HFF On The Road: West Hollywood, Ca

It's the middle of the day. A and I are speeding down I-5 somewhere in the nothing between there and here. Gadgets are going--iPod run through the Alpine stereo deck. Checking email on cell phones. GPS comically informing us that we're on I-5 for some 200 more miles or so--the map on the display showing a road straighter than khakis on a minister. But where we're headed is far from straight--we're headed for the orgy of sights and sounds that is California's soulless heart, Los Angeles.

We're both excited. Months of California Cuisine and pudgy foodies with unkempt beards and stringy grey-brown hair have left us weak. We're hungry. We're hungry for old-school cooking. Places where seasonality is second to presentation and flavor. Where you eat a $10 burger on a $200 plate inside a million dollar restaurant in a 30 million dollar hotel that has silver bean bag chairs in the bedrooms for reasons that nobody knows and nobody cares to. It's just cool.

Hollywood's not our first stop--we pick up J in Marina del Rey and head out for Mexican food. This is where I'll disagree with my SoCal friends. Admittedly LA has good Mexican food, but they claim there's no good Mexican in the Bay Area. I tell them there's just no good Mexican in Berkeley, Oakland, or San Francisco. Head to San Jose. Parts of Fremont and Hayward (Salvadorean food too!). Or get your ass out to farm country or up to the Anderson Valley. I will admit that a trip to LA without some Mexican food would be like a trip to Mexico without vomiting on a donkey painted like a zebra.

Where did we go? We went to El Cholo. Something of an institution it seems--it was "the first" Mexican restaurant in Los Angeles, so we can thank it for introducing California-ized Mexican on an unsuspecting population. They claim to have invented nachos. They claim to have introduced the "premium" Margarita. With all this self-promotion I wasn't expecting much. But honestly? It was pretty fucking good. Tender carnitas, black beans, and grilled veggies--a generous portion without overdoing it. One odd note? The tortilla chips were stale and seemed like they came from a bag--heresy when even the smallest taquerias in the Mission fry their own chips.

The evening continued in Santa Monica at the lounge at the World Cafe on Main Street. Dark stylish bar area with a lot of cushy chairs, large milf-y clientele eating tapas and drinking enormous cocktails. We got a bottle of wine (LA has terrible wine lists, fyi), drank, and chatted up our waitress (who I think was a frequent user of something that rhymes with lo-caine).

It was late, so we crashed early--preparing ourselves for what we knew would be a day and a night to remember.

We left J's early the next morning and headed into Hollywood. Shopping on Melrose first of course. There is no better place for buying cheap(ish) boutique-y men's clothes than Melrose Ave around Fairfax or so. I bought pointy blue shoes with faux snakeskin accents. They're pretty rad. Bartering for designer clothes with sketchy Eastern Europeans is the best thing ever.

We stopped for breakfast/lunch a BluJam cafe, a new-ish spot on Melrose run by a Czech-immigrant who brings a vague Eastern Bloc sensibility to conventional breakfast fair. Everything was well-made and fresh. The Wrap on Fire (essentially a veggie-heavy chipotle breakfast burrito) was great, though barely spicy. Of particular note was the fruit plate side--the fruit included at most cheap brunch spots is watery cantaloupe and bitter strawberries. BluJam's was a generous bowl of fresh berries and surprisingly not watery cantaloupe. Nice touch.

After spending far too long contemplating the purchase of a t-shirt with a venetian blind print complete with a pull cord, we headed further down Melrose into West Hollywood where we checked into The Standard (flip over) Hotel.

We were greeted at the front desk and politely informed that we had been upgraded to the suite. I have no idea why, but we were. Probably because I used my Gold Card. That must be it. A and I could barely contain our laughter as we walked down the hall and into the elevator, getting off at the third floor. We then laughed out loud as we realized we were walking to the very last room on the corner.

You know that episode of Entourage where Drama is held over the balcony at The Standard by Saigon's new manager? Yeah, we were in that room. Three balconies. Two rooms. A twenty square foot shower with three (three) shower heads and no door. It was pretty much the most ridiculous thing ever--though not ridiculous enough to warrant the $500/night rate for the room. But a steal at the rate we were paying.

A had to leave to go buy an undershirt so I grabbed my computer and headed down poolside to check my email along with all the other beautiful people. I was the only one without an iBook. Hrm.

Got some sake, french fries, and shrimp cocktail from the hotel's 24-hour cafe to enjoy. I charged it to my room. That's fun to do. A little bit too fun.

J met up with me for a bit before heading to his martial arts class. He pointed out that Shaun White was playing ping pong across the pool from us. That was cool. Unfortunately excess breeziness prevented too much bikini-age poolside, but that was alright. I wasn't in town for that.

The french fries were nice. The shrimp cocktail was okay, but the horseradish-y cocktail sauce was tasty (particularly with the french fries). Sake was nice.

Here's the secret to drinking in LA.... DRINK WINE! Every place I drank, even The Standard with its $12 cocktails had a simple, reasonably priced wine list. Glasses were generous too. You're not going to get anything ridiculous or unusual, but you're going to get pleasant wines at competitive prices. LA seems to be the town that wine forgot. I recognized pretty much every single wine on every wine list I found. Basic Napa and French heavy-hitters and then mid to higher-end supermarket wines. You're getting the crowd that's looking to conspicuously consume so you offer labels that people know. It's odd.

8:30 rolled around and A and I had the concierge get us a cab to take us to the French Laundry of Japanese-fusion cuisine, Matsuhisa.

Nobu's flagship restaurant is located in a fairly nondescript storefront near Beverly Center in Beverly Hills. Once inside we were ushered to two spots at the private sushi bar (once again, we're not sure why). Basically, we avoid the main dining room and the big main sushi bar and get to sit at an eight person bar with our own chef and two cooks preparing every dish right in front of us. I'm not talking teppanyaki style, I'm talking sushi bar style.

I ordered a nice pouilly-fuisse (but even Matsuhisa had a middling wine list by my standards) and we got the seven course menu.

First up was the signature amuse--yellowtail tartare with caviar and maui onion soy sauce. Fucking amazing. Honestly. Texture was gorgeous, flavors were intense without being overbearing.

Next came a pair of appetizers, the Maine lobster ceviche (another signature dish) and a little plate of raw red snapper that had hot olive oil poured over it. The ceviche was tart without overpowering the lobster flavor and the lobster popped like it had been cooked. The hot oil mostly cooks the red snapper and aromatizes a lot of the flavors while tempering snapper's fishiness.

Next, the sashimi course. The various douche bags who post on Yelp! had one consistent criticism of Matsuhisa--that the cooked food was great, but in terms of sushi and sashimi you could get better for cheaper at any number of places in LA. I've been to a couple of those places and I've eaten some of the freshest fish in the Bay Area and Hawaii and Matsuhisa's quality was unparallelled. The freshest tasting tuna, salmon, kampachi, halibut, and hirage that I've had. Katsu-ya in Studio City was pretty damn good, but Matsuhisa had the edge in terms of fish quality. The hearts of palm salad with the sashimi was also pretty fucking great too.

Next up, Santa Barbara Spot Prawns two-ways. One was wrapped in kataifi and deep-fried, the other was grilled whole and halved. The fried prawn was the best shrimp-type-thing I've ever had. The grilled one was decent though unremarkable. Perhaps appealing in its exoticism to those dining at Matsuhisa, but come on! Who in Berkeley hasn't had a grilled-in-the-shell prawn before?

On to the meat, or rather more fish and meat. Mushrooms and onions sauteed in cast iron skillets and then one topped with a generous chunk of bluefin toro, the other with a generous chunk of kobe beef. They were virtually indistinguishable as the perfectly integrated fat popped out in each bite, the toro and the beef literally melting away in our mouths. The onions were as good as onions get and the mushrooms cooked to near crispness in broth and fat.

The final savory course was the sushi course. At our request we got octopus as well as shrimp, more tuna, and some sort of clam. The rice is kept warm and just enough real wasabi is added to each piece to pique the freshness of what was some pretty damn fresh fish. The octopus was incredibly tender.

Before dessert we ordered a few a la carte items--clean, fresh abalone and slightly fishy saba (the only misstep). And just to see how it was, we got the ankimo. It was absolutely retarded. Not the slightest bit fishy, mild and creamy. The closest to foie gras that I've ever tasted from monkfish liver.

Though the dessert options were pretty standard fare (something you'd see on the menu at say Cheesecake Factory), the banana spring roll and chocolate souffle cakes were perfectly executed. Not too sweet or cloying. Just good.

We finished up our meal with a small bottle of sake that was aged for ten years while music is played (that's all we know, it's what the menu said). Good stuff.

I'll admit it was the most expensive meal of my life by a hefty margin, but I'd have to say that it was pretty damn close to the best meal I've ever had (if not the best). And loyal readers will remember that I'm not one to equate cost with quality. Service was attentive without being invasive, the chef was engaging, and the food was executed virtually flawlessly. Was it seasonal? Not particularly. Was it local (or even Californian)? Not entirely. But who cares? It was delicious.

We caught a cab back to the hotel and met up with friends poolside for more drinks. And then back in the room for more drinks. Then out on Sunset for more drinks.

Good times.

Next morning we relaxed at the hotel until the generous checkout time of 2PM. Had breakfast poolside. I had really tasty housemade granola and A had the brioche french toast. We charged it to our room.

We had the valet bring the car around and headed out to Westwood where we picked up K for a trip to the Getty. Not much to say about the Getty. There were paintings and sculptures. Good coffee at one of the kiosks. Some nice German expressionist paintings.

Headed back down into Westwood and grabbed K's fiancee L and met up with R over at Versailles, a SoCal mini-chain of Cuban restaurants. What does that mean? Pork and plantains and a lot of it. For the price it was pretty damn good. I had what was sort of the Cuban take on carnitas. The meat was tender and flavorful, well spiced with a garlic marinade. The fried plantains were suprisingly sweet and accompanied with some nice spicy black beans. Just solid tasty inexpensive stuff from a cuisine other than Mexican or Chinese.

Hung out in Westwood with the other high school kids for a while, grabbing some frozen yogurt at Pinkberry, a new hip spot. My companions couldn't get over how tart the yogurt was. I kept trying to point out that it was frozen yogurt, and thus should be tart instead of the usual over-sugared ersatzicecream that is most establishments' take on frozen yogurt.

