EAST BAY FOOD SCENE

FIFTH FLOOR - Foie Fest 2011 “Twitter” pated by Chef David Bazirgan

2012-01-26T21:45:00.000-08:00

Every once in awhile the stars align to bring with them an opportunity. As it so happens, astral chance provided one such gift to my lovely little family over the holidays. I must say that we took full advantage of it.

Heavenly Oyster

Twitter is an unusually chaotic form of communicating, but the connections that “tweeting” can form between members various groups of similarly interested people is impressive. For some, the spontaneous voice it fosters can lead one to trouble, for others it can lead to delightful opportunity. It’s all about thinking before you tweet, people. Careless words can fly out into the Twitter-sphere to linger, haunting one with missteps. But a thoughtful query can reward us with a new form of genuine human connection. Some people might toss off a tweet as casually as a hat flies onto a coat rack; but my advice would be to pay a bit more attention. Remember that what is made public remains so in perpetuity. Our comments often land with unexpected affect, especially in the Land of Twitter.

In my case, a particular Twitter conversation between myself and @theDapperDiner, a fellow foodie particularly astute in where to find great dining, led to the most wondrous of offerings. I’d thrown him a challenge: find me a resto where my daughter could have some yummy foie over her Christmas holiday in the States. Visiting from Rome, Italy, she was in the mood for loads and loads of the soon-to-be-banned substance. @TheDapperDiner responded quickly to my query, mentioning several possibilities. Among his suggestions were Lafitte’s on the Marina and Fifth Floor. As the discussion progressed, @bazsf (aka FF’s New Executive Chef, David Bazirgan) jumped into our twitter thread with an offer to prepare a 12-course Foie Dinner for me and mine. After pinching myself heartily in disbelief at receiving such a generous offer, I discovered I was indeed, awake. So before he had time to reconsider, I responded with an enthusiastic Yes! It was on...

The Untweeted Course, Part One:
Seared Foie Gras

The Untweeted Course, Part Deux
(Terrine of Foie Gras with Toast)

A few weeks later, in the dark, wintry cold of California December in San Francisco, we arrived at Fifth Floor. The wait staff appeared green with envy at what we were about to enjoy, mentioning that Chef Baz had been laboring intently over various ways to present the delicacy to his guests. (Pinch self again, at being the actual “guests”) Chef had, indeed, worked up an imaginative and unusual tasting menu that began with an apple cider concoction and ended with foie ice cream and cake! All but one course featuring foie gras (Chef Baz in his wisdom opting to omit the foie from the palate cleanser).

After the cocktails were brought out by the waitstaff, I looked up to hear the next course presented and did a movie-worthy double take. I was dumbfounded to see that we were being served by Bazirgan himself. That delightful gesture was a thread throughout the evening and I was thrilled. I like to think it was because I’m special, but in reality, he’d just worked up the menu, and may have been the only one he felt could describe his preparations correctly. Whatever his reasons, it made for a very special evening, indeed. We felt like a thrilling combination of family and the judges on Iron Chef, as he showered us with the fruits of his labors. As it happens, Chef Bazirgan live-tweeted the event, so rather than my feeble attempt at reciting the menu, let’s recap in the Chef’s own words:

Tweet one:
@bazsf (david bazirgan)
Aperitif , foie gras hot toddy http://pic.twitter.com/w93rO5ey

Nantucket Bay Scallops

An imaginative cocktail that tasted of apple and a hint of buttery foie, it was intriguingly flavored, its heat nicely warming any lingering chill from our brisk walk in the December cold. The fatty richness of the foie was nicely offset by the spices in the beverage. The cocktail reminded me a bit of an apple pie that had been subtly laced with bacon, but the flavor profile was a bit more elegant and complicated than my clumsy description might suggest. It was a lovely way to begin a meal held in the frigid heart of winter.

Tweet two:
@bazsf (david bazirgan)
First course , island creek oyster, bearnaise glacage, grated foie, grey mullet bottarga http://pic.twitter.com/8k8OYLp3

Chef Baz prepared each of us a blissful oyster, still in the shell and presented appetizingly on tiny plates, cuddled in their shells and bathing in a blanket of foie-flavored goodness. These single bites of delectable perfection glided creamily over the palate. The perfect opener for our delectable adventure.

Tweet three:
@bazsf (david bazirgan)
2nd course; winter harvest, foie mousse , pomegranate gastrique , za'atar , walnut http://pic.twitter.com/zG8kScmX

This leafy salad of bitter greens, was crisp and refreshing after the rich and creamy oyster. The wonderfully acidic gastrique of pomegranate, the nutty sesame of the za’atar and walnut all blending into a rewarding flavor profile. And we can’t forget the foie gras mousse. Another hit... what could be next?

Pheasant Roulade

Tweet four:

@bazsf (david bazirgan)

3rd course Nantucket bays, blood orange gel, sea cress, Vin Jaune foie monte , satsuma http://pic.twitter.com/aC8yf1jc

The tiny Bay scallops were perfectly cooked. The tiny buds of briny fish were complimented beautifully by the richness of the foie, and the acid of the various citrus components added up to culinary magic.

Tweet five:

@bazsf (david bazirgan)

4th course Pheasant roulade, prune, candy caps, crosnes, purple mustard greens, squash gnocchi @FoodAprecianado need a picture posted!

The pheasant was mad good! Rolls of beautifully prepared roulade covered in jus, the greens and the squash another perfect balance. I love a well done bird, and this concoction was particularly toothsome, blending blissfully with the hint of fruit in the prunes... and the tiny gnocchi were killer.

Venison

Tweet six:

@bazsf (david bazirgan)

5th course Venison Loin, grains of paradise, celeriac, foie powder/espuma , chestnut, pain d'epices http://pic.twitter.com/yoHkAX6X

Venison carries with it the flavors of the hunt. The meat’s natural flavor is almost spicy, the elements of the forest the animal consumes forming in alchemic fashion flavors that have always reminded me vaguely of cinnamon. The venison in this dish was so moist that its natural juices melted into a lovely gravy, enhanced by the requisite foie in the foamy espuma. The toasted slice of nut-crusted pain d’epices providing a lovely textured crunch against the toothsome slices of meat. We were getting full, but that’s never stopped us before!

Tweet seven:
@bazsf (david bazirgan)
Dessert ; foie GRAS ice cream lolli, cotton candy, yuzu/ foie gras cake foie gras buttercream , yuzu mousse,Francis Ang http://pic.twitter.com/gSMCx5ey

Foie Cotton Candy

The first of these two dessert treats was a lovely cotton candy dish that was both light as air and fantastically plated. The second was a tiny little cake made with, you guessed it, foie gras. It was rich but not overly sweet, which was good because by this point we were near to bursting. The two desserts were topped off by a platter of fruit gelatins or pate de fruits. Tiny, succulent sugary treats to conclude a magnificent feast.

As I recount an evening filled with such delicacies, I can’t help but think of the impending ban of foie gras that will hit California this July. Spear-headed by vegetarian/vegan zealots, and mast-headed by several well meaning celebrities, it is a short-sighted and outrageously misplaced law. I respect those who choose not to consume animal proteins, but resent the desire others seem to have to impose their own morality on those around them. The subject is less a debate about the alleged cruelty of foie gras production than it is about the almost religious posturing of people who believe the consumption of any animal protein is immoral. The anti-foie group would outlaw any meat if they could, foie is simply the easiest target because it is a small industry without high- profile lobbyists and a history that is too easily misrepresented or misunderstood. Much of the horrific facts that are presented as truth are, in reality, a fairytale.

Foie Cake

Some online resources to better inform the diner:

http://www.artisanfoiegras.com/about/

http://incanto.biz/2009/02/01/shock-foie/

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oMA5J3gfxNQ&feature=player_embedded
http://www.zesterdaily.com/zester-soapbox-articles/1173-don’t-ban-foie-gras
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/16/us/in-california-going-all-out-to-bid-adieu-to-foie-gras.html
http://la.eater.com/archives/2011/10/17/local_chefs_rally_to_keep_foie_gras_legal_in_ca.php
http://restauranteugene.blogspot.com/2011/07/foie-gras-our-story.html

SIGN THE PETITION TO STOP THE BAN: http://artisanfarmers.org/

To say that this was an unusual and imaginative journey in food preparation would be an understatement. Chef Bazirgan was on a mission to create, to amaze and to entertain and he succeeded brilliantly. When I thanked him via Twitter, he responded with

@bazsf (david bazirgan)
@FoodAprecianado Right on, So stoked to cook with that much foie , you are much appreciated!!!

What a host! My recommendation? Stop by Fifth Floor, Bazirgan is as talented as he is easy on the eyes. Check it out, make a memory of your own.

Fifth Floor Restaurant
(Within the Hotel Palomar)
12 Fourth Street
San Francisco , CA 94103
Phone: 415.348.1555
www.fifthfloorrestaurant.com
@bazsf

ATELIER CRENN: An Evening of Art and Alchemy

2012-01-06T14:09:00.000-08:00

Opening Notes, Foie & Pumpkin caviar...

Some people are born possessed of a boundless desire to make beautiful things and to share that beauty with the world around them. It is how they communicate. I have always identified myself as an artist. When I was younger I envisioned my future self living in a dark and barren garret, filling canvas after canvas with mood, beauty and emotions — my world view would be realized in oil paint. I imagined I would sell these paintings to earn my way in the world. I took every class offered in high school and applied to be accepted at what was then the California College of Arts & Crafts. For a young painter, it seemed the Julliard of its time. Though I was accepted, I never made it to art school. When it came time to put down the deposit, my father casually informed me that he could no longer afford it. He’d paid an overdue bar tab with the monies in a trust account reserved for my tuition. Visions of my garret faded as life took me on another journey.

Crackling fish skin
and bits of caviar

Although my imagined successes in art school failed to materialize, the need to express myself artistically never diminished. I continued to interpret life via my muse, and the mission to create tangible beauty fueled many youthful decisions. It shaped who I became. Born with an artist’s brain, I struggled with math, yet could focus for hours on a pencil sketch in an attempt to capture the shadowed minutia of a human hand; the gentle slope at the nape of a neck. A free-spirited child of the seventies, the only college classes I never missed were art-related.

A tiny bubble of chocolate,
more fragile than an eggshell,
meant to be lifted to the mouth
where it exploded in a burst
of liquid ambrosia
spilling across the palate

Once I started working there was less time for painting, but I always managed to find some outlet, eventually becoming a professional designer of theatrical costume. Manipulating the fluid and dramatic lines of fabrics and millinery to enhance an actor’s performance on the stage was a rewarding pursuit indeed. There were moments of personal and professional triumph that will last me a lifetime. Before retiring several years ago, I was fortunate to find myself mentoring the next generation of talented young designers. Watching these gifted young women flourish as they expressed themselves in the creation of beauty was inspirational. We experimented together. We shared successes and failures. We grew. We spoke the language of art, and it was good.

Unable to live a life absent some artistic endeavor, I now use language. My labor of love is to craft a sentence precisely, to capture the essence of the emotional flavor of everything I experience, and to share that joy with others. There is no success greater than having made the effort. No matter the medium, the process of translating life to art has always felt familiar, coming to me as naturally as I breathe. I am connected to it, and it to me.

The infamous Foie Gras Log. Nuff said

When I stepped into Atelier Crenn in San Francisco for a holiday meal with my visiting daughter, the Wandering Lawyer, I was flooded with a palpable sense of connection to Chef Dominique Crenn's sensibilities. It was clear we shared a kindred spirit. Atelier is French for “workshop,” but I believe its usage in this context more closely resembles what we would term an “art studio”. Her father was an artist, his Atelier Papa Crenn providing the inspiration for the name of her own establishment, which is decorated throughout its minimalist interior with an artist’s eye for detail. The furnishings are precise, there is no doubt that a great deal of thought went into its layout. Sprinkled with sleek, amber tables whose wood glows beside soft green walls, the back wall is glass and provides a view into the kitchen, where Chef Crenn can be seen darting about, working her magic. Occasionally one can hear a vibrant voice shout something in French. The frenetic activity behind the glass is mesmerizing. The restaurant manages to be clean and modern without being cold or dispassionate. One wall is lined with elaborate lamps, sconce-less crystal spirals in appearance more fuse than lightbulb— they are intriguingly beautiful. There are personal touches— a small oil painting of a sailboat that hung on the wall just by our table. Signed only “D. Crenn, 1973.”

Magic Mushrooms. Flavors varied from woodsy
to something perhaps reminiscent of marshmallow
then to an herbal acidity... mind-boggling
in its complexity

I recognized something of myself in that simple little painting. I have small canvases tucked away in corners of my home, recalling a time when I sat in my mother’s house and created for creation’s sake. It is easy to imagine a young Dominique standing at an easel in her father’s atelier, painting to pass the time, sharing a passion with a parent. My mother was a painter. That’s how it starts. If one is inclined, any exposure to art leads to that self-awareness: the knowledge that this is what one was born to do. Starting a fire that burns for a lifetime. I smiled in the realization that she’d been born to it, too.

The Alchemy Machine
prepares a warm concoction
of cinnamon and citrus

That Chef Crenn’s world view is that of an artist is unmistakable in everything she does. Throughout our meal we were presented with one remarkably expressive dish after another, each stunningly beautiful. It was December, so her visuals on this visit recreated a lengthy foray into a dark and wint’ry forest. My palate was tantalized as the various combinations of flavor danced on my tongue, daring me to experience them, to give myself over and succumb entirely. Often these flavors seemed to me to defy any single identity of taste. A plate of mushrooms, tasted at one moment of umami and earth; the next bite of the same dish gently sweet and effervescent. It was a little like listening to a carefully orchestrated piece of music, the melody pleasing to all but each of us hearing a slightly different song. Sirens performing variations on a forest.

Chef Crenn succeeds on a grand scale. The thoughtfulness in her dishes dares her diners to travel down that forest road beside her. I could hear the wind in the trees. I felt the roar of a campfire. I experienced this meal with a sense of wonder, at her almost alchemic skill with ingredients. Maybe her mushrooms were, indeed, magic.

Re-purposed Pear... in appearance a faux fruit,
in taste a heavenly ice cream
in a bed of powdery goodness

Her website says it beautifully: “Atelier Crenn, a painting. An empty white canvas. With tools... a brush, paint and a vision, creativity is given its breath. Here from this place, the artist can suggest emotions. A lasting moment from childhood... little drawers of heartbeats.”

I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Go. Treat yourself to an experience that will last a lifetime. For myself, I can’t wait to see where she’ll take her diners in the Spring. A budding garden? The French countryside? Wherever it will be, it will be an adventure not to be missed.

Atelier Crenn - Poetic Culinaria
3127 Fillmore
San Francisco, CA
415-440-0460

Note: Parking is non-existent, so the restaurant shares valet services with the Balboa Café at Filbert and Fillmore for $16.

Service: Excellent
Noise level: Perfect for conversation
Price: $125/pp for pris fixe - excluding wine

FAMILY & FOOD IN THE AGE OF MAD MEN

2011-12-17T17:49:00.000-08:00

My fascination with food began fairly early...

Recently while watching an episode of AMC’s hit series Mad Men, I came to a strange and somewhat unsettling realization. I was Sally Draper. Or she was me. The life this little girl on the television was living was an eerie parallel of my own. Her struggles were much like mine, her experiences with family, certainly the history that was shaping her childhood. All mine. That got me to thinking about what it meant to grow up in the time period from the late fifties through Woodstock. The fifties were a time defined by a strong iconography, particularly in advertising. It is no wonder that a television show has now been crafted around those vivid images. Reflecting back on that decade of glossy ads in bright, primary colors, they spoke of a simpler time. Photos of a poised and smiling wife and mother beaming over her stove in crisp white apron, her lipstick and coiffure perfectly in order, seemingly belied the reality we know must have existed for those women. Yet the facade of perfection perpetuated for some time. We wanted to believe life could be effortless, so we told ourselves it was. Mother continued to effortlessly deliver her flawless roast beef dinner to the bread-winning master of the house.

That veneer soon began to crack, as veneers unfailingly do. The illustrated perfection fed us by Madison Avenue eventually gave way to a generation unbound, as the early sixties brought with them societal turmoil. The pill brought a new freedom for women. Great leaders inspired our young people to hope for a better world. The Civil Rights movement gained momentum in the year of my birth, as a soft-spoken, exhausted and profoundly courageous Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on the bus to a white man. Events began to tumble and plummet, as we were carried forward by time throughout the next decade and a half. The times they were a-changin’ — suddenly Mother had a voice.

But back to Little Sally. She was six or seven when her parents parted ways, I was not quite three. My father might have been Don Draper, the handsome roué with a gorgeous head of black-brown hair and piercing blue eyes. My mother might easily have stepped into the role of Betty: she was likewise bright and beautiful, and may also have felt a little smothered by the role of housewife and mother thrust upon women of her time. Lucky for me, if she was, she never let on. It was against this complex and tumultuous backdrop that we all experienced Camelot; together we “had a dream.” We flew to the moon together, only to come crashing back to earth as our inspirational leaders were murdered one after another. 1955 to 1970 was a decade and a half of hope and assassination. Turbulent, magical and heartbreaking.

So how does any of this apply to eating, you ask?

People share joy and cope with tragedy by coming together and that almost universally takes the form of also sharing a meal. The picture-perfect fifties were moving from an unattainable ideal to a more accurate reality. The apron Mother wore was stained and greasy, and as she removed a roast from the oven, she was wiping real sweat off her brow. Suddenly the way we saw ourselves was in conflict with who we were becoming. Change is a recipe for the instinctive return to the comfort of traditions. When we feel threatened, we come even closer together. We celebrate our rituals. Inevitably, we eat.

In these times when families were still regularly observing the formal family dinner, it was customary to expand that gathering to larger groups for the holidays. Though I was perhaps at least as restless as the next kid — maybe even more so — I cannot recall ever wanting to get away from the family table during a holiday meal. It might be because there was no playmate waiting patiently outside for me to join her, or maybe it was because it was a special occasion, with all of my extended family gathered together. At Grandpa Johnny’s, it might have been because I was with my father, an event that did not happen as often as I might have liked in the post-divorce years. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because on these occasions even the adults were genuinely happy.

Being gathered around that table in the bosom of my family for a holiday dinner was a joy I anticipated all year long. Though we spent most holidays with my mother’s people after my parent’s divorce — the somewhat fractured holiday schedule usually allowed for Christmas dinner to be spent with my Father’s large and boisterous Italian family, particularly when I was very little. Ours was typically a fairly robust gathering, at any given time there might have been fifteen of us all seated around my Grandmother’s table to share the feast. Italian relationships most definitely revolve around the culture of eating. I can hear him now once we were all seated and the food had been placed on the table. “Mangia(re)! Mangia(re)!” he would exclaim.

These early gatherings are vividly recalled whenever I think on them. Recently, I ran across a photo taken of this beloved Italian menagerie at Christmas dinner circa 1957 or so. Of the multitude seated at that table, only my mother remains alive. The table itself had been decked out in Louise’s finest linens, sterling and china — elegant — the way she’d learned to do things in America. The menu for the evening was however, uniquely Italian, resplendent with our shared Genovese heritage. The food of Northern Italy.

First to be brought out of that kitchen were Lou’s depression-glass plates, all piled high with a rustic, vegetable-rich frittata, a moist, savory concoction that to this day is an unfailing delight. Next would come a steaming platter of hand-made ravioli, generously slathered with Johnny’s mouth-watering mushroom sauce, each toothsome pillow generously sprinkled with fresh grated parmesan cheese. Another platter would soon follow that one, perhaps containing hot linguini with clams and garlic, again layered with a gentle yellow snow of the precious cheese. Sometimes one of the women would make a Cima, an old country staple that was eaten sliced and cold. It is essentially a pistachio-stuffed veal breast, the preparation of which involves a week or more of stuffing, aging and pressing. Food just kept coming until no one could possibly eat any more.

(Both my grandparents were marvelous cooks, and both of them had me working in their kitchens the moment I could steadily hold a chopping blade. I will never forget my first successful solo attempt at browning an onion for the evening’s meal. The look of pride on my Grandmother’s face when I showed her how nicely I had caramelized the onions was one of my proudest moments. To win her approval was the ultimate reward.)

After the classic Italian dishes came our nod to the New Country. Usually a fat roast turkey, but occasionally for a slightly smaller gathering Lou might offer her guests a beautifully prepared roast beef. To my three-year old self, it all seemed limitless. After the turkey came more platters, these with side dishes— potatoes and salads. There was wine in abundance, and with dessert came coffee and Galliano. My grandmother believed there should always be more than enough food for company. If the guest list was eight, she cooked enough for 14, nearly doubling every recipe. If anyone were to have left her table remotely unsatisfied, that would have for her, been a fate worse than death.

Dining with a large, boisterous crowd of friends and family is at the heart of all that is best about life. These gatherings are potent, marvelous, enchanting. They are so rife with sensory and emotional pleasures we can become intoxicated by the event itself. The palate is intrigued by the smells of the abundant meal as soon as you enter the home. The heart is warmed with the sounds of beloved family gathered in every room happily chatting in anticipation. There is an excited electricity as parents reunite with busy adult children they don’t see as often as they might like; youngsters of various ages scramble for a coveted position on a beloved grandparent’s lap; teen cousins bond over shared perceptions of the adults in the room. There are new babies to enjoy. There are faces missing, as beloved elders are lost and new members to the family join the throng. Some changes are inevitable as babies turn to teens and loved ones are lost, but at the root of the holidays is that thrill, the knowledge that for a little while, on this occasion and in this moment, we are safe. We are together. We are united in one another’s glorious company.

