HFF in the Kitchen: No Teeth

I got wisdom teeth out last week. The procedure wasn't so bad and the significant pain went away after about 48 hours.

But the soreness and tenderness won't go away!

It actually has now (somewhat), but it didn't for a while. This makes for better writing anyway.

So what have I been eating?

Smoothies. Lots and lots of smoothies. My blender's been going pretty much nonstop. The problem with smoothies (and most soft foods) is that there is a lot of sugar.

I don't object to sugar, but I can only take so much. Making smoothies with whole fruit, silken tofu, and a splash of not inordinately sweetened soymilk made things work pretty well.

TastyBite Indian food from Trader Joe's. I'd forgotten that India is the mother of cooked-to-death cuisine. Makes it easier to eat when your lips fall off from leprosy. Point is, these boil-in-the-bag dishes are pretty freakin' great, rich and spicy and $2-$4 a pop.

Cottage cheese. Sure the curds get into the stinking gum holes, but it's a cheap low-fat source of protein. But not has tasty as....

Yogurt! Yes! Yogurt! Milk that's been partially digested by bacteria is easy to eat and delicious! And really, if you've never had real full-fat cream top yogurt you're missing out. It's like sour heaven as it slips down you're throat.

Fruit. But not all fruit. Berries with tiny seeds are no good. Soft stonefruit and melon have been pretty tasty. Bananas are annoying (except when pureed into smoothies!)

Refried beans have been my fiber-rich savior!

Soup is trickier than you think. Most soups aren't simple purees. And the purees from Trader Joe's are middling. The Butternut-Apple soup is as odd as it sounds. Not bad, just odd. Chunkier soups, particularly homemade ones with al dente vegetables, cause serious soreness and trauma. I still need vicodin by the end of the day.

Some other suprisingly difficult foods: mac and cheese (sticks to the wound sites), broccoli (not cooked to mush), prawns (hard to eat with the front teeth), and smoothies from Coldstone (just too goddamn thick).

Here's what's coming up for HFF: Emmy's Spaghetti Shack, Boulevard, and more adventures in wine country.

Oliveto Oceanic Dinners 2007 - Oakland, Ca

Complacency's a bitch. When the dollars keep coming and you can keep yay up your nose and Thai hookers on your junk, what's the incentive to even maintain your standards, let alone push the boundaries of your creative thought? You have a nice restaurant, people keep coming, and you can charge whatever the fuck you want for whatever you want to serve--even if it means that two bowls of the exact same soup served at the exact same time taste completely different. Why would you pay attention to such a detail? You have sex slaves to traffic!

History is riddled with brilliant creative thinkers who couldn't maintain for very long. Hemingway blew his load with his first four novels. J.D. Sallinger barely wrote a second one. Coppola hasn't made a good movie since 1980.

Basically David Bowie, Martin Scorsese, and Dr. Dre are it for decades-long enduring creative thinking.

And enduring creative thinking is definitely not present in California Cuisine. It all began thirty years ago when someone came up with the brilliant idea that, "Hey, seasonal ingredients that aren't shipped from halfway around and are cooked properly are tasty."

Fucking genius right there. Brilliant. Took some real critical thinking to come up with that one.

The problem? While other parts of the country (and even the Bay Area) have been moving forward with that idea--combining freshness and seasonality with a rewnewed sense of innovation in preparation and presentation--the Berkeley/Oakland greater Gourmet Ghetto is still stuck in 1979.

But when the same wealthy ex-hippies keep clamoring to spend their ill-gotten gains at your restaurants at exorbitant prices, why would you need to offer an exciting product or anything new? What's the incentive (besides your integrity, of course)?

What will you do when those hippies die? What happens?

It's simple. You stop being relevant because you've surrendered your self-respect for complacency and a comfortable income. That's the upper middle-class American way.

What does this have to do with Oliveto? Everything.

I went with a large group which afforded me the benefit of being able to try things I wouldn't necessarily have ordered and the disadvantage of not getting things that I would've ordered.

I'll admit that Oliveto is pretty. Very pretty. Big dark dining room. Scene-y downstairs cafe. Nice bars. Sharp place-settings. Casually elegant servers. It's a pretty place.

