fills the bill perfectly. Despite a kitchen that has provided exceptional meals for close to a decade, it's pretty much a spot known mostly by word of mouth, without a huge amount of media attention but with plenty of regular customers. And it looks right, with a real feeling of a small northern Italian restaurant, cozy and darkish, and just a bit crowded--and noisy--when full.

The menu is mostly Italian, with some forays into multinational contemporary. Our eggplant appetizer was a rolatini, grilled slices rolled around seasoned ricotta and placed in a puddle of excellent, slightly chunky tomato sauce. The eggplant-tomato combination was particularly succulent, the flavors fitting together just right. A nightly special of an arugula salad featuring roasted fresh figs and prosciutto was equally delicious, with chef Ny Vongsaly quite properly using the lightest possible hand with the dressing, with minimal acidity so as not to override the rich succulence of the figs.

We admit we're not big on zucchini, but the grilled vegetable on the appetizer menu at I Fratellini is the exception that proves the rule. Since we've eaten it before, however, we passed in favor of a glorious taste treat, grilled Belgian endive stuffed with creamy fresh mozzarella cheese and wrapped with prosciutto. The slight bitterness of the endive, the saltiness of the prosciutto, and the smoke from the grilling process brought everything together in a triumph for Vongsaly. In a real restaurant-world upset, he has been the chef since Zoe Houk Robinson opened the Clayton establishment. He also worked with her at the late Cafe Zoe in the Central West End, and is in charge at Bobo, the noodle shop at Skinker Boulevard and the Forest Park Expressway.

An order of the combination bruschetta brought six slices of bread, two each topped with roasted cherry tomatoes and fresh mint, white beans marinated in a vinaigrette (very Tuscan, the bean combination), and what we thought the server described as a chicken pate. Perhaps we missed part of what she said--it was pretty noisy on a Saturday night--or perhaps a word was omitted, but it was chicken liver pate, a very traditional topping to the bruschetta family of appetizers in Italy, and it was yummy, especially with the shards of parmesan resting on top. A generous serving, as the server had said when we ordered it. Good for her for doing so, and good for the appetites of our dining party.

The lasagna with Italian sausage is, we understand, a frequent dinner special. (Lasagna is always on the lunch menu.) More of that tomato sauce surrounded a good-sized serving, cheesy, a light sprinkle of fennel, the pasta seemingly house-made. More pasta, this time a thick linguine, wore an ocean broth seasoned with saffron and a brief hit of red pepper, the whole topped with large shrimp, sea scallops, a little squid, and some mussels and clams still in their shells. The pasta arrived quite al dente, but seemed happier after it sat in the steaming broth a little, soaking up more moisture and flavor. None of the seafood was overcooked, and all waltzed together in good harmony.

Slices of duck breast, cooked rare at our request, were almost beefy in their texture, pink and juicy. They rode with mashed parsnips and some sauteed pear slices, a pairing seen more in East Coast restaurants as the once-hangdog vegetable seems to be updating its image. The match is a good one, the light sweetness of parsnip joining the honey-tart notes from a pear that's not overcooked. Otherwise, we think, the textures would be too similar.

We don't see whole fish on local tables very often. That's a shame; whole fish, while they require a little knife-and-fork play, and a watch for bones, are more succulent, less apt to dry out, and deliver more flavor. Fratellini offers branzino, sometimes known as European sea bass. Discussing European vs. American fish names is far too complicated, but this is a lovely fish, with mild white flesh that's absolutely irresistible. The branzino is grilled, and arrives with a square of potato gratin and some asparagus, the whole accented with capers, something that acts the same way lemon does with fish. The crisp, dark brown skin made us worry that the fish had been overcooked, but not at all; it was perfect.

Many of the desserts, including a gloriously rich and deeply fudgy chocolate layer cake, come from Sugaree, a fine local supplier. We do not scorn such a move; in effect, it's hiring a part-time pastry chef, a reasonable solution to a real challenge. The cake was a winner, as was a housemade lemon panna cotta. Unlike many panna cottas, this one was dense rather than Jello-y, made to pair up perfectly with its raspberry sauce. The secret may have been cream cheese in the mixture, but whatever it was, it worked perfectly.

