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Printemps doesn't necessarily like to be associated with a department store, preferring to call its 55,000-square-foot Parisian footprint a "French luxury retailer" or simply a "French apartment" that so happens to be filled with Balmain and Cartier. Perhaps it's fitting that the main restaurant on the ground floor, Maison Passerelle, shirks the title of just another French restaurant, too, but this time rightfully so.
That is due in part to the quiet genius that is Gregory Gourdet. Gourdet's pedigree is far-reaching—a Top Chef alum, cookbook author and a multiple-time James Beard Award winner. His range in the kitchen is just as broad, starting with fine French food under Jean-Georges Vongerichten before spending 10 years exploring pan-Asian cuisine at Portland's Departure (including a two-year layover in Denver). But in recent years, the chef tapped into his own well, sharing Haitian recipes such as griyo (twice-baked pork) and jerked cauliflower at Portland's Kann to critical acclaim. But when it came to the anchoring restaurant at Printemps—Gourdet oversees all five concepts inside the luxury retailer—it was clear that French food had to be the throughline; that tie was necessary. But he's done it the Gourdet way as Maison Passerelle explores the traces left behind from France's colonial past, visiting West Africa, Vietnam and Laos, with Haiti carrying the strongest influence.
The vibe: Printemps' lead designer, Parisian designer Laura Gonzalez, also designed Maison Passerelle. And since Printemps translates to spring, the restaurant is similarly in bloom. Now one of the jewel boxes of Fidi, the restaurant gleams with greenish-blue tiles, tulip-shaped light fixtures and chandeliers and a mosaic floor of vines that sprawl across the ground. Yet among such eye-catchers, subtle nods are just as exciting as various panels on the walls depict the sunsets of the Caribbean, Haiti, Southeast Asia and other formerly French-owned colonies.
The food: Much like Gourdet's cooking style, Maison Passerelle criss-crosses the globe with ease, as bouncy and lightly sweet plantain buns find a balance with a savory and aromatic swipe of epis butter that melts right into the bread, and citrus-cured kampachi gets nice and chilly with a shaved ice that derives its sweetness from strawberry and tomatoes. The duck comes two ways and seems the most classic: a confit leg and a downright perfectly seared breast with a crackly crust. However, this little birdy gets its sweetness not from oranges, as the duck is glazed in cane syrup and finishes with a citrusy, zippy kiss of tamarind. Much like Kann, the steak, this time a ribeye, is similarly rubbed with spices and Haitian coffee, whose richness is cut with puckery pickled onions. But perhaps the most special dish is diri ak sos pwa, a classic Haitian dish that Gourdet has been spooning up since he was a child. You soon will be too, as the simple simmer of kidney beans, thyme, cloves and just enough Scotch Bonnet is as comforting as it gets.
The drink: The cocktails also take a spin across the Caribbean, such as the Kokoye Punch, clarified in coconut milk for a smooth, fruity sweetness; you may not taste the dual blend of whiskey and rum until it's too late. Pikliz also finds itself in the glass, spun up into a dirty martini that packs more a vegetal over a pickled punch the Haitian condiment is known for.
Time Out tip: Keep in mind, this place can run spendy, but a little less so if you opt for the dinner prix fixe priced at $90 per person. But we do cop for the add-ons here, such as the aforementioned steak (an additional $30) and the duck (an additional $20).