First round was the "Grande Aioli" fish, shellfish, and vegetable platter and the platter of salted, marinated, and smoked fish.

The fish platter was remarkable in its ability to make king salmon, skate, tombo, swordfish, sea scallops, and bluefish all taste pretty much the same. The smoked sea scallops tasted like inexpensive canned smoked oysters. The marinated skate was the highlight inasmuch as it actually tasted like something other than salt and smoke.

Hard to judge the Grand Aioli since the chicks at the other end of the table had pretty much picked it clean. The crayfish I had was nicely cooked and the veggies were pretty fucking tasty. The aioli was sharp and garlicky almost to the point of oppressiveness.

Next up, crostoni topped with monkfish liver pate and served with arugula. Here the monkfish lacked the soft creamy texture and almost vegetal flavor of ankimo-style preparations. The monkfish was basically pureed, salted, and mixed with oil to the point of tasting nothing at all like monkfish. Yay! The arugula was good but on the bitter side, even for arugula.

The fritto misto of softshell, anchovies, salt cod, and grass shrimp was pretty damn good though once again picked through by the attractive but voracious women at the other end of the table leaving behind little more than a smattering of tasty fried grass shrimp.

What does it mean when one of the best things in a $150 dinner are tiny shrimp (which you can buy at a bait shop for pennies) served deep-fried and salted?

Next round, two servings of the Maine Lobster bisque, two orders of spelt pasta with dried swordfish belly, and an order of cuttlefish canneloni.

The bisque tasted like lobster, cream, and cognac. Which I guess makes it good if you like those things. I'm relatively ambivalent. What was odd here was that the two servings of bisque tasted markedly different, one tasting strongly of cognac, the other tasting mildly of cream. Inattentive plating or what? Weird.

Spelt pasta was nice and al dente and pretty damn good once you got used to the texture. The shaved swordfish belly (used similarly to bottarga or mojama) added a welcome fishy salty dimension to the otherwise one-dimensional pasta.

I really liked the cuttlefish canneloni, though others at the table were less impressed. I thought the ink-colored pasta was cooked perfectly and the contents were fishy and flavorful--one of the only deeply flavorful dishes we were served.

Entrees came and went with little fanfare. I was personally offended by the cioppino, which consisted of a large garlic and crab covered crostone, a small ladleful of tomato broth, maybe a half-dozen clams and a chunk of overcooked rockfish. I'm not one to bitch about prices, but $30 for that dish was an unconscionable mark-up and also wasn't a damn thing like what cioppino should be. Who did Paul Bertolli blow to be able to get away with serving a dish like that at his restaurant? Oh right, Alice Waters. I hear she's an uncut eight inches.

I will admit that the tomato broth was pretty good--rich and focused.

The whole sea bream was the entree highlight with the sweet old balsamic complementing the light buttery flesh. The fish itself was expertly deboned.

Grilled Boston mackerel was a disappointment only because it was overcooked to the point of dryness, a rare feat in cooking for such an oily fish.

Fava bean puree side dish was pretty tasty--sort of like aromatic Italian refritos.

Lastly a round of desserts and digestifs. My rosewater, saffron, and pistachio "bombe" was a disappointing plate of three milky (as opposed to creamy) tasting and very lightly flavored ice creams. No fruit. No cake. No mold. No sauce. It wasn't even shaped into anything unusal. Just a square. It looked like a piece of neapolitan ice cream sliced out of a rectangular ice cream box. And like I said it tasted like sweet milk. The souffle was much better, though surprisingly eggy tasting.

The highlights of our dinner was the alcohol. 2006 Bandol Rose was excellent, as was the 2006 Vieux Telegramme white. A glass of 1988 Malvasia was rich and sherry-ish. A second rose de pinot noir was decent but a bit sweet. We had a nice moscato d'asti that tasted of pear and sweet apples. We also enjoyed a rich oak-aged moscato grappa that was deep, complex, sweet, and caramelly. Probably the best distilled spirit I've ever consumed.