We finished with bowling in Venice and a stop off at Johnnie's Pastrami. Didn't have anything to eat because we were still stuffed, but the massive hot pastrami sandwiches looked pretty fucking great.

We hit the road early because, well, we had places to be and things to do back north that evening but I was left strikingly satisfied with my dining in LA. Everything was cooked nicely and it was all tasty and home-y. Perhaps LA's over-concern about style and appearances can be a good thing with food. Instead of getting all academic and cerebral with cardoon and late-season heirloom tomatoes, the food just puts its tits and ass on display and gives you the culinary lap dance that we all secretly crave.

Bay Area food is a long night of enriching, stimulating conversation. Los Angeles food is a hot cloakroom fuck between parties. Both serve their own unique purpose.

You should enjoy both in moderation.

HFF Has Lunch: A16

A16 has been a restaurant I've been wanting to try for a very long time. Southern Italian food, what I'm told is the best pizza in town, and a great wine list. I found myself in the Marina early for a meeting and was pleasantly suprised to find that it's open for lunch Wednesday-Friday. I dropped in, sat at the kitchen counter, and had lunch.

Great space, though with an awkward entry--you head in and the bar's on the right but there's no discernible host station which was initially problematic as I waded through the restaurant trying to find out what to do. I was greeted finally by a friendly hostess and I took a seat at the kitchen counter. Nice Italian wine list with some big name California wines thrown in to placate Marina blue hairs. Had an excellent glass of Sagana Nero d'Avola bright and fruity but with a warm dryness that was excellent.

First up was ravioli of beet greens and sausage with braised rabbit. Fucking great. Unlike other ravioli incarnations that have a drop of filling ungulfed by thin floppy pasta, these ravioli were stuffed with bright red filling and the pasta was nice, thick and al dente. The light broth and tender rabbit was great. Simple and elegant but still packed a lot of flavor.

Next I had the quattro formaggio pizza with wild arugula. Probably the best pizza I've had. I still say Pizzeria Delfina has a better crust, but the combination of cheeses and the fresh wild arugula thrown on the pizza right out of the oven was fantastic--once again, simple and elegant but with a lot of flavor. The delightful pasta cook in the kitchen offered me some fried calabrian chiles to put on the pizza, those added a nice earthiness and kick that bumped the pizza up from interesting to awesome.

As a side note, A16's entirely open kitchen meant that a cook threw a whole cleaned and skinned lamb up on the prep counter to butcher, in full view of the dining room. Pretty awesome.

The limited lunch menu was so good I need to get back for dinner where more than just a few primi and pizzas are offered.

Friendly low-key staff too--in fact one of the more pleasant solo dining experiences I've had.

Not particularly cheap, but I left stuffed to the gills.

A16
Chestnut at Divisadero
www.a16sf.com
Reservations: 415-771-2216 or www.opentable.com

Diner Etiquette: Those First Moments

Ever wondered what your servers are thinking when you sit down to eat? How they size you up? What they hope you do or don't do?

When you come into a restaurant everyone there is making a quick initial assessment. How you behave when you walk into a restaurant until you place your order will affect the entire rest of your evening.

So.... what should you do?

First: DO NOT SEAT YOURSELF! Unless the restaurant has a sign that says "please seat yourself." This includes directing the host to the table at which you would like to sit. This is one of the biggest pet peeves in the business. A restaurant needs to maximize its usable space, which means that seats can't be wasted. There are reservations coming in as well as server loads to consider (you can't seat 5 tables at once in one server's section). I know it may look like the restaurant is empty now, but it'll probably fill up while you're dining. Plus if one couple takes up a table for four, all of a sudden you have to let every couple take up a large table.

Honestly folks, a table for two is enough room for two people. If the size of a table really concerns you to the point of consternation, go see a fucking psychiatrist. And if a restaurant honeslty doesn't have big enough tables, mention it to management. Enough complaints, things will change.

As a side note, before you bitch about a table you're seated at, take a quick look around and make sure there actually are other open tables. I can't tell you how many times I've seated somebody at the only open table (usually one of the worst in the restaurant) and been asked if we have something else. No, we don't have anything else. See?

Second: Sit down, read your menu, and be patient. Bread and water will come. As an aside, don't ask for water with no ice. If ice causes you pain and disomfort to the point of consternation, just give up and get some dentures. Just wait the ten minutes for the ice to melt and move on with your life. Anyway, remember: your waiter will come. I promise. So Take this time to READ THE GODDAMN MENU. Read everything, make note of questions or curiosities. Look at both sides of the menu. Find the wine list. Read the wine list. Decide what you want to do for wine (glasses, bottle, cocktails). Make note of beverage questions. Reading the menu is very important (think of it like reading all the answers to a test question before responding). I've had people order smoked salmon that clearly said "smoked salmon" on the menu and then send it back because they didn't realize it was smoked. Seriously.

Third: When your waiter arrives, just remember that he's just there to check in. A good waiter will usually arrive at your table about five minutes after you're seated (if it's not overly busy). He's not there to take your order (though if you're ready, great), he's there to find out any immediate issues and questions, and to get a drink order. If you're not ready, fine and dandy. A polite "oh, no questions yet we just need some more time" is all you need say. Don't flustered and flighty. This will indicate you as a crazy. But do ask questions if you have them, just make sure, once again, you've read the menu. Don't ask what kind of fish is in the stew if it SAYS ON THE FUCKING MENU WHAT KIND OF FISH IS IN THE STEW. Don't ask if you can substitute chicken if there's no chicken on the menu.

Fourth: Once your questions are answered and your wine is poured, order quickly and concisely. Don't call your server over because you're ready to order and then hem and haw through the menu for five minutes. Don't declare that you're ready to order if half of your party isn't. Order when you're ready to order, ask questions and deliberate until then. This makes you feel less rushed and your server has a chance to do something than just stand at the side of your table eyeing your wife, which means better service for everyone else in the restaurant. Also, order everything when you know what you want. Inform your server if you'd like to "take it slow" or inform your server if you're in a hurry. He can pace your meal appropriately. But there's nothing more annoying than a table that insists on sitting on their menus and order course by course (even though they know what they want) just so they can "pace" their own dinner. A good waiter will be able to do it for you and if he has your whole order it makes it easier for him to coordinate everything on a busy night.

If you follow these basic steps, your server will assess that you're a friendly and savvy diner. The waiter's going to care about you more and make you a higher priority on a busy night.

One last side note. Here are the signs that a waiter looks for to determine if you're ready to order (don't do these things if you're not):
1. Your menus are on the table, off to the side.
2. You're no longer looking at the menus after having looked at them.
3. You're looking up and around the restaurant.

There you have it. Take a deep breath, read your menu, and prepare to enjoy your evening.

The Myth of Wine Pairing

Now there's an attention-grabbing headline.

First, what I'm not saying: I'm not saying that there isn't a technique to finding wines that match well with foods that you're eating. I believe that whole-heartedly.

What I am saying: I'm saying that this isn't an elusive art, it's not particularly difficult, and that it is a profoundly inexact science. It's an opportunity to have a good time, not the secret to infinite pleasure and divine knowledge.

When pairing wine with food you're dealing in broad strokes. Here are the basic principles that I use:

1. Work as I would with food. How do come up flavors on the plate? You look for complimentary or supplementary flavors. Acid cuts through fishiness: lemon juice with salmon. Sweetness offsets spicy (and vise versa): jalapeno cornbread. Earthiness compliments creaminess: smoked salmon and cream cheese.

What does this mean? It means I'll usually go with a dry tart white wine with most seafood-centric dishes. Italian and Spanish whites are usually good bets. I'll go with a lighter varietal for lighter food. Grilled salmon gets a nice robust muscadet. Braised squid gets a vermentino or arneis. Chicken and pasta in cream sauce? A medium-bodied earthy red like a southern Rhone or a Nero d'Avola. Spicy food (particularly east Asian or Indian cuisine) will almost always get an off-dry gewurztraminer, riesling, or similar Alsatian/Northern European white varietal.

2. Like doesn't always treat like. Just because you have a butter sauteed scallops doesn't mean you need to have a buttery chardonnay. A steak doesn't always need to take a big meaty red. It's more important to focus on the flavor profiles of the dish taken as a whole then on the characteristics of the central ingredient. If your scallops are seasoned with earthy, aromatic herbs you might find that a light, fruit-focused red would work well. A steak broiled with salt and pepper and topped with a little horseradish might lend itself as well to pinot noir as to cabernet or zinfandel.

One break from this rule? Generally speaking the wines of a country or region pair best with the cuisine of that country or region, especially when we're talking Old World. The wine and cuisine of Europe have been inextricably tied to each other in a co-evolution for centuries if not millenia. Burgundy takes to northern French food. Bordeaux takes to western French food. Muscadet takes to the shellfish-heavy cuisine of coastal France. You get the picture.

3. Start with the wine. If I'm cooking at home I'll sometimes decide on a wine I want to drink first and then figure out what I'm going to eat. A nice wine that you're familiar with will benefit from your being able to fine-tune the flavors of your dinner. The wine is a fixed thing, nothing's going to change how it tastes. Dinner is infinitely malleable. Got a nice off-dry gewurz? Steam up some curry mussels and call it a party. Nice minerally syrah? Stew some rabbit.

4. It doesn't really matter. While you will encounter that occasional brilliant wine pairing (in the same way you'll encounter a transcendent entree instead of food that's just good, or even great), that's more a product of circumstance and serendipity than skill and knowledge. Most of the time you'll be happy with whatever wine you choose as long as you pay attention to your basics. Besides spending money on food and wine you like is more important than trying to play some abstract game of chess with your palate.

One final bit of advice that I can't stress enough: the more wines that you taste and become familiar with the better you'll be at pairing them. If you limit yourself to California's Big Five you're cutting out 90% of your pairing possibilities. And remember, a good wine list at a good restaurant will have scores of unusual wines that will work wonderfully with their food, even if you haven't heard of the varietals.