There is nothing more natural than dining— and thus bonding— with immediate family. Certainly those of us who belong to the Mad Men generation are seeking a route back to those simpler times — before the shattering of family food rituals began to shatter our connections to family. We are beginning to realize that the preparation of food, and nurturing of a home, can all be liberating. There is something to be said for the way June Cleaver rocked those pearls while tossing a salad. When Mother discovered the TV dinner, it was a mixed bag. Though the convenience of these instant meals represented a form of rescue for the newly working parent at the end of a busy day, the self contained meals began to erode the ritual of a formal family meal. Decades later, we are coming full circle as people begin to rediscover the pleasures of dining together. They are realizing that the act of breaking bread with others is as critical to human nourishment as the food itself. Today’s foodies (and foomies) are seeking a return to a time when we were united at family dinners, celebratory get togethers and holiday tables a good deal more often.

For this holiday season, the recipe for Peace on Earth is a simple one. Find a friend. Share a meal. Make a memory.

MANRESA - On the Occasion of My Last Winter Garden

2011-11-28T20:28:00.001-08:00

A little over a year ago, I had the privilege of dining at Manresa in Los Gatos. It was my birthday celebration, and what could possibly be more special than dinner for two in one of the world’s premiere restaurants?

An Imaginative Amuse Bouche

While sitting in the tiny foyer waiting for our table, my glee at glimpsing the kitchen preparing the night’s repast became evident to the well-dressed man who I mistook at that time for the Mâitre d. He approached and we chatted. Being a food writer, I asked about the restaurant’s upcoming plans, and he told me that they were building a sort of garden bar, the specifics of which he did not disclose as it was to be something of a surprise. Polite and informative while holding back any real detail about the planned project that might spoil it’s launch, I found him charming. I’d met him before, on a previous trip to Manresa, and he was no less gracious on this second occasion, remembering me and addressing me by name.

Grapefruit & Fennel Ceviche of Scallop with Truffle

At some point during the meal, Michael and I (he’d introduced himself by this point) got to talking about the wait staff. I’d become increasingly transfixed by their orchestrated movements, the way each one always came in one side of the room and left by the other, circling the tables as naturally as water flows downstream. They were graceful, more graceful than many I’ve seen, and I’ve been to quite a few Michelin-starred establishments. It appeared to me that they were actually choreographed. Since I have a theatrical background, I wondered if they were indeed rehearsed in this seamless ebb and flow of perfect service. I asked Michael if this were the case. He smiled, beaming, clearly proud of the effort and pleased that I had recognized this attention to detail. I asked him if I might come back and interview them (and him) on the intricacies of their specific routines. He replied that I would be most welcome to do so. I wish now that I had managed to find the time to schedule the interview. The opportunity has passed.

Michael Kean was Manresa’s Manager, but he was more than that. Losing him, they lost a friend and a presence that cannot be replaced. Certainly the restaurant will not suffer any lack of attention to detail, nor will it become less than it was, they will see to it that a great talent is brought in to fill the void. But I felt it important to take a moment to let the world know that anyone who missed out on an evening with Michael Kean, missed something truly remarkable.

He wasn’t just the Manager, he was your host for the evening. The kindly uncle who politely saw to it that each patron’s experience was something better than flawless, something even bigger than memorable. I met him only twice, but he knew who I was on that second occasion, and I felt as though the restaurant was open just for me. That everyone else dining there were guests at my table. I'm sure all the other guests were made to feel the same way. And that’s just how Mr. Kean would have wanted it.

Into the Vegetable Garden

At the conclusion of this magnificent meal, Michael asked me if I would like to stop by and visit the Chef in the Kitchen. An invitation to The Inner Sanctum! Of course I said “yes!” faster than a smitten teenager responds when first invited to the prom. I cannot emphasize enough how lovely the experience was, and how much it was enhanced by Mr. Kean’s smooth management of the environs. We rarely notice those who manage. We don't notice because nothing goes wrong. The people who make things run smoothly, who spot problems before they happen, who solve, who labor to protect us from the things that might lessen our adventure protect us from the things that might spoil the moment. Michael Kean was such a man, more guardian angel than administrator, he cradled you in the warmth of blissful abandon inside the cocoon of experience that is Manresa, until it was time to return to the less than perfect world outside those doors. It was for me a perfect birthday, in large part, because Michael Kean had made it so.

Don't get me wrong, the meal was remarkable as well. Chef Kinch is a master of the perfect meal. We began with petit four of “red pepper-black olive” which was a red bell pepper pâtes de fruits mingled with black olives. Next up were garden beignets seasoned with a lovely concoction called “vinegar powder.” The wine that was poured to accompany this delectable treat a Bailly La Tiere.

Enchanted Oysters

The oyster, aptly titled “elemental oyster” arrived on a bed of seaside rocks, looking hand sculpted of some beautiful, exotic stone --- opening to reveal a large and luscious bite of meat. Salty, seaworthy, the water refrain continued.

Next was a red enamel bowl of raw milk panacotta, and beautifully prepared Monterey Bay abalone, the hint of radish giving the briny dish a bit of earthy balance. It was followed by a lovely garden green velouté, a sort of soup with Orleans mustard cream, assorted vegetable purees, and a delightful Riesling from Marin County. The wine pairings are as precise as the feet of the dancing waitstaff.

We savored the scent of house made bread and sampled our Nantucket Bay Scallop Ceviche, delightfully enhanced with grapefruit, fennel & black truffle. Divine. As we nibbled we sipped a crisp, refreshing Ryan Chenin Blanc from Monterey, our wine tour of California landing in every major wine-producing port.

The shellfish in bonito butter was a mix of octopus and dungeness crab accompanied by a Cheverney Domain de Sabard Sauvignon Blanc.

One of the highlights of the meal was the next dish an amusing and whimsical salute to the winter “garden” theme of the evening: a platter of warm greens on a bed of faux “dirt” — picturesque and toothsome. The wine, a Chenin Blanc, Chateau de Pierre.

The garden itself was followed by another bowl of liquid enchantment, the Winter Tidal Pool, warm, inviting and delicious. The colors somber but the flavors inviting and reinvigorating. Served with an Arvois red wine from the Jura region.

Sea Bass

After warming us with the soup, we were presented with a lovely serving of black bass, set off with sweet onion and marrow broth, and seasoned with chervil, and smoked lentil. The next dish a crispy roasted portion of squab, on a bed of carrot, potato and truffle croquettes. The wine a Sangiovese Pleiades.

As our evening drew to a close, the dishes got richer, each portion a partner in a dance, the music lasting just long enough to tantalize before that particular partner was whisked away to be replaced by another. Our plates suddenly contained a roast rack of veal prepared tonnato, chilled and drizzled in a sauce of tuna. The veal atop a mixture of assorted garden cabbage, porcini mushrooms & onion.

Squab

After a moment to breathe and to acknowledge the journey our tastebuds had been on, it was time for a palate cleanser, this time a lychee champagne gelee with lychee ice cream, and a kiss of rose foam. And then, of course, the elaborate red cheese cart rolled up to the table. Manresa has a beautiful hand tooled cart, as lovely to look at as the wide variety of cheeses that ride its surface like Cleopatra on her palanquin. We sampled a Cow’s milk from the Loire valley, that had been aged in abandoned railway tunnels. It had a beautiful hazelnut and butterscotch quality, the humidity of the tunnels having provided the perfect environment for its maturation. Next a cheese whose name sounds a bit like “de la vorc” with a similar flavor and texture to a parmegian. Also a fudgy-textured delight with a nutty profile from the Western Pyranee’s Basque region; a Pireille papillion from Rouillard France (its double buttercream texture holding nuances of truffle and mushroom); a Goat’s milk Cyrus Gouda (the goat’s-milk is produced locally but aged in Holland); a Cel Courshare, also from the Loire valley. This cheese has a wood ash rind of blue mold, which makes it tangy with a nice runny interior; Finally a Trepa fuillard robiola – the mix of sheep/cow/goat, mingling to make it firmer than a triple cream. This kind of world tour of cheeses is one of my favorite parts of any fine-dining experience.

Dessert was light and refreshing, a panacotta of orange, meyer lemon and vanilla ice cream & honey over a light graham cracker “crust.” Simple, sweet, delectable.

Cheese Cart Magic

There are many things about that wonderful meal that I have long-since forgotten. Details of presentation and preparation that elude me with the passing of time. But the experience, the memory that I was warm, and comforted and dining on something like edible magic, that has not dimmed.

As we left, and Michael handed us those lovely envelopes that contain the evening’s menu, my copy thoughtfully signed by each member of the staff with birthday wishes, I had no idea it would be the last time he would do so. So if you haven’t been to Manresa, or to any other special place you’ve always wanted to experience, don’t wait. The lesson is, there is always a beautiful experience to be had, but just like live theater, no two shows are ever the same. I’m glad I was afforded the opportunity to enjoy the Michael Kean experience, and will cherish my memories when I return.

A Sweet Finish

Go to Manresa as soon as you can. Do not wait. Life is short and meant to be lived with abandon. Ask Michael, he’d have told you the same thing.

FALL CHOCOLATE SALON - San Francisco - November 13, 2011

2011-10-31T17:14:00.000-07:00

As the seasons change and we approach the holidays, I’m usually not thinking about Christmas. The first Halloween pumpkins and water-cooler chatter of the possibilities of who can make the most inventive costumes doesn’t bring me straight to Christmas trees and sugar plums. But my thoughts do turn to something sugary. Here in the Bay the approaching year’s end can mean only one thing: the Fall Chocolate Salon put on by Taste TV at Fort Mason. Cause they, well, they have chocolate.

And not just any chocolate. TASTE TV’s Fall Chocolate Salon is the Willie Wonka of chocolate experiences. The World Cup of Chocolate Salons. Held at Fort Mason, artisans from all over arrive with all manner of magical concoctions and set up their wares to be tasted. They are there to be experienced, to be promoted and to be judged. Since it’s a competition of sorts, these artisans have delivered the best of their best, in the hopes of being among the chosen. But they are also there to expose us to the unimaginable variety of choice that is the face of modern chocolate manufacturing.

In this big sprawling room can be found an array of the best chocolates available in the world today. Concoctions featuring sourced cacao from places like Bolivia, Venezuela, and Trinidad; some even from the hidden forests of the Amazon. These beans have been harvested from across the globe and have been processed to make a myriad of chocolate treats: raw, milk, dark, light, soft, crunchy, even sweet and savory.

I was not surprised to discover that many of these chocolate companies are family run, and their pride is palpable. Treasured family recipes have been perfected for generations. Elite events like this are the perfect opportunity for these proud descendants of pioneer chocolatiers to share their bounty with the world. They offer their confections with such genuine enthusiasm. They are not merely selling, they are aglow with the joy of what they offer. They are inspiring. Some have developed new or perfected versions of beloved childhood favorites, some have invented completely new recipes. Siblings, cousins, couples and friends have come together to collaborate and along their journey have discovered much, and all of it should be shared.

These are magnificent artists. They have discovered ways to incorporate more brilliant color in the shell of a truffle. These are inventive and inspired chefs who have found flavor combinations as yet untasted. And they will often be presented here at the Chocolate Salon. Among the vendors can also be found a new generation of earth-conscious entrepreneurs who inspire us by their insistence on using beans from free-trade farms, and green technologies, ensuring that the populations of those source countries will also share in the profits. They want in their own way to help the world benefit from our global delight in chocolate.

This fair is more than merely a contest or a “candy” extravaganza. It is a giant tent of love, full of amazing expressions of human inventiveness manifested in chocolate. Truffles in every color of the rainbow. Bars of every shape and size. Flavors spicy, sweet and savory. The palate is assaulted with it all — coconut, ginger, jalapeno, pineapple, mango, coffee— and it just goes on from there. This is a room chock-full of chocolate, but it is also a place where the air is laden with the scent of cacao, and the artisans who have found their muse in this mythical substance of history, have outdone themselves to come up with a new and intriguing variation on ways to reinvent it for the world.

More information can be found at http://www.fallchocolatesalon.com. I suggest you go and check it out. Make a few memories of your own.

Postscript: It’s a great place to shop for the holidays, if you can think about them while overwhelmed with the glory of all the chocolate. The packaging is gorgeous, sexy, pretty and inventive. A little something for everyone.

Among the participants this Fall are Amano Artisan Chocolate, CocoTutti, ChoclatiQue, Snake & Butterfly, Permano, Willet's Mini Creations, Leonidas Fresh Belgian Chocolate, Saratoga Chocolates, Victoria Chocolatier, Nicole Lee Fine Chocolates, Sterling Truffle Bar, Toffeeology, The TeaRoom Chocolate Company, Monterey Chocolate Company, Marich Confectionery, Sixthcourse Artisan Confections, Toffee Talk, Dandelion Chocolate, MDP Signature Chocolates, Au Coeur Des Chocolats, Seattle Chocolate Company, Butterfly Brittle, Be A Gourmet, Jack & Jason's Pancakes & Waffles, Urban Legend Cellars, The Winery SF, Jerk'NPickle, TasteTV, and more.

More information can be found at http://www.fallchocolatesalon.com. I suggest you go and check it out. Make a few memories of your own.

PLUM Oakland - (Pork) Belly Up to the Bar

2011-10-05T13:40:00.000-07:00

A Rose....

It began with an email. I get a lot of email, and even though most of it is information I have requested in one form or another, life just never seems to allow me to read every article on every new opening. Hard truth is, there just aren’t enough hours in a day. The fact that I managed to receive this particular invitation was a combination of luck and timing. Guess some things are just meant to be.

One of my favorite new restos in Oaktown — Daniel Patterson’s, Plum, helmed since shortly after opening by the incomparable Charlie Parker — was having a special prix fixe dinner. The first of a series of such meals to be held on Monday &Tuesday nights, which will feature local-grown produce and proteins. What could be more enticing? Great food that supports local farmers. Everybody wins.

The star of this particular dinner was to be The Pig. A local pig butcher who’d worked with HAVEN Chef Kim Alter during Eat Real was sourcing the pork. (Now, I’m a girl who loves pork in almost all forms. Despite my decades old conversion to the laws of Moses, I still consume pork. Raised Italian Catholic, giving up prosciutto seemed worse than cutting off an arm. I was prepared to make the sacrifice, but my BH wouldn’t have it. Fortunately the rabbis never asked me that question.) Tantalized by all the potential in that “other” white meat, I made a reservation within seconds of receiving the emailed invitation. Didn’t even run the menu by the BH. We were down on the dance card. All that was left to do was to wait and show up.

Beattie's Cucumber Cocktail

We arrived on the evening of our reservation, and after a brief delay while we waited for the hostess to deal with a fairly hostile walk-in, we were seated at the chef’s counter. The counter is my favorite place to eat at Plum, or any other place that offers one. I love sitting where I can watch the magic, the food becomes a lovely bonus while watching the best show ever.

There’s a certain kind of playful risk in a prix fixe meal. Whether it consists of a simple and straightforward handful of courses or the more elaborate eleven-plus course “Chef’s Tasting,” one must be willing to submit their entire dining experience into the hands of another. The patron has only one choice — to participate or not — he or she must become a guest at the table, dining at the pleasure of the Chef. I find it invigorating. Some Chefs are expanding on that experience, limiting their menu descriptions to suggestions of what is to come. Recently, while being seated at Saison in San Francisco, we noted the “menu” contained only a single word to describe each course. Last fall at the re-opening of service at the newly refurbished Eleven Madison in Manhattan, the diner was given a cryptic table, looking more like a game of tic-tac-toe than a menu, which contained several words in each line, supplemented by lithographs of seasonal symbols. The diner was to select one word from each line, creating a mystical menu laden with unknowns, the words suggesting little more than which protein or other single ingredient might be in the dish. The rest was left to the imagination. Adventurous. In the words of Anthony Bourdain “...your body is not a temple, it's an amusement park. Enjoy the ride.”

Pig's Ear Chicharrones

For the record, although the pig dinner was the first, there will be more of these collaborative prix-fixe dinners coming to Plum at the hands of Guest Chef Kim Alter of HAVEN*. These neighborhood celebrations will each focus on local-sourced ingredients, whether from farmers, beer and winemakers, or any other talented vendor with wares worth experiencing in a meal. Showcasing that which is locally available to the consumer and giving each a featured moment at a particular meal is a wonderful way to teach people what they can find in their own backyard, as well as allowing them to experience those ingredients manipulated into something delicious by some spectacular local talent. It’s also a pretty genius way to introduce folks to new talent. Personally, I want to be first in line when HAVEN opens later this fall. The five course menu offered last week was also priced very reasonably at $49 per person.

Another fabulous addition to Plum: the long-awaited bar next door is about to open and is currently offering mixology through a delightfully “speak-easy” styled service window that opens into Plum. The as yet untitled saloon is another of D. Patterson’s brainchilds, and brings to Oakland’s bright mixology landscape the substantial talents of Michael Lazar, gifted mixologist who will be serving masterful concoctions prepared by himself and which will incorporate recipes from the renowned Scott Beattie of Spoonbar (formerly with Cyrus). Lazar is an expert in liquors, most particularly Bourbon. Mr. Beattie’s artistic input comes in the form of recipes from his vast array of seasonal recipes, and yes, they’ll have the familiar floral garnishes and elaborate ingredient preparation that have become legendary in the modern mixology movement. Cocktails with flourish. Look for the bar to be opening within the next few months. I know I’ll be there!

Bloody, Bloody Mary

Though I love a good glass of Malbec, and am fond of the occasional IPA, I cannot resist a fancy cocktail. To complement my Pig, I chose one of Mike’s inviting libations, a little something titled “By any other name” which was a lovely ambrosia of vodka, I believe, if I am remembering correctly. The drink had hints of rose that made it very special indeed. The BH ordered the simpler-titled, Cucumber Collins, which he found refreshing and much to his liking. Mine was a Lazar original, his a recipe by Scott Beattie. Both were perfection.

Now to the meal. The first course description read: “PATÉ CAMPAGNE - bloody mary, chicharrone.” We were served a lovely little plated containing a miniature house made Bloody Mary (a shot glass containing vodka, spicy tomato juice, seasonings and a dash of pig’s blood), which featured a cube of rustic paté on a toothpick with an olive, several haricot verts and a pickle as a “garnish.” In appearance an invitingly precious mini-rendition of the cocktail. The paté was rich and flavorful, seasoned beautifully and with a perfect mouthfeel. This tasty little mashup of meats and herbs was a complete success in my book. The chicharrone were fried pig’s ears, which looked like crushed onion rings and tasted almost like bacon, but not as fatty nor as naturally rich in flavor. While pig’s ears are not a food group I would seek out, I found the presentation inviting and the flavors appealing. See what I mean about adventure?

Tomato & Bread Salad

The next course bore the title “TOMATO & BREAD SALAD pancetta vinaigrette, flatbread, crema, arugula.” This dish arrived on a share plate. Broken flatbreads hot from the oven, mingled with a nicely tossed salad of the above ingredients and several chunks of gorgeous, chewy pancetta, beautifully browned, and crispy in the mouth. The acids in the dressing mingling perfectly to balance the fat in the salad. Lovely.

The next savory dish was titled: “BACON & EGG “salad lyonnaise”, braised bacon, fried egg, chicory.” This dish was a one-per-customer affair. A thick crispy slab of pork belly, a bed of luscious greens, all topped off by the perfectly-cooked fried egg.

We watched them fry the eggs from our vantage point at the counter. First they are cracked one at a time into a glass dish and the thinnest part of the whites drained away; then the egg is slid carefully from the dish to be fried for just about a minute on the hot steel griddle, and lastly broiling it in a hot oven for another few seconds to seal in the yolk, keeping it soft and runny in the center with the whites neatly cooked to perfection. Tricky, smooth, intriguing. The end result went beautifully with the pork, which was crispy and delicious. The BH insisted he didn’t like any kind of egg that was loosely cooked. I insisted he try it. He ate it all, and says he’s a bit of a convert. Personally, whenever I am offered the option, I “egg” it. Always.

Loin of Pork over kale

The last of the four savory dishes was the “ROAST PIG fork mashed potato, braised kale with apple, crispy pig.” A moist perfectly prepared loin slice of pork over a buttery mashed potato on a bed of kale. Simple, juicy, toothsome. We polished them off in moments.

We were just about stuffed by now, but the sweet tooth had been activated. It’s like a little button in my brain that goes off when I eat that well, everything on my palate teased to perfection except that one place that needs a hint of sugar to finish off the meal. The dessert that evening was prepared by pastry chef Matt Tinder from COI. The menu read: “PECAN PIE smoked lardo crust, chicory cream.” The BH also decried pecans. He announced before we began the meal that he hates them, particularly in pie form. Has never eaten a bite of pecan pie on any holiday event, not since he was a kid and gagged on a mouthful of the most loathsome preparation. Or so he says. When the subject first come up (he’d finally got a look at the menu) I’d reassured him that we’d order him something else. When we realized upon arrival that that wasn’t an option, I kindly offered to eat his, and whip him up a proper dessert when we got home. The dessert plate hadn’t been before him for two seconds, when he said with a sly grin “You’re not getting any extra dessert tonight.” I love being right.