Good service, as we've always had here, and a pleasing, middle-of-the-road wine list that offers a large number of Italian offerings that match well with the cuisine. An excellent stop for lunch or dinner.

 

I Fratellini

7624 Wydown Blvd., Clayton

314-727-7901

 http://www.saucemagazine.com/ifratellini/

Lunch Mon.-Fri., Dinner Mon.-Sat.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Poor

Smoking: No

Entrees: $18-$24

 

 

Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps

Want to see a big bunch of beautiful, expensive earrings, all clipped to lovely ears, as a camera slowly closes in on each one? Go to "Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps."

Want to see long, gorgeous helicopter shots of Manhattan, spectacular work by Rodrigo Prieto, showing off the city as if it were those earrings? Go to "Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps."
Want to see spinning, speedy animation of charts and graphs and things, guaranteed to trigger that old adrenalin? Guess. You're right.

Want to see a movie that is not 40 minutes too long, or a movie with crisp dialogue and a pungent, realistic story that does not drip soap suds? Try another theater.

Oliver Stone's latest brought high hopes. After all, the original "Wall Street," 23 years ago, was a superb movie. But this sequel, with Gordon Gekko (Michael Douglas) leaving prison and trying to make a living, lays a bigger egg than Wall Street did in a famous Variety headline to announce the Great Depression. The father-daughter story is more old-fashioned than the cocktail that bears the name. Carey Mulligan, as Winnie Gekko, is rather colorless as she runs a left-leaning financial blog, won't even discuss the old man, even though she still carries his name. And oh, yes, in the rowdy display of over-priced earrings, guess who wears the simple, modest pearls?

Douglas is a splendid actor and he gives Gekko almost the same penetrating performance he did last time. There may be a sympathy Oscar on his mantel next spring

The third point of the triangle is Jacob Moore (Shia La Beouf), a young trader. He's her father all over again, rising rapidly toward his millionaire Merit Badge. He's not above adopting his own versions of the tricks of the traders, covering any obvious greed and/or illegality with a lot of financial double-talk about alternative energy sources, which sounds clean in today's climate. A scene of him in a meeting trying to sell some Chinese money men on an investment scheme is a beauty.

Lots of high finance and low skullduggery along the way, even a motorcycle race as Stone desperately seeks a way to extend the film's running time. Without a story, he turns to smoke and mirrors.

There are some fine moments; watching 94-year-old Eli Wallach is worth the price of admission, and Frank Langella, once so hot he almost scorched the film, is an actor with certainty and power. Speaking of sex symbols, Susan Sarandon, who left a trail of smoke as the sexiest woman ever in "Bull Durham," scores in a gorgeous piece of writing and acting as La Beouf's mother, a renegade real-estate dealer, and the veteran Sylvia Miles, also trying to get rich quickly, creates another delightfully nasty character.

Stone, whose direction certainly is flashy and attention-grabbing, also brings back memories of "All About Eve," in a few moments of screen action from Vanessa Ferlito as a young broker. She's bright-eyed and eager, watching and learning and preparing to lead the next generation.

But unfortunately, there's simply not enough story to justify much praise.

Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps at several theaters

--Joe

The Me Nobody Knows

The St. Louis Black Repertory Company opened its 2010-11 season last night the same way it ended its 2009-10 season last June, with a cheerful, mostly enjoyable production of "The Me Nobody Knows," which runs tonight and tomorrow at the Edison Theatre, then performs next Friday-Sunday at Mary Institute-Country Day School.

With more stage space at Edison than in its usual Grandel Theatre home, Heather Beal opened her choreography a little wider and it became more effective. Most of the cast was back from the earlier production and despite the different space, everything ran quite smoothly; Ron Himes, the company's founder and producing director, directed stylishly, and musical director Charles Creath's trio, which included William Ranier on bass and Keith Fowler on drums, was smooth as silk.

