[Restaurant Review] Petit Crenn Finale

 Last Friday, I had the pleasure of attending the closing night of Petit Crenn in Hayes Valley,  Petit Crenn first opened in 2015 as Chef Dominique Crenn's casual(ish) neighborhood restaurant.  Originally, the menu was ala carte and based on the home cooking of Brittany, inspired by the dinner parties held by Crenn's mother and grandmother. Petit is where I first realized that Parisian gnocchi is a whole different foodstuff than the stodgy potato based Italian dumplings I'd discovered in college.

During pandemic, the Crenn group closed Petit to focus on getting meals out to hungry San Franciscans impacted by the crisis. For the last 2 years, though, the Crenn team has been doing pop-up menus inspired by seasonal ingredient experiments, their Parisian output, and old dishes they used to make at their flagship restaurant. It was a great time while it lasted, and I'm sorry to see them go, particularly since they are close enough that I can stumble home without having a stop light in the way.

The final dinner was a party. Chef was there, along with the core team and a room full of regulars and some lucky folks who'd randomly decided that this was the correct night to try Petit for the first time. The vibe was chill: almost no one cared about particulars, everyone was just happy to be part of the occasion as Chef whirlwinded through the crowd. The evening started with canapés and some really nice champagne. Then we sat down to a truly ridiculous menu. Some highlights:

A (large) potato gratin with caviar and creme fraiche. Classic and excessive and delicious.

A slice of marinated heirloom tomato, covered in flowers. This as surprisingly put together; the flavors actually matched and the tomato didn't dominate.

10 whole butter-filled razor clams, for 2 people.  This was course 5? 7?  There was wine being poured with every course so at this point we were having trouble keeping track, but this one course was more than I eat most meals.  Which meant... 

... that when this whole ass trout came out for the next course, we broke out laughing.  At this point, we'd formed a camaraderie with the couple at the table next to us (who were valiantly trying to drink through the wine pairing quickly so they could meet their visiting parents later that evening.  I have so many questions and yet so much respect for their decision making).  Between us, we scored the literal last pieces of foil left in the kitchen so that we could take most of the fish home with us.  It has been 7 days and I'm still eating the trout cakes I made with the leftovers. 

Dessert was cozy, though I was surprised that the mad genius pastry chef Juan Contreras didn't make an appearance.  (I do not use this term lightly.  He once brought me a dessert of dehydrated eggplant and dry ice, and it was one of the best things I've ever eaten.  It's also his fault that I've spent 10 years looking for a reliable supplier of seckel pears.)