Pecan Pie & Chicory Cream

The pie was excellent. Rather than being overly cloying, it was just sweet enough, the fresh frozen cream served with it forming a milky marriage of flavors. Along with the ice cream was a powdery dusting of something that was delicious when mixed in with a bite of the pie and the chilly cream. Not sure if it was lardo hit with a blast of nitro, or some other magical concoction because the waitress forgot to come back when I sent her to ask the kitchen. No worries though, it added to the mystery. I don’t need to know why everything tastes delicious, or even what I’m eating, as long as it’s served by a trustworthy chef. It heightens the adventure, and I’m all about adventure.

If you’ve got an evening with nothing to do, and you are thinking about going home to waste an hour or two on reality TV, do yourself a favor. Check it out. Make some adventure memories of your own.

Plum Oakland
2214 Broadway
Oakland, California
510.444.7586
info@plumoakland.com
Twitter: @plumfooddrink

*HAVEN will be opening in November and will be located in the new space adjacent to the Oakland Train Station at Jack London Square, in the same facility that now houses the Farmer’s Market.

Soapbox Sidenote: The walk-in was so rude and clueless that it made me wonder, again, if there is anyone left on the planet who recognizes that they are not the only person living. She stormed into the place ahead of those who’d been waiting patiently in line and had made reservations, demanded a table, and refused to listen to the hostess as she attempted to explain the format for the evening. When she finally did pause long enough to understand the meal was a set menu for the evening, she tossed the menu back in the face of the hostess (who remained patient and polite throughout) and stormed out. There’s just no excuse for such rude and thoughtless behavior. Ever.

OAKLAND’S STAR TURN AS CINDERELLA AT THE (MONEY)BALL

2011-09-22T18:05:00.000-07:00

I’ve spent my whole life apologizing for my hometown. My fifth-grade bestie, a transplant from the City of Angels, once told me to simply tell people I was from “Frisco,” because no one knows where Oakland is, and those who do think it’s a ghetto. Out of the mouths of babes.

Don’t get me wrong. I was never ashamed of my city, despite her “little sister” status to her famous counterpart across the Bay. Oakland has always been beautiful in my eyes. That doesn’t mean that she wasn’t difficult to introduce to others. Like the witty girlfriend whose great personality one tries to sell to a potential blind date, Oakland was a wallflower who needed to be experienced firsthand to be appreciated. One could spend a lot of time trying to get her invited to parties.

For as long as memory serves, Oakland has struggled with various mis-perceptions, each holding just enough truth to stick. I often hear that she’s all urban blight — a virtual black hole of decay. While there are places in any city that need to be redeveloped, Oakland is by and large a beautiful place. At her center is Lake Merritt, a lovely free-form crescent of greenish-blue water that is the beating heart of a National wildlife refuge. The lake is surrounded by the “necklace of lights” --- a string of refurbished turn-of-the-century lamp posts that glow after dark like gems the throat of a queen. Oakland’s reputation is that she is a dangerous city, a place that is unsafe to visit. While there are certainly neighborhoods that should not be traveled by those unfamiliar with them, most of Oakland is as safe as any other modern urban location. New Orleans, Manhattan, all have their attractions and their challenges. I can truthfully say in my decades of exploring Oakland, I have never felt any more threatened at night while traversing her streets, than I have in say, San Francisco. Not once.

One of the main reasons I began writing this blog was to share with the world the changing landscape that Oakland is currently experiencing, and there’s been a lot of that change in the past few years. As real estate became more expensive in San Francisco in recent boom times, many of those businesses moved into Oakland. With those people came a few nice restaurants. And so it began.

As season-ticket holders for another of Oakland’s best features, the Oakland Athletics, the BH and I were offered an opportunity to purchase tickets to the world premiere of Bennett Miller’s Moneyball, starring Brad Pitt and Jonah Hill. The event was scheduled to take place at the Paramount Theater (another Oakland gem) followed by an after party at the recently restored Fox Theater in Uptown. The chance to attend such an event was an offer too good to refuse. How often does one get the opportunity to attend the world premiere of a Hollywood film? What could better serve Oakland than a full scale industry event? I had to be there. We took them up on their offer and scored seats in the rear orchestra for the big night.

Fans came decked out in full A's regalia

When we arrived I was thrilled to see the mini baseball stadium they’d recreated in the parking lot adjacent to the Paramount, a full-on Hollywood style red carpet. We went over to will call and waited for the theater to open. When it did, we were promptly escorted in, and the air-conditioning was a delightful relief from the unusually warm September weather outside. Rows of lovely complimentary cocktails were displayed for the guests. One a notable bright green appletini that had a lovely yellow apple floating in it (a nod to the A’s team colors); the other a nice soft pink tequila number. I chose the latter because, well, the chance of spilling the green on a fancy dress in a crowded room was too high . . . I’m sure you ladies will feel me. The drinks were delicious. I had several. Once we were sufficiently lubricated, we proceeded to mingle.

Though the biggest celebrities were sequestered down in the green room, we roamed the crowded halls of the Paramount playing a game of identifying various minor celebs, chatting with other fans, many of whom we knew from our many years at the Coliseum. Oakland’s own version of the glitterati were out in force. Various members of the A’s: announcers and players past and present. Mayor Quan. A’s team photographer Michael Zagaris. Even local hero Sully Sullenberger was in attendance. Definitely a happening.

There were a good number of A’s season-ticket holders in attendance, many in full sports regalia. They had come to cheer on our beloved rag-tag team. I’ve followed baseball since the early 80's. It was the thing my father and I rallied around, a common ground as he was dying of cancer. We went together to a game during the ‘89 World Series. Good stuff, baseball. My dad used to say “It’s a thinking man’s game.” Having played shortstop as a youngster, his love of baseball had even more history than my own. And that’s the beauty of the game. It can pull us in at a young age and hold us for life. It can be the backdrop for family events, uniting young and old in a communal enthusiasm. Much like eating a meal, baseball is a pastime that is meant to be shared, to be experienced together. It has heart. Perhaps that is why it is America’s game.

Mini A's Field as "red carpet"

The premiere underscored this universal truth in many ways, but one of the most enjoyable instances was when the crowd would spontaneously burst into the “Oakland A’s chant” at various points throughout the evening. “Let’s Go Oakland” came the voices, followed by the familiar rhythmic clap. It was invigorating. Aside from an event which so beautifully celebrated Oakland, we were all thrilled at the tribute this movie was paying to baseball and our beloved A’s.

Soon we were seated, and the main event was about to begin. The director was introduced, and after a few words on the making of the film, he introduced the films producers Rachel Horovitz and Michael DeLuca; the screenwriters, Aaron Sorkin and Steven Zaillain; and the author of the book Moneyball, Michael Lewis. Then out came the stars, and they were blinding. The delightful and talented Kerris Dorsey (Beane’s daughter in the film); Chris Pratt (Scott Hatteberg); Phillip Seymour Hoffman (Art Howe); a slim and almost unrecognizable Jonah Hill (Hill plays a fictional character Peter Brand, a conglomerate of the computer geniuses who came up with the Moneyball concept, based primarily on the real-life Paul DePodesta) and then... Bennet began introduction that rapidly turned into “Oh you know who he is... BRAD PITT” ::insert roar of crowd here:: They thanked us for coming. The lights began to dim.

As the lights went down, the fans in the back began to chant again. “Let’s Go Oakland, Let's Go Oakland” followed by the drumbeat clap clap clap clap clap and as they were descending the stairs, Brad Pitt, Aaron Sorkin and Phillip Seymour Hoffman all paused and spontaneously joined in, essentially leading it for several moments. Golden. Oakland couldn’t have planned a moment like that in a million years. Enthusiasm so infectious that even the larger-than-life Hollywood types could not resist it. The wallflower had been asked to dance. By the Prince, no less. I will never forget it. In those few minutes, it was hard not to be romantic about Hollywood.

From the moment the lights went out, I was on the edge of my seat. Perfectly paced, engrossing film, the backdrop in every scene authentically familiar. I’ve been going to games at the Coliseum since it was built. Pitt is a brilliant Beane, engaging, reflective, and madly in love with the game. Jonah Hill was funny and introspective, in a perfectly natural way that spoke volumes. The rest of the cast is brilliant, the running jokes funny. The East Bay’s own Stephen Bishop does a turn as David Justice that is believable and entertaining. Inspired.

If the audience was any kind of a focus group, they have a huge hit on their hands. Being at a premiere is a unique experience as, aside from the glitz, it turns the two-dimensional experience of a film into live theater. The performers are there. They can hear your applause, your laughter, or your disapproval. They get the real-time feedback of a Broadway show, which is of course, one of the reasons they hold premieres. It adds an incredible layer of suspense as the audience becomes a vital part of the show. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and one I will not soon forget. I won’t spoil the movie with details about the plot. Suffice it to say that it’s a compelling story, and they tell it perfectly. If you love baseball, it’s a must see. If you love Oakland, same deal.

As we left the theater, we remarked on the only theme other than baseball that had permeated the evening. “This is so good for Oakland.” In the theater and outside, everyone was high on the City-that-couldn’t-get-a-prom-date’s evening as Cinderella at the ball. Great stuff.
Now if we could just land a Westfield-style Mall smack in the heart of downtown.

As we walked to dinner at Picán (obligatory food reference), my husband remarked on how perfect the timing was. He reminded me that even ten years ago, there was not much “there there.” Everyone leaving now had the opportunity to walk to a world-class restaurant to experience a first class meal. Our choice was Picán, but Luka’s, Plum, Flora, Ozumo, Nex, Tamarindo, Hawker Fare and Hibiscus are all within a few blocks, are all first-class and represent a variety of settings and price-ranges. It was a big happy block party, to which everyone was invited. It was evident that no one felt threatened on the streets that night. We could all have been strolling through a boisterous post-theater crowd in Manhattan. Oakland’s glittering coach had pulled up and we were all invited aboard. It was hard not to be romantic about Oakland.

Bottom line. Moneyball. Check it out. Make a memory of your own, and while you’re at it, check out the real thing. Go see an A’s game come spring. This could be the year. It’s hard not to be romantic about baseball.

FOOD TRUCK MAFIA (NEWARK) - The Dog (and Burger) Days of Summer...

2011-09-07T22:02:00.000-07:00

September.

The end of summer. Though in California September usually brings the beginning of the hottest season of the year, it officially marks the end of our balmy, beachy out-of-school days. The hours of daylight grow shorter as the bright blue-gold sunlight turns to amber, as though to coordinate with the papery leaves that will soon flutter down from the trees. When I was a kid, summer meant lazy days spent boating, waterskiing the many canals and throughways of the Sacramento River Delta.

My childhood memories of summer are vivid. The smell off the water, vaguely fishy and tinged with mud, everywhere it ran brown and murky and deep. The yellow speedboat that carried us was fast, so fast everything around was a blur, a rush of reeds, gold and green, like living sunlight as we thumped hard against the river delta. The waves splashing up over the bow left a soft mist on my face that the sunlight and the wind would whip away as soon as it was deposited. Those glorious trips across the open water were something splendid. There was little speaking, just the roar of the engine churning the water, the air rushing against my ears and the constant sun on my skin. And that glorious smell of the rich delta mud.

Hot, Crunchy Outside -
Creamy Inside -
Shrimp & Cheese Empanadas

Our final trip was always in late September or early October. Those last days of summer carried their own kind of magic. My father called them Indian Summer, and they signaled not just a return to school from a time of what seemed like endless freedom, but a kind of communal closure as we all moved into fall together. The drive home on our last outing always seemed to bear a harvest moon. It hung in the sky, large and luminous over the Delta, visible out the back window of my father’s car as we drove home for the final time. That moon in my long-ago childhood memory still lingers in the sky, a perfect orb of yellow gold.

September begins our journey into fall, and Labor Day weekend signals the dog days are upon us. A uniquely American holiday, this three-day weekend is more than back-to-school specials and furniture sales. It is a shared kiss goodbye to our collective summer vacation. Everyone, everywhere has fired up their backyard grill one last time. Goodbyes are often bittersweet.

Crazy Fries. Crazy, man.

This past weekend, the question arose in our household of how to mark this auspicious occasion and give sweet summer a proper sendoff? An effective scout, the BH often discovers foodie-related tidbits while reading his morning paper. Openings, events and happenings. He happened to run across an event that sounded perfect: a gathering of the Food Truck Mafia, culinary gypsies who travel from one location to another to bring their individual brands of tasty treats to the hungry. The Food Truck Mafia was scheduled to be at Newpark Mall on Monday. Being Labor Day itself, this event seemed the perfect way to celebrate the end of summer. After quickly double-checking the schedule we planned our final day off around it.

Grillstars manage a crowd of The Hungry!

The trucks set up and begin serving at 4:30, running until 9:00 pm. We got there at five, and were immediately greeted by strains of Michael Jackson at a high volume, a heavy-set DJ playing boisterous dance tunes for the crowd. The afternoon weather was gorgeous, more like mid-summer than September, and the crowds were diverse. A collection of every age and color, all gathered under the Blue Top for some grub. It felt like an oversized block party. They had provided several tables to make eating some of the more challenging carry away cuisines easier. Children ran from one truck to another, squealing out their choices for dinner to parents who could barely hear over the booming music. Everywhere a variety of locals and shoppers who had wandered out of the mall to see what was going on were chowing down on a plethora of cuisines. The colorful trucks formed a big “U”, not unlike chuck-wagons circled to feed the field hands after a six-month tour on the cattle trails. Yet there were no marauding Indians in sight. The mood was festive and the smells welcoming.

In an attempt to be scientific in our ordering, and to make sure we sampled as much as was possible on a first visit, we walked by each of the trucks to absorb their menus before ordering. It rapidly became clear we wouldn’t be able to sample anything close to everything, even one item per truck was overly ambitious. We soldiered on, narrowing our choices to four savory and two sweet dishes.

Butterfly Shrimp

We began with a threesome of Shrimp & Cheese Empanadas, mini hot pockets of spicy goodness, served hot out of the fryer (and I mean hot) offered up by the first truck whose wares we sampled, Marisco's El Malecon. We found a couple of seats at a communal table and enjoyed a few bites of our empanadas. Since it was their party, we were in agreement that we had to sample something from Grillstars and I’d selected (and ordered) a side-dish they were offering titled “Crazy Fries”. After placing that order, I imagined I would be handed a basket of fries and go off to sit with BH until we polished them off. Best laid plans and all, the wait turned out to be over twenty minutes. (Tho well worth it taste-wise, the standing around was not particularly pleasurable. I wonder if there might be a better way to call out orders to keep people from having to stand while they wait for their meals to come up.) Making the best of the wait, I observed a little of the food truck culture firsthand. The salesgirl from El Malecon came over to order a burger, and Grillstars’ chef insisted that her money was no good there. It would appear to be the custom that food trucks feed one another’s staff for free. Like family. Classy.

After my twenty minutes of running over to our table for a bite of empanada and running back to the Grillstars' truck to wait on my order, I was at last presented with a gimongous order of hot-out-of-the-fryer french fries, beautifully cradled in piles of smoky grilled beef, creamy nacho cheese, crumbled bacon and a lovely little dollop of fresh sour cream. Every bite was covered with toppings, and every mouthful of the crumbled burger meat carried the lovely smoky flavor of freshly-grilled beef. Absolutely worth the long wait. The cheese was a nice gooey consistency, sticking to the fries without being gummy, the bacon bits and sour cream coming together nicely, adding their own tasty music to the mix. It was the best plate of “topping” fries I’ve ever had. All for around four bucks.

Twisted Chill serves up organic
Soft Serve

Next up was the Butterfly Shrimp & Dipping Sauces from Bigg Shrimp’n. These kids know their shrimp— we were served large, beautifully butterflied, whole prawns fried up in a light golden almost tempura-style batter that was almost effervescent. Closer to cotton-candy than dough. The sauces were fresh, made in-house, and just delicious. We tried the Sweet & Sour (reminiscent of a Thai tomato-garlic sauce, it bore no relation to the thick red sauce of my takeout-Chinese childhood) and a Seafood Cocktail Sauce. Bigg Shrimp’n’s Cocktail mixture was mildly spicy, with fresh horseradish being beautifully blended with fresh, ripe tomatoes. Right then I was diggin’ the fresh trend in food prep.

Next I tried the Lamb Curry offered up by Munch India. The meat was tender and fluffy and the curry mild yet packed with flavor. The basmati rice was aromatic and light, and served as a perfect foil to carry the thick sauce over the lamb.

Creamy Soft Serve covered
in yummy strawberries,
toasted coconut & chips

By the time we’d finished off our four savory treats we were ready to move to dessert. We went first to the colorful blue truck with the pretty girl on the side (fun design). Twisted Chill is run by Jesse Soares & Michael Moules and the duo serves up a non-dairy soft serve. Now ordinarily I’m a fan of “real deal” foods, but their organic take on this American favorite was no joke. The creamy delicious red velvet version was sweet without being overly so, the flavor unique and craveable and the mouthfeel was creamier than a teenager’s pillow. The guys offer up all manner of fresh fruit from within the truck and an assortment of dry organic cereals, chips, sprinkles and other treats in the self serve compartment outside the truck. In addition to serving up great desserts, the guys are affable and informative. I think they will do very well at this.

Our last stop was at That’s Sweet! Desserts, a cupcake and assorted baked goods truck whose list of wonderful flavor combos taunted us with it’s variety. We settled on a Coconut Chocolate, Chocolate Orange, Sea Salt and Caramel and a mini Peach Pie. The BH and I have at this point consumed every last bite, but I was in love with my first mouthful of the Chocolate Orange. Moist, kissed with citrus and just sweet enough, this gal can bake. Lucky us. We had the Sea Salt later that night and the hint of salt and finish of toasted caramel, still linger on my palate urging me to return for more.

Sea Salt & Caramel Cupcake

The experience was a delight. I’m a fan of fine dining, but who’s the rule guy who says a great food experience can’t be found on a truck in paper containers? Not I. These gatherings are a perfect time to gather with friends and family, enjoy the fading sunlight as the days grow shorter until the damp months are upon us and we are forced to retreat back into our homes to shelter in place until the sun, and the trucks return.

Their schedule can be found on Facebook at the Food Truck Mafia page. Check it out. Make a memory of your own. Have the crazy fries, I dare you!

Among the Participants:

Phil Woodman & Patrick Clarke’s GrillStars
Food Truck Mafia - Facebook
@Grillstars - Twitter
http://www.thegrillstars.com

Bigg Shrimp’n - Facebook
@BiggShrimpn - Twitter
http://www.biggshrimpn.com

Jose Hernandez Marisco's El Malecon
Facebook under Food Truck Mafia

Chef Diana Afroza’s Munch India
Munch India - Facebook
@munchindia - Twitter
www.munchindia.com

Jess Soares & Michael Moules’ Twisted Chill
Twisted Chill - Facebook
@chilltruck - Twitter

That’s Sweet! Desserts
That's Sweet! Dessert Truck - Facebook
@thatssweettruck - Twitter
http://www.ThatsSweetBakery.com

eVe BERKELEY - Dinner in the Garden of Eating

2011-08-24T23:06:00.000-07:00

My mother was born during the Great Depression. In order to get me to eat my peas, she would tell me of the food she lacked as a child — of meals in her own childhood that were often scanty, with seven children in the family there were nine hungry mouths to feed. To a kid raised on "sumptuous" TV dinners, it sometimes sounded that my mother was fed only tasteless gruel while I enjoyed Sailsbury Steak. But if one listened more carefully there were other stories. Of sweet red apples right off the tree that contained all the sunshine of summer. Of white corn that still held so much natural sugar that she and her siblings considered it dessert. My mother was a farmer’s daughter, and my grandmother cooked for everyone.

Theirs was a hard life, but a rich one. My mom was raised in the midwest, and though there wasn’t always enough food what there was, was fresh. Food on a farm in the thirties was a genuine labor of love. My grandmother milked the cows, separating the various dairy products by hand (Milk, cream, cottage cheese). She killed and plucked chickens the day they were to be fried up for dinner. Baked bread and pies, and every so often she allowed herself an indulgence for all her hard work, the rare aroma of a cup of steaming hot coffee. She was one tough pioneer lady.

Spring Asparagus Stalks w/ "Terrine"

The people of my mother’s childhood were uniquely blessed. Challenged to raise their own food and slaughter their own meat, they were connected to the food chain in the most natural and direct of ways. They had a distinct advantage over many of us today, their understanding of the source of their sustenance allowed them to appreciate the fruits of the earth with which they were blessed, leaving them with a prevailing sense of gratitude for nature’s bounty.

That connectedness to our food sources was not as present during my childhood. With America’s newfound love of canned goods and the availability of the TV dinner began a disconnect from the natural order of things that we are only now beginning to address. Shortcuts that were invented to provide relief for women just like my mother, hard-working women raising small children while handling the pressures of a nine-to-five job, came with a price.

Souvide Egg

These shortcuts necessitated that the food be stored longer, prepared in advance. Much of it was cooked beforehand, often draining all or most of the natural vitamins. So the vitamins were manufactured and replaced into the food, salt was added to restore flavor. Over time, the additives in our diets increased. My food was plentiful when I was young, but much of it wasn’t particularly fresh. Canned and frozen foods can sustain us, but it isn’t the same. My mother would often comment on the lack of flavor, telling me I had never tasted real corn or real fruit because by the time it sat in the store the produce we got had lost any resemblance it bore to the produce of farm life.

