The chef is in her kitchen, mashing potatoes, her dark curls subdued with a magenta head wrap. Three Bistro servers are printing menus, then placing them on gold-wrapped tables, with hints of the Fourth in red runners and blue hydrangeas.
The museum was closed yesterday for the holiday, so it’s been a hustle as Melinda Lucas preps for the latest installment of her Tuesday dinner series, a tour de cookbooks. Since June 21, she’s raided the kitchen, the pantry, her library stash for inspiration and tonight is a French feast à la David Lebovitz.
“I’ve always wanted to make his mustard chicken,” she says, referencing the $14 main on her menu.
As in she hasn’t before?
“No. Isn’t that risky?” she confesses, with no discernible worry.
The salt cod gratin is a first, too. But what’s the fun if you don’t experiment?
“I used to be really uptight about food,” Lucas explains.
She describes the extreme host, wincing at the unvetted side dish that shows up unannounced to dinner.
That was pre-revelation Melinda. Now, the point is the company.
“Hi, early birds,” Lucas greets her 5:30 reservation.
George Lewis has come for moral support. He’s also a co-conspirator. He heads to the vat at her request and samples: A nod before more salt goes in. Next week, his role in the back will be official; they’re preparing Mexican fare together with “Hartwood: Bright, Wild Flavors from the Edge of the Yucatan” as muse.
Another diner enters sputtering French. He’s wearing a flannel shirt, with a BIMA cap. His homey attire matches the mood, also put into words by a server, Elaine: “You know how some museums are so pretentious you don’t want to walk inside? This is like the opposite.”
There are just a few tables, room for 40 when it’s hazy, a handful more when the sun cooperates and the patio’s beckoning. The staff recognize most of their guests, like a 99-year-old who slinks into a stool and politely declines the wine list — she has to drive.
“She’s so cute,” two servers whisper. “She’s here all the time.”
It’s difficult for Lucas to commit to a menu in advance, despite the marketing team’s begging. She intends to do Persian and a tribute to Yotam Ottolenghi, but she can’t say when.
“You know how chefs are,” she says coyly. “I don’t know what I’ll feel like cooking.”
Her food is also too ingredient-centric for long-term planning. She can’t channel Suzanne Goins’ seasonal opus “Sunday Suppers” with sub-par produce. Instead, she waits: “I’ve got to do perfect tomatoes with this tomato burrata salad she makes.”
Ambiguity aside, there are some guarantees. The menu is short and sweet. With seven options, you won’t suffer decision fatigue. Foreign words run deep, though there’s no haughtiness: this is an education. Below flamiche aux poireaux, you’ll find “leek and crème fraîche tart, served with an arugula salad.” Accessible descriptions follow suit for gougères, poulet à la moutarde and Brandade de Morue, and we’re saved from the shame of ignorance.
The bistro is open from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. daily, with an expanded menu and table service as of June 1.
Melinda Lucas’ pop-up epicurean adventures take place Tuesday nights, with seatings between 5 and 7 p.m.
To make a reservation, call 206-451-4011.