The musical, originally on Broadway in 1971 for more than 300 performances, was developed by composer Gary William Friedman and lyricist Will Holt, the latter a familiar performer at the Crystal Palace when it was both east and west of Grand Boulevard. The book of the show was adapted from a book of essays by New York public school children in Harlem by Robert H. Livingston and Herb Schapiro.

There are protest songs and memory songs, and a great deal of fine singing, led by Chauncy Thomas (Clorox), a dynamic, commanding presence. Alexis White (Melba) and Sharisa Whatley (Nell) were outstanding singers, and Peter Winfrey (Donald) scored with "I Love What the Girls Got." John Reed II (Carlos) delivered powerfully in "The Tree," while Tyler White (Lillie Mae) and Demetrius Sylvester (Benjamin) got the action started in "Flying Milk and Runaway Plates," an ode to the school lunch hour. Others in the cast, all adding to the vocal strength and dance skills that brightened the evening, are: Jessica Davie, Tre'von Griffith, Delaney Haynes, Dominique Milam, Abigail Oldham, Alessandra Silva, Diamond Skinner and Cecil Washington.

The Me Nobody Knows, today and tomorrow at the Edison Theatre, Oct. 1-3 at Mary Institute Country Day School

--Joe

Lebanon

For those actively in it, war is no better than it ever was. It's dirty, tragic, scary, confusing and basically "hell," as General Sherman said. For film buffs, and fans of war movies, however, it's far better than it ever was. Advances in equipment, technical expertise and miniaturization, for example, make better movies possible.

Take "Lebanon," for example, an Israeli effort set in the first days of the 1982 war, when Israel invaded Lebanon. Set almost entirely within the less-than-cozy confines of a tank turret, it's even more claustrophobic than "Das Boot." And it's extremely personal. Writer-director Samuel Maoz was Shmulik, the scared-to-death rookie whose failure to fire is a contributing factor in the death of one of his fellow-soldiers and whose eagerness to atone results in the death of a civilian and a cloud of chicken parts in a dusty street.

Yoav Donat plays Shmulik; the others in the tank, all equally outstanding, are Hay Tiran as Assi, the tank commander; Michael Moshonov as Yigal, the driver; and Oshri Cohen as Hertzel, the assistant gunner, resident wise guy and impertinent questioner.

Despite the passage of nearly 20 years, Maoz remembers his terror and confusion and transmits the emotions perfectly to the page. Director of photography Giora Bejach does amazing work translating his words to pictures; much of the film is seen through the gun's sights. The four soldiers have absolutely no idea of where they are going or what they are supposed to do. A senior officer, who pops into the tank from time to time, proving that there is some sort of world out there, tries to keep things orderly, but knows little more than the men.

The men are told to take their tank on what they are told, "is a cakewalk" to a place code-named "San Tropez," in an obvious piece of military humor. They stall in the midst of a tiny town, lose their bearings, face more terror and horror than four young people should have to, regardless of their nationality.

Maoz shows some of this wry military humor, too, as when the tank stalls in the front door of a travel agency, and the gun's sight shows us posters of Big Ben, the Eiffel Tower--and the World Trade Center. This is a powerful, hard-hitting movie, like so many that we have seen from wars in faraway places over the last two decades. It's in a class with "Restropo," "The Hurt Locker," "Taxi to the Dark Side" and many others, even with "Das Boot," which may be the best war movie of them all. Will any of them teach us anything?

Lebanon opens today at the Tivoli.

--Joe

Bran Nue Dae

Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear--well, not quite an introduction to the Lone Ranger on radio, but almost a look back to the San Francisco summer of Love, complete with VW vans, hippies, head bands, beads, pot, sex and music. And original spelling, too.

"Bran Nue Dae," fairly close phonetically to "Brand New Day," is an Australian Aborigine

film, and it could stand for many things. It could be an Australian version of "Hair," or a sequel to "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert," or a sly protest film opposing oppression of the native Aborigines. Or an anti-church screed. Or a road movie. Or a version of a Shakespeare comedy. Or maybe just a group of adequate singers and dancers having a good time, if that's not too much like "Hair."

The movie's anthem is:

"There's nothing I would rather be,

"Than to be an Aborigine,

"And watch you take my precious land away."