A few of the other attendees at the dinner were Oliveto regulars and they acknowledged the sub-standard nature of this dinner. So I should probably give Oliveto a second chance. But here's my thing--if you're going to do such a highly publicized dinner that is the source of much celebration every year it should be a showcase for your kitchen's cooking. This dinner felt like an obligatory after-thought. Like the Tony Awards.

I don't care if you don't specialize in fish. If you're going to make the decision to serve it, it'd better be good. This food was competent with flashes of exceptionality and a few instances of mediocrity.

One last note. Much of Oliveto's fish was not sustainably harvested despite the assertions of "conscientiously harvested fish" on their website. The scallops are trawl caught and the harvesting of scallops by trawl is one of the most destructive fishing methods around. The skate, triglia, and (most surprisingly) King Salmon are also trawl caught. All of Oliveto's tuna, swordfish, and rockfish are longline caught which is also of questionable sustainability and results in significant bycatch, particularly in overseas fisheries.

Given the availability of hook-and-line caught, diver harvested, and sustainably farmed versions of many of these fish and Oliveto's super-premium prices I question why such a major player in the California Cuisine world wouldn't use the most sustainable sources for these fish.

Seems lazy and complacent, just like Oliveto.

Oliveto Cafe & Restaurant
5655 College Ave
Oakland, Ca 94618
Reservations: 510-547-5356
www.oliveto.com

HFF Returns: Wood Tavern

I'd never put much stock in how outside forces can conspire to muddle one's enjoyment of a dinner out. Until, that is, I went to Wood Tavern (6317 College Ave, Oakland) for the first time and service was so goddamn weird (even before the credit card debacle at the end) that it put an enormous damper on the meal.

Our return visit, however, was exceptional.

We were greeted warmly and offered a spot at the bar while we waited for our table to be ready (a nice big table in the window). We got a bottle of the 2002 Au Bon Climat "Hildegard" white table wine (pinot gris/pinot blanc/aligote). It was crisp and honeyed with light toasty oak and refreshing acidity. I would've liked a little more complexity on the finish, the wine fell off pretty sharply after moving warmly across the palate, but other than that it was tasty. Perhaps it was just the slightest bit too old. Wood Tavern's wine list is still middling at past, lacking significant geographic and varietal diversity and depth. I'm sure it'll grow with time.

First course. Charlie had the english pea and mint soup (with suprisingly no pork products). Really fresh green pea flavor and pronounced garlic. The mint flavor was present but subtle. I had the ahi tuna tartare which was a trio of small plates--a molded disc of diced tuna, another disc of Oregon bay shrimp with spicy chilies, and a dollop of fresh light cucumber and avocado mousse. All three were good separate and combined, though the tuna was of mediocre quality.

Entrees. I had the "Wicked Good Seafood Stew." It was excellent. Truly spicy tomato broth filled with chunks of meaty linguica, monkfish, clams, Oregon shrimp, mussels, and a shit ton of octopus. Other than a few tough bits of octopus, the disparate ingredients were each cooked impeccably. Charlie had pan-roasted chicken wtih artichokes and bread crumbs. Chicken was rich and moist, accompanying veggies were cooked nicely. The added pan jus, while buttery and flavorful, was very salty.

Desserts were much more interesting this visit. Charlie had the profiteroles filled with bright minty ice cream and I had the strawberry shortcake which was surprisingly moist. Strawberries were sweet and juicy and the obligatory balsamic glaze was complementary without being trite.

Service was friendly and approachable but professional. No weirdness, though I'd say that Wood Tavern still needs to figure something out with their water service. Having the first thing a server ask you is if "tap water is okay?" is something of a turn off.

Without the distractions of my previous trip, I was able to appreciate more the decor which is tony but unpretentious. The dark wood is fabulous, tables spacious, and the mismatched vintage (real silver) flatware is a great touch.

I thought the menu was taking what I viewed to be bigger risks with flavors and preparations this time. Sure Wood Tavern still had the obligatory menagerie of animal products available, but many of the preparations seemed more creative. I don't know if this is a product of a successful review or the opportunity to use more diverse late spring/summer produce, but whatever it was I appreciated the evolution of the menu.

So consider my opinion changed. Add Wood Tavern to rotation.

Still need to get back there with a bigger group to try the charcuterie and cheese plates.

