Friday, October 17, 2003

By Sarah Billingsley, Post-Gazette Staff Writer

In blustery autumn, can you think of anything better than a warm homemade roll patted with sweet butter, tender pasta dumplings plumped with pureed root vegetables, or a fat crock of steaming French onion soup?

Twin brothers John (left) and Jesse Enslen, and Jesse's wife, Nicole, staff Clifford's Restaurant in Connoquenessing. (Bob Donaldson, Post-Gazette) CLIFFORD'S 514 Upper Harmony Road Connoquenessing 724-789-9115 Hours: 4 to 10 p.m. Wednesday through Saturday; Sunday 3 to 9 p.m. Basics: Elegant New American in comfortable country dining room. Reservations required. All major credit cards accepted; no smoking. Handicapped accessible dining room and rest rooms. Parking lot. BYOB, no corkage charge. Appetizers, $6.95 to $14.95; entrees, $13.95 to $26.95.

A meal at Clifford's is composed of such simple, convincing pleasures. Crisp, yeasty knots served at the beginning of the meal set the standard for the good flavors to follow.

In those twists of wheat are echoed the twisty country roads that brought you here, passing cornfields and shady creek banks covered in tiger lilies. The surrounding air smells of mown grass and the fermentation of sweet corn silage.

Clifford's seems to be in the middle of nowhere, though it's only a spit away from Interstate 79. The bucolic location is not a deterrent to business. Families come, couples, a rowdy party of 18, hosted by a representative of a pharmaceutical company.

The Enslen family owns and operates Clifford's (founded by the late Clifford Enslen). Their restaurant roots are in catering; this accounts for the attentive, professional service of their dining room. Valerie is your hostess; she settles you in and enthusiastically recites the house specials. She's an ever-patient ace at directions to the restaurant.

Son John works the front of the house, doting on customers, recommending, moving swiftly among the few tables. He is relentlessly civil and considerate.

Son Jessie mans the kitchen, crafting flavors and turning out entrees that sing with heat to your table. After six years, the enthusiasm is unflagging: What is sent to your table is the food the chef loves.

It's simple and well-prepared, homey dishes with French, Italian and American origins. Everything -- bread, soup, gravy, dessert -- is made from scratch. They're committed to fresh, seasonal ingredients; as such, Clifford's could lose its printed menu and go verbal. Specials are fetching and plentiful, many are variations of a menu standard. The food is presented on plain, white, country plates with a raised stone fruit pattern; simply good food needs no adornment.

Flavors are rustic and refined. A flatbread appetizer was robust with whole-grain mustard, peppery arugula and ripe Gruyere. The stridency of each of these ingredients, taken singly, was married to produce a harmonious, potent whole. Plump, snow-white diver scallops, treated with a whisper of butter and herb, are sweet, elemental and rich.

Tender ravioli are baby pierogi in disguise, but daintier. The gently assertive stuffing of potato and cheese is wrapped in thin pasta, then bathed in butter and sauteed sweet onions.

Clifford's does braised meats superbly, but the menu does not force the issue. Classic osso buco -- often humdrum and tough -- shows no signs of fatigue. A serious chunk of veal shank is braised with an earthy mirepoix of carrots, onions and celery until it's so tender it can be eaten like custard, with a spoon.

Seafood is handled expertly. The seafood platter of prawns, crab and Cajun spice-spiked snapper, served with a simple herbed butter, has a simplicity that cannot be improved upon.

On a warm night when big, rich flavors would sit heavy in the stomach, our waiter guided us toward the light: crab cakes swathed in an ethereal herbed cream and thin, crisped chicken Normandy, sauced in sauteed grapes and a nip of hot brandy.

Salads are rarely worth mention. Clifford's are the exception. The greens are fresh, the cucumbers crisp, the grape tomatoes sweet. The dressings are homemade and exceptional: sour raspberry walnut, beet vinaigrette, blue cheese. My favorite was clean-flavored cucumber with its vinegar tang.

The kitchen does not flag in its attention to sides. Choice of potatoes includes roasted red, smashed sweet and a baked yam -- so delicious, these illustrate why we binge on carbs. Polenta is creamy and thick with cheese. Stewed tomatoes capture the warmth of a vine in August. Their acidity matched all entrees, from crab cakes to chicken. Crisp green beans tasted exactly as they should.

Clifford's serves a first-rate French onion soup, and doesn't stop there. Thick, sweetish seafood bisque set a standard for clam chowders everywhere. A bisque of wild mushrooms and cream was surprisingly delicate, served with a salty-sweet triangle of corn bread.

Clifford's desserts are a strong finish that continue the simplicity of the menu. Ile flottante is crisped, airy meringue floating in a sea of creme anglaise. Instead of the usual drizzle of caramel, a compote of dried fruits sugared it up. I am not a fan of milk chocolate, but light-as-a-cloud peanut butter mousse pie, studded with snaps of peanut, makes great use of it.

Best of all was a warm hunk of fresh raspberry cobbler. The pastry was crumbly, crisped with a sprinkling of sugar; the berries, round and red, were perfectly tart. Ladled with heavy cream, a wide scoop is good for your soul.

I would not recommend skipping dessert, but if you must, sample from the assortment of fine cocoas. Why cocoa? Thank Jessie's Swiss wife. The marriage, on a wider scale, lends to Clifford's a European distinction, a subtle charm that combines well with the Enslens' American frankness.

Atmosphere is country French, rustic yet restrained, graceful yet strong with character. The walls are hung with agricultural tools -- scythes, bits, harnesses -- and in the tradition of old country houses, there are photographs of stern faces in elaborate frames.

These don't detract from Clifford's welcome. There's an open hearth, and wall sconces cast a warm glow. As comfortable as the attitude is, the stiff, upright chairs are not.

Clifford's is on the land that was once the Enslen farm. As a customer, you're made to feel like a cherished visitor. You are thanked for your business, repeatedly. You are made to feel that having your company for the evening is a true pleasure.

Calling a restaurant a labor of love usually indicates enthusiasm without professionalism. At Clifford's you feel the love; the labor is imperceptible. Pittsburgh lacks restaurants and restaurateurs of this ilk: those doing what they love, what they were meant to do, just perfectly.

Correction/Clarification: (Published Oct. 21, 2003) Clifford Enslen, founder of Clifford's restaurant in Butler County died three years ago. Friday's review of his family's restaurant incorrectly stated that he was still alive.

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