At Le Mistral, Parisian charm is in the air
The Brooklyn brasserie brings a taste of France to Park Slope.
In partnership with Le Mistral
On a spring evening in the South of France, the sky begins to stir. The legendary Le Mistral wind announces its arrival before it rolls in, sweeping through vineyards and lavender fields, clearing out gray clouds for blue skies and bright sunshine that allow the region’s famous crops to thrive. Its energy is palpable, shaping more than just the climate; its bracing gusts draw people to wander from their homes to gather at local cafes. “That’s the feeling we wanted to bring to 330 Fifth Street,” says Berna Kaya, the owner of Le Mistral, a French brasserie in Park Slope.
When Kaya took the helm of Le Mistral, the space had already been a French restaurant for years, but she had a grander vision for it: more than an eatery serving French fare, she wanted to bring a true Parisian brasserie to the neighborhood she calls “Brooklyn’s closest answer to a Parisian arrondissement.” With its strong, family-oriented culture and “walkable corners,” Kaya recognized how Park Slope could benefit from “a gathering spot — somewhere you walk in without a reservation, recognize the bartender, and stay an hour longer than you planned.”
Though it sits on a street corner in Brooklyn, Le Mistral exudes Parisian charm. Rich leather booths, pendant lights and marble surfaces adorn the space while soft French music floats through the air. When my husband and I arrived for dinner, early in the evening on a Friday in May, Jean-Luc, the restaurant’s manager, greeted us as though we were regulars. A vase of fresh pink peonies sat atop the long, mirrored bar where bartenders were crafting frosty cocktails in the same rosy hue. “Our signature cocktails [are] built around the things the French actually drink,” says Kaya. “Champagne, Pastis, Lillet, a proper apéritif before dinner.” Jean-Luc explained that the restaurant is known for its made-to-order espresso martinis – rather than using refrigerated espresso, it’s brewed fresh for each drink. “We don’t cut corners,” he said. My husband and I opted for a Frenchie 75, a take on the classic that includes notes of chamomile. It arrived golden and effervescent, nearly shimmering, a perfect lemon twist perched on its rim. Bright and citrusy, it had both a sweetness and sharpness to it, one never overwhelming the other. The chamomile cut through the lemon’s bite and made for smooth, slow sipping. We were grateful for the ability to savor that drink.
Our server guided us through the menu, which Kaya describes as “canon:” it includes French staples such as soupe à l’oignon gratinée, moules marinières, and steak frites. We whet our palates with the grilled Spanish octopus starter, a slight departure from culinary France to its westward neighbor. Fresh, flavorful, full of smoky char and topped with semi-sweet chorizo and tomato, it was well worth the detour. For entrees, I decided on a classic poulet roti, while my husband continued sampling the menu’s seafood offerings. Our server suggested the red snapper, a dish he deemed the perfect complement to the recent advent of warm weather. The fish was light but flavorful, served with a lemon drizzle and a side of ratatouille – summery and simple, the cooking let the vegetables shine. My poulet roti was deliciously different – decadent, comforting, French fare as it should be. Succulent roast chicken came bathing in its own jus, sitting on a bed of mashed potatoes: each mouthful rich with the taste of home cooking. Then there were the green beans. Gleaming with butter and richly verdant, they looked and tasted exactly like the haricots verts you’d scoop onto your plate at a sidewalk bistro in Paris: savory and warming, with a hint of vegetal brightness.
As the evening drew on, so did the rhythm of the room, the low, characteristic din of a bistro beginning to hum in the background. Waiters sailed past us, their trays laden with heaping bowls of moules marinières and golden fries wrapped in a cone of paper dotted with oil, but not drenched in it (perfection). One such batch was delivered to the woman next to us, who was having dinner with her husband and two young children. She must have seen us ogling her fries, and was curious about my notebook, so she struck up a conversation with us. We learned that she is French, and while she usually avoids dining at French restaurants in New York for fear of inevitable disappointment, she was pleasantly surprised by her first visit to Le Mistral – she now frequents it with her family. As Parisian as it can feel, Le Mistral fits perfectly in the landscape of Park Slope. Other families were also there having dinner, as is typical for the neighborhood, but at some two-tops, couples out on date night split steaming tureens of French onion soup. “We’re the spot for the weekday lunch, the after-work glass of wine, the Sunday with the in-laws,” Kaya says. On Saturday and Sunday mornings, brunch at Le Mistral has quietly become a neighborhood ritual. On Saturday evenings, live music drifts through the dining room from six to nine. “And when there’s a moment to mark — birthdays, anniversaries, baby showers, the holidays — our dining room hosts private parties and special events for groups of all sizes.” The large event space Kaya mentions is bright, airy, and boasts a large line drawing of a Parisian boulevard on the far wall.
After our second cocktail, “the Brooklynite” – a smoky, sweet, dark cherry-forward riff on a Manhattan, my husband and I were ready to call it a night, blissfully full with no room, regrettably, for that famous espresso martini. We wandered back home buzzing not just from the cocktails, but from the delicious fare, friendly service and lively atmosphere of our Friday night dinner. Le Mistral may take its name from the legendary winds of Provence, but it will be more than a breeze that brings me back again.
330 5th Street
Brooklyn, NY 11215
844-841-9019