Why Yelp! Sucks

Our nation, every wondrously putrid acre of it was built on democracy. The premise that all educated land-owning white males had the right to a say in how their nation would be governed. What did they come up with? An elaborate republican system that would become increasingly centralized and imperialistic with time while spawning massive spiraling bureaucracies. It's in the Virginia Declaration of Rights, give it a read.

What they didn't envision was a world where any old douche bag with a computer could make declarative assertions about the quality of restaurants.

This started with Zagat's (it probably started with some cocksucker in ancient Rome who collected opinions on stone tablets, but the Masons make sure no record exists). What was originally one sexually frustrated couple's attempts to correlate their friends' restaurant reviews is now a guidebook of international authority.

What people forget is despite this institutionalization, Zagat is still just a bunch on uninformed persons' opinions based on no credentials or rubric. It's meaningless folks! No more important than your opinion or mine.

This is why citysearch, Yelp!, et al are dangerous. They lend institutional credibility to anybody's opinion. There is not strength in numbers, more does not necessarily equal better. Besides the fact that self-righteous assholes are more likely to post their criticisms than their praises, users of these sites are also going to gradually develop similarly focused opinions. It's groupthink. It happens. Take a look at Yelp! and pay close attention to what people criticize and how they do it. The vast majority of reviewers are going to overemphasize service complaints and are going to be uncritical in their food reviews--using terminology as to what "works" and does not "work" instead of approaching the food critically.

Here comes the interjection--aren't you a self-righteous asshole posting opinions on the internet?

I most certainly am.

What I don't have behind me is a machine that lends credibility to what I write beyond the credibility that my own opinion brings. I'm one man with one opinion. I try to be informative, critical, helpful, and eminently subjective but all that I write is just that.

And this is why individual food critics are better than democratic shouting matches on websites. They have the authority of one man or woman and that one man or woman's palate and taste.

Despite his pretendings of objectivity, Michael Bauer of the SF Chronicle has very particular tastes that are easily read. You can learn whether a restaurant might interest you not based on the end 1-4 star assessment, but from the content of the review. Maverick, a restaurant which Bauer only gave two stars I went to because it sounded like something interesting based on what he wrote about. I also know that Bauer has a thing about loud restaurants and he dinged Maverick by AT LEAST a half-star if not more because he found it oppressively loud. I don't care so much about that so I didn't factor that aspect of his review into my equation. Wood Tavern, a restaurant that I had very mixed feelings about I figured Bauer would love and sure enough, he gave it three stars not soon after I ate there.

Are there people who slavishly follow Michael Bauer's reviews? Sure. But at least they can't pretend that they're doing anything else. A Yelp!, Zagat, or citysearch user can claim that they're decision is based on that institution's rating as an opinion clearinghouse. Not to mention that Yelp! and citysearch are forprofit entities that sell services that can boost restaurants' exposure on their sites. But nevermind that.

The Michelin Guides (and most travel guides in general) are better alternatives to review websites and Zagat because they rate based on a rubric that you can either agree or disagree with. The Michelin Guide reviews restaurants and attractions based on a rubric that has been shaped by what they have come to understand that their members/users expect and appreciate. The criteria is nothing but the dubious assertion that everyone has a right to have their opinion codified into some sort of worthwhile standard (what's oft-forgotten about Wikipedia is that despite it's open-source democratic editing process, there are set criteria and there is an oversight board).

And if you want the amateur perspective (and there's nothing wrong with that--the professionals are just amateurs who get paid) read food blogs. Bloggers are going to get more in depth than a 100 word Yelp! post. You'll get a sense of that writers' tastes and critical skills. You'll know whether you have similar tastes. You'll probably learn something. Enjoy it as you would any other writer's work. If you're traveling, pick up a guide that provides information more than it levies judgments and go with an entity/agency/author whose tastes are in line with your own.

In conclusion? Read mainstream restaurant reviews. Read food blogs. Boycott Yelp!

That exclamation point is part of Yelp!'s name. I'm not trying to exclaim that you should boycott Yelp! I'm just saying it.

Swan Oyster Depot - San Francisco, Ca

What does a place have to do to be one of those spots that can do no wrong? Some place that no matter how expensive, or dirty; no matter how crappy the service people still think it's the best place ever.