A Wine List

I've often written in reviews about a wine list being "good" or "bad." Actually, I don't think I wrote about a wine list being "bad," but I could if I want to. I swear. I think I did call Stokes' wine list lackluster or some such. I could check the archives of my own blog, but that would involve opening a new window or tab. That would be an abuse of technology.

So, anyway...how do I determine the quality of a wine list? What should you look for if you want to be like me?

Here's what I look at, in this order:

1. Breadth
2. Price
3. Appropriateness for the cuisine
4. Recognizability

What's breadth? It's just that. How many different varietals, how many different countries, regions, and to a lesser extent, vintages. A lot of bad wine lists, mostly found at moderately expensive restaurants in the suburbs and tourist destinations, are heavily loaded with chardonnay, sauvignon blanc, cabernet sauvignon, merlot, and zinfandel. At some you're unlikely to find even a handful of wines that aren't from California's Big Five.

Sure, throw in the obligatory California chardonnays but also give me a breadth of white burgundies. But then there's that whole issue: wine lists at some of the finest restaurants will be limited entirely to California, French, and Italian varietals. This is not so much a bad thing, because these three regions obviously offer a huge variety of flavor profiles. But, that doesn't mean that wines from Spain, Austria, Germany, and South America are somehow unworthy of such lists. A selection of wines from outside the world's Big Three is another indication of a list's quality.

Moving on to price. It's not the lowest priced wine or the highest priced, but the mode of prices. The largest percentage of a wine list's selections should be within a range of 1.5-2 times the average price of a menu's entrees. So we're basically talking $30-$40 bottles at most restaurants. And then 80% (inclusive) of the total list should be within 20%-30% of that mode ($25-$52, roughly). You then have a nice chunk of space to work with ultrapremium wines. Be wary of a wine list with a lot of statistical outliers, too. If most of a wine list is sub $40 and the only oddballs are super-priced cult wines or well-known champagnes, we're dealing with a fairly inadequately developed list. Point is, offer a nice moderately priced selection, throw in a couple bargain wines and a premium selection smoothly increasing in price. It's a front-loaded curve, not a bell curve.

So then, what about appropriateness for the cuisine. This is a given on most lists, it's also a bit difficult to determine at a cursory glance. Just look for general clues--is it a seafood-focused place? Then there should be a lot of higher acidity wines (think Italian and Spanish). Is it spicy Asian or fusion-y food? Look for aromatic and off-dry selections (Alsatian varietals, for instance). Basically look for glaring absences from wine list to cuisine.

And then there's recognizability. I think poorly of wine lists that both pander to the big names of a region and to those lists that deliberately don't. Every wine list should have some wines from wineries, winemakers, or negociants that would be recognizable to the modestly savvy diner and winetaster. This goes for varietals too--a wine list should have a wide selection of varietals and styles but should also offer a significant selection of the most popular varietals and styles. Think populism without pandering.

There you have it, answers to a question you never asked.

Cheers.

Wine

Time to hit the topic of wine one more time. I mean, I'll hit the topic again. I'm not saying this is the last time. I just mean that here, once again, I will discuss wine.

Why are people so hung up about ordering bottles of wine?

In a recent post, Michale Bauer discussed the problem with "stale" wine at restaurants and wine bars. That is, wine that has been open for too long. The fact is, wine by the glass programs are in general bad for consumers, restaurants, and winemakers. Consumers get poorly handled wine, restaurants lose inventory, and winemakers suffer damaged reputations from the improperly handled wine.

A resturant should offer, at most, 4 glasses of red and 4 glasses of white (slightly different depending on cuisine) and then have a nice diverse list of reasonably prices wines by the bottle and, when possible, half-bottle.

Going back to the question though, what is the harm in ordering a bottle of wine? Unless you're dining alone it's not an obscene quantity of wine (there are only for or so restaurant-sized glasses in a bottle). Nor is it particularly expensive (same price as four glasses of wine, cheaper than four [or even three!] cocktails. And when you order a bottle you know that wine hasn't been oxidized. It is also more likely to have been properly stored (bottle wines are often stored some place out of the way whereas glass wines are out in the bar where temperatures can get pretty damn hot).

I think Americans are hung up on being perceived that they are drinking a lot. Having a glass of wine is medically acceptable, splitting a bottle is not. Nevermind that those same people go home and have another glass and a shot of Jaeger before bed.

I had an excellent (and expensive) dinner in LA and the owner told me that he was able to maintain an exquisite (and reasonably priced) wine list because he only offered wines by the bottle. He eliminated pouring cost and virtually eliminated lost inventory. The trade off? Consumers can't hedge their bets and taste a wine before committing. Who cares? A good restaurant is going to have a good wine list. Put your faith and trust in that. And if the wine truly sucks you can always reject it. Losing two bottles a week in returned wine is better than losing two bottles a day in overpours, changed minds, and complimentary tastes. If a restaurant has a quality half-bottle selection, then both the solo diner and the light drinking couple can enjoy the benefits of a fresh bottle. No room for excuses.

A fresh bottle of wine with a good meal is a beautiful thing. Spend the money and drink the wine. You'll be a better person for it.

HFF's Recent Hits

I haven't been any place recently that warrants an entire review, plus I think restaurant reviews are kinda passed their relevance anyway.

That being said, what's been going on lately?

Most recent standout? Scott and I dropped in at Absinthe near civic center after we left the symphony at intermission. John Adams' new opera blows goats. Anyway, Absinthe was great. The best duck confit I've ever had (and I've had a lot). Crispy skin, gooey fat, moist meat. The skate wing was moist and crispy as well. We also had a smoked salmon appetizer with cucumbers that was excellent and a straight forward but tasty creme brulee.

Recent trip to Deep Sushi over in Noe Valley was disappointing. Awkward staff and disappointing food, especially for the price.

This month's Gregoire menu is pretty bad ass. In addition to the apparently "legendary" pecan gorgonzola burger is the equally legendary, as far as I'm concerned, smoked Maine shrimp sandwich. Also, braised lamb in lavash and a pork loin with apricot chutney. Tasty.

Cafe Fanny continues to impress in its simplicity, though the service is definitely not in a hurry. At all. Christ, the staff is so freakin' stoned. But, egg salad on toasted levain with sundried tomatoes and anchovies is pretty f-ing fantastic.

Pomelo, also out in Noe Valley, is a spot that has grown on me. There's nothing exceptional about the food in terms of the quality of ingredients or even the preparation, but the dishes themselves are clean, fresh, and well balanced. Grilled mahi mahi with cheddar polenta, mushrooms, and snap peas. Pancit with chicken, chinese sausage, and prawns. Quinoa cakes with ancho chili, roasted pepper coulis, onions, and avocado with rotating fish of the day. Sure the fish is overcooked sometimes but the whole plates are well-balanced and not too greasy. It's nice.

There'll be more.

Celebrity Chefs

There's a creepiness and weirdness associated with the cult of the celebrity chef. In the last ten years, we went from having a small handful of national known chefs (most of those relegated to morning cooking shows on PBS anyway) to dozens of celebrated cooks. Add to that the number of regionally celebrated chefs and you have a widespread phenomenon.

I'll concern myself with the more localized phenomenon at this juncture.

You'll see it primarily in the SF Chronicle review, but it makes an appearance in most all newspaper restaurant reviews. The reviewer will use language that makes it sound like the chef him/herself is personally responsible for assembling and serving every single piece of food that comes out of the kitchen--that each creation is some sort of masterpiece on par with any novel, painting, play, or poem.

Except here's the thing, it's not.

We don't elevate every reasonably competent published writer to exalted status of celebrity author, but simply being a sous chef in a food-centric town is enough to get you some respect and a couple of handys every now and then.

So why is there so much mystique attached to what is just another craft? I think it comes down to equipment and laziness. Think of it in terms of a car mechanic. There are a lot of car repairs that any modestly handy person with a socket wrench, a manual, and several hours of free time can take care of yet we choose to turn that responsibility over to a "professional" at an exorbitant markup. We even pay high school dropouts to change our oil--a car maintenance task that doesn't even require a socket wrench. We're just that fucking lazy. Part 2 is equipment. Sometimes equipment is way too expensive to justify purchasing just to make one little repair to your car. We pay the mechanic a massive sum because he's the guy with the lift and sandblaster.

We pay high school dropouts to cook our food because we're too busy and too lazy to bother doing it ourselves and because they're the ones with the better ingredients, hotter stoves, and sharper knives. We're willing to part with currency in exchange for services.

Cooking is a craft and there's a reason so many dishes are so very similar. There are flavors that are tried and true, all that the cook does is not fuck up cooking it.

Sometimes the chef's hand is very apparent in a dish--that there's a deliberate attempt to do something new, different, or varied. And that's very cool. But 90% of items at 99% of restaurants isn't magic, it's just craft executed with varying degrees of competency.

That's not a bad thing. It's just a thing.

Amateur Night

There's a phenomenon in the hospitality business called "Amateur Night." These are nights that for whatever reason seem to involve a disproportionate number of inexperienced diners or diners who are out of their element in a particular restaurant. Amateur night is bad for a number of reasons, the primary one is that the amateur night diner is typically more demanding and more likely to have unreasonable expectations while also spending less and tipping worse than a more seasoned diner.

The amateur diner will often only eat someplace if they can make a reservation, by doing so they have disqualified themselves from eating at some of the most compelling dining options in the area. The amateur diner also typically must eat between 7 and 8 on a Friday or a Saturday and then is shocked and/or confused when they find themselves in a loud, crowded restaurant and their food is taking longer than they think it should. The amateur diner becomes angry and/or disconsolate when they don't recognize anything on the menu, can't find a wine that they know, or aren't given their first choice of tables. The amateur goes out to eat when everyone else goes out to eat, and is more likely to find as much pleasure dining at Macaroni Grill as they would at Nopa.

So how do you avoid being an Amateur Night diner?

1. Know your restaurant. Research where you're dining in advance. Is this the place for you and your dining companions? Are you just going there because "you heard that it's good"? Most restaurants have websites with recent or representative menus (and prices). If not, check for reviews online (but take reviews from sites like citysearch and [especially] Yelp! with a metric tonne of salt. Also, don't go to a restaurant just to have one specific thing that you saw on their menu, that way you won't be disappointed if they're out of it or not serving it that night.