Chilled Beet Soup

When I was a kid I dismissed her recitations, thinking she was speaking through the film of an exaggerated memory. Everything seems more vivid to us as children, just maybe, she remembered these delicious treats through the haze of time. How much better could they really have been? These days I not only hear her voice when I eat, telling me of magical corn and fruit so ripe and sweet it imparts emotion itself to the eater, but I actually find myself quoting her. I have tasted hours-old corn, and I am converted. The religion of Alice Waters has claimed another disciple.

Recently we went to eVe in Berkeley for a family dinner. One of the many such held in the Baby Lawyer’s honor. The restaurant itself is a tiny nook, maybe seating not more than twenty people or so at a time. But within its confines are some seriously fresh and fantastic flavors. The joys of farm life have been resurrected there.

Lamb Belly w/ Pistacho "Stuffing"

The first thing they brought us at eVe was an aMuse boUche --- a delightful little puff of saffron foam, topped with a smattering of fresh, tart currants. My own mouthful of the creamy saffron goodness melted on my tongue, the finish of the tiny grape-like fruits mingling with the savory cream left me craving more. I was ready for my dinner.

The meal we had was largely shared, as they so often are these days. One of the common plates was a heaping of fresh aSparagus, in its natural state and in a terrine. Both forms of greens were laden with lovely morels, a sprinkling of almonds and the juice of fresh lemons. An inventively green spring dish.

The menu is semi-prix fix, with each section allowing one or two choices, any additional choices incurring additional charges. It's reasonably priced, except when you order everything. We ordered almost everything. I had the bEet sOup, which arrived chilled, a lovely gazpacho-style bowl of dill, radishes and carrots, the earthy taste of the beets balanced by the bite of goat cheese blended gently into its ruby hued ambrosia. My BH had the soFt shEll cRab over risotto, the fried crab crunch set off nicely with a hint of ginger in the creamy risotto.

Pork Cheek Appi

Unable to resist the souVide fArm egG, I ordered that dish as well. It was perfectly cooked, which is a trick I have never quite been able to master as a home cook. Speaking of the farm, there is nothing that compares to a soft cooked fresh egg. The rich yolk split open with just a brush of my fork, and its golden flood of flavor spilled rapidly over the bed of English peas. The chef had added a healthy dose of black garlic and salty ham hocks, flavors that go together as naturally as the stirring notes in the song of the nightingale. The salty fat of the ham, the acid flush of the green peas, the savory kick of garlic, all of these were swimming in a sauce made of succulent sunlight.

The kUrobuta poRk chEeks were likewise toothsome. They had a delicate glaze of root beer and honey that acted to enhance the overall balance of flavor in the dish. The hint of sweetness gave the pork that zing, and the bed of burdock root and dandelion greens, added some acid and gave nice texture and balance to the fatty pork.

The mains were simple and perfectly presented. My parents both had the hAlibut, served with artichokes, lovely pearl onions, cornichon pickles and fluffy oyster mushrooms. I tasted my mother’s and it was flaky and delicious.

I was unable to resist the laMb belLy. Curious as to the unusual nature of the cut, I asked the waiter. It was indeed from the lamb’s belly, the same cut as bacon, so was likely to be fatty but promised to be as flavorful. Some experiments pay off, and this was definitely one of them. The meat was beautifully marbled with fat, and had been ingeniously wrapped gently around a filling of pistachio and cardamon. The stuffing absorbed melded with the fat to create a stuffing that was rich, fatty and delicious. The flageolet beans were plump and buttery and the yoghurt in the sauce added a nice tang. Remembering the flavors has got me salivating all over again. This lamb was definitely a highlight of my dining excursions.

Fleur Verte Cheese w/
Apple Crisp

Of course we couldn’t skip desserts, so we ordered all three of them and plenty of spoons. Two sweet, one savory (cheese). The sweet tangy rhuBarb was beautifully flavored with coriander and served with a little raw milk pannacotta, served over a crispy whole wheat crust. While I’m generally a fan of lighter flours, the texture of the whole wheat with the natural snap of the rhubarb was genius. I loved it. The “fleUr vErte” was a creamy cheese, flecked with edible flowers and served with an apple ginger chip, and a touch of mustard. I love a good cheese and this was a great one. The last dessert was ordered because my BH is a confessed choc-o-holic. There was a housemade strawberry ice cream, dark and rich it paired beautifully with the dark, dark cHocolate cake, which came with an airy heaping of rich molasses sugar and a crumble of licorice. One of the more inventive flavor combos I’ve seen in a dessert, we were all in agreement that it was entirely successful.

Rhubarb filling & whole wheat crust;
tasty "pannacotta" & rhubarb gelee

This is a great restaurant. The service was attentive and gracious, and when the waiter brought us a little parting gift of a plate of scrumptious macarons, we were so full we could barely raise them to our lips. But somehow, we managed just that.

We’ve come a long way, full circle. It seems society at large has returned to the habits my grandmother practiced by necessity on the farm. Pick it, kill it, eat it. All in the same day if possible. Fresh food consumption is quantitatively different. I am aware that I am fortunate. Fortunate to be able to eat as well as I do. Fortunate that I live in a place with so many choices for people who appreciate good food. And eVe in Berkeley is high on the list of places that understands what farm to table means. Chef Christopher Laramie and his wife, Pastry Chef Veronica Laramie practice their art brilliantly, humming along in harmony, their love for what they do and for the beauty of the harvest is reflected in everything that arrives on the plate. Those who dine here will come away having experienced one of the best meals the bay area has to offer.

This Garden of Eating is just what the farmer ordered.

Check it out, make a memory of your own.

eVe Berkeley
1960 University Avenue
Berkeley, CA
510-868-073
http://eve-berkeley.com

Chef: Christopher Laramie
Pastry Chef: Veronica Laramie

ROAD TRIP, HEALDSBURG: CYRUS & Friends - Communion in the Kitchen

2011-08-01T22:44:00.000-07:00

The Cucumber Foam delight that is
Mad Dogs & Englishmen
@ the Cyrus Bar

Since we have established that dining out is one of my favorite excursions, whether with one of my kids, my husband, good friends, or all of the above, I got to wondering why I find it so rewarding. Other than the obvious. It is, after all, delicious fun. Recently my husband of twenty-seven years and I traveled to Healdsburg to dine at Cyrus. We had heard it was a meal not to be missed. Chef Keane did not disappoint.

There is so much the current food culture has to offer. As an artist, I relate to the craft it takes to invent many of these amazing meals. As a writer, I delight in finding new and tantalizing ways to write about the meals I enjoy. I must confess myself often awed at the myriad expressions of culinary skills that abound in today’s food-obsessed world. As someone who used to assist in the production of live theater, I see eating also as a newly invigorated form of in-person entertainment. It is a lot like taking in a good play — a play in which the diner is an important part of the performance. As a member of society at large, eating with others is the ultimate expression of communal intimacy. When we eat together we delight in the same flavors, experience the same taste sensations; bonding over stories as we sustain our bodies. This is an act that never fails to recharge my spirit, that of sharing a good meal. It can be heavenly. It is no coincidence that entire faiths are rooted in the potentially trans-formative experience inherent in the simplest of rituals— the breaking and sharing of bread and the pouring and drinking of wine.

Cherries at the Farmer's Market

If food is to be successful, “it must be prepared with love.” We repeat this mantra like a collective religious chant. Love. Love in the food. Heart in the dish. Modern food is an offering — a basic and primal need tied up nicely in a pretty package. The most successful chefs are those brave enough to convey genuine emotion in their cooking. One bite wraps us in its savory arms like a mother’s hug, another combination of flavors is smoky, its warmth perhaps evoking the memory of BBQ shared on a hot summer day, the next soulful mouthful is spicy and sweet, its unexpected kick settling fearlessly on the tongue like the lingering kiss of an expert lover. A good Chef lays the emotions of his or her life’s experience fearlessly on the plate. This is an ultimate act of love, this courageous offering of self, daring the recipient to embrace or reject that which is dearest to the bestower. That’s where the bravery comes in. Love is often unrequited. Succeeding at this act is how a great Chef separates himself from the pack.

When an inventive artist like Chef Douglas Keane (Cyrus) puts food on a plate, his designs are indeed so pleasing as to be works of timeless art. But it doesn’t stop with the pretty. His flavors are as complex, well-realized and tantalizing as any I have ever experienced. Maybe the best. Each flavor floats along in the dish in an independent fury, proud, unrelenting; while at the same time blending perfectly with its companions. He is capable of coaxing ingredients to harmonize like the Indigo Girls as they entwine to reach a whole that is heavenly in its consummation. Seriously, eating his food is like an orgy of pleasure in your mouth.

As each of our dishes arrived we were salivating with anticipation. Not a one was less than perfection. Beyond the rapture of his food, the man’s personality comes through. He is sincere, like his food. He is welcoming, and it shows in his restaurant. Every detail of the decor has been touched by the imagination, drive and determination of Doug Keane and his charmingly delightful partner, co-owner Nick Peyton. Nick also manages the front of house for Cyrus, and this pair is determined to give their diners the ultimate in fine-dining experiences. They succeed on every level.

Tableside Ice Cream Alchemy Sundae
@ Madrona Manor

My husband and I needed a break from the grind. We wanted an escape to something that would remind us of the sublime. I think we were as giddy at the conclusion of our meal at Cyrus as we were on our wedding day (and to his delight I remained for the most part sober, something I didn’t manage on the day of our original nuptials). With everything going on in our world that is hard, or difficult or just plain wrong, the food movement presents the perfect opportunity to strike back at the negativity by replacing it with joyousness. To the staff at Cyrus, I give a huge shout out and a hearty “Thank You.”

We were married on July 1, so our anniversary is always surrounded by Fourth of July festivities. We can’t escape it, so we embrace it. This weekend was no different. After our lovely dinner, we stayed on in Healdsburg, and at the behest of our innkeepers went on to dine at several other remarkable establishments.

We had a five-course tasting at Madrona Manor the second night in town. No idea what sort of treat we were in for, we arrived at this beautiful sprawling mansion at the edge of town with rumbling bellies, set for another adventure. We tried to talk ourselves into eating the eight-course, but two large meals in a row seemed impossible and we allowed ourselves a slightly smaller indulgence. Chef Jesse Malgren is a young master, and his culinary artistry, while not quite yet at Chef Keane’s level, is majestic.

Cheese is ALWAYS good

The next night we tried Dry Creek Inn. There were a few tastebuds we hadn’t completely overwhelmed so we kept at it, like troopers. Chef de Cuisine Dustin Valette helms Charlie Palmer’s Healdsburg eatery with precision and skill. Another magnificent meal.

While we were there we visited the Healdsburg Farmer’s Market, a bountiful gathering of local farmer’s goods. The first of its kind in the State of California. We also paid a visit to the Cyrus bar in daylight, to be welcomed back with open arms. Chef Keane came out and greeted my husband and I, sharing with us his vision for the place. Nick joined in and we had a lovely chat. This was after the amazingly skilled bartender, Erica had treated us to two of the best cocktails I’d ever had. Which is no surprise, since this was the bar where mixology began, at the hands of the renowned Scott Beattie. When the lovely Erica told us of her friend Scott and his “little place up the street, Spoon Bar” I have to confess I failed to put two and two together. Shame on this ignorant foodie.

I write often of the memories made enjoying the food I am blessed to experience with the people I love and who love me. My weekend in Healdsburg was a cornucopia of such blessings. A cascade of food such as one might hope to have in an entire lifetime, packed into a weekend.

To be cooked for over mere days by Chefs with such rare gifts as are possessed by Douglas Keane (Cyrus), Jesse Malgren (Madrona Manor) and Chef de Cuisine Dustin Valette's (Charlie Palmer’s Dry Creek Kitchen). To be offered liquid sustenance by the likes of Miss Erica and Scott Beattie is unimaginably delightful. One cannot imagine these treats fully unless they have been experienced firsthand.

Restaurants of this kind and the haven they represent, are for me the last vestige of a civility that is sorely lacking in modern society. They evokes a better time for all of humanity; a living example of my kind of family values. The kind that sustains without judgment. That challenges us to touch the quiet places in ourselves where we hold the things we love most. When we think about stopping to smell the roses, experiences like this are the realization of that kind of self-awareness. Even the best of us are often too focused on being connected to the rush, without thought of the consequence, the wear on the spirit, the lost time spent on meaningless and distracting tasks. Such thoughts are impossible when being fed by the likes of Chef Douglas Keane.

Take a moment to breathe and participate in your own life. It will be over in the blink of an eye. And if you get to Healdsburg, do not miss Cyrus. Have a meal there. Make a memory of your own.

Cyrus
29 North Street
Healdsburg, CA 95448
(707) 433-3311
www.cyrusrestaurant.com
Chef Douglas Keane

Madrona Manor
1001 Westside Road
Healdsburg, CA 95448
(800) 258-4003
www.madronamanor.com
Chef Jesse Malgren

Spoonbar
219 Healdsburg Avenue
Healdsburg, CA 95448
(707) 433-7222
www.h2hotel.com/spoonbar

Dry Creek Kitchen
317 Healdsburg Ave
Healdsburg, CA 95448-4105
(707) 431-0330
www.charliepalmer.com/Properties/DryCreekKitchen

COSECHA - The Truck Stops Here

2011-07-21T22:56:00.000-07:00

I wouldn’t have thought that with everything else happening in Oaktown I could get this excited about something new. But I am, and you know what? You should be too.

When I began this little adventure in food writing, I was excited about the advent of good eats in Oakland. Back then it seemed restaurants were opening everywhere. Uptown, Telegraph, Temescal, Downtown, Jack London. My city was suddenly alive with upscale eateries, one after another and they came in waves. Soon even the star chefs from SF were in on the game. Then there were the trucks. So many trucks, here, there... everywhere.

Now I’m pretty sure there’s a new phenomenon taking over the streets of Oakland. There are suddenly springing up venues that resemble what I would call street food “Cafe(s).” Wonderful land-locked editions of the fabulous floating food on wheels. The are populated by Chefs who have found enough support to open a store front to bring us their Chef love. The newest version of this delightful and affordable phenom is Cosecha, helmed by the gifted Chef, Dominica Rice. Cosecha is in it’s infancy, only about two weeks old today when I paid it my first visit. But for such a youngun’ she’s already hit her stride.

Carne Asada with Salsa Ranchera

Cosecha serves a very simple menu; a blend of classic Mexican flavors, all executed with fresh local ingredients in a fresh and inviting way. On arrival at about 11:30, the place was fairly empty and we had a little trouble finding the address. Though officially located at 907 Washington Street, the door isn’t obvious, and the converted open market area of the former Swan’s meat market around the corner on Ninth Street is ultimately easier to find. We literally wandered in and hopped up to the counter, starving.

After a quick review of the menu (one orders at the cash register and takes a number to one of the communal tables), we decided on the Pozole soup, and one of each of the soft tacos. Along with lunch we each ordered a glass of the Strawberry Lime Agua Fresca.

Chicken Taco with Achiote

The food arrived swiftly, along with the rest of the population of Oakland. By the time we’d cut into our first taco to split it, there was a significant line forming. Good sign. We ignored those who’d come after for the time being anyway, and sampled the first treat brought us, which was a platter containing one each of their lovely tacos. First up was the Taco de Carne Asada with Salsa Ranchera. The meat was moist and so full of flavor that I was blown away. There is not sufficient description for how simply, perfectly fulfilling this food is. My next mouthful was of the Taco de Pollo Asada with Achiote and it too, was da bomb. Tender seasoned chicken meat with this fabulous bit of grilled pepper just melting into each bite. The last taco, which was a Taco with Beckerlane Braised Pork & Pickled Red Onion. Another hit. The house made tortillas are buttery soft and the seasonings just waft across the palate like love songs on a summer night.

Pozole

About halfway through the tacos, our Pozole arrived. The flavorful broth was chock full of fresh chicken and hominy. The platter of garnishes was not unlike the platter of jalapenos and bean sprouts that accompany a classic Pho. Except of course it was a quite different selection. Radishes, onion, seasonings & fresh slices of jalapeno. It was at this point that I realized I wanted some of those jalapenos in my soup, and that ordering only one bowl had been an error on my part. The waitress was patient with me and brought an extra bowl as soon as she got a moment (at this point the line was forming out the doorway and there were no seats at any of the tables). I knew my husband would not like the heat; but frankly, I think that the Pozole with the added jalapeno was just about the most bestest soup I’ve ever tasted. Really, really flavorful. Not to be terribly cliche but it was so obviously a bowl full of love.

Pozole Garnish

And I’m so enraptured with the food here, I've forgotten to mention the Strawberry Lime Agua Fresca --- easily the best version of this drink I’ve ever tasted. Hands down. I was first introduced to this lighter than juice juice at another mexican restaurant in the downtown area. Theirs is lovely. This is better. It’s surprisingly complex. There is something other than just fresh strawberry and lime, I swear. Maybe a little magic. Who knows?

As I let the BH finish the better portion of the hearty (but not heavy) bowl of soup, I felt like treating myself to a tiny sampling of something sweet. So, I got back in the line, which was still quite long at this point. I waited patiently. Tapping. Anxious. What if they ran out of those lovely cookies? They didn’t of course. I got to the front and looked longingly at the line of sugary treats. Bisquits with some sort of lovely plum jam, Mexican wedding cookies they were calling “Lime Meltaways” and soft fresh Chocolate Chip Cookies. Then I saw the flan. The cashier said it was a “Citrus Flan” and that was all I needed to hear. I ordered a Lime Meltaway and a Chocolate Chip Cookie for the BH and the Citrus Flan for myself. I took my number and headed back to my table to anticipate the wonder.

Citrus Flan

I was not disappointed. Both cookies were perfection, the Meltaway did exactly that, the Chocolate Chip was soft and chewy and toothsome. But the Flan was just amazing. Often I hear people say they like the flavor of flan, but “not the consistency.” Some people just don’t like the bite of an egg custard. This was something entirely new. If I can compare it to anything, it would be a molten chocolate lava cake. The outer "shell" of the flan was firmer, and the inside was this yolk-like pudding that flowed out and onto the fork. Just firm enough to stay put, but softer and creamier than any version of flan I’ve ever tasted. The addition of citrus a brilliant touch --- kept it from being cloying. The puddle of caramel it sat in was also perfection.

I can state with certainty that Chef Dominica Rice’s baby will be successful. Her food is heartfelt and fulfilling, and her prices are so reasonable we got out of there for under $30 including tip. And we ate like fools. So I say... Check it out. Make a memory of your own. My advice? Get there early.

COSECHA
907 Washington Street
Oakland, CA 94607
510-452-5900
info@cosechacafe.com

Noise: boisterous, could be hard to hear from time to time
Table size: adequate communal tables
Service: friendly and efficient, but still have some bugs to work out
Cost: Affordable for even the most modest of budgets

HAWKER FARE - Thai Has Come Today

2011-07-14T22:52:00.000-07:00

Beer. They have Beer!

Yesterday I had the pleasure of dining again at Hawker Fare, James Syhabout’s recent addition to Oakland’s gloriously vibrant dining scene. The magic in the kitchen is wonderfully realized by Chef Justin Yu, ably assisted by Sous Kelly Ng and Josh Brigham.

I’ve been to Commis, his inaugural effort that managed to garner Oakland its very first Michelin Star. (Score one for Oaktown). Imagine my delight when I heard the genius behind this premier establishment was opening a “Thai street food” venture in my own backyard. (Hawker Fare is on Webster Street in Oakland, right on the corner of Webster and 23rd). I quite literally work right across the street. I am soooo lucky.

Green Beans sauteed in bacon and
sprinkled with sweet chili paste.
Yeah Baby!

The BH and I went again yesterday. I’d read an “article” in SF Eater purporting to discuss whether or not the success of Hawker Fare was approaching the acknowledged success of Commis on Piedmont Avenue. Rather than discussing the merits of Syhabout’s newest effort, or researching whether it was hitting its stride with the public, the piece was nothing more than a selected regurgitation of snippets from other on-line blogs on restaurants, some good, some not, but none original. “Articles” like this do nothing to further any understanding on the part of the reader as to whether or not Hawker Fare was “garner[ing] star cred in the casual cuisine realm.” It kinda pissed me off. So to balance the flow of constant unreliable information echoing through “Yelp” and other such sites, I thought I’d go back again and read you in on my first hand accounts. I am such a selfless gal.

Mussels in magic broth

We’ve sampled a great deal of the menu over our several visits. On this one, we had starters, just to give a better variety to the reader. I know, you’re thinking how generous of me to eat extra dishes so I can fill you in. I had the Haricots Verts a lovely dish of sauteed green beans, cooked with bacon and a light red chili paste that leaves them just a little sweet, just enough spicy and yeah. Bacon flavored. Delicious.

They’ve added beer to the menu!!!, so I had a Singha with my lunch and BH had the vanilla creme soda.

The BH had the Mussels Starter. The crustaceans themselves were moist and beautifully seasoned, floating in a creamy broth that resembled thom kha gai (chili coconut broth, lemongrass, mint, cilantro). It was a blissfully well prepared version of one of his favorite all time treats. If you’ve ever tried mussels, you know it’s all about the broth. The tiny mouthfuls of seafood, the bread, all have to be dipped in the broth. When the broth is ambrosia, well that’s what makes the dish good.