Those places piss me off.

I'll admit I love Magnolia despite the unavailable service, but at least the food is really freakin' good. There are also all sorts of sketchy taquerias in the Mission or dim sum places in Chinatown that, no matter how many health violations they rack up still draw in crowds. I understand that.

I think I can say, however, that I've been to what must be the pinnacle of such places, Swan Oyster Depot over in Nob Hill.

I like seafood. I like shellfish. I don't even mind casual dining at counters. Here's what I do mind:

1. Filthy filthy counters.
2. Thin, stale chowder.
3. Slow oyster shuckers who rinse the oyster shells, devoiding the oysters of liquor.
4. Nasty oysters.

Maybe it's because it's a tourist trap. Or maybe it's because it was featured on $40 a Day or whatever the fuck. Maybe it's just because people are willing to pay borderline exorbitant sums to have weird old men open oysters for them.

So I enter and I sit down at an impossibly low stool at an impossibly crowded bar. The counter had visible crust. Nice beers on draft. An older gentleman behind the counter asked us if we wanted some chowder while he opened our oysters. We ordered a cup.

It was thin, broken, and to me tasted stale and/or scalded.

Next up, our oysters. An assortment. Now I don't know about you, but if three people order a dozen oysters I'll give them three each of four oysters, not four each of three oysters.

Admittedly, the oysters are probably the cheapest you'll get consistently (except for dollar oyster specials), but the older gentleman served us one bad oyster and two sketchy oysters. Not good odds for a place that prides itself on fresh shellfish.

And now we come to the washing of the shell phenomenon. This is odd. They essentially remove the oyster meat, rinse the shell, and then replace the oyster meat. Apparently this is to eliminate shell. All that this seemed to do was eliminate the oyster juice, as there was still plenty of shell in the meat. Cocktail sauce lacked significant heat and the mignonette suffered from being made from cheap ingredients--rice vinegar and red onion rather than shallots and champagne vinegar.

On to the entrees--two mixed seafood salads and an order of smoked trout. I will admit that the shellfish was well-cooked and plentiful--big prawns and bay shrimp with lump dungeness crab meat on a bed of shredded romaine with louie sauce. Not bad, not bad at all. The smoked trout was pretty good, as were the samples of smoked salmon the weirdos behind the counter gave us complimentary.

So yeah, some of the food was alreight. In fact, other than the chowder and a few of the oysters, the food was good. Was it great? No. Did it require cooking? No. And the three of us spent about $110 for a filling lunch. Not the most expensive lunch I've had, but it's up there. And the more expensive lunches (and many of the cheaper ones) involved more food and in much nicer surroundings.

I understand not wanting to pay for atmosphere--but what are you paying for at Swan then? Inconsistent food?

Just chalk me up as one of those people who just doesn't get it. If Swan was half the price I could see its charm, but as it is, Swan Oyster Depot feels like a tourist trap.

Swan Oyster Depot
1517 Polk St.
San Francisco, Ca 94109
415-673-1101

Mad Props

The food scene is boring or over-conceived and under-executed. Or hyper-executed. Or whatever. Point is, finding a spot that is compelling, ever-changing, and unpretentious is a rare beast and when it is it needs to be folded up and put into your pocket for later.

For instance, I like Sophia, Sophia's tasty. Sophia's menu doesn't change, however. Same thing with Daimo. Lanesplitter too. But there's one spot that I frequent almost weekly where I'm able to get something completely different every week. It's also unpretentious, friendly, and reasonably priced. It's pretty much the best place ever.

That place is Solano Cellars.

It's a pretty compelling wine shop (though I'll admit it's sister store Vintage Berkeley is probably a better bet if you're looking for inexpensive wines) with a broad global selection. It's the best spot hands down for Northern European wines and a great spot for the more eclectic boutique-y California (and Oregon and Washington too) wines. More importantly it's one of very few wine shops that has an expansive collection of wines (randing from $10-$80 a bottle) from every major winegrowing region in the world.

Plus mark-up is reasonable, 10% discount on cases, monthly wine club, tasting events, etc.

How could it get any better?

I'll tell you.