2. Do you really have to eat out on a Friday or a Saturday night? If you do, do you have to eat at 7:30? If you answered yes to both questions than you are an incurable amateur diner. Plan your evening differently--go out to eat at 5:30 or 6 and then continue your evening out with the theatre, drinks, or dessert elsewhere. Or, conversely, have a cocktail hour at home or at a nearby bar and then go have dinner at 8:30 of 9:00. Or hell, go see your movie first and then go eat at 10 o'clock! It's Saturday night! Where do you have to be the next morning? Hungover in the shower, that's where. Most restaurants in any city worth living in seat until at least 10PM, usually much later (especially on weekends).

3. Don't expect too much. People who dine out irregularly, especially people who go out for a "fancy" dinner only a few times a year, are expecting those meals to be absolutely transcendant or mind-blowing. The fact is, most of these people are going to be just as sated and pleased after a meal at your basic upscale casual-dining chain establishment as they are at the finest restaurants. Frequent dining out and cooking in is the key to understanding and appreciating the differences between restaurants, flavors, ingredient quality, etc. And the fact is a lot of expensive restaurants are doing the exact same thing as your local Chili's, only with better ingredients. And once again remember if you're eating at 7:30 or so on a Saturday, you're experiencing a restaurant at its busiest, which means food will take longer and the servers and bartenders will be busier than at virtually any other time during the week.

4. Be understanding. Know that, with very few exceptions, chefs, cooks, servers, bartenders, and managers are doing everything in their power to provide you with an optimum dining experience. If you're having to wait for food, a drink refill, etc. it's not due to laziness, incompetence, or mismanagement. It's because it's fucking busy. Also, if you've already exhibited some of the aforementioned signs of being an amateur diner, you've probably already been deprioritized (usually unconsciously) in the minds of the staff because the staff knows that, no matter what, you're going to tip a perfectly calculated to the penny 12-15% on an already sub-standard bill. Obviously you'll still get good service, but any extra attention that staff might be able to provide will go elsewhere.

And I do mean to sound bitchy and elitist, because all that I've said is true. I don't eat out often on Friday or Saturday nights when I am free for these reasons. Off-peak times, afternoons, and weeknights are the best times to eat out and have a truly good time.

Humans are creatures of habit, routine, and convention. Break out of it. Stay in and cook dinner on a Saturday night. Have people over for a party. Go out to that hot new tapas bar on a Wednesday. You'll be a better person for it.

HFF Returns Again: Maverick

There are a handful of restaurants that really hold my interest. Places to which I feel compelled to return. In some cases, like with Sophia, it's a case of really loving falafel and knowing that any falafel besides Sophia's is a pointless waste of calories. In other cases it's a combined respect for my perception of a restaurant's modus operandi and values (and food quality, naturally), places like Gregoire, Magnolia, Daimo, Lanesplitter, Solano Cellars....

But there's one restaurant that has stood apart from all the other places I've dined.... Apart from Zuni, Rivoli, Chez Panisse Cafe, Globe, Cav, Range, Cesar, Bouchon, Auberge de Soleil, Boonville Hotel, et al....

That place is Maverick, a tiny, funky neighborhood spot at 17th and Mission.

I went there for the first time shortly after they opened and enjoyed the food and loved the concept. Neo-American comfort food. In a similar vein to the "New American" that has since sprouted up all over the City, but with a consistency of focus. American food, (mostly) American wine from all over, and a crowded but comfortable space. The fried chicken comes with mashed potatoes, gravy, and greens. The fish (American staples like steelhead and monkfish) is always cooked perfectly. Maryland blue crab puffs. Cincinnati style risb with coleslaw. And the steak comes with fries and porter mustard sauce. Gourmet organic takes on classic American food without the froofy "twists" that characterize some other attempts at American classics.

Every now and then something falls flat (like the anger-inducing "hot" fudge sundae) but very rarely. But sometimes experimentation soars--like the frogs' legs "hot wings" and the whole bacon-wrapped trout stuffed with cauliflower. And Maverick's not afraid of combining big flavors together. On my most recent visit the steelhead was combined with cabbage, spiced apples, and chartenay carrots--accompaniments seemingly more appropriate for a pork chop than an anadromous trout--that slapped each other around on my plate and left the steelhead all the better for it.

There's a care and attentiveness on the part of the chef and manager (both 30ish guys, and the co-owners). On my first visit, the chef (Scott Youkilis) was working the floor to give Michael Pierce (wine-director/manager) a night off. On my most recent visit, Pierce advised our server that our wine (an excellent German riesling) was corked (it was) and, after a new bottle was provided he came back to decant it for us, which opened the wine up very nicely. Service in general has always been quite good, albeit idiosyncratic.

Other highlights from our most recent visit: the molasses-glazed pork shoulder with turnips, celery root, and potato dumplings was fabulous. The server provided a steak knife but a butter knife wasn't even needed--the tender meat pulled apart with the touch of a fork. Maverick continued to show a devotion to dense, flavorful salads without a lot of bulky greens. The ginger marinated beet and avocado salad with tatsoi and a blood orange vinaigrette was fabulous, as was the duck confit salad in a phyllo cup. A side of oven-roasted cauliflower and the Kentucky bourbon pecan pie rounded out our meal expertly. This most recent visit was the strongest showing by the kitchen in all my trips to Maverick, which is particularly remarkable because this was late on a very busy night (on Mondays Maverick offers 40% off all bottles of wine).

Maverick seems to be pushing itself forward even after being open for almost two years and the area is catching on and appreciating what Youkilis and Pierce are doing. Despite only decent initial reviews from the Chronicle and other Powers That Be, Maverick has shown that a quality product and quality cultivation of a customer base can achieve success that transcends one douche bag's opinion. Recent accolades include best weekend brunch from SF Weekly Readers' Poll and Best New Restaurant from SF Magazine's Readers' Poll--besting both Range and Mamacita.

Get to Maverick ASAP. Great concept. Great food. Great people. Young talented entrepreneurs making it work in San Francisco.

HFF Hates: East Bay Express' Wineau Column

I've talked about this before. The East Bay Express' Wineau column. I haven't encountered a more worthless pile of shit in print since Percy Ross died. It's a column that nobody asked for and nobody needed.

It'd be one thing if it offered reviews of good hard to find value wines in the $10 price range. Instead, it reviews shit wines that are available at pretty much any place that sells alcohol. If it's available at Albertson's it doesn't need to be reviewed.

A quote: "A similar concept rendered somewhat less impressively comes from Beringer: the 2005 white Merlot ($4.50). Our first tip-off was the aroma, which evoked Sno-Cones. The taste was equally cloying. 'On ice, with Sprite, for Grandma,' said our Token Winemaker, complaining that the treacly cherry and strawberry flavors had not been adequately balanced with acid. I thought this one could be passable if served properly chilled with an appetizer that would offset the sweetness (think spicy Asian, like spring rolls or kimchi)."

If you're going to review $4.50 wines, don't bitch about it when they're uninteresting.

My point isn't to be a snob. That's not it. I've enjoyed many a wine that's sub $10 in price. In fact, they reviewed an excellent Borsao in one column that I drink semi-regularly. But to devote an entire column to wines that are not only trite but available anywhere? Why? Who is this helping?

There are so many better ways to do a value wine column than this pile of semi-liquid horse manure.

East Bay Express: focus your attentions on interesting, non-hangover-inducing, sub $10 wines that are hard to find, unusual, or, well, basically not fucking available at fucking Albertson's.

HFF Asks: Why?

There is a distinct group of diners (perhaps a majority) who never want to try anything new.

This is odd to me.

I rarely order the same thing twice. Not including basic cheap staples (pizza from Lanesplitter, various stuff from Daimo) the only thing that comes immediately to my mind that I order with any regularity is the mezze plate with falafel at Sophia. Why limit yourself to what you already know? That seems silly.

When I dine out, particularly when I'm spending significant money on dinner I want to try something different. Something that I haven't experienced before. More often than not I'm disappointed. You reach a point when know what certain things are going to taste like in general, all you're doing is judging execution. That's boring. It's like the technical competition versus the artistic competition in figure skating. Or another less gay analogy.

Correctly cooking food is the (often poorly-executed) baseline for a restaurant. You're supposed to not overcook food. That's a given.

Or another complaint: "I don't recognize any of these wines."

So? That's a good thing. If I see a varietal or region on a wine list that I'm not familiar with I'll make a point to order it. Or at least ask questions about it. A challenging wine list is a boon. I get pissed off when a wine list is made up of the usual suspects from France and California.

I had a customer inform me that "I know you want to be all boutique-y but it's really frustrating when you don't have any beers that I've heard of. And I drink a lot of different beers." Nevermind mind that our beer list includes Anchor Steam, Red Stripe, and Boont Amber (not to mention other beers from major California microbrews) but if you're somebody who drinks a lot of different beers wouldn't you want to find beers that you weren't familiar with?

What's the fucking harm? It's $4-$10 to try something new in your life. Cheaper than divorce. Hell, cheaper than a hooker. And just like a divorce or a hooker, trying something new in beer or wine will make you a more interesting person.

Return Visit: Stokes - Monterey, Ca

What do you do when you return to a restaurant that you love? Why is it never as good as the first time? Dining out is nothing like sex, where the first time is painful and awkward, then it gets really good for a while before it gets boring and rote and you have to bring sex dwarves and tranny grapefruits into the relationship just to spice things up.

Do restaurants obey the laws of thermodynamics? Is entropy at work making it impossible for a restaurant to ever be better on subsequent visits and can only hope they can hold constant against it?

Or maybe we just idealize our first visits? Everything is interesting and new--flavors we haven't tasted before and on subsequent visits we taste the same quality, but it just doesn't hit us as strongly....

Nah, my vote's for entropy.

On that topic, HFF returned to Stokes, site of the inaugural review just over a year ago, and I figured we had no choice but to review it again.

Entropy was hard at work here.

The menu is just as expansive as before, with small bites/small plates/large plates/simple sides which is a great way to operate, giving customers the ability to decide how they eat without being committed to appetizer and entree versus tapas style.

