If the definition of a gift is something you wouldn’t normally grant yourself, then the time, effort, and more-is-more mentality underlying French food is the ultimate extravagance. Jacques, the more traditionally French, quasi-sister restaurant to the Cole neighborhood’s rowdier Brasserie Brixton, has been spoiling us in all the right ways for the past year, marrying disciplined techniques with indulgent ingredients and a menu that changes with the season.
In my home kitchen, I would never spend four hours cooking down sweet yellow and red onions until they melt into glassy, caramelly shadows of their former pungent selves to produce something like Jacques’ French onion soup. (I also wouldn’t be so freewheeling with the wine, which is deliciously noticeable in the broth.) Covered with a gooey blanket of Gruyère, Emmentaler, and…