Lemongrass Chicken

We each ordered a main, and they were up next. I had one of my faves, the Lemongrass Chicken. Hawker Fare’s lemongrass chicken is not at all what you’d picture if you’ve ever ordered the dish in a more traditional Thai restaurant. It isn’t the white strips of chicken meat laid over greens with a sprinkling of some peanut sauce or other. This dish is nice thick slabs of grilled meat, boned and infused beautifully with tumeric and coriander, the macerated chiles giving just the tiniest bit of heat. with lime, garlic and fish saucespices. It’s a rice bowl, so it comes with a nice scoop of slightly sticky rice to soak up any sauce that might escape the chicken. All of their rice bowls offer an optional farm egg “topping.” The egg is ever-so-lightly fried, with the yolk left soft and runny so one can break it and let the golden puddle of sauce run across the chicken meat, mingling with the spices and making it something well, really special. Have I mentioned I belong to the Wiley Dufresne school of egg worship? Yeah, you heard me, I’m an egg whore.

BH had one of his Hawker usuals, the Beef Short Rib done “satay” style, with a coconut milk marinade and then grilled. Its got a lovely savory peanut sauce and a few grilled scallions to balance it out. He loves it. I’ve tasted it, and I heart it too.

Isn't she lovely?
and she tasted GREAT!

After we neatly polished off our lunches, we ordered the Hawker Sundae - a bowl of fluffy vanilla soft serve crafted from condensed milk that’s been cooked down into a delicious dulce de leche flavor airy puff of chilly goodness, coated with salted palm sugar caramel atop a bed of candied red beans and puffed rice. The whipped cream is infused with fresh lime, so every rich sugary bite has a citrus kiss to finish it off on the palate.

This is a first rate eatery. The staff is helpful, knowledgeable about the food, and very professional. Diners will get "Commis" treatment and brilliantly prepared simple fare, all on a fast casual budget. We ordered half the menu, including drinks and the bill was just about $50 with tip. Ordinarily we can get out of Hawker without spending more than $30 for lunch. Now that’s a good deal.

I say go for yourself. Check it out, bring a loved one or a good friend, and make a memory of your own.

Hawker Fare
2300 Webster Street
Oakland, CA 94612
Phone: (510) 832-8896
http://www.hawkerfare.com/

Owner: Chef James Syhabout
Exec. Chef Justin Yu

Table size: adequate
Price: inexpensive
Noise Level: If I could come up with any criticism, it is that the music is too loud for those of us who have any hearing loss. But they are lovely about seating us away from the speakers.

Postscript: Everyone knows the first rule of credible journalism is impartiality in reporting. One is not supposed to have any interest in the facts falling one way or another. A good writer will report those facts and let the reader come to his or her own conclusions. Sadly, these days anyone who is remotely aware must recognize that internet journalism often isn’t journalism at all. When you are reading articles about food and restaurants, particularly those that purport to give you the valid opinions of others, consider the source. Yelpers are just as often trying to garner attention for themselves as they are trying to inform a diner about where to eat, or what that experience might really be like.

If sites like Yelp are to be at all useful (and I would argue that their use is limited at best, given that all contributors are encouraged to be funny or cool or smarmy, rather than insightful or informative). Remember that any good statistician will tell you to throw out your outliers. So negative quotes must be weighed against the majority. Just sayin’

NEX OAKLAND - Lookin’ for Food and Feelin’ Hungry...

2011-07-07T20:26:00.000-07:00

Pressed Watermelon Salad - pretty AND delicious!

Ok, so maybe my song puns aren’t the best, but my experience at Nex in Oakland was something to sing about. It so happened that last April the BH and I had tickets to Paul Simon at the recently refurbished Fox Theater in Oakland. We made reservations at Nex, the sister restaurant to Mua. Both restaurants are owned and operated by the former owner of Soizic formerly on Broadway in Oakland. Soizic was one of our favorites right up until it closed some time after August of last year. Soizic was one of the first fine dining establishments in Oakland, featuring a hybrid of French-California “other” cuisine done very successfully, long before Oakland’s dining renaissance was a twinkle in anyone’s eye.

When we arrived, we were seated promptly and began to peruse the cocktail menu. One has to have a cocktail before a show, right? After all, ya need to get in the mood for music. Warm up the senses and all. Lucky for us, there were several scrumptious drinks offered, and while we pondered them, we noticed that Paul Simon was on the ambient sound system. Clearly this is an establishment that knows from whence it’s audience has come. The music continued to highlight Simon and artists of his genre, and the spot on music choices really added to our overall dining experience. A little “show before the show,” if you will. Kudos.

Pate de Campagne (Country Pate)

I selected my drink, which was a lovely concoction titled the Rex Gimlet. It was a light margarita-inspired mixture of Don Julio, cucumber and a hint of cilantro, herbaceous and refreshing. The BH had a pineapple infused drink, blended with just enough sweet to keep him happy. He’s a guy who loves himself a pomatini from time to time, after all. Both drinks had a well-blended mix to them. The world, post Scott Beattie, is a beautiful place.

We began with appetizers. Time to kill and bears in our bellies. Our Paté de Campagne (pickled red onion, radish, whole grain mustard, toast) - was the sliced meat version of compacted pate. The texture was dense and the flavor delicious, it was simple country fare with heart and a lovely combination of seasonings. Excellent as an appetite enhancer.

Melt in your Mouth GNOCCHI

The Pressed Watermelon (feta, mint, olive oil) - may have been one of my absolute favorite versions of this dish. New to me, the flavors produced when the oh so sweet summer watermelon is blended with aromatic herbs and a dash of balsamic. Such a magnificent pop of palate-exciting flavor. The meat of this particular varietal was an amber gold color, its texture dense against the tongue before a burst of flavor as the sugars released into the light dressing it had been drizzled with. I cannot describe it aptly, as you kinda have to experience the taste for yourself to understand. Yeah, I know, you can imagine the taste of watermelon, but the way it blends with a tiny burst of acid and oil is spectacular when it’s done right. Mingle that sweet hit with tangy cheese and minty summer cilantro, yeah, now you’re talking. Watermelon has a way of releasing itself into the mouth, that when blended with the other flavors, cheese, tangy balsamic, fatty oil, well it’s just outstanding.

Scallops over Asparagus

After we’d primped and prodded our palates with appetizers, the Gnocchi (mascarpone cheese, Italian porcini cream) arrived. There was a nice hint of tomato in this dish that was reminiscent of one of the best gnocchi dishes I’ve ever enjoyed. Milano on Grand Avenue (before it changed ownership and lost its footing) had a spectacular gnocchi dish I’d insist on partaking of monthly. This really reminded of everything that was good about that gnocchi— the light fresh tomato sauce, the exact blending of spices in that tomato sauce, and the cheese. The gnocchi was soft but resistant enough not to just become mush. Just the way grandma would have made hers.

We shared another plate, this one was a Seared Rock Cod “Scallop” (grilled asparagus, English peas, lemon caper beurre blanc) . It was presented as this lovely flower of fish. It was lightly grilled as scallops should be, one side golden and the meat still moist, toothsome and flaky. The seasoning was also spot on. Really fantastically flavored.

The duck blew my mind. They menu titled it Grimaud Farms Duck Confit (white bean, carrot, frisée) and it may be one of the smoothest duck dishes I’ve had to date. I have to say, I’m on a duck-loving roll these days. It just got better and better, the buttery beans beneath the fatty meat melting against my tongue as soon as the fork had delivered them. Fab-u-licious.

Duck Confit, with spring carrots
with perfectly soft white beans...

Of course, after a perfect meal, one must enjoy a hint of sweet to finish off the palate. The day had been lovely, so something that hinted at the summer around the corner, with its promise of stone fruit, fresh corn and lush garden delights in abundance... that mindset produced a longing for the Poached pear with Cranberry Torte & Vanilla Ice Cream. Can’t say it was a let down, even if pear isn't a stone fruit! We were in the mood for natural sugar and the high that goes with a great fruit blended into a pastry. This was a lovely little example of that delight. Made from cornmeal it had a weightiness to it that spoke of the farmhouse, conjuring up a dense summer pie chilling on the windowsill made by the hands of a loving Auntie Em. No pie ever tasted better. ... just heavenly. The vanilla ice cream they paired with the pastry dessert was spiced, almost gingery. The chilled vanilla melting into the hot pear and cranberry, nothing could have been better than that.

After coffee we headed to the show. It was a perfect continuation of the evening. So Beautiful!
So What? you say? I say head on over to Nex and check it out for yourself! As always...Bon Appetit!

Poached Pear & Cranberry Torte

Nex Restaurant
2442 Webster St
(between 24th St & 25th St)
Oakland, CA 94612
(510) 238-8224
http://www.nexoakland.com/

Table size: adequate
Price: moderately expensive
Sound levels: could get noisy, we enjoyed the ambient sound and had no problem conversing
Service: Excellent!

ROAD TRIP NEW ORLEANS: Part Two - Southern Hospitality Defined

2011-06-27T21:29:00.000-07:00

Succulent Sausage; Red Beans
& Rice @ Coop's on Decatur

Recently a foodie friend remarked to the Better Half and myself that he thought New Orleans food was overrated. “What do they have in New Orleans that you can’t get in California?” he posited, remarking that he just didn’t see what all the fuss was about. “Don’t get me wrong,” he continued, “I love the food in New Orleans, I’m just not overwhelmed. I think our food here in the Bay Area is better. ”

While it is true enough that San Francisco and Oakland, its little sister across the Bay, are vibrant with food offerings, is it reasonable to assert that our Bay Area Chefs significantly exceed the collective culinary skills of the Chefs in New Orleans? Sure, it’s possible. Are there more restaurants per capita here that offer remarkable food and a multi-star dining experience? Probably, especially if we are talking about the modern definition of finer dining.

It is also a fact is that we are fast becoming a global community. Cuisine that one was unique to a place or region is now available elsewhere. Here in the East Bay one can venture to Tanya Holland’s Brown Sugar Kitchen in Oakland and experience a Barbequed Shrimp and Grits that are as flavorful and well-prepared as any in the Crescent City. If I want to experience the street food of Thailand, I need look no further than Hawker Fare on Webster. If one knows where to go, the flavors of the world are available in one’s own backyard.

Veal a la Clemenceau
@ Feelings Cafe

So why travel all the way to New Orleans? It’s rough, it’s dirty. More than half of the city was recently underwater. The post-Katrina crime wave continues to challenge law enforcement. (In fact, there is a lot about NoLa that suggests her citizens face many of the challenges met in my home town of Oakland). New Orleans struggles to repair the urban blight from years of government neglect and additional decay resulting from the storm. Signs proclaiming the motto “Rebuild New Orleans” can be seen everywhere. Though I know there are sections of town where a casual visitor should not venture, especially after dark, I can truthfully say I have never felt unsafe there. My Crescent City never fails to entertain her guests. A perfectly schooled courtesan, she treats each visitor as if they are the first, and shows them all only the best of times, with a languid, seductive charm.

She is a City that has much to offer. There is more to the food of any locale than the skill of its collective Chefs or the specificity of its local cuisine. As we say in the food biz, there is the Heart. And Heart is something that New Orleans possesses in abundance.

Strawberry Shortcake @ Lilette

When assessing the food this lovely enclave in Louisiana, one cannot ignore the spirit of the place. It is more about the love on the plate than the seasoning on the shrimp. Although there are dishes to be had in New Orleans that can be found nowhere else, what makes their local cuisine rise to the level of myth and magic is the way it is delivered to the diner. There is a universal enthusiasm in the service, and an honesty on the plate. A visitor is offered only what the locals themselves wish to eat, with an open-hearted sincerity that comes across in every bite. This is what they do better in New Orleans.

It is a skill we are learning, but have not yet mastered in California. When Alice W first pushed local and fresh, there was a pretension and a snobbery to that early California cuisine that lingers. There is a sense that anyone who doesn’t eat fresh, local or “well plated” is on the outside. A buffoon who doesn’t know any better. Those in the know mocked those who were not part of the movement with the relish of mean girls in a high school cafeteria. While it was a brilliant culinary sea change, the movement failed to acknowledge the most basic premise of good food. The sheer joy of it.

Jazz Breakfast @ Mojito's

So that, in my view at least, is the primary difference. In N’awlins the food is not competitive, it is not status conscious. No dish is offered up without an overwhelming sense of delight in the act of providing it. Their attitude surrounding food perfectly expresses the best of Southern hospitality. Along with that childlike purity of heart comes a vast selection of dishes, dishes that blend the flavors and techniques of a myriad of cultures, all of which are interpreted brilliantly by a people for whom this particular expression of living has been elevated to an art form even on the humblest of tables.

When you consider the societal values of the food of New Orleans, know this above all else: they will not merely feed your belly. They will nourish your spirit, tantalize your palate, elevate your mood with all manner of music and probably buy you a drink. They will do all these things without breaking a sweat. But don’t be discouraged, we’re new at this here in Bay, but as the many articles detailing great local food in my blog can attest, we aren’t so very far behind...

****

When the BH and I arrive in New Orleans we have a ritual of sorts. We usually get in pretty late in the afternoon, and finding ourselves hungry and tired, we head straight to Coops on Decatur for a decompression of sorts. Coop's is the very definition of local color. Old, dirty and small, the place is casual and the food is excellent. I always have the Rabbit, Shrimp & Sausage Jambalaya. The Better Half chose his usual Coop’s Fried Chicken and one among us had Red Beans & Rice, which arrived with a succulent pair of fat, juicy whole Louisiana Sausages. We ordered beers all round and a tequila shooter for yours truly. It’s how I like to arrive. There is a Margaritaville across the street for the tourists. Avoid it. Eat at Coop’s.

Trio of Foie Gras @ Restaurant August

Our second stop was a late breakfast at Stanley, the companion restaurant to Stella! (A chic and upscale white table cloth heaven located on the grounds of the Provincial Hotel on Ursulines), Located right on Jackson Square, Stanley serves a dish called Breaux Bridge Benedict, a decadent concoction of Charlie T’s Boudin Sausage, Smoked Ham, American Cheese, Poached Eggs, and Creole Hollandaise. Stacked in a tantalizing tower it is topped with their heavenly poached eggs and a generous drizzle of a freshly whipped Hollandaise sauce. I was worried that a dish that had been the subject of dreams for months would fail to live up to my high expectations. It did not.

Susan Spicer’s Bayona made the cut this year. Beautifully tucked into a courtyard on Dauphine Street, in the heart of the Quarter, the place is lovely and the food was beautiful. Sadly, I came down with sunstroke and was unable to join my companions who swear the food is spectacular. I was able to sample only a small mouthful of a soft and delectable corn salad souffle affair. I can say however that our waitress, Jane, was an absolute delight. It was she who diagnosed my sunstroke, attempting to bring me back to the land of the living with a lovely ginger drink concoction which nearly did the trick. (What did I say about the love?) As is so often the case in New Orleans, Jane turned out to be multi-talented. She performs under the name Jane Harvey Brown & the Traditional Jazz Stars, and we caught her act as she sang some classic jazz tunes at the French Market Stage during Quarter Fest. Seems everybody in New Orleans is multi-talented.

Bread Pudding Souffle
@ Commander's Palace

Saturday night, after another long, lovely day of music and sun we headed uptown on the St. Charles Streetcar to Pascal's Manale. After a lengthy wait, we managed to board a crowded streetcar and took it Uptown to the restaurant, an old New Orleans establishment that I’d been told was among the very best places to have BBQ’d Shrimp. The recommendation proved correct. The BBQ shrimp here are head-on, juicy-pink, finger lickin’ garlicy perfection. So good, in fact, that they may have replaced Deenie’s in my foodie’s heart of hearts.

Sunday we had piano-brunch reservations at Mojito’s Rum Bar & Grill, to see Tom McDermott on the jazz piano. Mojito’s is a new restaurant at one end of Frenchman Street in the heart of the music club scene. The ownership had reserved our four-top table with a close-up and personal view of McDermott’s piano. Watching his hands as he played was amazing, his slender fingers worked the keys like the fluttering of butterflies. The food was tasty. The crunch on my Creme Brulee French Toast was buttery delicious. There were a few minor first week stumbles, but I’ve no doubt they’ll figure it out. Who cares about minor errors on the plate, when one is surrounded by the sounds of Tom McDermott doing his thing. That’s another thing to love about New Orleans.

Sunday evening we were able to snag a table at Feelings Café, considered “the most romantic restaurant in New Orleans.” It was a cloistered and interesting little “joint” the sort of place that looks like it has been unchanged for decades, but is nonetheless welcoming. Once there we enjoyed a wonderful meal and a celebrity sighting, as Malin Ackerman was enjoying a meal at the next table. Everyone at our table loved their dinner. It was a little like a culinary time machine, but in the best way imaginable. The food Chef Susan Harben prepares is in the traditional Clemenceau style, my veal sitting atop lovely peas and potatoes. Feelings is a local favorite for a reason, and the food was an enlightening experience. Not everything is better when its new. Outstanding.

Succulent Red Drum
@ Commander's Palace

Commander’s Palace. We enjoy exploring the above-ground cemetery located just across the street — it is beautiful and completely safe to wander, much more so than some of the other historic cemeteries scattered throughout the City. It was the highlight of our first and only guided tour, and we’ve been returning every year like pilgrims to Mecca. The restaurant too is chock full of history. It is a beautiful, rambling structure, the familiar blue and white exterior as inviting a sight as anything in my beloved French Quarter. Every year, as I walk up to the building, I know I am in New Orleans.

At Commander’s we enjoyed Turtle Soup and their famous Bread Pudding Souffle, which is out of this world good. They pour a brandy sauce directly into the steaming hot, cotton candy light souffle. Magic. In addition, our delightful waitress Jenny, talked me into a drum fish special that was as light and moist and blissfully prepared. It was remarkable. There are all manner of restaurants in New Orleans, many roll along on the laurels of their reputation. They serve food that is good, but somewhat mired in tradition. Not so for this meal. And as a bonus, Jenny escorted us on a private tour of the gardens. She took photos of our group; followed up with a private tour of the as yet un-christened private Chef’s table recently installed in the wine cellar.

Perhaps the most blissful experience was meal at John Tesh’s Restaurant August. My expectations were high, and they were exceeded by miles. August is southern class personified. It has an ambience that speaks to the past, while maintaining a very modern elegance. One can almost hear the lowered voices of men joking about clandestine meetings with mistresses over their mint juleps, and imagine the sight of ladies in white gloves fanning themselves while barely disturbing the thick, summer air under the sprawling branches of a two-hundred year old magnolia tree.

Crab Au Gratin @ Muriel's on Jackson Square

But though August may be pretty; she’s a smart girl too, a woman of substance. I began my meal with a Bourbon infused cocktail, enjoyed a foie gras trio and progressed to perfectly prepared duck. I was already in culinary heaven when I ordered dessert. The Deconstructed Hummingbird Cake that completed my meal was a thing of beauty. All the components came together to dance around my palate like the wings of the bird that bears its name. A tiny winged symphony of pineapple, banana and pecan, with some touches all their own. That was one of the best meals of my life.

Deconstructed Humminbird Cake
@ Restaurant August

We visited Muriel's Jackson Square, a lovely little local landmark that I have seen countless times and assumed was just another tourist trap. We dined at a fabulous local gem, Lillette, located Uptown on Magazine Street, and before we left we enjoyed an all you can eat breakfast in the sun drenched courtyard of The Court of Two Sisters. As we listened to the smooth vibes of the jazz combo nearby, drank our mimosas and enjoyed eggs benedict I readied myself to say goodbye to New Orleans.

If you haven’t been go. If you have been return. I guarantee you won’t be sorry.

Coop’s
1109 Decatur Street
New Orleans, LA 70116
http://www.coopsplace.net/

Stanley!
547 St Ann Street
New Orleans, LA 70116
(504)587-0093
Chef: Scott Boswell
http://www.stanleyrestaurant.com/

Bayona
430 Dauphine Street
New Orleans, LA 70112-3406
(504) 525-4455
Chef: Susan Spicer
http://www.bayona.com/

Cochon Butcher (way better bet than Mother’s)
930 Tchoupitoulas Street
New Orleans, LA
(504) 588-2123
Chef: Chef Donald Link & Chef Stephen Stryjewski
http://www.cochonrestaurant.com/

Pascal’s Manale (Italian Creole)
1838 Napoleon Avenue
New Orleans, LA
(504) 895-4877
http://www.neworleansrestaurants.com/pascalsmanale/

Mojito's Rum Bar & Grill (Marigny)
437 Esplanade Ave
New Orleans, LA 70116
(504) 252-4800
http://www.mojitosnola.com/

Feelings Café
2600 Chartres Street
New Orleans, LA 70117-7312
(504) 945-2222
Chef: Sylvia Harben
http://www.feelingscafe.com/

Commander’s Palace Restaurant
1403 Washington Avenue
New Orleans, LA 70130-5798
(504) 899-8221
Chef: Tory McPhail
http://www.commanderspalace.com/

Lilette
3637 Magazine Street

New Orleans, LA 70115-2553
(504) 895-1636
Chef John Harris
http://www.liletterestaurant.com/

Muriel's Jackson Square
801 Chartres Street

New Orleans, LA 70116-3206
(504) 568-1885
http://www.muriels.com/

Court of Two Sisters
613 Royal Street

New Orleans, LA 70130-2181
(504) 522-7261
http://www.courtoftwosisters.com/

HUDSON - Pork Belly, Pizza & Poise

2011-06-04T16:57:00.000-07:00

Before I get to telling y’all about my ecstatic food adventures in New Orleans, I need to tell you a little something about my experience the night before last at Hudson, the former Garibaldi’s slash Marzano on College Avenue in Oakland. Wednesday night the BH and I had tickets to Buffalo Springfield, so we made reservations for a quick dinner in town before heading over to the show. We’d heard great things about Hudson, in fact, after we made our reservations, we heard from a “foodie” friend that it was one of his new favorites. He’s fussy, so we were really looking forward to the meal.