I ordered a bottle of white rhone which was excellent--aromatic, crisp, and complex. Stokes' wine list, for all its selection, seemed strikingly lacking in diversity. French and California heavy, and within that very pinot noir and chardonnay heavy. Not uncommon for wine lists in general I know, but it just felt a little bit dated, given the contemporary style of the menu. I know a couple dozen Spanish, German, and Austrian wines (not to mention Italian and funkier domestic wines) that'd serve well with the Mediterranean-tinged menu.

We kicked off with two small bites and a small plate for our first course. Caramelized onion and olive flatbread was a glaring disappointment--the flatbread was room temperature and had about two pieces onion on it, though the olives were fabulous. Smoked trout with dill crostini was good, but the smoked trout was served with so much seasoning that it overwhelmed the smoked flavors. If you're going to take the time to house-smoke your trout, why the fuck would you want to overpower that flavor? The parsnip soup with spiced pumpkin seeds and guanciale was the highlight of the evening--rich and creamy without feeling heavy. The pumpkin seed allocation was generous and contrastingly complimentary and with cured pork being at the root of anything good the guanciale was the perfect addition.

Entrees were pretty good. My steelhead was overcooked for my tastes but not overcooked in the abstract sense. The marinated roasted beets and fines-herbes hollandaise sounded weird on paper but played with the fish in a good and funky way. Charlie's crispy pork shoulder was excellently prepared with anise reduction and a tiny dollop of apple puree. The only problem? Too much pork, not enough anything else. Given the mammoth of swine on the plate, a bit more sauce and sides would've been welcome.

We also got an order of braised fennel which was soft, tasty, aromatic and just a touch too oily. But good.

Last time we went to Stokes we got two desserts and made pigs of ourselves. This time, only one--a caramelized pear upside down cake that was not too moist, not too dry. Excellent closer paired perfectly with a glass of Bonny Doon framboise.

So there it was--nothing like the rave-inducing first visit but solid nonetheless. Still, there was a sloppiness that wasn't there a year ago (perhaps because it was a busy Friday instead of a lazy Sunday? Still no excuse.) and the same "problem" as before: too much protein, not enough everything else.

Stokes is still good, but growing increasingly disorganized.

Entropy ho!

Fear and Loathing in Dry Creek Valley

I'm blazing down a potholed country road in Sonoma county buzzed and raging, three knuckles deep in a wine tasting excursion in the Dry Creek Valley.

In the passenger seat is C, she's the brains (and legs) of our operation. A wine tasting first-timer, she keeps the rest of us grounded in the real world, not spewing forth nonsense about the ephemeral green olive notes we pick up on our sauvignon blanc. In the back seat are S and A, two gallant gentlemen with more sense than money--a trait I wish I exhibited more often.

As I downshift hard in my VW I'm struck by the phenomenon that wine tasting inevitably involves drinking and driving on some of the most dangerous roads in the state. I firmly support this phenomenon.

I've been to most of the major wine growing regions of the state, but I hadn't hit up this stretch of Sonoma county before. Our first stop is Christopher Creek, a boutique hilltop winery (not technically in Dry Creek) spewing out what would prove to be a theme: zinfandel(s), syrah, petite sirah, and an obligatory chardonnay. All are big, jammy, spicy, and tannic. Universally.

Christopher Creek was good if unremarkable. Some of the wine would've been worth buying but they all started at close to $30 a bottle. In Napa and the Anderson Valley I found consistent quality in the $15-$20 bottle range (not to mention consistent industry discounts) on wines that were comparable and/or superior to the wines I tasted in Dry Creek. Irritating. Not a single waived tasting fee or industry discount on purchases either.

Doesn't make a professional want to recommend the wines, does it?

Nevertheless, whore that I am, I bought a bottle of their Deux Barriques Cuvee--a 50/50 blend of a single barrel of petite sirah and a single barrel of zin, aged separately for 18 months and then aged together for another 18 months.

Next stop was Ridge's Healdsburg tasting room. The standard bearer for zinfandel, Ridge proved to be a couple heads above any other zins that we tasted. Four different zins, four different vineyards, all different, all great. Ridge is Dry Creek's gatekeeper. They should put up those severe tire damage strips to keep people out. No need to go any further.

Optimistic after our satiety at Ridge we piled into the VW and tore the road up deeper into Dry Creek. We blitzed through the wineries with names like tranny hookers--Bella, Quivira, Preston, Zichichi. And just like with tranny hookers we found ourselves cockslapped with same tits and balls combo of zin/syrah/petite. That's all that anyone made. It was all competent or even good. It was all significantly too expensive.

Robert Parker must take particular pleasure in how wineries bend over backward to make wines to match is palate. He could probably rub one out just thinking about the wines from Dry Creek.

Not to say it was bad! The wineries were nice and the tasting room workers were friendly, if rather coked up and undressing me with their eyes, erect nipples on sagging withered dugs staring conspicuously through knit sweaters. Nothing I can control. I've come to accept it.

We decided to cut our losses and hightail it out of there, speeding out of the valley like a a bat out of some place worse than hell. I was fuming, A was banging his head on the window, S was bellowing profanities like a sodomized sailor, and C just wept softly as she clutched her knees to her chest.

All was not lost, however--we zigzagged our way through town and ended up at Landmark Vineyards (not in Dry Creek) where, despite having closed early, we were treated to a private tasting by the winemaker himself. Here we found nuanced chardonnays and pinot noirs--some of the most burgundian that I've had in California--coupled with informative discussion of the winemaking process. Tasty, intersting, subtle, and priced comparable to the jammy clusterfucks from Dry Creek.

Our final stop, a good final stop for anyone working their way back to the east bay, was at Cline in the Carneros area. What's this? Marsanne! Roussanne! Carignane! Amazing! Solid, interesting wines showcasing a variety of varietals at competitive prices. Redemption at last.

I don't want wines that are palate abusers. We've lost our taste for nuance in California wines, whether they're jammy reds or buttery whites. If we're not punched in the face with flavor we don't think it's good. There are so many varietals that grow great in California but our under-utilized because nobody's willing to be experimental. Nobody's willing to try new things. And I love zin--it's my favorite red varietal overall--but I Dry Creek wasn't doing anything interesting with the grape. It was rote.

So do us all a favor and make a point to dry new varietals and exciting blends. It'll be worth it.

HFF Talks About Fish

Fish is good for you. Fish is tasty. Fish is overfished. A recent study suggests that the world's fisheries will be commercially extinct in less than 40 years.

So that sucks.

What then to do? You have to know your fish. There are two major myths:

1. Wild is always better. Simply false. Smaller fish, freshwater fish, and most shellfish are better for you and better for the environment when farmed. Farmed shellfish are harvested from controlled aquaculture sites instead of dragged up from sensitive wild ecosystems. Freshwater fish like catfish and trout are farmed inland in large concrete pools instead of in fenced off ocean coves--making the likelihood of escape into the wild population virtually nil. Additionally, farming isn't a cut and dry thing--there are better farming methods. Loch Duart in Scotland is a notable example and there are new developments in biodynamic farming in Hawai'i and Canada. We should encourage these practices because this might be our only hope for a consistent seafood supply into the future.

2. Bigger fish are bad for you. Sure there are mercury problems with tuna, swordfish, and ot.her big predator fish but these aren't significant issues unless your pregnant, nursing, or a child. Or you eat a shit ton of tuna every week. But 2 or 3 servings a month for a healthy adult isn't going to make you mad as a hatter. In many instances bigger fish are more likely to be pole-caught from better managed fisheries.

The best thing you can do when picking fish is to find out how it's harvested and where it's from--these factors are much more significant in most instances than the fish itself. Farmed Atlantic salmon bad. Wild California salmon, better. Wild Alaskan salmon, best. Bluefin tuna bad, yellowfin tuna from the Phillipines, still pretty bad. Yellowfin from Hawai'i good, in particular if it's pole or troll caught and not longline caught. Unfortunately this information is not readily available (beyond wild vs. farmed) in most cases. Seek out fishmongers that do provide this information--or ask.

It takes some legwork but if you plan to keep eating fish, eating as responsibly as possible is important and more nuanced then you think.

Monterey Bay Aquarium's Seafood Watch is a great starting point. http://www.mbayaq.org/cr/seafoodwatch.asp

Most importantly, don't be a douche and be all snide and picky at a restaurant unless you know your facts. Farmed trout is okay folks! It's okay!

HFF Speculates: Why We Fuck Up Cooking

I'm not saying I fuck up cooking. By and large I'm a competent home cook. But it took a long time and many many pots of overcooked pasta, burnt onions, and virtually raw vegetables. How did I figure out what I was doing? I'm not sure exactly. Trial and error, problem solving, attentive reading, and knowing what I like and why, I guess.

In my own personal experience, and in talking with friends, here are what I think our the main reasons that we fuck up cooking:

1. Impatience. Impatience manifests itself in two ways--we use too high of heat and we cook things for too short of a time. We just turn on our burner (worse if its electric) and throw on our food and next thing we know the garlic is black and our chicken is charred. But then after charring our chicken we pull it out of the pan--only to enjoy a blackened chicken breast that is raw in the middle. The lesson? Cook over medium-low to medium heat. Use a good pan that heats evenly. Don't let your oil get too hot. Keep your food moving (unless you want to blacken/brown something). The burner never needs to be past medium unless you're boiling water or searing meat.

2. We don't follow instructions. There's a reason that recipes and cooking techniques require specific orders. There's a reason a soup tastes better if you cook your bacon in oil and then you cook your onions in the bacon and then you cook your carrots in the onions than if you just cook everything separately and mix it together at the end. Flavors integrate and build on each other. Wine added early on to deglaze a pan and form the base for a stock serves a different purpose then wine added later to supply aromatic liquid for steaming food. Crushed red pepper cooked in the oil plays a different flavoring role then red pepper added at the end of cooking.

3. We don't know what we like. Knowing what you like--and being willing to explore--is fundamental to home cooking. When you combine competency with basic cooking techniques with culinary curiosity, you're going to steepen your learning curve. Plus, if you try cooking something that you know that you should like, you'll have a clearer sense of whether or not you fucked up what you were trying to cook.