A few months ago they reinstituted a small plates menu at the wine bar. They've always had a wine bar with tasting flights (red and white flights for $15 and a special flight for $25) and a couple cheese and charcuterie options. The previous incarnation of Solano Cellars had a "bistro" (re: lame-stro) menu at their wine bar that was unremarkable. This time around however, they've hit it pretty much right on the lower back tattoo.

The small menu has a bunch of wine-friendly appetizers in the $5-$10 range that are bold and flavorful but simple. A retarded good arugula salad with roasted strawberries, salt-cured olives, pine nuts, bacon, and feta. Artichoke hearts and Berkshire prosciutto served warm with Bellwether frams ricotta. A plate of manchego, membrillo, and marcona almonds. A personal favorite, fromage fort served warm over bruschetta. The rotating mix of cheeses is melted with garlic and wine and then spread over thin slices of La Farine baguette. Simple, earnest, and very very wine-friendly.

And there's no pretention in either prices or preparation. The guys (and gal) working the shop really like wine and really like food and really like drinking wine with food and without the contrivance that goes into the overwrought myth of "wine pairing." Drink and eat and enjoy.

And that's what it's all about, right? Good munching food with good wine. And the wine bar selection is heavy on earthier food-friendly reds and crisp refreshing whites.

Solano Cellars wine bar is one of the best places (and in many ways the best place) to eat on Solano Ave.

There I said it. If you don't like it you can go fuck yourself.

Napa Style, Sans Douche Bag

It was a fortuitous coming together of circumstances--some consecutive days off with girlfriend Charlie, some promotional deals at a nice bed and breakfast (Bordeaux House), and Yountville being only 45 minutes away. So I got home from work, packed up some stuff, and headed across the Carquinez Bridge to Vallejo, American Canyon, Napa, and Yountville.

Stay the fuck away, glassy winged sharpshooter.

Checked into the b&b early, which left us with a few hours before our 8:30 reservation at Bistro Jeanty. A stroll through Yountville yielded not a damn thing so we settled in at the bar at Redd after a small sidestep to an art gellery that showed that you can in fact make queer landscapes look somewhat okay.

We had dinner plans elsewhere, though in hindsight Redd was perhaps the more intriguing choice. Extensive a la carte menu, also available as a tasting menu. California cuisine to be sure, but with a subtle Japanese influence that was appreciated. Very nice wine list and well-priced, all things considered. We split a half-bottle of the Schloss Gobelsburg "Steinsetz" gruner veltliner which was excellent, and phenomenal with the one appetizer that we split, an asparagus and (scant) green onion tempura with bonito soy dressing. It was really tasty, light fluffy tempura batter around tender (but fully cooked) asparagus. Not much spring onion in the mix though, and the whole dish was a bit salty, especially when paired with the soy (salty) and bonito (salty) sauce. Still, it was freakin' tasty. In addition to the regular menu, there's a concise bar menu with somewhat more quotidian (and drink-friendly) options.

Moving along, we arrived at Bistro Jeanty for dinner a bit early and was promptly seated. Simple and to be expected French menu with a poorly conceived wine list. French wines and some typical Napa suspects. Nothing bad, of course, just really unremarkable for a restaurant of such regard. Got a bottle of Trefethen riesling for kicks.

First course, Charlie had a petite salad of beets and arugula. It was good. The escargots, which came highly recommend, were remarkably flavorless, though dragging bread through the butter and herb leftovers was fabulous.

Entrees stepped up where appetizers left off. Charlie's coq au vin was rich, redolent, and melting apart. My cassoulet, which I had to send back the first time because it was cold in the middle (I got a complimentary glass of wine while I waited), was oppressively rich. It was delicious, to be sure, but it was also a huge bowl filled with white beans, two andouille sausages, some bacon, and a whole confit duck leg. It was a lot of freakin' food.

Despite the obscenity that was our entree portions, we still got dessert. A nice tarte au citron with smooth creamy meringue was quite pleasant.

A quiet stagger home did little to help me digest the uncomfortable quantity of pork and beans in my stomach and I spent a fitful night dreaming about prostate exams and dragons.

