Just a short stroll west from chef Jeremy Duclut’s Beach Drive brassiere, Cassis, is a welcome addition to the bustling energy of the downtown St. Pete scene. A native of Mâcon in Burgundy wine country, Jeremy, accompanied by his wife Liset, returns to his roots with a new casual spot, showcasing that most stereotypical dish in French gastronomy, the crêpe.
BTW, don’t worry about the pronunciation unless you’re in France. They say “krehp,” while most English speakers say “krape.” What really matters is, The Wooden Rooster is at that rare intersection where delicious meets affordable, especially near Beach Drive.
The relaxed vibe is apparent as you enter. There are large, dark wood communal tables featuring benches topped with pots of fresh herbs and small A-frame chalkboards listing beer and wine selections. There’s also a wall-length wooden banquette with tables and an eclectic group of mismatched distressed chairs. The same is true of the charming stoneware plates and white paper napkin silverware bundles, neatly tied up with white string.
Behind the counter is a brick wall with today’s specials handwritten on a huge vertical roll of unbleached brown butcher paper. It’s here that you place your order and pay, then take a seat while your meal is created and delivered by the attentive and friendly staff.
A refrigerated glass display case near the cash register — no, make that a digital tablet checkout — is packed with Mason jar-layered seasonal salads that catch your eye and make you salivate at the bright, fresh ingredients. There’s corn that’s a “bright canary yellow,” or plump, shiny edamame, the arresting green interspersed with translucent shavings of pale pink ginger.
After ordering, the restaurant dumps your salad selection on a jumble of crisp greens from their “grow wall” (which TWR gets from a farmer just outside Tampa) and tosses them in a house-crafted vinaigrette. The fresh herbs growing on adjacent tables prompt our selection of basil-Parmesan dressing. It’s superbly balanced with a hint of fresh-plucked herb to dance on your tongue.
The only other menu category besides salads and crêpes is daily seasonal soups. The minestrone that we taste is a notch below the superb salad, but the best is yet to come. The crêpes are universally scrumptious.
If you’re sensitive to gluten (or have friends who are), you probably know that the gluten-free carb options still leave a lot to be desired. I’m happy to report that the corn-based crêpe here is dandy and cedes nothing to the wheaty bogeymen that usually haunt the dreams of my celiac-inflicted friends. My personal favorite is the nutty buckwheat, but there are also regular crêpes in addition to going the sandwich route with a baguette, nine-grain or GF bread, though I can’t imagine why. This is all about the glorious crêpe, after all.
The menu offers 10 “rise & shine” breakfast items as well as eight more savory combos. Or you may venture into make-your-own territory with seven proteins, 10 veggies, eight cheeses, and five sauce extras. My table decides to test drive four of Dulcet’s creations.
The crêpe versions are served as inverted packets. The flat-base crêpe of your choice is filled, and then its sides are folded in to envelope the center, turned over bottom-side up and garnished as appropriate for what’s inside.
The popular apple melt layers juicy chicken breast, spinach, sweet caramelized apple and Brie. Our regular crêpe’s mottled exterior, with a glistening slice of soft fruit on top, is first-rate. Every element shines. In every case, the ingredients are assembled with care. When you begin with fresh, local, organic (when possible) ingredients and the crêpe batters are skillfully prepared and cooked, it’s no surprise that my table is moaning with pleasure.
This being Tampa Bay, trying the Cubanito is a no-brainer. A pickle-topped buckwheat crêpe is aninspired choice to contain the well-known ham-pork-Swiss-Dijon-pickle combo. TWR’s version doesn’t disappoint. Each component is on the money and in balance. It seems simple, but the pork could be dry, and the mustard or pickle could overwhelm the other ingredients.
Swamp Grass is a veggie treat that tops tangy goat cheese with thin slices of ripe tomato and cucumber, plus some crunchy sprouts, creamy hummus and a touch of lemon pepper for some bite. It’s terrific inside the aforementioned corn-based GF crêpe, sporting a tomato slice garnish.
Just for fun, we try the baguette for a variation on the famous croque-monsieur (here, it’s just Monsieur for short). The Black Forest ham and Swiss cheese topped with béchamel is great, but the bread — though slightly toasted and crisp — doesn’t make me want to skip a crêpe the next time. I understand the option, but this is crêpe country and rightly so.
The dessert crêpes work best with regular flour. There are 11 choices alongside build-your-own. We hit another gluten-free rendition for a tablemate, who eyes the closest thing to crêpe Suzette: creamy ricotta flavored with honey, orange zest and Grand Marnier. The textural and temperature contrasts provided by a scoop of tart lemon sorbet prove delightful. Perhaps even better is the Nutty Joe, filled with Nutella and crushed Oreos before it's finished with decadent coffee ice cream. Plus, there’s an eensy-weensy cup of warm espresso to drink or dump.
As Martha Stewart might say en Français, “C’est une bonne chose.”
Jon Palmer Claridge dines anonymously when reviewing. Check out the explanation of his rating system.
This article appears in Feb 11-17, 2016.