4. We follow recipes. Okay, so this sounds contradictory to some of my earlier notes, but hear me out. Recipes only work if you have a foundation in basic cooking techniques. When you combine uninvolved recipes with a plethora of Food Network shows that teach you how to assemble ingredients in a pan rather than teaching how to cook you get a lot of people trying to cook beyond their abilities. Once you learn how to roast chicken, scramble eggs, pan-fry fish, steam broccoli--once you learn the basics--then recipes can be great for teaching you new flavor combinations and cooking approaches. Attempting a buche de noel before mastering a sheetcake is like trying to take on an eight-way interracial gangbang when you've never even masturbated before.

So what then do I recommend?

1. Cook and cook a lot. Experiment. Fuck up. But pay attention to your fuckups and learn from them.

2. Learn the basics. I recommend Mark Bittman's seminal cooking text How to Cook Everything. Bittman's book presents introductory sections on types of food and then breaks those down into specific food items--always teaching the basics on how to prepare and cook those items before he delves into more elaborate recipes. It's the best book for learning the whys and hows of cooking pretty much everything. Honestly, there've been maybe three things that I haven't found in the Bittman....

3. Get the right equipment. I don't mean you need to spend a fortune, but spend $20 on adecent knife and $30 on a good frying pan. Nothing All-Clad or Le Creuset or Henckels--just stuff that isn't scratched, warped, dull, and paper thin. Get a sharpening steel for your blades. A gas range should be a deal-breaker when you're apartment hunting, too. You can't learn to cook on electric. You just can't.

4. Learn your spices and seasonings. Don't be afraid to use salt. Practice and see how different dried and fresh seasonings behave in cooking. A pinch of aleppo sauteed in olive oil makes for an estrus-inducing pasta sauce. A teaspoon of dried herbs turns scrambled eggs into a romantic post-coital breakfast.

5. Never watch the Food Network again. Except Iron Chef and maybe Good Eats. Maybe. Gone are the days when actual chefs with actual talent (Mario Batali) taught you about cuisine, culture, and cooking. Instead you get a bunch creepy career women trying to make other creepy career women feel less guilty about not having time to actually cook for their families by teaching them how to open some cans and dump then in a casserole dish. That's not cooking. You don't need a tv show to explain that to you, you need the recipe on the back of the can of Hormel chili. Maybe I'll start watching again if they come up with a show that combines Giada de Laurentiis' tits with Rachael Ray's ass and Emeril Lagasse's blowjob skills all under Paula Deen's benevolent, watchful eye. So much cream cheese. I'd also watch Marc Summers straighten fringe at the French Laundry.

Seriously though, between that giant head and her spectacular rack, Giada should not be able to stand upright. It's a paradox of physics. Like bumble bees.

HFF Quickie: Yoshi's

Yoshi's, Oakland's venerable jazz club recently hired a new chef and overhauled their menu in an attempt to revitalized what had become a staid, unchanging menu of traditional Japanese food and outdated fusion food. Not to say it was bad before--Yoshi's has always served some of the best sushi and sashimi in the area--but this new menu is a giant leap forward.

The menu changes weekly, and is broken down into a family-style/tapas format with dishes grouped by type (small plates, carpaccio, smoked sashimi, salads, shellfish, tempura, grill, sides) with everything served a la carte. The excellent sushi and sashimi selection is also still available.

We dove right in, trying an array of menu items. First up was the ohitashi trio--three cigars of densely-packed blanched spinach each topped with black sesame, vinegar-miso dressing, and tofu-walnut puree. Pretty good. The spinach itself was a little underseasoned but the toppings were well done--in particular the tart, earthy miso.

Next up, the smoked hokkaido scallop sashimi. Sliced sea scallops, lightly smoked, and topped with salmon roe and truffle oil. The scallop ensemble was deliciously full-flavored. The spicy citron puree on the bottom was a bit overpowering--strong, heavy, and smoky it got in the way of the comparatively milder flavors on top.

Asari clams steamed in sake and miso were fucking great. The clams were tender, the broth rich and redolent. The broth itself was a bit salt for solitary consumption, but complimented the clams beautiful.

Two tempura dishes: one, a mix of organic vegetables (that somehow included asparagus in December) was decent; the other, silken tofu and avocado was great. Crisp fluffy batter and a nice (if underseasoned) tentsuyu broth.

The finale--the most entree-like--was the kurobuta pork chop. The thick, fatty chop marinated in a broth similar to what the clams were steamed in. It was pretty damn good., One would imagine that it'd be hard to fuck up a cut of meat this fatty, but I've had versions that were either too puckeringly salty or glazed with a sickeningly sweet teriyako-ish syrup. So this was nice change of pace.

Yoshi's has also expanded their sake selection and marketing with a very nice, detailed, and focused sake menu. The two tasting flights Yoshi's offers are each very distinctive and well-articulated. Yoshi's has become a friendly spot for sake novices to get their feet wet.

Once we got into the jazz club itself we satisfied our fish craving (a limited appetizer, sushi, sashimi, and dessert menu is available during the shows) with an order each of unagi and saba sashimi and hamachi nigiri. Phenomenal. The eel was sweet and dirty like the a dirty river, the mackeral firm and oily, and the yellowtail soft and buttery with just enough lingering firmness to hold in a hint of oiliness.

So, in the end Yoshi's was pretty good. Well worth a stop before seeing a show in the jazz club (10PM show ticket-holders can reserve their seats in advance if they're dining). Worth a visit for dinner on its own? Sure. Nothing mind-blowing but some really good (and probably continually improving) food.

Eight stars!

Yoshi's
510 Embarcadero West
Oakland, Ca 94607
510-238-9200 or www.opentable.com
Total cost for two (six plates, two sake flights, tax, tip): $130
www.yoshis.com

Range - San Francisco, Ca

Why:
Critical darling--3.5 stars in the Chronicle, one Michelin star all in its first year of being open.

Who:
Me and girlfriend Charlie. 'Twas her birthday.

The Space:
Long storefront--bar and tables in front and then an crowded but somehow airy main dining room in back. Range manages to pull off the industrial chic look with a more pronounced homey-ness and warmth then some of its counterparts. Comfortable enough seats and big enough tables. Banquette tables are a little close together, but that seems to be the case everywhere.

The Wine:
A bottle of 2004 Schlumberger Grand Cru riesling. Nicely dry and crips with moderate acid and creeping minerality. Pronounced stone fruit nose--lightly floral. Good small winelist overall, well-priced and with a broad reach--not particularly deep in any one region or style, though. Props to the server for steering me to the riesling instead of the more-expensive Sancerre that I also had my eyes on.

Appetizers: We tried their soup--a flageolet bean soup with crostini and olive oil. Nice and bean-y with an earhty creaminess induced entirely from the beans. It was a suprisingly light but still comforting cold-weather dish. We also had the roasted beets with arugula and goat cheese. A competent take on a classic salad. Beets were left in fairly big chunks which was nice--you could actually bite into a beet instead of swallowing little cubes. Good goat cheese.

The real criticism I had with the appetizers was a lack of innovation and originality. Besides the two that we had (which are pretty standard fare) there was butternut squash ravioli, roasted scallops in scallop jus, and raw hamachi with cucumber, avocado, and meyer lemon (and one or two other items that I forget). All of which are very conventional fare--no doubt all quite tasty--but they weren't pushing any innovation boundaries. And as much as I love butternut squash ravioli, that's kinda reached cliche at this point. Let's be honest.

Entrees:
Entrees were a different story however. Charlie had the chicken--a half roast chicken with pecan, bacon, and scallion bread salad with sherry jus. I know what you're saying--Zuni. It's true. But the pronouncement here? Range's chicken is BETTER. That's right. Crucify me now and feed my entrails to the avocado demons. The skin was not as crisp, but the chicken itself was moister and infused with flavor without being overly salty. Bread salad was fantastic too--more bread pudding than salad with all the ingredients sort of oozing into each other. Flawless execution.

I went with the striped bass (a change from the cod that was on the menu) with melted fennel and baby artichokes. The fish was also crusted with a luques olive tapenade. This dish was great too--perfectly cooked fish (cooked through but not chewy) with a crispy savory skin (thanks to the tapenade). The fennel and artichokes were cooked to just this side of mushy consistency that extract complimentary flavors from the fish. The dish did lack a touch of substance--not to say that it needed a starch, but perhaps an additional more substantive vegetable--salsify maybe? Nevertheless, well-done and fresh--I was tasting something new.

Dessert:
Range's pastry chef was recently featured in San Francisco Magazine as the best in the area. I didn't know this until after we ate and it seems the recognition was deserved. Every dessert had compelling attributes and we had a hard time selecting. We opted for warm crepes with huckleberries and pear. Fabulous. Fresh sweet fruit and made-to-order crepes that were perfectly crisp on the edges.

It was so good in fact that we had to try another dessert and went with the pumpkin pot de creme topped with toasted spiced pumpkin seeds. This was even better--surprisingly light and not overly sweet. It actually tasted like pumpkin and not sickeningly sweet pumpkin in mousse form.

In Conclusion:
Great food in a great space (not to mention relatively inexpensive). Some of the menu lacks inspiration and innovation, but everything we had was perfectly cooked and quite good. And there were more then just the occasional flashes of brilliance. Great wine list, phenomenal dessert. California cuisine done right--perhaps even better then Chez Panisse Cafe. Better service and desserts at the very least.


Cuisine: California
Price range: Appetizers: $7-$12 Entrees: $16-$22
HFF's cost for two (two appetizers, two entrees, two desserts, bottle of wine, two coffees, tax, generous tip): $110
Reservations: 415-282-8283 or www.opentable.com
842 Valencia St.
San Francisco, Ca 94110
www.rangesf.com

HFF Quickie: 900 Grayson

*****UPDATE: A return visit and a taste of the "Demon Lover"--a slightly spicy breaded and fried chicken paillard on their waffle smothered in rich white gravy. Fucking great! Honestly one of the best pieces of fried chicken ever moist and tender, crispy on the outside. Great peppery gravy, slightly sweet waffle, crisp-crusted paillard. Big but balanced flavors, rich and filling. Also available on the lunch money.*****

It's Monday. A new week, a new breakfast. Met up with coworkers at 900 Grayson, the hot(ish) breakfast/lunch spot in industrial West Berkeley.

Home-y interior with neo-rustic chic tables and chairs. Nice garden out back, reasonably secluded from the surrounding manufacturing and biomedical research facilities. Large creepy painting of a rooster on the wall.

