How St. Louis Restaurateur Zoë Robinson Has Stayed Front and Center in the Midwest Culinary Scene
It was midnight by the time restaurateur Zoë Robinson and I made our way into I Fratellini. The restaurant had just closed for the evening, and the iconic chandeliers cast an unfamiliar brightness onto an interior more accustomed to the warm romantic flicker of candlelight. With the last lingering guests gone for the evening, Robinson drifted between the tables, running her fingers along the back of a chair.
Since opening I Fratellini in 2001, Robinson has poured her heart into it, meticulously crafting every detail to create a singular dining experience in St. Louis that transcends time and place. I Fratellini has won awards and loyal customers, yet Robinson has decided that her newest project will be a week-long conceptual refresh of her flagship restaurant, a process that she lovingly compares to “Sophia Loren slipping into a new dress.”
This project is a bold move from a woman who has never been afraid to take risks. Robinson has been a driving force among the “old boys” of the St. Louis culinary scene for over 35 years, and her longevity is due in large part to a ceaseless pursuit of the new. “In this business, it’s important to always be pushing and evolving,” Robinson acknowledged. But as I watched Robinson occupy this iteration of I Fratellini for the final time, I could see that this restaurant was much more than just a business. “It’s just so personal to me,” she admitted. "My job is my heart...I Fratellini is my heart.”
There’s a certain mythos that permeates Robinson’s biography, an Austenian narrative beginning long before she opened her first restaurant when she was only 23 years old. The youngest of three sisters, Robinson lost her father when she was five. In that space, Robinson and her sisters created their own Bohemian island in the middle of their suburban Midwest town, helping their mom throw dinner parties while trading outfits and staging one-act plays out of their living room. Robinson’s first love was fashion, and she started waiting tables when she was 19 to help her afford clothes. Four years later, she was running her own place.
“There was no blueprint for my career,” Robinson told me. “I’ve been subconsciously designing restaurants in my head since I was 4 years old. I just didn’t know it until the restaurant business found me.”
Robinson has found inspiration along the way through a series of longtime collaborations, none more important than with her friend and executive chef Ny Vongsaly, a refugee who fled his native Laos after the Vietnam War. Robinson met Vongsaly while she was waiting tables in her early 20s, and invited him to run the kitchen when she took ownership. Since then, the pair have collaborated to infuse a different angle of Robinson’s culinary vision in each of her restaurants.
I Fratellini is the most traditional, offering classic Italian seasonal simplicity including fresh pastas, pistachio encrusted trout, and whole roasted branzino. At Bar Les Freres, Robinson and Vongsaly capture the taste and authenticity of a Parisian bistro, with an intentionally brief menu featuring a Gruyère soufflé, duck confit, and off-menu interpretations of seasonal specials like bouillabaisse and cassoulet. Robinson’s newest restaurant, Billie-Jean, is a return to her contemporary American cuisine with an Asian accent, offering a selection of elegant dishes including hamachi crudo, roasted quail, and duck spring rolls.
The opening of Billie-Jean in 2017 is a testament to the totality of Robinson’s culinary vision, and as her third critically-acclaimed restaurant on the same block in Clayton, Missouri, Billie-Jean has elevated the charming little neighborhood into a culinary destination and Robinson’s personal “restaurant row.”
“I have a lot of love for this city,” Robinson says. “It’s important that my restaurants feel like an extension of the neighborhood. But I also want to give guests an experience where they feel as if they’ve been transported, where they forget they have an iPhone.”
Billie-Jean—named for her mother, Billie, and her late father, Jean—is the boldest of Robinson’s three restaurants. It’s sexy; intentionally curated to evoke an almost dangerous sense of possibility. Working with longtime friend and interior designer David Kent Richardson, Robinson celebrates the intimacy of the space, layering each level in black and accentuating the mood with surreal minimalist prints from Robert Motherwell. Robinson called on celeb stylist and Victoria’s Secret designer Todd Thomas to create uniforms for her staff, and his concepts—including Dickies-style black jumpsuits and tailored blazers over black T-shirts, playfully adorned with the lyrics “Lover” or “Not my lover” from Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean”—are a perfect manifestation of a considered restaurant that doesn’t take itself too seriously.
Dressed tonight in a black Dolce & Gabbana dress and Gucci ankle boots, Robinson disappears into the portrait of Billie-Jean, gracefully moving throughout the space while working elbow-to-elbow with her staff, many of whom have been following her for years. Robinson’s evenings are an exercise in how much effort it takes to look effortless, and the service doesn’t go unnoticed. Guests regularly invite her to join them; Robinson graciously declines.
It was a rare treat, then, to find myself seated across from her an hour later at Bar Les Freres, Robinson’s timelessly seductive French bistro only steps away from Billie-Jean. The sommelier poured a glass of Sancerre and smiled knowingly as Robinson said, almost to herself, “This is the first time I’ve seen the place from this angle.”
Bar Les Freres is stunning from any angle, draped with layers of red and gold, bathed in candlelight, and ornamented with framed Victorian portraits. Like all of Robinson’s restaurants, it preserves a classic, authentic corner of the restaurant scene while evoking an experience that feels vital and new. Robinson and I basked in this enchanting scene, appreciating the last remnants of our meal, sharing stories about food, and family. By the time I looked up, we were the last ones there.
So it was that we found ourselves ambling across Wydown Boulevard at midnight, stepping into the unusual brightness of I Fratellini just minutes after Robinson’s crew began the first phase of the restaurant’s week-long refresh. Robinson looked on wistfully, smiling as if she were reading through the pages of an old diary. I felt guilty to have kept her so long, but I had become so absorbed in the experience of the meal that I forgot exactly where I was and why I came. Zoë Robinson’s restaurants have a way of doing that.