That's a rather strong statement from a long-oppressed minority, but these folks are content to stop protesting when the song ends, like those in "Hair."

It's a mostly Aborigine cast, except for veteran Geoffrey Rush, who is delightfully over the top from start to finish as an avid disciplinarian priest. The movie is loosely based on a stage production by Jimmy Chi and the Kuckles (a band). Chi and Reg Gibbs wrote the screenplay in collaboration with Rachel Perkins, whose direction is enthusiastic, if sometimes rather sloppy. It's set in 1969, for a little more credence.

Our teenage hero, Willie (Rocky McKenzie), is a boarding-school student in a seminary where Rush, a priest, is a sadistic master. Willie, a virgin stuffed like a sausage casing with youthful lust, is eager to seduce Rosie (Jessica Mauboy), and she is equally inclined, but before she can get reclined, an Elvis Presley act-alike lures her away to sing with his band.

Willie runs away from school, with thousands of miles to cover between Perth and his home town of Broome, a real resort town on the Indian Ocean in Western Australia.
And he meets Uncle Tadpole (Ernie Dingo), a hobo and petty thief, sitting around a campfire, drinking and singing folk songs, much like Woody Guthrie and friends in the American Dust Bowl of the Thirties; or maybe John Steinbeck's "Grapes of Wrath" folks discovering "The Wrath of [fermented] Grapes. And they meet Slippery (Tom Budge) and Annie (Missy Higgins), seeking the hippie life in a nicely decorated vehicle.

After a variety of adventures, with Willie's quest to lose that virginity front and center in almost every one, and many things happening to interfere with that ambition, everyone arrives on a beach in Broome, where the Shakespeare Comedy rule finally takes effect.

A silly, affectionate, funny, enjoyable movie.

Bran Nue Dae opens today at the Plaza Frontenac.

--Joe

Mesrine: Killer Instinct and Mesrine Public Enemy No. 1

Jacques Mesrine was a successful French bank robber in the 1960s and 70s, so successful that he was dubbed Public Enemy No. 1, the same title that John Dillinger, who earned a living in a similar manner, wore in the U. S. 30 years earlier. Vincent Cassel is just outstanding as Mesrine in two biographical films, subtitled "Killer Instinct" and "Public Enemy No. 1;" they can be seen at the Plaza Frontenac, beginning today.

Mesrine, like Willie Sutton, said he robbed banks because that was where the money was. He also was an expert in breaking out of prison, no matter how strong the security. And he was a most successful lover, too. Women followed Mesrine as if he were a rock star, or allowed themselves to be easily seduced and became devoted companions. Cecile de France, Ludovine Sagnier and Elena Anaya, some in one film some in both, are among them.

Several writers, notably Abdul Raouf Dafri and the director, Jean-Francais Richet, worked on the screenplays, and Richet, with a fine eye, directed, though he seems to linger too long in many scenes, adding unnecessary time to already long movies.

The films also are extremely violent, with Mesrine a cold-blooded foe in the criminal world, and a violent lover and demanding companion to his many women. Some excellent chase scenes, plenty of blood. The veteran Gerard Depardieu, always outstanding, steals the first film as Guido, first Mesrine's boss, then his underling, in a terrific supporting role. He's not in the second one.

Giddy over his press clippings, Mesrine slips over the edge in the second film, baiting the police, taunting the government, becoming a self-titled revolutionary and comparing himself to a one-man Bader-Meinhof gang, a group of left-wing robbers and killers in the 1960s and 70s. But regardless of his claims, he is a criminal, not a freedom-fighter, and as a wealthy kidnap victim tells him scornfully, "If you were a revolutionary, you'd have killed me and thrown my body into the street. But since you are holding me for ransom, you're just a common crook."

Mesrine: Killer Instinct and Mesrine: Public Enemy No. 1, open today at the Plaza Frontenac.

--Joe

Heartbreaker

"My son the doctor" remains a proud way to talk about family. How about, "My son who earns a good living being hired by fathers to romance their daughters to destroy a relationship with someone they consider wrong for her."?

