My night at Camaraderie

First impressions of a very new restaurant can mislead. But after a single tasting menu at chef Shawn Gawle's fledgling Heights restaurant, Camaraderie, I can't wait to return. The place tastes like a hit to me.

In particular, Gawle's exhilarating salt-baked celery root dish prompted me to start writing about food again after a four-month hiatus. It had everything I crave, from its gorgeous architecture of squares and scallops to an alluring balance of soft and firm, tart and salt, gentle savor and brisk, controlled heat. I had to share the family-style tasting-menu portion with three friends, and I wished I had it all to myself. (Someday soon, I swear I will.)

The skillful use of celeriac, a grievously underutilized root vegetable, delighted me. So did Gawle's respectful attention to vegetables as the four openers to his $75 tasting menu. Among them: a snowy floof of sformato, a savory custard hiding skinny shards of spring asparagus, with maitake mushroom and parmesan upping the umami factor. A simple, brightly dressed salad of Texas lettuces bloomed with herbs and soft squiggles of ricotta salata, a spring breeze of a dish.

Not to mention another item I wished I had all to myself—a sheet of little French-style ravioli Dauphiné filled with nutty Comté alpine cheese and sweet caramelized onion. Just the right touch of saba, the grape-must reduction that's like a balsamic syrup, made the sweet/savory contrast vibrate. The dish looked like an edible quilt straight out of dreamland.

I first had Dauphiné-style ravioli at the late (and lamented by me) Eau Tour in Rice Village. They date from the French Middle Ages, popped up in recent years as a New York trend, and I hope they stick around here. I plan to lobby to have them land on Camaraderie's more casual bar menu, which is served up front and on the patio.

The airy dining room proper is dedicated to tasting-menu service. There the light is golden and a clerestory reaches toward the sky. Think minimalism can't feel warm? This revamp of a former industrial shed does.

Gawle, alight with excitement about his five-day-old-venture as he worked the room on Sunday night, said he'll see what works in the main room before migrating dishes over to the lounge side. Walk-ins are an option there, and on the patio, while tasting menu bookings must be reserved with a credit card. (There's a $30 per guest charge for no-shows. I have no problem with that, and neither should you.)

The chef and his wife had a daughter in February, so he has a lot on his plate. It's great to see this expert technician, with his classical training and deep resumé, challenging himself to do ambitious food in an easygoing atmosphere. And it's fascinating to see how he is combining his sweet and savory chops at Camaraderie.

Yes, he inhabits both worlds. Gawle last served as pastry chef for Houston's Michelin-rated March, along with sister concepts Rosie Cannonball (where I first fell in love with his work) and the nextdoor Montrose Cheese & Wine shop. In a previous life on the savory side, he cooked for the august French likes of Robuchon and Laurent Gras. As a pastry chef in San Francisco, he won acclaim at the highly regarded Quince and Saison.

Now he's putting all that experience together for Houston, and it's a fun ride. You can choose one of four entrees after the shared introductory courses, including a vegetarian option. (Right now, that's a toasty, square edifice of lion mane's mushroom, celery root and preserved lemon.) Pearly halibut surprises—and seduces— paired with soft smoked potato in a voluptuous lobster-and-clam chowder. It kills, and you can order it a la carte on the bar and lounge side, too.

Dover sole en croûte for two is about clever technique rather than tableside ceremony. Gawle layers the fish with a verdant chard filling in a pastry crust that manages to be sturdy, crisp and tender all at once. Then he pairs it with a russet sauce Americaine in which butter and tomato meet cognac and a hint of red chile. This festive plate had lots of counterintuitive verve, but to me the sole got overshadowed.

And yeah, I am SO going back for the veal ossobuco coiled with bucatini noodles that form a glossy wizard's cap. That I must see up close.

These entrees come with a shared vegetable side--in this case, broccolini spears swaddled in fluffs of punchy miso bagna cauda, so good I ate them with my fingers; plus a bread service that must be seen and tasted to be believed. Little squares of pain au lait arrive with a feathery swirl of butter curled, Mimolette style, into a stylized blossom. It tastes of the richest, deepest cream, with a mellow, rounded tang that had our table grabbing for the last bites.

The staff seems uniformly smart and kind. Manager and sommelier Gillian Malone, who came over from March, has put together an interesting wine list, with lots I'd love to order, although I winced to see that a healthy percentage were over my budget.

But lo, who can complain when there's a Heidi Schrock Furmint on the roster at 40 bucks, with the kind of elegance you'd expect from a pricy French burgundy. With a bottle of that, plus tax and tip, our party of four spent about $125 bucks apiece. These days, that's a song for food and service of Camaraderie's caliber. I've spent nearly a hundred bucks lately just taking myself out for pasta, salad, wine and dessert at my favorite little trattoria.

Dessert? Oh, okay. There are two on the tasting menu right now. I admired the rosette of strawberry frozen marshmallow sorbet with lemon and olive oil, having grown fond of Gawle's unexpected ice creams and sorbets at Rosie Cannonball.

But I'm holding out for the miso butterscotch bombe with toasted buckwheat gelato on the a la carte menu. It'll be perfect after I consume an entire tarte flambée (think thin-crusted Alsatian bacon-and-cheese pizza) all by myself.