We arrived early for our 5:30 reservations, and were seated promptly at the bar to wait for the dining room to open. The BH was feeling poorly, so asked the barkeep what they could whip up in the way of alcohol free libations. The delightful young man in the well produced a concoction of pear, lemonade and fizz that was the perfect ticket for a queasy tummy. I was perusing the cocktail menu, which is laid out in order of “manliness.” Ya got your chick drinks or “Soprano” your middle of the road “tenor” selections and the real “Manly Man selections” titled simply “Bass.”

Being the Italian son-that-never-was that I am, I ordered from the "Tenor" menu, though there were a few on the “Bass” list that caught my eye as well. I was feeling like Tequila, since it was a work night and the clear libations seem to set the best with me the morning after. But, at the recommendation of the bartender, I went with their “My Dear Watson” an intriguing mix of bourbon, egg white, lemon, orange, maple syrup, bitters. The drink is also served with a lovely black cherry in the depths of the martini glass. It was absolutely delicious, and since he made it in front of me, I could tell it was made with a great deal of attention to the little details. I must say I am newly a fan of cocktails shaken with a hint of egg white, as it gives the drink an almost milkshake-like consistency without being the slightest bit heavy. I am not a fan of the dessert drink in general.

Out of this world Pork Belly

Sitting at the bar was like being at a happening. Maybe it was being on my way to a show that put me in my happy place, but I think it would be unfair to credit only the show. I was really lightened by the interaction between the bar staff and the crowd. It was quite like being physically lifted up and set back down in a better place. The bartenders were cheerfully greeting regulars, with a demeanor so warm and inclusive it made the BH and I feel as though we too were part of the communal fun, a hard thing to do with so many ages and types at the bar. There was genuine merriment as one of the bartenders gave a waitress who was having a difficult time with opening his shaker a good natured ribbing. The experience was just such a delightful introduction to the place and left us both a bit warm and fuzzy all around. *the BH wasn't imbibing, so I know it wasn't the booze alone.

Promptly at 5:30, the hostess came to seat us for our reservation, ushering us to a lovely table by the front window. She was, like the bar staff, extremely welcoming and engaging. That means something in this competitive business, at least to me. Bad service can come in many forms, and I rarely comment on a server who falls short because I really can't know what sort of day they are having and it's such a difficult job. But when they are so completely on their game it's worth mentioning.

Once seated, I wasted no time checking out the menu. I was starving and there were plenty of enticing options for the hungry. Knowing that with the BH slightly out of commission I was going to have to finish the bulk of the meal by myself, I decided not to order my usual, well, almost everything. Given how many amazing choices they had, that was a tough position to be in, but a good one. Next time I'm going to indulge in the rabbit pasta.

BH began with a lovely spring soup, and though I didn’t taste it in order to avoid catching whatever bug he might have had, he says it was really good in spite of his iffy appetite. It definitely smelled wonderful. For myself, I ordered a starter of pork belly, and for a main we shared the plainest pizza they make, which was a mix of fresh mozarella, basil and tomato. It was simply bliss, but before I get distracted rhapsodizing about the pizza, I should mention the pork belly.

It was an amazingly well prepared piece of this particular fatty meat. The exterior was perfectly chewy, with a great toothsome resistance to offset the soft fatty insides that melted with each bite. The pork was on a bed of pureed deliciousness, with spring peas sprinkled in the mix. I was distracted so I didn’t write down the list of the Chef’s trimmings, but my tastebuds are indelibly linked to the flavors. The dish was absolute perfection.

But back to the pizza. It was outstanding. Memorable in its simplicity, with every mouthful a delight. I can't describe flavors so fresh they jump right off the dough, but they were present in abundance. The light fresh garden taste of tomato, the perfect fruit. The herbs blending with the house made cheese combining to please every sense. It looked beautiful, smelled like fresh herbs, the crunch of each bite was a pleasant combination of sounds and the taste and texture were lovely. There is another place in Oakland, on Piedmont Avenue, that does pizza this well and in this style. Thin crust baked just right in a wood oven until the crust is almost cracker crunchy but retains the moisture well enough to resist falling completely apart at first bite. The toppings were subtle and tasty. We both thought it was as good as any we’d had elsewhere, maybe better.

The BH and I were thrilled to have discovered that after closing briefly and changing its interior and its name, Hudson has truly reinvented itself. The interior is once again a lovely open space, with the wood burning oven the focus of a clean and yet invitingly modern layout. I must confess I found the former Garibaldi's/Marzano combination a bit confused, it seemed neither side was committed to a style and the coming together didn't work. It was good, but not great. Now it's better than great.

The food is stellar and the service was welcoming without being effusive. If it seems I am waxing on about the service, it is in part due to an entertaining incident that took place at the table next to us. Shortly after we were seated, a woman was placed at the table just across from us, and we thus shared the same waiter. He had quite efficiently placed our order, and so went to ask the solo dinerr what she was having. After a fifteen minute speech about the menu, it was clear she was going to be difficult. At one point, after our waiter brought her a glass of champagne she had ordered, she asked him if it was “opened tonight.” He replied cordially that it was. She drank over half the glass, but as soon as he returned she motioned him over to tell him her champagne was flat. Then she continued to educate him about the failings of the champagne, champagne in general, and all the ways he could and indeed must, be ignorant of the many things she herself knew about champagne. This diatribe was conducted in a VERY loud voice. I was thankful I was not any closer to her table.

I have to say, sometimes I marvel at waiters who when presented with a thoroughly distasteful patron, one I imagine they sincerely want to throttle into unconsciousness, respond with a cool aplomb that seems boundless. I could never ever do that job. My hat’s off to Jeff.

And the food is mind-bending! Stop by and check it out for yourself. Bon Appetit!

Hudson
5356 College Avenue
Oakland, CA
(510) 595-4000
http://www.hudsonoakland.com/

ROAD TRIP NEW ORLEANS, Part One: - This City Will Never Drown, This City Will Never Die...

2011-05-22T22:29:00.000-07:00

An Exhibit was running at the Presbytere by
Jackson Square, this was a garage door
from the post-Katrina disaster. The markings
indicate how many bodies, surivors, etc
were found by the crews.

As I listen to the talking heads on the news rattle on about the flooding in Louisiana, my thoughts return to that magical state. I savor my memories of this bastion of rich foods and southern charm like delectable morsels, tidbits of flavor that cling to my consciousness. Everything about the place lingers pleasantly, like the warmth of the sun on the floorboards of a well worn front porch stoop. Yet the voices on the television seem concerned only with shocking me sufficiently to keep me from changing the channel. I hear nothing in their stories about the people. Their resilience. Their inspirational spine. Their unstoppable heart.

Susan Cowsill @ French Quarterfest River Stage

I am only recently returned from my annual pilgrimage to New Orleans, and it seems that every year when my Better Half and I leave this welcoming haven of the Deep South, we leave those who reside there facing yet another monumental challenge to their very survival. Last April it was British Petroleum’s carelessness and greed that left the fishing industry of the Gulf dealing with another type of flood: the 100,000,000 gallons or more of crude oil that came gushing into their water from a broken well cap deep on the sea floor. This year we are not yet back a month before the swollen Mississippi begins to threaten homes and habitats along its course south to the Delta. Floods, storms, and man-made disasters in apocalyptic proportion rain down on these people as frequently as the change of seasons. They are a people who have been relentlessly assaulted and yet, like Job, they rise again and again to meet these challenges. Every year they greet us with smiles on their faces, despite the odds.

Mardi Gras Indian

I often ask myself how the people of Louisiana find the resilience to face the obstacles continually presented them with such magnificent composure. Perhaps the answer is that they are too proud a people to simply lay down and cry “Uncle!” Maybe it is their uniquely Southern ability to extend a helping hand to one another in times of trouble, or maybe the answer is simply that they got the necessary Hoodoo. Whatever the reason, the people of New Orleans are an example to the rest of us of what it means to be tried mightily and to survive with grace.

Selfishly, I give thanks every day that they did survive. They survived Katrina and began promptly rebuilding New Orleans. They survived BP and are still serving the best barbequed shrimp known to man. They survive and they make music. Every day.

Street Singer at Quarter Fest

The Crescent City is a place of legend. It possesses a history rich with tradition. It is unique, its culture a derivative result of perhaps the most unusual combination of cultures to be seen anywhere on this planet. French aristocrats, freed slaves, Spanish conquerors and Canadian peasants each brought their unique perspective to the cultural mix. Mingling and uniting over centuries to produce a plethora of ethnological traditions that combine seamlessly to create the marvelous atmosphere of great food, music and artistic expression we have all come to associate with New Orleans. Religious beliefs incorporating the practices of Catholicism, Voodoo, and slave-spiritualism eventually produced wonderful festivals like Mardi Gras and St. Joseph’s Day. A place where music is legend, the origins of that music are yet another remarkable lesson in evolution. Traditional Gaelic folk songs and fiddle work were re-interpreted by French Creole settlers, morphing into the resultant Zydeco. The West African rhythms heard in the soulful drums and jubilant dancing of freed slaves in Congo Square mingled with the mournful clarinet of the classic European musicians in an Uptown quartet and American Jazz was born, changing the face of American music forever. Another example of the never-ending lagniappe that N’awlins offers up to the world at large.

Mississippi Steam Boats
still cruise the mighty river

A city of mythical proportions, yet it retains a natural, earthy charm. Enriched by so many vivid cultures, New Orleans seems to recognize the part of each of us that belongs to her, our differences, our individuality. Her parties are not about indulging in excess so much as to put us in touch with the abandon with which we are all born and spend a lifetime forgetting is within us. She is protective and welcoming, and she clings to her heritage tenaciously, like a mother holds her baby to her breast defying any threat to approach. It may be the certainty of those traditions, and the foundation that certainty provides her populace, that keeps her citizens on an even keel in times of turbulence. This is a city that recognizes her role in American heritage, and her people sense somehow that they are her guardians. When Katrina and Rita left her almost deserted and seemingly destroyed, many outsiders said New Orleans must be relegated to history. She should be allowed to fade to a place in our collective memories, to be cherished only in photographs and stories. They said she was on her knees, not worth the effort to rebuild her. The locals were unwilling to accept this pronouncement, so they began to rebuild. They did not accept that their incomparable city of infamy, mystery and magic was done for. So, the people began to return.

Street Performers are
everywhere

My husband and I were among those who doubted in those first few shaky post-Katrina years, but we hadn’t yet been introduced. When we were, she was still reeling from the after-effects of hurricanes and government neglect, yet she welcomed us with open arms and a smile on her well-worn face, like a loving grandmother gesturing for one to sit beside her. My husband and I hoped, somewhat naively, that traveling to New Orleans might enlighten us, and in some small way we could stimulate the City’s recovery.

Pat O'Brien's Courtyard

So it was that in April of 2008, we made our first pilgrimage to New Orleans. It was love at first sight, a stirringly transformative experience. We had traveled to this depressed area to give something to New Orleans, and instead came away enriched by the gifts she gave to us. It is difficult to explain the way the spirit of this place and her people infects the heart. Though blighted, beaten and ignored by a government that should have been there for them in their time of need, her people had smiles on their faces and music in their hearts. Children tap-danced along the Riverwalk for spare change, old men kept rhythm on buckets in Jackson Square. Everywhere life’s story was reflected with a palpable authenticity, and an abundance of talent. As the musicians played, they filled the streets with the harmonic and genuine emotion that is the sound of New Orleans. Its heartbeat was resonant, carried along on the air in a kind of understood tandem, picked up at first by a clarinet on one corner, then as that sound faded, continued by an a capella group on another, and so on. There is no place one can stand without hearing the music. This city’s beating heart is audible... everywhere. To paraphrase Joni Mitchell “the one man band by the oyster stand he was playing real good for free.”

Jazz Trio at Court of Two Sisters

It has become a ritual custom for the Better Half and I to travel to the Crescent City every April. We return each spring, as though on religious pilgrimage, drawn back to the music and the magic (and of course, the food) that abounds in this Mecca standing tall and proud on the banks of the mighty Mississippi. I know we are fortunate that events unfolded as they did, because our lives would certainly be the poorer were it not for our relationship with the Crescent City. She even has a name for us. The ones who come, and while leaving, remain behind in spirit, pieces of our hearts and souls indelibly inked with the sights and sounds of this City. New Orleans calls us the “never lefts,” as she waits patiently for our return.

Coming soon PART TWO - the Food

Jackson Square

BOULEVARD SF - Old World San Francisco & Modern Class

2011-05-08T20:09:00.000-07:00

Um, so I swear I had them. My notes on the evening, but they haven't yet turned up and the meal was just too good not to report. So instead of turning to details on paper, I'm using the lingering memory of a delightful evening with good friends at a great restaurant. I'm generally all about the words, but the food was so good and the pictures came out so nice I thought just this once, I'd try something new. I'd let the photos speak for themselves as much as possible. Since the meal was some time ago, the details of what can be ordered on the menu have become somewhat irrelevant, as many of the options they were serving at Boulevard last fall have been swapped out for Spring Fare. Nevertheless you'll get the gist of the idea that Boulevard can be a lovely spot to eat.

Let's begin with the cocktails.

Sazerac, anyone?

Whenever I'm pressed to pick a drink "on the spot" I go for a sazzy. The Sazerac is the original cocktail, an old New Orleans variation of an old-fashioned cognac or whiskey drink, named for the Sazerac de Forge et Fils brand of cognac that was its original prime ingredient.

The drink is always some combination of cognac, rye whiskey, absinthe or Herbsaint, and Peychaud's Bitters and distinguished by its preparation method. Most use the absinthe to "rinse the glass" leaving just a hint of the licorice based spirit. Others use it as an ingredient. This historic cocktail actually predates the Civil War. As such, it makes me feel young to order one....

Day Boat Scallops

When I find dining companions who will order with the intent to share it all, in order that we might experience as much as possible in the way of flavor. This sort of openness to the experience as ritual always enhances.

One of the items we sampled were some glorious Day Boat Scallops, sprinkled with what may have been currants...

Scallops are an interesting phenomenon. They are uniform, sweet, succulent little mouthfuls of crustacean that when prepared correctly can be relied upon to be familiar. Not exactly the same, mind you, but like bacon, there are qualities one comes to expect, if they are done properly, which there were. So it's often going to be about the "trimmings" and though I don't remember the specifics, I do remember that the mouthfeel of each mouthfull, was sensational. Crunch, acid, texture and seasoning. All present.

At this point we are all pretty blissed out, munching and chatting. Drinking and chatting. The couple we were dining with were spectacular dining partners, as they enjoy sharing and tasting as much as the BH and I do. We had joined a long time friend (who just so happens to be our Dentist, so her nickname is easy). Her husband joined in the fun, a delightful fellow who is a really bright guy and a camera expert who tried valiantly to teach me a little bit about how to use (as opposed to abuse) my fancy equipment. He didn't exactly fail, but I seem to be fancy camera equipment challenged. I have a good eye, so when I'm actually successful at getting the equipment to capture the image I've framed, well at least you can see what I saw.

The Dentist and the Silicon Valley Executive were delightful company. I think we had smiles on our faces all evening. We enjoyed the most stimulating of conversation. We ate the best food that can be had and we drank some really amazing wines, as it turns out the SVE being as knowledgeable about wine as he is about cameras. I need to bring him with me when we eat out more often, as it's like having a world class sommelier in my pocket. Although I love wine, I'm not able to internalize enough information to really select a bottle confidently, unless it's a specific year and vintner I'm already familiar with. The SVE just went to town with the wine list. And if you are forming a mental image of one of "those" wine guys, don't. SVE was eloquent in his selections without pretension. He treated the staff and the balance of the company at his table as though we were equally expert at wine selection. My kind of people. What he knows (and it's just about everything) he expresses with a gentle and thoughtful confidence. I have a bias. I like smart people who are also nice.

Abalone, buttery, soft and delicious

Another dish that stood out was the Abalone. The abalone was prepared perfectly. Not sure if many of my readers are familiar with this cantankerous sea urchin, but it can be rubbery and foul if not done just so. This was buttery and soft, just the way it should be prepared. My childhood was spent eating varieties of fresh abalone pounded and laden with butter, it is one of the reasons I am so fond of the dish, it is wrapped forever in the distant memories of childhood and visits with my father. This was a memorable sampling from my favorite time warp, with a fresh new take on it.

Duck

I am gazing at these pictures and remembering what a great meal we had. The duck was rich and fatty, its skin perfectly crisped, the meat moist and tender and toothsome with every bite.

This was a masterful meal. The chef at Boulevard is Nancy Oakes, and she knows her food. We wrapped up our meal with several delicious desserts. Beautifully plated, and just the right amount of sweet to reset the palate and close out the evening.

Dining out with friends is a social convention that goes back to the ages. A tradition experienced and carried on for centuries, if not millennia. From the banquets of Ancient Rome to modern day anywhere, we humans seem to love experiencing flavor together. Experiencing life together. I often wonder if it is because it is one of the ways we can feel connected. As separate beings, we are always alone. When we experience the same flavors and foods, we momentarily breach that separation as our palates share the same sensations. Even though we experience some tastes differently, we are sharing an experience in a unique and powerful way.

We are adding something together to that memory bank we carry with us, bridging the gap that isolates. Whatever the reasons, the ritual persists because it is both basic and pleasurable. It is as essential to our existence as breathing.

I suggest that the next time you seek a place in San Francisco, you consider Boulevard. I believe your experience will be memorable. So drop by, and check it out. They still have Abalone on the menu, so you are in luck! Bon Appetit!

Boulevard Restaurant

One Mission Street
San Francisco, CA 94105
(415) 543-6084
http://www.boulevardrestaurant.com/

Table size: adequate (not an issue)
Ambiance: quiet easy to hear
Chef: Nancy Oakes
Price: expensive

SPQR Fillmore - Senatus Populus que Romanae

2011-04-30T18:23:00.000-07:00

California Burrata
with hazelnuts and herbs

My youngest daughter is visiting Rome as I write this. She’s one of the people with whom I love to eat most, her delight in good food is absolutely contagious. I am blessed in that my girls are my friends and companions, tolerating my maternal “insights” with boundless patience. Often featured on this blog, my youngest was mentioned first as the Law Student. After three years and a successful attempt at passing the California State Bar, she was soon sworn in, graduating here to the moniker of Baby Lawyer. Well the BL is quitting her fancy job and moving to Rome for love. Once there, she is planning to make a living teaching legal writing in English to native Italian-speaking lawyers. A job like that presents a challenge when faced with coming up with yet another pseudonym for this blog.

But I rise to a challenge. Once there she will perhaps become the Traveler. The Teacher. The Transplanted Italian. I will hope for inspiration for her new nickname when we manage to eat a meal together “in Country.” At least there is that. I can visit her there, half a world away— time and finances providing. I wonder occasionally if she’ll enjoy living there, and I think for a time the answer will be yes. She is, after all, bringing my father’s family full-circle, returning to live in the land of my grandfather’s birth.

Crudo of Yellowtail

It’s a beautiful city, Roma. An urban place that is both modern and ancient, present and past. Open vistas look out upon the Tiber, an ancient slow-moving river, across which can be seen the dome of St. Peter’s. A morning walk for coffee can easily terminate at a great monument — the Coliseum --- the Pantheon. Yet Rome’s streets are full of frantic mopeds and tiny racing cars, looking like nothing so much as the Matchbox cars of my very American childhood. All of them a blur, all carrying Italians hurrying somewhere else, speeding to a job or a date or an urgent appointment. Perhaps a tryst. Romans hurry. A lot. I wonder if they are conscious of the centuries of history that lays quietly beneath them as they fly about on the surface streets of this massive museum of a City. Or are they somehow in such a rush that they are unaware, taking for granted the magic beneath their feet. “Sempre Avanti” was my father’s favorite Italian phrase. Always forward. Like the Romans.

Waygu Beef Carpaccio

Italians are rooted in the pride of their history, yet often so absorbed in the business of living that they don’t stop for even a moment. Perhaps they believe that if they did stop, they might miss some tiny glorious fragment of life, and in doing so, commit the worst of mortal sins. That of failing to appreciate la dolce vida. Italians are nothing if not aware of the power in the beauty of simply living.

This train of thought took me naturally to a meal I shared recently with friends. We dined at S.P.Q.R. in San Francisco. A restaurant named after something uniquely Roman. The big heavy cast iron manholes line the streets, another bit of visible history speaking to a time gone before, all of them stamped with the logo ‘S.P.Q.R.’ Senatus Populusque Romanae : The Senate and People of Rome.

The restaurant that bears this ancient moniker manages to capture in its food everything that Rome herself conveys. Without necessarily always translating directly into Italian food, the meals to be had there are vivid, like the city herself. The food at SPQR wears a modern exterior, culinarily speaking, yet holds within it flavors that bespeak a generous amount of adventure. Perhaps the chef understands what it means to build impact into layers of flavor, giving the diner a sense that beneath the surface there is more to be discovered. Much like the city reflected in the inscription that graces it’s doorway, SPQR embraces its name, and bears witness to the notion that there is more than meets the eye, that here there may continually be found something new, an adventure to be had. The next mouthful may reveal hidden treasure.