Morning presented us with breakfast at the bed and which was surprisingly pleasant. Spinach and egg casserole was the highlight. Hardboiled eggs were very very green. Fruit salad featured watermelon with a lot of residual pith and peel.

We hit the road and dropped in on a few wineries. Martini is always a good stop. Nice tasting room, pretty good wines (steer clear of the wine list stuff and try the winery exclusives), and nice folks. The long-time tasting room mainstay, I forget her name, is retiring at the end of May. It's the end of an era.

Another mainstay of any greatest hits stop in Napa is Mumm. Great champagne cellar, even if (despite their claims of being "pure Napa) most of their grapes come from Carneros. The winery-exclusive flight was tasty. Good art gallery as well. Eclectic Ansel Adams collection in the permanent gallery and an always interesting new photographer in the rotating gallery.

We stopped at Duckhorn which was awkward. Despite the fact that we made reservations, we were headed off at the tasting room entry by an unpleasant woman who made us feel decidedly unwelcome. I informed her that we had a reservation. We were told to pay the $20 tasting fee in advance, directed to a table, and waited for a young man to come and pour the wines. Despite his assurance that we could flag him down should we have any questions, he disappeared from the tasting room entirely. After finishing our flight, we waited for someone to come back and talk to us, see if we wanted to buy wine, etc. but to no avail. So we left.

Spent some time strolling in St. Helena and Calistoga, only to discover that these towns don't really have anything worth going to (other than restaurants). Stop off at the CIA's Greystone campus was productive, mostly resultant of a Le Creuset sale at the shop.

Hunger finally turned up so we went to Auberge du Soleil. Not for the fancy-pants reastaurant or $1200 a night hotel, but for the rather pleasantly priced bar. Beautiful space, nice deck with a phenomenal view, and, I'll be honest, really good food. The menu doesn't change much (at all) but the food is great. Charlie had a chicken panini that was tender and tasty. I had the duck confit pizza which was retarded rich but retarded good.

Plus, beyond anything else, it was relaxing. Even if we had to listen to a string trio play "Champagne Supernova" as a party prepared for a timeless wedding that will be remembered forever and ever. Or at least for eight months until they get divorced, because really, "Champagne Supernova?" Christ.

That basically concluded our Napa excursion. We laughed. We cried. We made fun of people relentlessly. And at the end I learned a valuable lesson. Cassoulet dreams are even weirder than burrito dreams. Remember that.

Wood Tavern - Oakland, Ca

It's become clear I think to those who read this blog that I do work as a server in this here restaurant business and I do it at a very popular, very busy, somewhat trendy fine dining establishment in the East Bay.

I've found that servers either have very high standards for service when they go out, or very low standards. I like to think of myself in the second category. While I might be critical of service while I dine that' s just who I am. I'm a critical asshole and I like to compare how I work against how others work for professional purposes. I truthfully have adopted certain strategies and approaches that I've seen other servers use that I've found particularly effective on me as a diner. But, at the end of the meal, all I really look for in determining good service (who gets the 22% tip versus the 18% tip) is:

1. Knowledge of the menu/wines when I ask a question.
2. Attentiveness.
3. Availability.
4. Cordiality.

I'm not a diner who needs much follow-up. I do appreciate it when a server drops by to check in on each course, but I understand that that's not possible on some busy nights. At the very least, a walk-by with eye contact is good because it allows me to check in with the server if there is a problem with my food. And as far as cordiality goes, I'm not looking for banter or someone who says "honey," I'm just looking for a smile and a "how is everything?"

After dining at Wood Tavern I discovered how weird service can ruin an otherwise pleasant meal.

I cruised into Wood Tavern in Rockridge with girlfriend Charlie, winemaker Brendan, and mutual friend Mei on a Thursday night at around 8PM. I was immediately impressed with the decor. Warm dark wood befitting the name. Nice long bar. Log cabin inspired furniture. Our table was nicely set with unmatched vintage flatware which did honestly remind me of our family cabin in Tahoe where 60 years of visitors have left behind a melange of forks and spoons and knives so that there isn't really a matching set of anything.

Despite the busy-ness and crowded-ness at the restaurant, conversation wasn't overly difficult.