We were promptly greeted by a friendly host/server who informed us that the coffee machine was broken, though espresso was flowing freely. Not a big deal. The machine was back on-line before we left and he circled, offering complimentary coffee.

So the food. At the table we had the Potter's Creek--a basic fresh egg and herb scramble with shredded hash browns and toasted pain de mie. Not what I would've ordered, but it definitely was well-made.

We also had a Time-Life Cookbook--an emmental omelette "souffle" with the same hash browns and a small fuji apple salad on the side. Eggs were light and fluffy and the apple salad was a nice touch. It was lacking flavor depth--herbs, veggies, something. This proved a common theme--everything was well-executed and tasty, but lacking a savory depth that would've heightened the other flavors.

Another dish--cheekily called "Breakfast"--scrambled eggs, levain toast, bacon or sausage, and the same shredded hashbrowns. A fresh organic take on breakfast.

I had the "7th and Grayson"-- a tofu, red onion, tomato, mint, olive, and harissa scramble with levain toast and hash browns (these cooked in olive oil to keep the dish vegan). This was great--it had that savoriness that the other dishes lacked. I added hass avocado (one of the many sides and add-ons offered on the "make-up kit" a la carte list). Tasty.

We also shared an "I'm Not Belgian" waffle. This was a minor disappointment--neither light and fluffy nor dense and nutty. Ah well.

One service note: my breakfast didn't arrive initially--seemingly as an error. Server took it off the bill, no harm done.

Probably the best organic/farm-fresh take on breakfast I've had and the tofu scramble showed flashes of brilliance. Curious to try lunch (and the upcoming dinner menu) to see what 900 Grayson can do when freed of the constraints of what we expect from "breakfast."

900 Grayson
Grayson at 7th St.,
Berkeley, Ca 94710
510-704-9900
Total Cost for Four (4 plates, 4 coffees, 1 side, tax, tip): $45
www.900grayson.com

From Michael Bauer's Blog, Part 2

"fingering potatoes"

A typo sure, but still....

::shudder::

From Michael Bauer's Blog

"I find it shortsighted that expensive, high-profile restaurants put inexperienced people (mostly young women who have tight bodies and wear even tigher clothes) at the door. They might dress up the restaurant visually, but the wrong person -- whether not properly trained by management or just inherently inhospitable -- can create an icy chill that is difficult to shake. The waiter's job immediately becomes more challenging, because to warm things up, the server has to work twice as hard."

If Bauer ever (ever) uses the term "young women who have tight bodies" again I will track down his automobile and personally urinate in his gas tank.

I'm still having douche chills. And will no doubt have nightmares.

Ugh.

The Protagonist Adventures in California Cuisine: Brussels Sprouts, Turnips, Apples: Pumpkin In All Forms

Down Gilman street toward the freeway you remember that you never (never!) exit at Gilman street headed west on I-80. The frontage road is also of little use (paritcularly on weekends) as greasy townies from Cities Past Richmond wend their into The City (or Berkeley should there be a college football game). You might think that city streets are better than crawling at 20 mph on the interstate but you'd be wrong. Sitting at a stop at a manic and bizarre nine-hundred way uncontrolled intersection for five or ten or ninety minutes as cars barrel past and you have nowhere to go but attempt a left turn is a recipe for a hernia.

For you see, the couple in the Subaru in front of you won't move their goddamn car and you shout at the window for them to Grow Some Goddamn Balls! But it's a Subaru so they're lesbians and they cast a scalding glare as the air escapes from your tires along with the crumbling artifice of 5,000 years of patriarchy. Slowly and inexorably.

But you're not there. You know better--you're on San Pablo Ave. What's that? Backed up for eight traffic lights? Quick make a left and now you're on Kains! Ah Kains! And now you think you can't get past Cedar on Kains. You are wrong! Cross the Avenue again and now to 10th and make a left! Here's where it gets sticky (that's what you're telling me, I know)--crossing four lanes of angry University traffic. Suicide, no? Worse than anything Gilman St. might throw at you? How wrong you are! You are so wrong that it is funny! Haha! When San Pablo is backed up for eight traffic lights so is University! Barring the occasional spot of douchebaggery--if the drivers are obeying the basic rules of the road--you should be able to zoom straight through the parted Red Sea of late model Japanese cars as they wait with an eerie patience to move a car-length closer to the hills or the sea.

That's not your business though. Socioeconomics and geography are not for you. Gay rights and patriarchy are things you talk about at the dinner table to pretend that you are Socially Aware. You don't actually care about them. You are a middle-aged upper middle-class heterosexual couple (probably secular Jews [probably self-hating]). You are looking for food. You are looking for The Best Food in the Country. The Best Food in the Country that you are so blessed to have available to you on your front porch. That unification of Ingredients and Technique that defines California Cuisine.

And it is November. You, oh educated one, you know what you're going to get. And what's that? Why Apples! Brussels sprouts! Turnips! Apples again! Even more apples! Apple slaw! Apple salad! Apple compote! Apple confit! Apple conclave! Apple compost! Apple convex! Apples and apples! Show me a restaurant without apples in November and I'll show you a restaurant at which it is not worth eating! Show me a restaurant without brussels sprouts in the autumn (that's how we say it in California Cuisine Land--it is not fall but autumn [adjective form: autumnal]) and I'll show you a restaurant without a soul! Show me a restaurant without turnips and I'll show you a restaurant that doesn't care about weird virtually flavorless root vegetables! Then there are the apples!

And when you sit down you will no doubt lament the lack of that one particular obscure French appelation on restaurant's list of wines by the glass (though they have three of them by the bottle, all decently priced) and you'll snidely mention this to your server and then order a glass of chardonnay--"though you don't usually drink California wines." And then you'll ask if they plan to have dungeness crab--how can they not when this is California in autumn when the Crabs are in Season!

Oh aren't you in for a treat tonight! Remember, it is autumn--which means you can eat pumpkin in every form. Start with pumpkin soup! Then pumpkin ravioli! Then wild salmon on a pumpkin puree topped with an apple-turnip tapenade! And for dessert? Pumpkin pie? No! How banal! How quotidian! How facile! What a terrible person you are for even suggesting it! You will have a warm apple-pumpkin crisp on a bed of pureed apples and pumpkins and topped with apple and pumpkin spiced whipped cream of course! Would you accept anything less? I didn't think so.

(Butternut squash and pears are an acceptable substitute. Huckleberries too, but only Wild and Hand-Picked. But you knew that.)

And you lament that you can't get the turnips in your own garden to taste as good as those you just ate. And after thanking the chef you leave in your automobile (probably a Volvo, maybe a Saab), sated and self-satisfied. You wend your way back to your 1920's Craftsman home, let in the dog that substitutes for your child, and head to your bed where you celebrate your tired and loveless marriage with a quick kiss and some light reading.

And as you drift to sleep there's one last thought that flits in and out of your head--I can't wait for spring and I can't wait for asparagus!

HFF Asks: Why?

Bread.

So why do people love bread? I mean I like bread. Bread is fine. It serves its purpose and can be pretty tasty sometimes. For my money, Tartine's levain-esque loaf is the best, by the way. But I can't understand how people fetishisize bread. Some people seem to honestly be sexually attracted to Acme's levain. I will admit that its shape lends itself to being humped (and not much else--you ever try slicing a loaf of levain into any functional form?) So many people ask for more bread and don't eat much (or any) of the bread that is brought to the table. And don't be that weirdo who asks to take their bread home. That makes you pretty much the cheapest and most food obsessed fucker on the planet. As a side note, do you know how many superfluous calories you'd give up if you stopped eating bread with dinner? Just sayin'.


Waiter Hatred.

The vast majority of diners are friendly enough folk. Some are even a pleasure to serve. Yet there is a sizeable minority who have nothing but contempt for those hard working folks who serve them their food. Why is that? Some ideas:

1. Being waited upon at a restaurant is the closest most people come to having actual servants. Therefore they feel compelled to bitch, moan, and request every little thing before they go back home to their nice house and loveless marriage.

2. People think waiters are out to screw them. I think that there are people who honestly believe that the fraternity of waiters is some sort of strange Freemason-type brotherhood that is out to fuck with people. Waiters only fuck with you if you're a weirdo who thinks that waiters fuck with you. It's a vicious circle.

3. Middle-aged women. Simply the worst to wait on, generally. Picky, entitled, and dour, without the redeeming charms of old age. They hate waiters because they see either: the youthful beauty they once had (if female) or the husband who once loved them but is now banging his secretary (if male). Sure this might be because of being oppressed by years of patriarchy so they need some outlet for their frustrations, but that's what a dildo's for.

4. They get it. There are a few people who realize that waiting tables at a good restaurant is the ticket to a well-paid, flexible, and interesting job that doesn't involve sitting on your ass in an office and slowly dying of artheriosclerosis and the lack of a soul. And they're jealous.


Soft Drinks.

So this is unfair. It's not that I don't understand the appeal of soft drinks--they're very sweet, after all. What I don't understand is why anyone would order a Coke when there is an entire beverage list of infinitely better (and better for you) non-alcoholic beverages. Why waste money on high fructose corn syrup in a can if you can get a Reed's Ginger Brew, IBC Root Beer, or IZZE fruit soda. I know that coke is "America" or something but, honestly--gross. Not to mention void of nutrition.

HFF Gets Caught Up

So yeah--not much posting lately and I apologize. There's simply been way too much to do in the non-dining world for your humble host and narrator. The fact is, I haven't eaten anywhere worth writing up extensively. But.... some highlights of the hiatus.

A. Did a dinner at Magnolia Pub that was great--really good fall menu right now including a tasty fried plantain appetizer. Pork schnitzel sandwich also quite nice. Finally had their fried chicken special and that was pretty damn tasty too. Still just an all-round great spot.

B. So if you do find yourself with drastically limited dining options in greater suburbia, here are some of your best bets:

1. Fish & chips at Red Robin. Red Robin overall is the best of the casual dining establishments, taking one tiny extra step to actually care about how their food comes out.