Pork Trotter

We are an adventurous lot, and so sampled a great deal of the menu. My companions on this occasion were the Dapper Diner and @CarinaOst. Both experts in all that is food. My BH made up the fourth at our happy table, and once we were seated, we were off and exploring.

The meal began with combination of severa Primi. We had a lovely California Burrata with Herbs & Hazelnuts. Served on a large slice of toast, it was easy to slice into and share. I found it creamy and the toppings selected really enhanced the rich fatty cream flavor of the cheese. Along with the Burrata we ordered a gorgeous Carpaccio of Waygu Beef and a Yellowtail Crudo. The beef was a platter of lovely thin slices of Waygu beef, perfectly rare and smothered in shaved Parmagiano Reggiano. The seafood crudo was a platter instead of raw fish, delicate slices of Yellowtail tuna gently sprinkled with olive oil and herbs, a few black cherry slices and a few nuts for texture. The final appetizer was a lovely Pumpkin Agnolotti, a delightful dish of creamy, rich pasta with pumpkin seeds and cheese crumbled over it.

Lamb with tangerines

After our various appetizers, we feasted on our Secondi(s), the Italian name for the main course. My most adventurous dining companion, @thedapperdiner ordered the Black Pudding. I tasted it, but am admittedly not completely into the more outrageous of dishes. Black Pudding, if you are unaware, is a sausage made of pork blood and fat cooked down into a semi-solid. I like to try some offal, but some tries are more successful than others. Though TDD is brave and adventurous, I found that while I enjoy a good platter of brains from time to time, this may have been above my pay grade. From there we moved on to the BH’s choice which was a Napa Valley Lamb dish, delightfully prepared. The exterior of the meat kissed by the smoky flavor of the grill, the inside moist and succulent. A few slices of tangerine and some pepper really set off the flavor of the meat. Another of our companions had a gorgeous Idaho Trout, fluffy white fish with a nice crispy skin buried beneath tiny bits of potato and pork. The Pork Trotter Burger was rich and fatty, and delicious. The final main we enjoyed was a Pork Ravioli. Like the Pumpkin Agnolotti the pasta was house made, golden and perfectly al dente. All of the flavors were unique, perfectly balanced, each dish a portrait in artistry.

Pumpkin Agnolotti

Just writing this up is making me want to get back there soon. Some places just resonate with me, a little like Italy. They vibrate with life and flavor. SPQR was an absolute delight, and though it has taken me some time to get around to writing about it, I think it’s time to make a return visit. Remembering the flavors and the company I shared it with makes me want to go back. Maybe next week. But isn’t that what life is all about?

Check it out for yourself, and Bon Appetito!

SPQR
1911 Fillmore Street
San Francisco, CA 94115
(415) 771-7779
http://www.spqrsf.com/

Follow them on Twitter @spqrfillmore

Table size: cramped seating, but space for dishes (very European)
Noise level: boisterous, not for the deaf
Cost: moderately expensive

FRANCES - Tiny Neighborhood Gem Sparkles with Flavor

2011-04-15T22:28:00.000-07:00

Chick pea fritter "sticks" w/ Chile Aioli

FRANCES is exactly what one would expect. It is a quaint and unassuming little neighborhood bistro tucked behind a fairly nondescript storefront. Barely visible from the street, Frances would seem to be the kind of restaurant that survives only on word of mouth; a local secret patronized primarily by those who can get there without a car of a more pleasant evening, one when San Francisco isn’t blanketed by layers of chilly fog keeping people indoors. Except that it’s not.

Bacon Beignets with Creme Fraiche

The secret is out. Melissa Perello’s tiny little wine bar and eatery is a neighborhood gem that has blossomed rapidly into a happening. And in San Francisco, the birthplace of the first “happening,” there is something truly serendipitous about so many hungry diners apparently all finding FRANCES pretty much in unison, causing a conflux of great food and hard-to-secure reservations. It seems uniformly agreed upon that FRANCES, this little bistro-that-could in the Castro— is the new place to eat— to see and be seen, in San Francisco. As an Oakland native and budding Oak-o-phile, I don’t get into San Fran all that much. When I do venture across the Bridge, I’m a flutter trying to work through a long list of “to-do’s” — places I must eat, all representing my top “can’t miss” foodie experiences. They accumulate over the weeks I spend on the other side of that less famous Bridge, the one the quake of ‘89 almost toppled into the Bay.

The occasion for this particular jaunt was the arrival of two long-time friends from Indiana. One was a Former Associate of our law firm, accompanied by her husband, a Successful Software Executive. The pair had moved away from SF several years ago to raise their young children closer to family. The FA was originally from Indiana, and we would eat out and discuss the culinary advantages of living in or near San Francisco. At the time our FA lived here in SF, she worked with us in Oakland, but it was barely a whisper in the local foodie vocabulary. She was excited to be back and to try new places in both cities. Returning to visit old haunts and old friends, catching up on our lives apart over wine and conversation and good food. We were gathering to celebrate the simple beauty of life itself.

Duck Pate

It so happens that the Former Associate was one of the first people to teach me the “ropes” of fine dining. She has always understood and appreciated a good meal. A food writer herself, she inspired me to take on the mantle of culinary correspondent I now wear as a second skin. We share a love of all that is edible, and a passion for those among us who are passionate about eating (and cooking) well.

When she asked me to come up with an adventure fit for our reunion, I felt a need to do some research, to rise to this occasion and show the mentor the student has learned a thing or two. This opportunity to repay her in kind for her many great recommendations required that I come through with only the very best choices for dining in the City. Fortunately, I knew exactly where (and to whom) to turn. I turned to one of my “go to” sources: @TheDapperDiner. I know if he liked his meal, normal humans will reel at the experience. He recommended Frances (which the FA had heard of all the way in Indiana, since she keeps abreast of dining news for her column) and we were on the hunt for a reservation. I had to calendar myself an alert to call exactly two months ahead of time to obtain a reservation, but was successful immediately. Come March, we would be guests of Chef Perello, experiencing for ourselves all that she had to offer.

Little Gem Salad

Nothing worth doing is effortless, and there really is something to be said for anticipation. Things that come too easily are never quite appreciated. Once the date rolled around, all the snags along the way faded to dim memories, and we arrived with our appetites in tow.

@TheDapperDiner had suggested we check in with @Bobiwithani (the resident sommelier at FRANCES) and as luck would have it, our primary waiter for the evening. A charming guy and a knowledgeable server, Bobi took us through the various refreshments with an ease and affable charm that I find enhances my appetite for the experience, as well as the food. The BH and I were just recently discussing the significant rise in the talents of wait staff with the advent of so much competition. Simply put, servers are getting better and better at the art of serving. In me they will find an appreciative diner.

After Bobi took us through the evening’s drink options, the others opted to begin by sharing a carafe of the FRANCES house white wine, which was crisp and refreshing. Always a contrary type, I began with a different beverage, titled simply the “Market Shot.” This option was presented as a tiny cup of an elixir that I believe consisted of pear beer (or pear and beer) and something bubbly that tickled my nose. Bobi had billed it as the perfect palate cleanser with which to begin a meal. I have to agree that it was.

Bass w/ Risotto

My friend had warned me not to miss the Duck Paté. Fortunately for us, though it was not on the regular menu, Chef Perello was offering the dish as a special that evening. Officially titled Quenelle of Duck Paté the dish was plated as a lovely soft egg-shaped serving of paté, accompanied by lovely slices of thick, toasted bread slathered with a generous coating of delectable fig jam. Along with the duck paté were served our two other appetizers, one a small dish of Crispy Chickpea Fritters and a Calabrese Chili Aioli. They manifested in the shape of lovely square tubes of fried cheese sticks, the exterior covered in a light, crunchy crust and the center soft and barely resistant, a little like melted butter, but with the flavor of the chickpeas balancing nicely with the heat of the aioli. The second appi was an Applewood Smoked Bacon Beignets with Maple Creme Fraiche & Chives, which took the form of heavenly dumplings of bacon flavored dough, that retained the rich bacon flavor even when blanketed in the sweet creme fraiche dip that came with. The beignets were a savory dough, but the creme fraiche sweetened the flavor profile nicely. I thought Chef did a perfect tightrope act of straddling just the right amount of sweet and savory in this dish.

For my soup / salad course I chose the Little Gem Salad - of Tarragon Vinaigrette, Fennel, Kumquat, Mandarin, Haas Avocado. Simple but delicious, this salad had a lovely texture to it, the crunch of the vaguely bitter kumquat and the sweet of the mandarin really played well together. Each popping off the other in a lovely little garden dance of happy in the mouth.

Duck w/ Butter Beans

My main was a duck preparation, which for some reason has been foodie gold for me lately. Chef Perello’s Liberty Farm Duck Breast, Italian Butter Beans, Sicilian Olive, Braised Escarole was no exception. Something about duck lately. The last several times I have ordered it, the presentation has been an epiphany — either I have seriously fallen for duck, or duck is getting better lately. Either way, it’s clear that the chefs really know what they are doing. In this case, the fat was rendered perfectly and the flavor profile was stunning. There was a gentle background of a bacony flavor to the duck meat, as though it had been gently smoked over a hickory wood fire. The butter beans were perfectly done, each bite toothsome, rendering a salted buttery flavor all their own. I really enjoyed this dish. The escarole was a nice texture additive to the soft butter beans, giving another level of flavor and earthy taste to the mix. Along with the duck I ordered a glass of wine, an Anoro Malbec recommended by Bobi with an “I”. It was perfection in a glass. Clean, fruity, not at all heavy, this wine really balanced out the richness of the duck.

Caramelized Scallops

BH had the Caramelized Atlantic Scallops which lay neatly gilded on a bed of sunchoke puree, melded beautifully with roasted fennel, a few nicoise olives. These were some beautiful scallops, caramelized to perfection, the flavors rich and savory, the crisp of the fish giving way to the moist flesh within. Just beautifully done. Another of us tried the Bass with Roasted Spring Onion, Carnaroli Risotto, & Cipollinni Onion Soubisse. Another dish recommended as a can’t miss by my friend @TheDapperDiner, Perello’s bass was a fluffy white piece of fish on a bed of creamy onions cooked into the consistency of a marmelade. The two forms of cooked onion atop a creamy risotto, made a lovely bed for another perfectly done slab of fish.

For dessert we shared three choices. The first a Lumberjack Cake - Pink Lady Apple, Medjool Dates, Maple Walnut Ice Cream. The cake had a nice body to it, and the ice cream with hidden bits of date inside it was surprisingly good. The frozen maple treat kept them chewy and cold so they melted when they hit the tongue and began to warm.

The second was a Chocolate ‘Clafoutis’ with Candied Kumquats, Burnt Caramel, and Creme Chantilly (Bobi with an “I” says that’s Basque for bowl of gooey wonderful heavenly chocolate-y goodness and indeed it was). This dish was a massive chocolate goo orgy. The “clafoutis” tasted like a chewy brownie soaked in caramel, and then there was additional caramel sauce meant to be added. This one was as mind-blowing as chocolate desserts go. If you love caramel or chocolate, it’s a guaranteed high.

We completed the meal with a Chicory Root Panna Cotta, Page Mandarin, Espresso Gelee, Chocolate Sea Salt Cookies. The panna cotta was creamy, but the chocolate cookies were perfect. With a nice chewy texture, the little burst of salt crust on the top provided another sweet salty contrast, one of my new favorite things about the modern cookie.

FRANCES was a delight. The food was excellent, and the service was amazing. Really professional, a lovely evening spent with my favorite kind of people. Good ones. I say you must check it out.

FRANCES
3870 17th St
(between Pond St & Noe St)
San Francisco, CA 94114
(415) 621-3870
http://www.frances-sf.com/

Tables: adequate
Noise level: boisterous
Cost: Moderately Expensive

XYCLO Restaurant/Lounge - Exploring the flavors of Vietnam

2011-04-05T22:10:00.000-07:00

Ruby Red & Inviting

If you know me, you know I love to try new things. If you read this column it’s likely become fairly obvious that I rarely turn down an opportunity to experience something new in the way of the food itself. What a delightful gift it is, that in order to maintain healthy lives, we are required to partake daily of these edible wonders, these meals that give us pleasure while sustaining us. The promise of farm-fresh produce, artisanal baked goods, marvelous proteins, or rich and creamy dairy all at once or in some lovely combination. Some days I crave the familiar — maybe a particular dish I know a restaurant faithfully maintains on its menu, or a set of established flavor profiles I know I will experience under the masterful hand of a favorite chef. While many modern restaurants possess an ever-changing menu, they can usually be counted on to have a “cravable” point of view.
There are other days when an experiment is in order. My taste buds speak to me. They say it is time to take them on an adventure. To veer off the familiar path and try something, well, different. So I will look at my list of places I can go to experience my life through eating a fine meal, and I will try to find something that I haven’t tried before. On these days a new restaurant, as opposed to merely a new dish, is often the very best of adventures. My palate craves a new flavor profile to wake it up. I answer with the unanticipated. As my mouth responds to the notion, I begin to salivate at the prospect, and the journey to discovery begins.

As it so happened, a friend of mine, the Partner’s Wife, had recently suggested I try one of her favorite restaurants, Xyclo. Xyclo is situated on Piedmont Avenue, not far from Adesso. It defines itself as serving a Modern Vietnamese Fusion, which sounded really intriguing, so at long last, I was on my way to check it out and see for myself what all the fuss was about. Chef Vy Lieou did not disappoint.

The BH and I perused the menu, and found quite a few dishes that interested us both. We began with a drink (non-alcoholic) the waitress suggested called the Raspberry Spritzer. Lovely in flavor and aspect, it was a beautiful rosy concoction, and extremely refreshing. Once we’d cleansed our palates with the fruit drink, the staff began bringing the various dishes we’d decided to try. The first was a Vietnamese Carpacchio. The BH and I had experienced Asian-style raw beef before. It is usually sliced very thin and served cured in some sort of citrus fruit juice or vinegar mixture. This version was cured only in lime juice, and flavored with fresh basil, and razor thin slices of red onion. It was absolutely delicious.

Shrimp Rolls

The next thing we tried was even more adventurous. Aptly titled Seven Elements the dish is a Vietnamese treat. If you have never tried a lettuce wrap before, and you think you don’t like things that come in green, you might want to check this one out. The job of lettuce in a “lettuce wrap” is to provide a cooling texture to fatty or spicy foods. This version was lighter than the fried rice mixture served in lettuce by the Laotians and contains seven toppings meant to be mingled and experienced in combinations of 2 or 3 at a time, or all together. The components in the dish were bits of lime with the rind attached, some delicately flavored dried shrimp, cashews, shredded coconut, minced jalapeno, fresh ginger, and fresh finely diced onion. There was also a light dipping sauce, that was very much in consistency like a home made plum sauce. I enjoyed the texture of the elements themselves together. I found the rind was initially a texture so unique and unfamiliar that it was almost too much, being both a little hard and yet unusually chewy. After a moment I gave myself over to the unfamiliarity and really began to enjoy it. It was a little like visiting a foreign country, where I would like to think I would let them show me how to eat their delicacies with an open mind. The flavors were light and springy and really quite inviting. The accompanying plum sauce had a creamy chunky texture to it that was also new to me, but I enjoyed it with the rest of the dish.

After experiencing the previous dish, we were ready for something a bit more familiar. We were rewarded with Fried Shrimp Roll a more traditional Asian fare featuring loads of hot, puffy shrimp, soft and sweet. The fresh shrimp was cooked perfectly, and so was succulent and delicious.

7 ingredient magic

BH loves his soup. He can’t enjoy any form of Asian food without it. Occasionally I make a face and he’ll pretend to consider not ordering soup, but then I relent. It’s this little dance we do. Not that I have anything against soup really, but some days’ it’s a lot to eat with everything else. Soup kinda fills me up. Today’s version was a well-seasoned, peppery Won Ton Soup. Since every place does a Won Ton Soup, and the broth is generally a version of a chicken stock, the flavors can be underdeveloped, particularly of the broth. This soup was just the opposite. The stock flavors were complex and really well-developed. Soup needs to sit and brew, for it to really come together and this soup had been completely finessed. All the flavors blended beautifully, allowed to mature properly within the broth. Even the dumplings were plump and juicy. Just marvelous.

All in all we found the food fresh and inviting, the staff courteous and prompt, and the atmosphere homey with nice modern touches. There were loads of families with kids, so my guess is that some of the other less adventurous dishes would appeal to youngsters. Though we didn’t indulge, they have a bar. After a nice meal, the tab was also quite reasonable.

So I say, go, check it out for yourself. Bon Appetit!

Xyclo
4218 Piedmont Ave
(between Entrada Ave & Glenwood Ave)
Oakland, CA 94611
(510) 654-2681

http://www.xyclorestaurant.com/

Table size: adequate
Sound levels: fairly quiet
Cost: Moderately inexpensive

ZUT! On Fourth - Sunshine, Sandwiches & Cocktails

2011-03-31T22:34:00.000-07:00

BALT - Bacony Tomato-y Perfection!

Though I am a big proponent of Oakland and its resurgence in the culinary community, there is something to be said about the food that can be had in neighboring Berkeley. When Alice Waters first began her crusade for all things fresh and local and the abundant use of creative flavor profiles, no one could have anticipated the tidal wave of after-effects emanating from that initial splash. As the initial swells began to ripple, Alice was also among the first wave of Chefs to elevate plating to an art form. The reverberations of this movement in the Bay Area’s culinary ethos have been something akin to a sonic boom. The culture of eating that she and others with vision started has survived decades. What once was a ripple, became a pounding wake, and ultimately resulted in a tsunami of magnificent food establishments springing up all over Berkeley.

Fourth Street contained some of the first offshoots to appear, including the Fourth Street Grill, which ironically is the site of the new restaurant Zut!. Fact is, over the years it has seen businesses arrive and thrive — and unfortunately — falter and disappear. Nevertheless, the Bay Area continues to benefit from this constant expansion of the food industry and it expands and radiates its tasty goodness into the community.

Meatballs, Cheese & Avocado

The particular Berkeley establishment that is the topic of today’s article is one of Fourth Street’s newest additions: Zut! The owners, Denny Abrams and Rick Millikan, define their menu as regional Mediterranean. This menu is as interpreted by executive chef Jim Wimborough, who is a graduate of, among others, Boulevard & Rubicon in San Francisco, as well as Evvia Estiatorio in Palo Alto. Wimborough is a talented Chef, and the evidence of this skill is in the food.

Zut! represents the first time its owners have opened a restaurant. Though Abrams-Millikan has been at the forefront of developing much of Fourth Street’s shopping district, as well as designing the look of several of its restaurants — including O’ Chame, Bette’s Oceanview Diner and Tacubaya — this is the first time the pair has opened an eatery. One has to give them credit for moxie, since the recession has hit Fourth Street hard, closing several establishments over the past several years. Part of that may be due to the lack of any real parking. Any destination that is this difficult to reach to begin with, ultimately begins by having something to prove. It needs to be that much better than all of its competition.

Zut! may very well rise to this challenge. It is certainly worth a trip, despite its accessibility issues. Several weeks ago, the BH and I ate at Zut! and I think we will make our way there again. Particularly now that we’ve finally gotten a dose of Spring here in our little enclave by the Bay. Zut! is uniquely designed to feature good weather, with a main dining area that features beautiful European-style windows that open onto the street, as well as a massive skylight in the ceiling that features a peek at heaven when opened. What genius decorator thought to include heaven in the mix? The design of the room itself is seriously brilliant in its wide-open and welcoming simplicity.

Our meal began with cocktails. I had a Maltese, which was a nice light combination of Grey Goose Vodka, grapefruit juice, lemon, mint, and ouzo. The acidity in the grapefruit juice and the lemon complimented the mint well, and the hint of licorice that resonated on the palate was just delightful. A subtly fabulous combination of flavors. The BH had their Sangria, which was unlike any Sangria I have experienced in the past. My guess is that this version is what was intended when the drink was originally invented, before the eighties and mixes and cheap, easy red wine bastardized an otherwise heavenly concoction. What I tasted at Zut! was a rich, vibrant red wine whose flavors had been enhanced beautifully by the essences of fruit juice without losing any of the wine’s natural body. Excellent.

Wrapped in Flavor

We share a plate of the Lamb Meatballs, a savory, moist ball of tasty that arrived with a few slices of pita, avocado and a fresh & tangy tomato sauce. The sauce was likewise flavorful, a lovely combination of well-balanced nice spices rounded out by the acidity of the tomatoes.

For our mains, the BH had the Bill Niman Roasted Turkey Wrap, which presented itself as a lovely concoction of red bell pepper, dill and creme fraiche. Ordinarily the BH will go out of his way to avoid a bell pepper, but this was so well balanced, and the pepper so subtle, he ate it mostly intact. It was a simple mixture, but nonetheless successful. I myself ordered the “BALT” which is basically a Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato with avocado. The combination of the gently toasted slices of thick ACME bread, sliced farm style at almost an inch deep, layered lovingly with healthy slabs of applewood smoked bacon, romaine lettuce, and sweet, ripe tomato. Over this was spread a house made aioli, more subtle than a mayonnaise but maintaining the necessary familiarity of oil & egg flavor that plays like nothing else against the bacon. This was nothing less than a perfect sandwich. Memorable enough that I’m still fantasizing about another bite.