The menu is nice and simple, 8 or so appetizers and 8 or so entrees as well as cheese and charcuterie.

Nice compact if unremarkable wine list. Lacking signicantly in more unusual reds. Bauer gave the list props for its "esoteric" selection, but it's only esoteric if your idea of an exotic wine is gewurztraminer.

Shortly after sitting down the weirdness began.

Our service approached our table and just stood there. We stopped talking and looked at her. I said hello. She said hello. Still nothing. Another awkward pause. Then, "how about I get you guys some water?"

Um, sure.

She then disappeared. Water arrived. She returned.

"Did you decide on wine?"

Yes. We had decided on wine when you first came to our table.

We ordered our wine. And we ordered our food. She honestly said maybe a dozen words to us the entire time.

So... odd, but not super odd. Yet.

I ordered the black bean soup with chive creme fraiche. That's what it said on the menu. Remember that for later. I also ordered the duck. Also ordered was the pork belly appetizer and the romaine, apple, and blue cheese salad.

My soup arrived and it was essentially a pork chili with a few black beans. Not a big deal because I like pork enough, except that this was a lot of pork. It wasn't a bit of ham hock or bacon flavoring the soup, it was a good 1/4 pound of pork meat and very little in the way of beans.

This would've been useful information for someone to know, especially if he or she was, oh I don't know, a vegetarian ordering what looks like the only warm vegetarian appetizer on the menu. But it still would've been useful for me because I wouldn't've gotten the duck entree knowing that I was eating that much pork for my appetizer. I just don't want that much meat in one evening. Criticism one is that there should be a mention of the pork on the menu, subcriticism 1a is, failing that, this is something a good server lets a customer know. 90% of the time it probably won't matter, but that 10% can be seriously pissed off. I speak from experience here.

Entrees were good. Thick chunk of seared duck breast over wild rice and hazelnuts. Charlie had the halbut with polenta and Mei had the roasted chicken with artichokes and spinach.

Desserts were decent but limited. Conventional warm chocolate cake, seasonal fruit cobbler, and a couple of ice creams/sorbets paired with liqueurs. More concept then execution there as they seem to forget that most liquers are disgusting holdovers from an era when we had to suspend herbs in alcohol to preserve them for medicinal purposes and then added a shit ton of sugar to it to make it remotely palatable. No real reason they should exist anymore.

The espresso that I got took a really long time, came void of crema, and was barely lukewarm. When I sent it back I was asked if I wanted another one. No apology. I was made to feel like it was my fault. This proved to be a theme.

Anyway.

While all the food was expertly prepared and quite tasty, the cuisine itself was utterly uninteresting. It's all food that Range, Maverick, Town Hall, and to a lesser extent even Magnolia have been doing for a while now. And Range had more refined service, Maverick takes bigger risks with flavors, and Magnolia is more compelling and at half the price. While I suppose there's a void in Oakland for this type of food, in the Bay Area as a whole it's just another restaurant serving uninteresting New American. You get your pork, your chicken, your fish, your steak, and your vegetarian entrees coupled with seasonal produce. Tum tiddly tum tum ter.

Speaking of the service issue, when we got our check and paid (split on two cards) the server overcharged us by $10.70. Simple problem, these things happen. But when we told are server she made it seem like it was somehow our fault. Then, when the checks came back the amount on the receipt still didn't mach the amount on the charge slips (by seventy cents). Fucking weird. Even when the owner came over we still felt like we were talking past him. It wasn't a big deal, it just became one because nobody seemed to understand what our complaint was.

Finally, when my charge finally posted online, the amount charged was for the CORRECT amount, still seventy cents off from what I had signed. I think there was also an additional ten dollars on the gratuity (I failed to write the exact amount on my copy of the receipt).

So now I was really annoyed.

To the owners' credit, when I called to complain, Rebekah Wood was very conciliatory, informed me that our server had already been removed from the schedule, and offered to send me a check. So that was something.

So I left with a newfound understanding of the importance of competent service and a reinforced feeling that we're creatively bankrupt in the Bay Area food scene right now.

I'll be waiting for the next innovation.

Wood Tavern
6317 College Ave. (at Alcatraz)
Oakland, Ca
510-654-6607

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!