No? Well, "Heartbreaker," the movie, a French comedy, is not so hot, either, the first clue being that three people have screenplay credits.

Romain Duris is Alex, the title character, with a shaggy haircut and a several-days growth of beard. But he, working with his sister and her husband, is a con man with today's technology, using the internet, high-speed cameras and various other gadgets to delve into his target's background. For example, his current quarry, Juliette (Vanessa Paradis), is a fan of the Patrick Swayze-Jennifer Grey movie, "Dirty Dancing," so dance lessons become part of Alex' preparation. But director Pascal Chaumeil, stranded somewhere between sex farce and gadget story, leaves us stranded, too.

Heartbreaker opens today at the Plaza Frontenac

--Joe

Rearn Thai

Rearn Thai is an unassuming little restaurant that sits quietly in downtown Clayton. Tucked into the ground floor of a building, it avoids claustrophobic feelings with a large front window, white walls, plenty of light, and tasty meals that spark the imagination and help kindle conversation. Evenings are usually quiet, although we suspect lunch business is brisk. Chinese influence on the Thai kitchen seems a little more apparent than at other Thai restaurants, and it was easy to find several examples for those who like or are curious about that combination.

Thai soups always are alluring. One of our favorites is tom yum, or, as it's spelled at Rearn, thom yum. Fans of Chinese-style hot and sour soup need not hesitate at Rearn's version. . Yes, there's lemongrass, its distinctive scent and flavor leading the way, but the heat and tartness will be familiar friends. Kaffir leaves give their citrus-y contribution, and there are mushrooms; we chose shrimp for our protein and as a finisher, though other options are chicken or tofu. We think this is chicken-broth based; vegetarians should inquire.

Hoy jor can entice sausage lovers. It involves a ground mixture of taro, shrimp and pork, wrapped in a thin sheet of bean curd, steamed and then quickly fried to crisp the outside edge. Several sources we checked call them Thai-Chinese, and in many ways, we can imagine them on a dim sum cart. Taste? The taro-reluctant can be converted by these crisp-outside-moist-inside slices with charming meat and seafood notes and a flavor that can best be described as delicate. The menu said it came with plum sauce, but we received a clear, somewhat sweet sauce with a little acidity coming in late. Superfluous, as practically any sauce would be.

Rearn's take on fried rice is a classic example of what we've tasted at other Thai restaurants, and made from Thai cookbooks. Lighter and far less greasy than the average Chinese-American version, our Thai chili fried rice (with pork--beef, chicken, squid and shrimp also are available, the latter two with an extra charge) was fluffy and flavorful, although not nearly as fiery as we'd expected, given our usual spicing request for “somewhere between medium and hot.” Plenty of green and white onions, always desirable, some snow peas, a few pieces of fresh tomato, and the pork, which wasn't overcooked, and was free of fat and gristle. A first-rate rendition.

Rearn offers a dozen different stir-fried dishes, and even those that look as if they'd be more Chinese, clearly show an underlying flavor showing they had come from a Thai kitchen. For example, our pad khing, described on the menu as having fresh slices of ginger, onions, baby corn and straw mushrooms, quickly made our taste buds think of Thailand. We couldn't put our finger on what made it a little different, but came to the conclusion that perhaps it was from a dollop of red curry paste added to the pan as the cooking began. Whatever it was, it worked. Perhaps the beef wasn't prime grade tenderloin, but overall it was savory, properly spicy above and beyond the ginger, with plenty of beef and mushrooms.

We're always happy to have sticky rice with mango for a dessert. Rearn tops its sticky rice (which is traditionally cooked in coconut milk) with a dollop of the thick coconut cream that rises to the top of coconut milk. On this visit, the mango was firmer and slightly tart, and, unusually, wasn't peeled. Not a problem for us; the skins are like nectarine peels, thin and easily eaten, but there are those who have severe allergies and should be aware.

The usual affable service, and a kitchen that moves with alacrity. Good stuff.

 

Rearn Thai  

7910 Bonhomme Ave., Clayton

314-725-8807

Lunch Mon.-Sat., Dinner nightly

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Fair

Smoking: No

Entrees: $8-$16