From colognes and art to traveling circuses and especially cuisine, Americans have long gravitated to products stamped with French words and labels – whether they hail from France or originate straight out of China. Yesterday’s politics and “freedom fries” aside, a mere depiction or reference to the motherland implies better quality or an air of chic. At La Vache French Casual Bistro in Hillcrest, I found a little of both.

Since La Vache was taken over six years ago by Gary Grassi, a native South African, the kitchen’s French offerings (implemented by the original French owner) have been tempered to appeal to a wider market. Nudging their way onto the menu of established favorites, like hearty Cassoulet, Boeuf Bourguignon and Duck Breast with Cherry-Brandy Sauce, are such conformist dishes as traditional Caesar Salad, “California” Pepperoni Pizza, and Pasta with Shrimp. The latter is drizzled with oil infused with piri piri peppers, found typically in Angola. There are also several straightforward seafood items fairy dusted with either pinches of cream or “herbs de Provence” to keep your imagination firmly in France.

La Vache’s heart is more French than its soul. Head chef Freddie Nolasco is Mexican, though with a knack for provincial cooking. When I asked the manager, who is also from South Africa, if there is any French blood in the operation, he told me that a few of the waiters are French. In San Diego, that’s good enough for most.

My companion and I stayed with the menu’s French classics, starting with a Charcuterie Platter that included two fingers of coarse pork pâté embedded with pistachios, piped dots of spreadable goose liver pâté, sliced garlic sausage and three generous wedges of brie. It’s a wonderfully unctuous dish that sings to acidic red wines or young Bordeaux, but the omission of bread rounds and stone-ground mustard didn’t quite deliver us to a picnic in Brittany.

An appetizer of Butter-Sautéed Frog Legs had sold out prior to our visit. “Some weeks everybody orders them,” said our waitress, who remained minimally attentive to water refills and silverware replacements throughout our dinner. More pedestrian is Tartines Provencal, a plate featuring six thick slices of grilled bread topped alternately with olive tapanade, Swiss-Parmesan cheeses and bruschetta that barely hinted of garlic.

For those who judge French restaurants by their onion gratinee soup, you may want to consider the Crème de Tomate or the Carrot Soup instead. Both are more flavorful, although considerably richer in cream than what the menu describes. The semi-clear onion soup, served in lion’s head urns, such as those used at Dobson’s for its famous mussel bisque, lacked salt, herbs and most of all, onions! And the cheese cap needed more toasting.

The menu offers a half dozen salads – four of them cloaked in homemade honey-mustard dressing that strikes an appealing balance of sweet and tangy. We chose the Shrimp Salad accompanied by a ramekin of so-so aioli meant as a dipper for the nicely grilled crustaceans. The house dressing sufficiently served that purpose.

Our entrées were winners, marred only by the incessant “valley girl” chatter of two young women sitting nearby, who, like, never totally moved off the subject of their workout routines and daily calorie intakes. Though La Vache’s meals don’t necessarily overflow with butter and cream, this isn’t the place to eat if you’re obsessed with body image.

The blonde at the table was temporarily silenced when her Boeuf Bourguignon arrived, which she seemed to savor as much as I did, albeit she had hers boxed soon afterwards (for subsequent closet eating, we guessed). Served in a heavy metal pot, the cubed meat was joyfully supple and punctuated by a rustic tasting, red-wine braise laced with a smidgen of tomato paste. Onions, mushrooms, potatoes and bits of bacon enhanced the dish’s depth and authenticity.

My companion’s Chicken Forest Mushrooms was creamy and earthy, although it’s a far stretch referring to button caps as “wild forest mushrooms,” per the menu description. Shallots, white wine and a restrained measure of cream form the delectable sauce, which plasters in the moisture of the flattened chicken breast right down to the last bite and flirts deliciously with the accompanying thin-cut French fries.

Vanilla ice cream folded into warm, pliable crêpes made for a memorable dessert – the sweet elements contrasted by a sour cherry sauce reminiscent of crêpe vendors working the streets of Paris.

La Vache provides a rustic and relaxing atmosphere that’s perfect for afternoon business lunches and romantic dinners. And it spares you the culinary formalities and high price tags that usually go with french restauraunts.

CORRECTION:

In last week’s review, “Shades Oceanfront Bistro a Bust,” the key, which features ratings and price range, was incorrect due to a production error. Please visit www.gaylesbiantimes.com/?id=10014 for the corrected version. We apologize for the error.