Bistro Guillaume at Crown serves up reliably good French food but it’s pricey

WITH all the love in the air recently (a post-Valentine’s Day hangover, perhaps) it seemed fitting to pull on a frock and head to Bistro Guillaume.

Anything French feels romantic, especially if it’s teamed with a crisp glass of chablis poured by someone with a svelte accent and a dimpled smile.

That’s what you get at Bistro Guillaume, the full French treatment. The menu choices — terrine, salad nicoise, soufflé and steak tartare (and that’s just les entrees) — fit the stereotype and we’re happy to tumble in head first. Along with the bistro-oriented carte, there are elements of fine dining: linen laid on laps, sparkling stemware and double-take pricing, particularly in the wine and dessert sector.

The only thing that doesn’t quite whisper “typiquement francaise” is the setting. There are no atmospheric brass finishings or weathered wood, no rustic candles or cane seating. It’s chrome shiny, lairy green and white light. To be fair, it matches the view through the glass of Crown Metropol’s Malibu-style pool. Yet it’s in need of a brush-up. There’s noticeable staining on the harlequin floors and the bathrooms were a mess.

Fortunately, the food is, as always, on point. Ordering snails is a fun way to get in the mood. For $25 we score six each, presented sizzling hot in garlicky liquid butter. Imported from Burgundy (brined in a tin), they perform well on the tender-versus-chewy scale, but taste more peppery than parsley-freshened. The herb is passed through a sorbetmachine to create a superfine powder, which is clever, but it misses the flavour rush of the fresh stuff.

Sassy cookery does pay off, however, with twice-baked cheese souffle ($26). Traditionally, souffle is served rising from a ramekin like an over-achieving cupcake. This Roquefort-imbued version is baked that way, flipped over, dressed with cream and more Roquefort, baked again then showered in grated gruyere before being whisked under the salamander grill.

The result is a bun-shaped mound with a dark, caramelised rim, elastic skin and chewy base, like the world’s best cheese toastie. The insides are as fluffy as scrambled eggs and the impact teeters between savoury and rich. Brilliant.

An overflowing bowl of springy mussels marinieres ($34) is lapped by a typical white-wine-and-cream sauce with a subtle shellfish fragrance. Delightful, bar the odd hipster mussel with its beard left on. Crisp but oily chips are largely avoided.

Beef daube ($40) is less provincial stew and more whole beef cheek surrounded by dark jus and winter vegetables, such as cubed carrot and silky Paris mash. The wine-stained, fall-apart tender flesh has a tactile grain to it and is so filling we struggle to finish.

The lemon tart ($18) is a too-sweet ending to the rich meal, smacking more of lemon meringue pie than tangy, citric refreshment.

Overall, it’s a charming evening, but one that’s an annual indulgence — like Valentine’s Day — instead of a regular experience.

Bistro Guillaume

Great Eastern Highway, Burswood

1800 556 688

Open Monday to Friday noon-3pm, 5.30pm-10pm; Saturday and Sunday noon-10pm

bistroguillaumeperth.com.au

Score: 15/20