At Gerard's It Just Keeps Getting Better

Gerard's Relais de Lyon, 17121 Bothell Way N.E., Bothell. French. Dinner ($16 to $25) 5 to 11 p.m. Tuesday through Sunday; closed Monday. No lunch. Full liquor. Major credit cards accepted. Nonsmoking area provided. Reservations: 485-7600. Three stars; expensive.

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It's hard to believe it has been four years since The Times last reviewed Gerard Parrat's classic French roadhouse on a hill overlooking the Sammamish Slough in Bothell.

It's not really a relay station or post house, as its name suggests. The menu has always been too elegant for that. And it is in Bothell, not Lyon. But Parrat is indeed from Lyon, learned his trade there, and apprenticed under Lyon's most famous citizen and globe-trotting chef, Paul Bocuse.

These days it is commonplace for an up-and-coming chef to state that he ``worked'' for a Bocuse or a Wolfgang Puck, and it is only in the fine print of the dossier that we learn that the work consisted of one summer in the pantry.

Parrat, however, spent four years with Bocuse, and in the process acquired standards and technical procedures he has maintained ever since.

One senses that the more fashion-linked, media-assisted aspects of French cooking in America are in the decline. It has been 25 years since Julia Child was almost everybody's first introduction to French chefery; a dozen years since nouvelle cuisine shook recipes up and in short order became, itself, not so nouvelle.

Even some of the better French masters in Seattle-area kitchens began to branch out into what might more appropriately be called Northwest regional cuisine - like Thierry Rauturneau at Rover's.

But for some of us, returning after a too-long absence to the truly authentic French offerings of Parrat (and his new assistant, 24-year-old Christophe Degoix) is like visiting old friends and finding them somehow improved but essentially unchanged.

Degoix, like Parrat, studied with Bocuse, and adds a needed element to the restaurant, which sometimes appeared to slip when Gerard himself was not in the kitchen.

The present menu contains only two items that I recognized from previous years: Ris de Veau Sautes au Madere (calf sweet-breads in Madeira sauce, $19) and Carre d'Agneau aux Herbes de Provence (probably the best rack of lamb in the region; done with Dijon mustard, herbs and parsley; $20).

Appetizers (all $6.50) include a new House Smoked Salmon with Sour Cream and Caviar and a rolled, stuffed sole with braised carrots, lobster and truffles.

The salmon, which Gerard prepares himself from Canadian reared Atlantic Salmon, is a revelation; incredibly tender, lightly smoked.

Soups ($4) include the traditional Gratinee Lyonnaise, which my children to this day swear is the only serious French onion soup in creation, and a splendid Crab Bisque with fresh herbs. On occasion, a lobster bisque is also available, as it was a couple of nights ago, with a deshelled intact claw floating in the center with a surrounding trace of sour cream.

There is Coquilles Saint Jacques, of course (the obligatory introductory French shellfish dish for many Americans), but this version ($18) is finished with a light and fragrant smoked-salmon sauce, in place of the traditional thick roux and cream.

Six entrees priced from $15.50 to $20 are on the card nightly, but several specials are usually on hand, along with a six-course Prix Fixe dinner at $36.

Some of the recent specials I marveled over: Duck wrapped in grilled eggplant and served over a pool of huckleberry and mushroom sauce, with roasted chestnuts (I almost stopped writing just recalling the dish; I might get back to Bothell before closing).

Then there was a Tian of Lamb, sections of the tenderloin served rare over a disc of molded mushrooms (chanterelles when in season) in a reduction sauce of pan juices, mustard seeds and red wine.

Desserts, especially the Souffle au Grand Marnier ($5.50, order it early in the meal), are the stuff New Year's resolutions are crashed upon. My latest failure was a whipped concoction of meringue and cream containing four kinds of nuts (including hazel and pistachio), sauced with pureed kiwi and topped with miniature, brandy-soaked French cherries. As Scarlett says, tomorrow is another day.

The restaurant doubled its kitchen size a year or so ago, while keeping the dining-room numbers the same. The point: To better serve the customers you already have. Parrat now has a mailing list of regulars that totals 7,000.

Deficiencies? Parrat's choice of carpets has always driven me nuts. A durable, old, deep green one reminded me of an indoor putting green for a decade. Its plush, light tan replacement, despites weekly shampoos, always looks trampled on.

Wonder if Bocuse trained any carpet layers. . .?