2. Lettuce wraps at Chili's. Straightforward and relatively healthful.

3. Spinach and artichoke dips. An institution of casual dining! Red Robin's (with "hint of bacon") is tops.

4. Fried green beans at TGI Friday's. Just goes to show that what's on the menu's at Bay Area Top 100 restaurants ends up on casual dining menus three years later (and at McDonald's after that--see the fruit and walnut salad). Honestly, Friday's' version gives Coco500's a run for their money--just going to show that breading something and frying it is the easiest way to create super-tastiness.

5. Stay the fuck away from Applebee's.

C. Can I talk again about Sofia? This tiny hole-in-the-wall on Solano Ave in Albany (which somehow failed to make the Chronicle's Bargain Bites) is one of the best places going. Fresh, usually organic ingredients combined together to make the best Mediterranean food I've found. Best falafel, baba ganoush, and roasted eggplant salad you can get. Honestly, once you've had Sofia falafel any other falafel just tastes heavy and dry. Did I mention homemade pita, hamentaschen, baklava, and strudel?

D. I think Gregoire is phoning it in, to a degree. The food has still been tasty but the offerings--particularly the sandwiches--have lacked inspiration lately. How many times can you offer smoked shrimp?

E. Two tentative thumbs up for the new Cesar on Piedmont Avenue. It's nice to see that they addressed many of the problems of Berkeley Cesar--most notably the too-small bar, too crowded tables, and no waiting area--at this new one. It's also an awesome space and the slightly more expansive menu is appreciated.

F. Tokyo Fish has some excellent ready-made dining options that I've fallen for. In addition to a nice selection of sushi from Musashi in Berkeley, recurring Tokyo Fish specialities include hijiki salad, a panko breaded and fried rice ball with sardine, and a hamachi salad with cucumber, ginger, and avocado tossed in Japanese mayo and topped with tobiko. Speaking of tobiko, check out their flavored flying fish roes too. Both the citrus roe and the wasabi roe are pretty damn tasty. Other items that I haven't tried yet--breaded sole, salmon croquettes, and tuna salad.

G. Daimo. Daimo! One of my new favorite restaurants. Daimo! It's not just that it's open until 3AM every day, it's that the food is pretty damn tasty and dirt cheap. Don't miss out on the steamed pork buns (available until 3PM and then after 10PM daily). Three soft sweet buns stuffed with barbecued pork (for $2.50, btw). Shrimp chow fun with egg sauce is a must get, as are the deep fried smelt and deep fried tofu with chili and fried garlic. The menu is many pages long and the walls are plastered with specials so it definitely encourages repeat visits. Even standards like sweet and sour pork and green bean chicken are executed well. Another highlight? The hot chili sauce is second only to Sofia's in the world of local homemade hot sauces.

So what's next on the HFF agenda? Expect a lot of San Francisco posts--tentative trips planned include Home (with the return of Lance Dean Velasquez!), Jardiniere, and Range. Also expect another Napa trip and a stop at Bistro Jeanty. Also, expect more short posts, rants, and wine reviews.

Sorry for leaving y'all with blue balls for so long. HFF'll make it better, I promise.

HFF on the Road: Anderson Valley, Ca

A couple weekends ago I found myself in the Anderson Valley in Mendocino county for a (somewhat) staid but enjoyable bachelor party weekend of wine and beer tasting. Overall I was impressed with the quality of the wines even if the mild climate does produce wines with delicate subtleties that definitely don't stand up in body to the more robust wines from Napa and Sonoma counties. Light and medium body reds (one of the best pinot noir growing regions in the world perhaps?), Alsatian varietals, and lighter, broad on the palate zinfandels and Italian red varietals round out a nice palette of wine selections. It must of course be acknowledged that many winemakers based in the Anderson Valley have vineyards in other parts of Mendocino and Sonoma counties from which they get many of their fuller-fruit red and white grapes.

Some of the winery highlights:

Navarro - Perhaps the quintessential AV vineyard, producing almost all of their wines from site-grown grapes. Really good pinot noir and a premiere reserve Chardonnay that was wonderful--bright and minerally though still with significant butter. I was particularly drawn Navarro's Alsatian varietals--both a dry white riesling and a white riesling dessert wine that was one of the best dessert wines I've tried. And of coure their famed gewurztraminer. A couple of surprising finds too--a tasty, light-bodied but aromatic muscat blanc and a deceptively complex old-vine grenache/syrah/carignane/mourvedre rose with strong strawberry and rose petal notes.

Roederer - Their brut has become omnipresent in the premium California champagne market (and makes up over 90% of Roederer's production) but I was impressed by their single-vintage Ermitage selections and their off-dry and slightly sweet small-case runs.

Esterlina - A private winery two miles up a dirt road (call ahead for reservations--space is limited). You get your own private tastings on one of the winery's two decks overlooking the entire valley. Friendly staff pour the spectrum of their wines (great pinot and chardonnay, really tasty zin port too) on a patio table while you enjoy complimentary crackers and chocolate--you're also welcome to bring your own food and picnic while you taste. One of the best wine tasting experiences out there.

Handley - Known of course for their sauvignon blancs, chardonnays, and pinot noirs (both from AV vineyards and Dry Creek vineyards), I was most impressed however by a floral, complex, but not oaky, Viognier.

Brutacao - A funky winery producing a lot of Italian and fuller red varietals. Nice primitivo and a great zinfandel port. Very friendly tasting room staff.

What struck me most about the wineries in general was a lack of pretension--they just loved making good wines. And that's the thing--unlike other small wine-growing regions (Livermore being the most notable)--the wines across the board were pretty damn good. Not as many standouts and I tasted better wines overall on my trips to Napa, but some of these wines were fucking great. Other notes--other than at the sparkling houses we visited, each winery poured on average 8 different wines for no tasting fee (some poured a dozen or more) and they were usually distinctly different wines too--not just a couple different years or a couple different vineyards of the same varietal.

Also on the trip we made a stop in at the Anderson Valley Brewing Company. Nice little tour of the brewery and a tasting of all the beers that they were currently brewing--except the porter which they were out of. Boont Amber and their Barney Flats Oatmeal Stout are still my favorites, but a slightly malty Summer Solstice Cerveza was deceptively full-bodied and the strong and spicy Double and Triple Abbey-Style Brother David ales were fun and interesting tastes too.

Most of our dining on this trip was campfire cooking and cold cuts, but we did make two stops at a couple Boonville dining establishments.

Dinner was spent at the Boonville Hotel, which offers constantly changing seasonal dishes featuring a lot of local produce (think apples). Excellent homemade foccacia, big plump PEI mussels with aioli, and a fresh green bean and beet salad rounded out our appetizers and our group shared a couple orders each of the roast chicken with fries, lamb with horseradish-yogurt sauce, and pan-seared halibut with saffron rice. All the entrees were cooked perfectly--even the halibut. I appreciated the strong hand with the seasoning, but I agreed with Chef Scott's comment that most of the dishes were fairly one-dimensional--not terribly complex or nuanced in flavor range. Desserts were tasty but unremarkable save for the fresh seasonal fruit used. Boonville Hotel's wine list was impressive, well-priced, and not overly reliant upon local wines.

Breakfast on our way out of town was an unexpected surprise. We dropped into a little cafe called Lola's run entirely by three Mexican women. Breakfast selections were mostly Mexican egg dishes--huevos mexicanos, huevos rancheros, huevos de (puerco) carne abodabo, etc. Perfectly cooked to order, fresh produce, and nice and spicy sauces. Best huevos rancheros I've had, though I would've enjoyed it more if the accompanying red sauce had been served warm. The egg dishes are served with steamers full of warm, soft, homemade corn tortillas. They were definitely corn, but they had all the lightness and softness of flour. Absolutely amazing tortillas--do not miss Lola's for breakfast on your next visit to (or even just through) Boonville.

Go to the Anderson Valley, quality without pretension.

Rant: "Cheap" Wine

The East Bay Express this week features an extensive article on wine--or rather, on the wine reviewing business and its shortcomings. The article laments that nobody seems to review wines that are less than $10 a bottle or wines that are readily accessible in grocery stores. In response, the Express is going to start a recurring feature, cloyingly titled "Wineau," that will only review wines that are less than $10 a bottle and that are readily available in local grocery retailers.

My question is...why?

There's no need to review wines like that. It's the same reason that newspapers don't review Chili's or McDonald's or most basic mom and pop ethnic restaurants. The audience for these venues are predetermined--based primarily on foot trafiic, bargain hunters, and people who are afraid of new things.

I'm not denying that there are some good sub-$10 bottles of wine. There are many. Trader Joe's is full of them. Are there any great wines for under $10? Not that I've tasted. The fact remains that cheap wines generally come from high-yield grape growing regions that produce fruity, tasty wines that are eminently drinkable but lacking in depth or complexity.

What most people don't realize is that it's hard to make bad wine. Most cheap wines, even of the jug or box variety, are drinkable. They might not be terribly complex but they aren't gut-wrenchingly bad. People confuse the fact that a wine doesn't make them want to gouge there eyes out as a reason that the wine is good. Coupled with a bargain basement price they might even think that this wine is great. The fact is... well, no. It's not.

From a very basic standpoint, it's impossible to have a great cheap bottle of wine. The types of soils that produce interesting wines are not ones that are prone to the highest yields. A vineyard's yield (and consequently the cost of the grapes) is the single most important factor in a wine's price. High, fertile yields produce innocuous grape-y wines. See Charles Shaw. Charles Shaw is from a winemaker out of the Central Valley. The Central Valley is the largest wine-growing region in the world--but can you name one major Central Valley winemaker? Exactly.

I do applaud the Express on one aspect of their new "Wineau" column. Each feature is going to showcase and educate about a specific region, grape, or appelation. This is a good thing. If consumers become more savvy about world wine regions then they can begin to understand the types of wines that they like and begin to seek out their own great values--in particular those wines in the $10-$20 range that can be quite phenomenal.

Just remember that finding a drinkable wine under $10 is like finding a fuckable chick at a frat party. It's pretty easy, but it's not going to leave you with any lasting memories. Save up your money and your best pick-up lines and get a wine that won't leave you with genital warts. Save the $5 wines for parties or afternoon drunkification. Get a nice bottle (a great bottle) for those nice dinners. It'll make you a better person. Trust me--I'm awesome. And I don't have genital warts.