Seattle French favorite Le Pichet celebrates 25 years

In a city where we seem to be losing beloved restaurants all the time, Le Pichet stands as an icon — now celebrating a quarter of a century, and steady on. A trip to Paris conveniently nestled atop Pike Place Market, it’s proof that loveliness can, in fact, sometimes last.

The place is, of course, about the food — a menu of tried-and-true French classics that, with Le Pichet’s consistent care, have become all-time favorites in Seattle (and lauded far beyond over the years, from The New York Times to Gourmet to Anthony Bourdain). The salade verte has surpassed mere green-saladness, attaining local celebrity status with its small pile of super-crisp bibb lettuce, its unruly toasted hazelnuts and its extraordinarily good vinaigrette (the secret: reduced orange juice). The Pichet rendition of gâteau au foie de volaille transforms chicken livers (and a lot of heavy cream) into a velvety, savory spread that always surprises then soothes with its sheer richness, like meat-frosting. The whole roasted chicken for two is something humble made worthy of exaltation — allow one hour for a perfect bird, cooked to order at a blistering temperature for supremely crispy skin and still-juicy interior.

Other dishes at Le Pichet change with the seasons, quietly and resolutely showcasing the Pacific Northwest’s best. Right now, there are superlative end-of-summer heirloom tomatoes served simply with piquant boquerones, olive oil and sherry vinegar; if you don’t surreptitiously drink the pool of juices left on the plate, it will haunt you later. The exemplary falafel that turns up time to time is back, accompanied by assorted melons — maybe canary, Galia and/or Hami — plus cucumber and dandelion. A recent plat du jour of buttermilk fried quail felt like an ideal picnic with sweet cherry tomatoes and a sauce gribiche.

Specials and sides will progress into fall, featuring locally foraged mushrooms, new-crop apples and more. Soon it will be time again for oozing raclette, creamy gratins, duck confit and chocolat chaud; then, hopefully before we know it, green garlic, snow peas, rhubarb, asparagus again. And Le Pichet is open every day starting at 10 a.m., there for late breakfast through dinnertime — a schedule so rare now as to be a civic service (as are the sardine sandwich and the eggs broiled with ham and Gruyère on the daytime menu).

Recipes from Le Pichet

It all takes place in a paragon of traditional design, especially welcome in a city where that has largely fallen by the wayside. From the front, Le Pichet looks like a drawing of a French restaurant: the awning, the gold-leaf lettering on the windows, the sidewalk seating in summertime. Inside, it’s got high ceilings, schoolhouse light fixtures, small-scale black-and-white tiled floor, mirrors to enlarge the shoebox-shaped space. Slate-topped tables are close-set along a banquette, with civility assumed. The egg-and-dart molding around the zinc-topped bar has been thoroughly, lovingly dented, and there’s always a big bowl of citrus brightening up the bar’s corner. The walls are the color of the richest springtime French butter. There are no depictions of the Eiffel Tower nor Taittinger posters; rather, there are ends of wooden wine boxes and French cheese labels, some off-center in their unfussy frames.

In the midafternoon, the feeling is tranquil, with a quality of light that promotes anticipated nostalgia; lunches and dinners bustle, and you’re part of a thing that’s exceptionally pleasant, entirely urbane. No matter how many times you’ve been to Le Pichet, it’s anti-mundane.

Neighborhood regulars drop in for cafe au lait, lunchtime quiche or the current cheese selection with a glass from the well-considered, almost entirely French. For those coming from farther afield, Le Pichet has hosted innumerable dates, birthdays, engagements, wakes and more over 2 ½ decades.

I can’t for the life of me remember my first time here, but other occasions stand out — a couple friends’ joyous supper after their courthouse wedding; bringing a visiting vegan and finding them happier than anywhere else in town; two bowls of luxurious French onion soup as a pandemic finally loosened its grip; near-annual reunions with a loved one who’s moved abroad, the location never a question. (Pro tip: For a special evening, it’s possible to have a bottle of French bubbles waiting at the table in a silver bucket.)

Le Pichet came about by way of Jim Drohman, a Boeing engineer whose change of heart turned his exacting intelligence to French cooking, prompting a move to Paris to become a chef. There, he studied at L’École Supérieur de Cuisine Francaise Jean Ferrandi and worked at several restaurants, including Michelin-rated Le Coq de la Maison Blanche. After returning to Seattle, he eventually decided the city needed the quotidian delight that is an excellent bistro; in 2000, he opened Le Pichet with partner Joanne Herron. Here, it is only appropriate to salute their other marvelous enterprise, the dear departed Café Presse (2007-22).

With Drohman and Herron planning to retire, Le Pichet was on the precipice of being lost as well — then three years ago, new ownership stepped in. Marcel Boulanger and Michael Chick not only have the best possible names for this takeover, they’d both worked with Drohman as far back as when he was the chef of Seattle’s venerable Campagne, then again at Le Pichet. They are front-of-the-house people; in a time when prominent restaurants are, as a rule, chef-driven, their new dual role seems an unusual one.

But as Le Pichet became an institution, it was run that way in the French style. With Drohman’s culinary approach in place, he eventually ceded the day-to-day of Le Pichet’s kitchen to a series of talented chefs with trusted crews; with his and Herron’s systems — and, crucially, systemic respect — also in order, the restaurant trundled happily along.

With all the recipes and a deep respect for the ethos in hand, Boulanger and Chick have augmented the wine list a bit, adding more to the celebratory end of the small-producer, biodynamic selections. Otherwise, they’ve achieved their aim — to keep things the same — in a seamless transition.

“Pichet” means pitcher, and Le Pichet offers wines that way, along with its glass pours and bottles, in the French style for this sphere of restaurant. The pretty little pitchers are now the work of staff member Andritta O Bernstein, who’s also a ceramist — the restaurant’s been a flexible haven of employment for many artists along the way. The place itself can also be thought of as a vessel, filled and emptied and filled again, with all the energy that moves through it.

Now it’s been 25 years of the actual fuel of food and drink, with all the attendant pleasure, sometimes the solace, the special occasions and the solo lunches — all the product of on-site human endeavor. And while the staff didn’t set the thing in motion, it is they who have filled the plates and the glasses in the kitchen and the dining room, making the moments at Le Pichet lovely — they who have been the shifting yet steady soul of the place. The head chef now is Vince Keeble-Hall, who also worked with Drohman, and either Boulanger or Chick is almost always in the dining room.

It seems only fitting that two staff members shepherd Le Pichet forward, and it also seems completely appropriate that they decided an official celebration for the place’s silver anniversary this August was unnecessary.

Just to have the place persist — in its wonderful sameness — is little short of a Seattle restaurant miracle.

Bethany Jean Clement: 206-464-2050 or bclement@seattletimes.com. Bethany Jean Clement is a food writer at The Seattle Times, where she’s covered and critiqued the city’s culinary culture since 2014.