Pressed for time, we didn’t linger for dessert. Perhaps that is a treat for another day. Either way, we will most certainly return, and probably while the sun is shining to take advantage of the wonderful airy decor. You should go yourself, check it out, and as always, Bon Appetit!

Zut!
1820 4th Street
(between Virginia St & Hearst Ave)
Berkeley, CA 94710
(510) 644-0444
www.zutonfourth.com/

Tables: adequate
Noise: moderate
Cost: moderate

HOMEROOM - Attention Class!! Today's menu is . . .

2011-03-21T21:56:00.000-07:00

Trailer Mac (M&C with chips & hot dog!)

Some places just have a good vibe about them. We often say “it’s about the love” in the food writing biz, but it is really evident when the love is completely genuine. When the people who run a place care as much as the folks who gave birth to Homeroom, their efforts are more obviously evident to their patrons.

When I arrived at Homeroom on their second day of business, I was instantly reminded of a time and place in childhood that was very specific. Food is a wonderful method for retrieving pleasant memories. Our dining partner, @CarinaOst, also a food writer, picked up on the same thing. Walking into Homeroom and sitting down, we felt a little like we were suddently back in a classroom. No surprise there, given the name, but often restaurants fail to achieve the exact synthesis of atmosphere and impact that they’re going for. Not so, Homeroom.

The space the restaurant occupies on 40th & Shafter is small and inviting, kind of like your cubby was at school. The little piece of real estate that was yours alone. Its simple interior contains several object d’arts intended to draw a customers’ visual interest. Standing in the doorway and viewing the large, wall-sized chalkboard directly across from the entrance, I could appreciate the cheery white-chalk drawing of the State of California, an artwork that features cartoonish wiki-like bursts of info along the State’s landmarks. I’m not sure if it changes, but on my visit it depicted the locations of many purveyors of cheeses & wines local to California. In that moment I could not help but remember Mrs. Hazel Stone’s sixth-grade relief map of Brazil, similarly featuring information along it’s borders. Our elementary school project contained many of the various imports of Brazil (If memory serves, I was responsible for sugar production). My entire sixth-grade class had collaborated on the project and its effectiveness in getting us all to work together was a lesson I remember to this day.

Mexican Mac (Chorizo, Jalapeno and a slice o' Lime)

The table where our lunch companion, @CarinaOst, had managed to successfully snag a coveted seat for our party, was solid and wooden, like the heavy desks in the Catholic elementary school I found myself vividly recalling. And like those desks, the tiny carvings layered in the surface of the tables gave the restaurant an immediate sense of history. Desk carvings are the cave art we leave for the generations that follow. In elementary and high school there were always names of students from years (perhaps decades) past, etched deeply into the surface of the wood, “SJ + JP” or “Bobby Forever”, as though we could unburden ourselves of the pain of adolescence with a few well-placed cuts of a ballpoint pen stabbed repeatedly into the surface of the soft, forgiving wood. Developing a groove there, determined to leave behind a message. The ache to make a mark in life that other’s might recognize. Vandalism is perhaps an immature act, but in this form it is a childish bid for immortality we can all relate to. We’ve all known the painful ache of a first crush. It made me wonder how many desktops have suffered at the hands of spurned youth in the name of unrequited love.

When we first sat down, I noticed @CarinaOst was particularly smitten with a tiny carving of a paper airplane that adorned her side of the table. Her finger traced the outline in a gesture of remembering. There was something comforting for her about that tiny, subtle token of childhood. Something fondly familiar. It felt like an older sibling had been there before us and left us a message of welcome. It is thoughtful touches like that, things that seem random but arent’t, that serve to enhance the comfort-food menu that is Homeroom’s particular brand of experience.

While my Catholic grammar school was run by nuns, Homeroom is run by two Berkeley Law grads who decided the law wasn’t for them. Bonding over food, they partnered up and began to test the market for their variations of classic macaroni and cheese, upgraded with the use of some really stellar local dairy products. As one enters, your olifactory senses are assaulted with the inviting smell of melting cheese, toasting bread and baking cookies. The sorts of smells that take you straight into Mom’s kitchen in that hour after you get home from school. It is not yet dinner time, but you are hungry, and everything smells so good.

But I digress. The food at Homeroom is simple, and simply perfect. @CarinaOst and my BH both ordered the Trailer Mac, an inviting combo of Macaroni & Cheese layered with Prather Ranch hot dogs and potato chips. For myself, I had the Mexican Mac, a blend of Macaroni, Cheese, Star Meats' homemade Chorizo, cilantro and Jalapeno (the latter neatly blended into the cheese itself). I think we’ve established that I like heat in my food, so this made me very happy. The hot, cheesy, goodness was set off nicely by the Lagunitas Pilsner (Petaluma) I ordered, and if you aren’t sure which one you want, the menu comes complete with suggested (beer & wine) pairings for the various dishes.

To finish off the meal, we ordered a few of their cookies. After a lot of rich, gooey, cheese, I think we all found ourselves hankering for something sweet. Homeroom’s menu features some yummy cookies baked fresh in their on-site convection oven. We sampled the chocolate chip (since this batch was on the smallish side they brought us two, but ordinarily an order is a single cookie), and the ‘homemade oreo’ which was almost a moon pie. Two thick, warm, dark-as-night chocolate cookies with a lovely whipped marshmallowy filling. Maybe a little more like a moon pie than an oreo, but who’s going to quibble with delicious?

Home Made Oreo, Chocolate Chip Cookie(s)

Love the place. Loved the food. Simple comfort food done really well, with enough variety to keep it interesting. All of it reminding me somehow of an elementary school cafeteria, but in a very very good way.

As always, check it out for yourself, and bon appetit! WARNING: They do not take reservations, and as with many good ‘n trendy things, you aren’t the only one who’s headed that way. Get there early if you want a table! (We arrived at 11:15 for the lunch hour, and lucked out. By the time we’d all collected at our table the line was almost out the door).

UPDATE: Went again today 3/25 & they've switched the line out for table service. Still awesome!

Homeroom

400 40th Street
Oakland, CA 94609
510.597.0400

http://homeroom510.com/

Table size: adequate

Noise level: high

Cost: moderate

REVIVAL BAR & KITCHEN - “Gimme that Old Time Religion!”

2011-02-24T23:20:00.000-08:00

Mixology Heaven

So maybe not religion exactly, but sometimes the perfectly made drink, or brilliantly grilled sandwich can elevate my senses like a quiet moment in church. I’m more spiritual than religious, but I do believe in something. A sense of importance in the moment at hand. The smile of a loved one. I can recognize whatever it is in eating perfectly prepared food or enjoying the right piece of music. I can feel these things as they resonate in a place that can only be the soul.

Revival Bar & Kitchen is a nice open space that might echo the spirit just a bit. Certainly the food has heart, if not “soul.” We had a really nice lunch there with a good friend a month or so ago. It was a special occasion (OK, it was Friday, same thing) so we ordered cocktails. Gotta test the mixologist as well as the chef to get a feel for the place. Revival is a place that was definitely up for both tests. They appear to take great pride in the mixology skills of those tending the spacious bar that runs along the right wall of the entrance. Among other more traditional drinks, the cocktail menu had several beverages that announced they came chilled in copper cups. Curious, I ordered a Foghorn, a drink billed as a combination of gin, lime, cucumber and a spicy ginger beer. My copper cup was chilled nicely and appealing to the eye, but I could taste the metal and I think it interfered with the flavors in the drink. It was nevertheless tasty, but might have been better served in a less assertive mug. I’m not sure serving pieces should have any flavor at all. It might have been less noticeable on a hot summer day, as the copper did hold the chilll nicely. Our companion had a Pisco-blended cocktail that I sampled and found likewise tasty.

Cuban Mojo Pork

Our entrees were simple and simply delicious. I ordered the Cuban Mojo Pork sandwich, with a Gruyere Mousse & Cured Pickles. The pork was tender and moist, and fell apart easily at each bite. No unnecessary tugging at stringy meat. The addition of the creamy cheese “Mousse” was heavenly, it mingled with the richness of the pork to provide a nice tang, which balanced the flavor profile nicely. For something that is essentially a twist on the simple classic grilled cheese this was a knockout. The pickles had a good vinegar salt flavor, unique and fresh. Though I forgot to ask, I’ll bet they were made in-house.

Shrimp Burger Patty

The BH and I both had the Soup Special, which was a cranberry bean & ham soup. The broth was clear and inviting, with a nice bit of fat floating atop the broth. Soup is so often a form of riced vegetable, which can be quite delicious, but I was impressed that they took the time to develop the flavor in a broth-based version. It’s a longer process if one wants to really bring all the flavors together, there has to be an investment of time. It was honestly one of the best soups I’ve ever had. The beans were rich and it ended up being more evocative of a light summer minestrone, rather than a creamy and hearty winter soup.

Our companion, we’ll call her The Beauty, had a Creamy Polenta with Lucky Dog Ranch Slow- Braised Beef Sugo. Curious about the term, we actually looked up “sugo’ at the table, which we soon learned is simply Italian for “juicy” and is usually used to described a thick meaty sauce that has been slow cooked until the meat is so tender it melts in the mouth. Menu terms & and iPhone = Fun Facts!

Beef Sugo

The BH had a “Shrimp Burger” which was a beautiful, tender patty, nicely grilled to add a bit of char to the flavors. He said he loved it and I was impressed by the bite I took. It came with a pickled okra tartar sauce, and some lovely gem lettuce in a pretty little side salad.

By the time we were ready for dessert the kitchen had run out of a few, so we took what they offered. The first dessert was a Vanilla Panna Cotta (an Italian version of something akin to flan, but not as eggy, and slightly more gelatinous), topped with chunks of a rich plum gelatin and served with an exquisite fresh fig. I really enjoyed the soft vanilla cream mingled with bites of the rich plum jelly and the fig.

Panna Cotta with Fresh Fig

We also sampled a really rich Pumpkin Pot de Creme. It was served in a rustic jam jar, and was incredibly creamy and were seasones with a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg. Stuck neatly in the creamy pudding jar was a lovely sugar cookie and more of the plum jelly. Both desserts were a success.

We all loved our meals. I was thrilled to find yet another stellar place to eat in my environment. I thought the place was pretty, the service was attentive and swift and the food excellent. I’ll definitely be back. Maybe not as regularly as every Sunday, but as soon as I can make it!

Check it out for yourself, and Bon Appetit!

Revival Bar + Kitchen

2102 Shattuck Avenue

Berkeley, CA 94704

(510) 549-9950

http://www.revivalbarandkitchen.com/

Author's Update: Went back again yesterday (3/3/11) and it was even better than I remembered. I had a duck leg confit with spinach salad, and both were among the best I'd ever had. Duck meat fell off the bone, rich, fatty and not at all gamey. Spinach was perfectly dressed, and had tangerines and a stellar dressing. Cocktail menu's changed for the better as well. Not super crowded, so if you want to keep it around, I say go! go! go !!

Tables: adequate

Sound: moderate & boisterous, but no trouble hearing

Cost: moderate

Pumpkin Pot de Creme

TRUE BURGER, True Love

2011-02-15T09:58:00.000-08:00

Nuff Said.

It was a cold and windy December day. The BH and I were hungry, but the weather outside was horrible, and work was busy. (Have I mentioned we work together?) The idea of driving anywhere in the rain and chill simply did not outweigh the lost time. We fretted. What would we do for lunch (both quite hungry now, and getting hungrier). Then the proverbial lightbulb came on. A solution made itself known. We recalled that which lay just outside the back door of our office, beckoning with it’s easy goodness — True Burger!

True Burger is a newish hamburger joint on Grand Avenue in Oakland, right across from the massive glass Cathedral. It used to be a Mom & Pop Café, the sort of place that serves, breakfast, BLT’s and burgers, but one day it was just closed. Vanished. Gone. The windows gone dark and the furnishings missing or stacked forlornly against the wall. Then about two weeks later it reopened as True Burger to much buzz. Rumors that it was a West Coast version of Manhattan’s Shake Shack abounded. Talk was that the purveyors of these fine burgers had made their way to Grand via Baywolf on Piedmont. The new(ish) Oakland restauranteur dance. Noone these days who opens a restaurant doesn’t come from another one, seems like they spawn one another.

Now if you’ve never been to Shake Shack in Manhattan (a gem that is well worth the long wait in lines around the block for the cheesy fries alone) you can’t compare. But I have and I do. True Burger is definitely the real deal.

There is something universally appealing about a hamburger. Quintessentially American, the burger has been reinvented and reimagined almost to death, and yet it prevails in it’s beefy simplicity, beckoning us to partake. We all know how we like ours. Some of us have to have cheese. Others prefer none. Some like catsup, some only mustard. However you like yours, it is, for most of us at least, a ritual preference as consistent as or names. We Americans are kinda OCD about our burgers. I like mine with cheese and bacon (of course), and when the hips allow, french fries (skinny ones).

True Burger’s burgers are simple perfection. Moist beefy patties, my cheese melted like a hug over the beef and the bacon a crispy winter coat. If one desires, TB offers a plethora of side dishes like chili and (but of course) cheesy fries.

I don’t eat a lot of beef, but there are days when nothing else will satisfy. On those days, True Burger is just the ticket. Completely American, perfectly delicious. With all the trimmings imaginable, including marvelously flavored shakes. I had the toasted marshmallow, a creamy caramelized perfection. My full belly was happy for hours.

Burnt Marshmallow & Chocolate Shakes!

Check it out for yourself, if you are in the mood for a juicy slice of American history, a True Burger will definitely hit the spot. As always, Bon Appetit!

True Burger
146 Grand Avenue
Oakland, CA 94612
(510) 208-5678
http://www.trueburgeroakland.com/

SHADOWBROOK, Capitola - Time in a Grotto

2011-02-09T21:54:00.000-08:00

Hidden at the foot of the Santa Cruz Mountains, at the bottom of a steep garden slope, lays a meandering building that holds a restaurant by the name of Shadowbrook. Sounding less like a restaurant than a hidden shire in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, so much so that upon arrival one might expect ring wraiths and hobbits. Instead there is a refreshing ocean breeze and a parking lot at the top of a cliff.
Shadowbrook is a throwback to a simpler time. It is one of those peerless romantic getaways; it is the place young men want to take their prom date, the perfect setting for an idyllic Valentine’s day dinner, or the first place that comes to mind when a suitor seeks that special backdrop for a fairytale proposal. As a matter of fact, we witnessed just such an event in the dining room during our meal. It was precious, a breathless “yes,” followed by the applause of a roomful of empathetic strangers. Nice moment.

Shadowbrook is secluded, picturesque, and intriguingly laid out. A multitude of labyrinthian stairways lead to rooms, those rooms lead to other rooms, and after wandering behind the hostess on a journey much like Alice experienced after falling down the rabbit hole, diners are ultimately seated at their table. Every section of the restaurant is itself an Elysian setting. Most tables overlook either the lush gardens that majestically climb the rock wall to the upper parking lot, or provide a clear view of the small river creek that runs along the back of the building. Serenely surreal.

I’ve told you the restaurant is located on the edge of a tiny garden cliff and that parking is above the restaurant. This means that after parking one must either take a tram down to the restaurant or walk a meandering path down through the waterfall rock garden all the way down to the entrance. We opted for trolley down, walk up. The quaint little trolley (and I mean little, it holds maybe six people tops) leads almost directly down to the hostess station. It’s a whimsical device, looking much like the red and brass caboose from the Lionel train set my grandmother gave me in 1962, a red-lacquered wooden box, with wheels of bronze and black wrought iron. The word that comes immediately to mind is charming. But the walk is likewise beautiful, containing a whispered romance and its own sense of mystery. As one traverses the side-winding trail, there is a view of rock walls covered in flowers and verdant green plants. Lush and tropical, it made me think of Bernadette in her damp and hidden grotto waiting for a visitation from the Virgin. It was ethereal, a secret cavern of rock and water, stone and garden. The waterfall runs the length of the face of the rock, a lacy, cold exclamation point of beauty settling in a series of pools. From inside the restaurant, there is a towering wall of glass that looks directly out on that splendid garden. Indeed this is a place of intense visual beauty. But what about the food?

Last summer a large group of family and friends went to Shadowbrook to celebrate my husband’s birthday (or as you all know him my Better Half). We’d rented a communal beach house in Watsonville, and were close enough to check it out. So one Saturday night last July we drove the mountain roads over to Capitola, and made our way to this legendary restaurant. Having been once before, long before my days as a food writer, I was curious to see how it would hold up after so much time. The BH had taken me there for our wedding anniversary in the late nineties, and though I had fond memories, my standards for what constitutes fine dining have definitely changed. I admit to being more than a little curious.

Bacon-Wrapped Prawns
with pickled ginger/daikon puree

Special occasions demand a festive cocktail. I ordered a Caipiriñha, which I must confess I was surprised to find on the menu. The Caipiriñha is a very current trend in cocktails and Shadowbrook doesn’t scream current. It’s made with Cachaça (Pro: Ka SHA sa) a cane rum made raw sugar cane. It’s from South America, and is spicier than a rum made from molasses. The drink was pleasant, but average. It was a perfectly acceptable cocktail made by a good bartender, but not something I would say could elevate itself to anything one could consider a product of the artistry of mixology. The drinks in general were better than tourist fare (think powdered mixes, odd colors and too much sugar) but not fresh or balanced enough to be noteworthy.

The first appetizer we had was an order of Bacon-Wrapped Prawns, which despite their old-style appearance were delicious. It is hard to find anything wrong with a lovely bacon wrapping on a moist succulent prawn. The dish combined the flavors of a pickled ginger & daikon puree with sweetness of the shrimp and the fatty crunchy bacon. It was a combo I found mind-bendingly, surprisingly delicious. It may not have been inordinately pretty, but in terms of flavors, this was genius on a plate.

Along with the prawns, arrived an order of Baked Brie. It’s crusty delicious and flaky, it arrived as a light pastry blanket over a lovely melted brie. The dish, however, had a fairly bizarre appearance. It sat there in a glowing neon-green puddle of semi-melted jalapeno jelly. A shade of green that mimics absolutely nothing in nature. Tasty though, in spite of the awkward presentation. The little pile of crostini that came along with the melted cheese were well toasted and quite good. So far, a perfect meal for a blind person.

Seriously, what comes in this COLOR?

The soups were all really good, and pretty enough. I had a Roasted Butternut Squash Soup which was superb. Creamy and flavorful, the blending of squash faultless. There was even a more concerted effort to plate this dish with some artistry, as it wore a big “S” made of créme fraiche.

I also had a Shadowbrook House Salad which was a lovely spinach salad, covered in pecans. It was a little shy on dressing, but I would rather salad was a bit underdressed than drenched. It was tasty enough and I enjoyed the addition of two more of their big fat, extra large bacon-wrapped shrimp as a garnish.

Roasted Butternut Squash Soup

My SIL had the Slow-Roasted Angus Prime Rib. She’s always been a huge fan of Prime Rib, having ordered it every time she went out since she was a kid. Prime Rib is her area of expertise, and she declared this a success, appreciating fully the horseradish cream and natural jus. It was nice and rare enough, which with Prime Rib can be hit and miss, depending on the cut and whether the beef was allowed to rest properly. SIL also enjoyed the Buttermilk Mashed Potatoes and Creamed Bloomsdale Spinach. There was a biscuit on the plate that they billed as Yorkshire Pudding and I’m not sure I’d give them that one. Yorkshire pudding is an art, and if done right, one of the tastiest treats on earth. It’s definitely not a biscuit.

Lobster Tail

I had the Rock Lobster Tail (theirs is from South Africa), and while it again wasn’t the prettiest dish, the lobster was sweet and creamy and certainly fresh. It was poached in a champagne beurre blanc and came with pleasantly seasoned vegetables, which in this case were asparagus. The asparagus looked color treated to me, they were almost too green, but I enjoyed the buttermilk mashed potatoes.

We shared our desserts, trying the Jack Daniels Mud Pie (a spectacularly rich dessert, and the ice cream itself is completely infused with the liquor); a Chocolate Meltdown (this is a standard molten chocolate cake); and a Creme Brulee. All of them were toothsome and decadent. The waitress also brought the BH a free birthday dessert, complete with a nice little candle. Thoughtful touches like that do add to the class of a place.

Molten Chocolate Dessert

I would sum this place up as something everyone should do at least once. It's fun and unique, even if it isn't quite the French Laundry. The food is somewhat pricy but it’s good and the portions are large. This isn’t exactly fine dining, as the plating lacks a good deal of artistry, but the chef is talented and the huge menu is solidly enjoyable. Pretty much everything here is tasty, but served with a decidedly dated style. I felt the entire time as though I had been transported back to some wonderful seventies time warp. But it is a time warp I would gladly do “again.” This is an old-fashioned steak & seafood joint with an extraordinarily pretty setting. But I think it’s fair to say Shadowbrook is not just another pretty face.

Check it out for yourself, and Bon Appetit! (The BH says walk down, Tram up. By the time our full-bellied party hit the top of the walkway, none of us was able to breath so well, as it is all UP hill)

Shadowbrook Restaurant
1750 Wharf Rd

Capitola, CA 95010
(831) 475-1511
http://www.shadowbrook-capitola.com/

The Downsides: This place is NOISY. And since it’s so popular, they really pack you in. We found the tables were so close together, that it made it almost impossible to get up to get to the bathroom. One had to move the parties on both sides in order to get out of our chairs, and as we said in the seventies, “That’s not cool, man.”