I recently had the dubious pleasure of dining at two upscale family dining chain restaurants. One, Buca di Beppo, is a national operation of vaguely Italian food that made it's reputation on big portions and family-style dining. The other is a smaller local chain, The Fish Market, based out of the South Bay.
These types of restaurants, more so than any other, confuse the fuck out of me.
Here's why:
I understand the popularity of fast food restaurants. They offer a very cheap, quick product. Sometimes that product is actually semi-decent too.
I understand the popularity of conventional casual dining restaurants. They offer long hours, convenience, hefty portions, family-friendliness, consistency, and prices that are a good 50% cheaper than most Bay Area fine dining. I grew up in the suburbs. I grew up where Chili's and TGIFriday's were the only places to go and hang out after 10PM in high school. I have a soft spot for casual dining. Hell, I think Red Robin is actually pretty good for what it is. So's Joe's Crab Shack.
I understand the popularity of greasy Chinese restaurants, donut shops, and hot dog stands of questionable cleanliness, particularly when said establishments are near a college campus. They fill a desperate, desperate need for cheap, filling food for dirt-poor students.
I don't get places like Buca di Beppo, the Cheesecake Factory, The Fish Market, and other restaurants of that ilk. They seem like a giant waste of money that aren't offering anything unique other than kitsch and, in the Cheesecake Factory's case, cheesecake.
Take The Fish Market. I'll admit that the quality of the fish itself was pretty good. However the preparations were without skill, cooking every fish the same way and overcooking it at that. Sure you probably got 20% more fish at 20% cheaper price than at a comparable fine dining establishment, but is that really worth it? Are the sides of lukewarm French fries and steamed vegetables really that big of a deal? Let's compare.
The Fish Market had harried service and not enough of it. I don't blame our server. Literally one other person visited the table besides her and that was once to refill water. Empty plates weren't cleared. Food was not run promptly. We could see it stack up under the heat lamps. So we already see one spot where that extra 20% in the price goes toward, staffing. Fine dining restaurants employ enough bussers to keep tables relatively clear and water relatively refilled. I'm not saying it's perfect every time, but it's a helluva lot better than the Fish Market. They also employ food runners/expediters whose job is to make sure that your food gets to your table as soon after it is cooked as possible. This is a little-understood and under appreciated evolution in dining. Also note the quality of product that you'll get for that extra 20%. While the fish at The Fish Market was fresh, it was also from some of the most questionable fisheries in the world. Filipino ahi instead of Hawaiian, trawl-caught salmon, etc. Spend a little bit extra, get a helluva lot better product prepared with actual skill.
Let's move on to Buca di Beppo. Admittedly Buca di Beppo is a bit cheaper than The Fish Market or the Cheesecake Factory. But you're dealing with pasta which is pretty much the cheapest edible thing out there after rice. Besides the absolutely disgustingly filthy tableclothes and the undrinkable house chianti (our server clumsily tried to upsell us on the $50 chianti classico after the $26 chianti classico proved unavailable), you didn't get water unless you asked for it and you get to set in an enormous overly-lit dining room. I will admit that Buca di Beppo's food was cooked pretty damn well for what it was. The pasta was al dente, the eggplant parmesan had a remarkably fresh-tasting marinara sauce, and the crust on the pizza was crisp and tasty. Everything also tasted of cheap cheap cheese. Was it an alright meal? Sure. I would've gladly paid $10 more and had a truly great meal some place else. Or hell, I would've paid less and had a good meal at Magnolia or Sophia. Once again at Buca di Beppo we had similarly harried service that was only slightly more attentive. This time our server forgot to bring us our garlic bread, then brought it at the end of the meal in a to-go bag and still charged us for it. We complained.
And now let's move on to Cheesecake Factory....
But first, an aside:
WHY THE FUCK DO SERVERS AT THESE PLACES INSIST ON TELLING US THEIR FUCKING NAMES! It's not fucking important. I don't care what you're name is. I don't want to holler your name to get your attention. I don't tell you my name, why would I want to know yours? Take off the fucking name tag and just give me good service, don't pretend to be my friend. This whole give your name thing also means that trashy douche bags who accidentally stumble into a real restaurant (where, incidentally, nobody tells you their name BECAUSE IT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER!!!! CHRIST! WHY DO YOU CARE YOU UGLY BITCH?!) are offended when the server doesn't tell you their name.
"Oh I didn't catch your name."
"That's because I didn't tell you, you frizzy-haired witch."
I've had my best service at places where nobody tells me their name. I've had the crappiest service at the aforementioned "Hi my name is Cunty McTwatburger and I'll be your server today" establishments.
But on to the Cheesecake Factory. I was told the name of the host, server, and "designated breaker," all of whose names I promptly forgot because, like I said, I don't give a flying gorilla fuck. Here, the focus is the cheesecake, I guess. I don't like cheesecake all that much so I didn't order it. I just needed food in the 'burbs at 11PM. I got the cajun prawns. Let me tell you this. I got a rather small number of prawns, a tiny ladleful of black beans, and two tablespoons of mango salsa.... AND AN ENORMOUS BALL OF RICE! If Trashy O'Livermore went to a "fancy" restaurant and spent $18 on a dish of five or six sauteed prawns with a black beans and mango salsa she would be pissed the fuck off and consider herself ripped off. But if she goes to the Cheesecake Factory she'd consider it a great meal because she gorged herself on a rice and spent the extra $5 for 900 empty cheesecake calories as well.
