Restaurant Review: Au Bon Pain

Something about warm half sandwiches and paper bowls overflowing with soup just says “fall,” so around lunchtime on a chilly October day, I headed over to Au Bon Pain to get the full autumnal experience.

As any good food critic knows, you must wear a disguise (read: sweatpants) so as not to elicit any special treatment from the chefs that might lead to a biased review. And thus, incognito, I pulled open the door of the yellow-awninged restaurant.

I was at the front end of an exciting lunchtime rush, and sidled up to the registers to place my order. I asked a happy but frank-looking woman if I could get half a chipotle turkey & avocado sandwich and a cup of broccoli cheddar—because always broccoli cheddar, always. She seemed so hopeful as she asked if I wanted anything else that I almost felt bad saying no. I paid (half a sandwich and a half cup of soup for only $6.99?! What a bargain!) and the visored lady took the time to kindly show me which parts of my receipt were surveys that I could take to get a dollar off my next meal at ABP (seriously, they’re basically giving the food away here).

Then I went to wait for my sandwich and soup. Each came out at a different time, which disoriented me to the extent that I ended up taking someone else’s sandwich accidentally before realizing it and handing it back, saying, “Actually this isn’t mine and I don’t know why I took it.” The sandwich chef responded, “You had the half chipotle turkey, right?” I did! How did he know?! Finally I took my food “for here”—the difference between “for here” and “to go” is a paper plate—and sat down by the window.

About the sandwich: the half was, to my delight, closer to a full-size sandwich, so the chefs at ABP have truly nailed their portion sizes. Cradled by a ciabatta roll, the sandwich consisted of chipotle jack cheese, chipotle mayo, turkey, sun dried tomatoes, avocado, and arugula. Upon first glance, it appeared as if—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—there might be too much chipotle mayo. But after I had hoovered a half I decided nonsense, no such thing as too much chipotle mayo. The bread was delightfully soft but firm—perfect bread. The arugula was a nice choice as well, but I wanted more turkey and more avocado. This was the chipotle turkey & avocado, after all, not the chipotle mayo & bread (which actually sounds like a very good sandwich idea).

Now, the soup. I had selected broccoli cheddar because it is rumored to be the chef’s specialty, and because broccoli cheddar is the king of soups. It was unclear to me what exactly was in the soup—probably broccoli and cheddar and some other stuff to make it a soup-like consistency. It was good, broccoli & cheddar is always good, but there was nothing to make it great, and I think the chefs at ABP really do have the potential to be great. It needed a little something more. Salt? Carrot? I don’t know, I’m not a chef. I’m only a lowly food critic. The more I ate, the stronger and more pervasive the taste of pepper became, much like a clingy tinder date. And yet, I finished the whole bowl. The verdict: if you want something comforting and warm, you can’t go wrong with a cup of soup from ABP.

As I was eating, I gazed around to take in the ambience. It’s the small, subtle touches that make ABP special, the small clock on an unobtrusive wall painted with words like focaccia and fresh ingredients. It’s the large, framed black-and-white poster of a small boy running gleefully with a loaf of bread tucked under his arm. It’s the signs boasting “Pumpkin Baked Goods,” “Reserve Blends,” and “GREAT VALUE!” It’s the bread cooling on metal racks that look like maybe they shouldn’t be in plain sight, the bread stacked in ~seasonal baskets~. This is what sets ABP apart.

It wasn’t too loud, just the right volume for listening to other peoples’ conversations, like the man shouting “How long is it gonna take? ‘Cause the money will be gone… I know you are!” into his phone, or the student a few seats down not-so-humble bragging to his friend about how he’s “never been rejected from anything!” because he conveniently forgot to apply to Columbia. When I took a break from eavesdropping, I could appreciate ABP’s music choice, Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats.”

The cleanliness was as I expected it to be: solidly above “frat boy bedroom,” but somewhere below “treadmill after you’ve wiped it down.” Think on par with “dorm washing machine.” In fact, my biggest complaint about my dining experience at ABP was not its cleanliness, but rather its lack of outlets for plugging in my Mac.

All-in-all, my dining experience at ABP was a positive one. The ambience and service were nothing short of excellent. When it comes to the food, I’m not asking for much, I don’t need foie gras or Cornish game hens.  But just a little bit more pizzazz could make ABP truly great. Three stars.

Image via author.