It must be that for most Americans leaving bloated=money well spent.
I'm going to try harder to avoid places like these. I don't want to support them. They offer a terrible product at only a modest discount from actually good restaurants, despite admittedly offering a shitload more starch on the plate for you. I pretty much eat at either hole-in-the-wall ethnic places for $5-$10 a meal or go and spend $50 on dinner.
The area in between is rife with disaster. And full of people with more money than sense. Or taste.
Don't look at how much you spent on dinner. Look at how much more you spent on dinner and what you got in return.
Because isn't spending $100 for two at Wood Tavern an infinitely better experience than spending $70 for two a the Cheesecake factory.
And what's more, 30 or infinity?
I rest my case.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Saturday, July 14, 2007
An HFF Glossary
I would figure that anyone willing to spend $50 on dinner would also know what they're ordering. Apparently this isn't the case. As a public service and so I can make it clear that I'm better than everyone else, I present to you a glossary of commonly seen menu terms:
Frittata: I know this is pretty basic, but you'd be surprised how many people don't know. An egg dish that exists somewhere in the netherworld between crustless quiche and omelette. Veggies and meat are added to scrambled eggs but the eggs aren't scrambled in the pan. It's cooked on the stove until it sets and then carefully finished under the broiler. Served hot or at room temperature as a slice or as an individual frittata.
Po'boy: A sandwich of Cajun extraction with nebulous etymology. Consists of a chewy French roll loaded with turkey, ham, or roast beef (served cold) or shrimp, crayfish, oysters, or crab (usually fried and served hot). Often dressed with spicy mayo, mustard, pickles, lettuce, tomato, etc.
Brandade: A mix of salt cod, cream, and olive oil often with potato as well. Pureed and served hot with bouillabaisse. When potato's added, the mixture is often fried as a croquette or used to stuff peppers or beignets.
Bouillabaisse: A fish-stock and tomato stew loaded with fresh fish and shellfish. From Provence.
Sabayon: French term for zabaglione, a sauce made from egg yolk (sometimes whole eggs), cream, sweet wine, and sugar. Essentially a light airy custard. It's becoming trendier to omit the sugar and make savory sabayon to accompany entrees.
Au poivre: Something (usually a steak) cooked with one side crusted in loosely cracked black pepper. Served with the peppery pan sauce.
Sugo: Basically Italian gravy. A slow-cooked meat and vegetable sauce that can either be served chunky over noodles, or the sauce can be strained and used as a stock or based for another dish. In sugo (basically the same as ragu) very little initial liquid is used and most of the sauce consists of the natural juices of the vegetables and meat that you're cooking.
Bottarga: Pressed and salted fish roe. Usually tuna roe (bottarga di tonno) but sometimes mullet (bottarga di muggine) or swordfish (bottarga di idon'tknow) roes are used. Usually a small amount is served grated over pasta or beans. It has a strong salty fishy flavor and is quite delicious. It's origins stem from when fish roe was packed and salted for storage and shipment the eggs at the bottom would be pressed from all the weight above it into a formless cake.
Mojama: Salted and air-dried tuna loin. Basically tuna jerky. Has a similar flavor to bottarga but is meatier and a bit less fishy.
Bresaola: Salted and air-dried lean beef.
Salumi: A general term for Italian-style cured meats. Salami being one of many types of salumi. While salumi is usually made of cured pork, there is some beef salumi (see bresaola) and some cooked salumi (cotto, for instance).
Charcuterie: Salumi's French counterpart. Cooking plays a more significant role in charcuterie and includes things like rillettes and pates.
Rillettes: Meat (or sometime fish) that is chopped and heavily salted and then slow-cooked in (usually) its own fat. Served cooled and shredded into a paste. Usually served on toast.
Confit: This refers to a few different cooking and preservation methods. Originally it is meat preserved in fat. In the classic duck confit the duck is slow-cooked (essentially poached) in its own fat. Nowadays the duck is usually served within a few days of cooking, but originally the cooking pot would be sealed and stored. When the fat cooled it formed a thick preserving layer over the meat that would keep it stable for many months. Confit can also refer to fruit preserved in sugar. Whole fruit or pieces of fruit are covered in sugar until the sugar infusesall the into the fruit juices to the core. Confit cherries are a classic dessert delicacy and the maraschino cherry is its bastard mutated grandson. Many confit recipes now (like onion confit) consist of quick-cooking methods designed to replicate the textures and flavors of classic confit.
Provencal: Generally speaking this means cooked with tomatoes, onions, and garlic. The use of tomatoes in particular is what distinguishes Provencal cuisine (and its Mediterranean proximity) from other regional French cuisines.
Offal: A general term for organs and entrails. Basically any part of the animal that isn't muscle or bone.
Vacherin: A Franco-Swiss dessert of meringue, whipped cream, and often fruit but I've had vacherin with chocolate and almonds as well.
Pot de Creme: Thick egg custard traditionally served in a wee pot. (Pronounced poh-du-crehm).
Ganache: Melted chocolate mixed with milk or cream. When ganache cools it partially solidifies but is still soft and malleable.
Profiteroles: Cream puffs. Choux pastry stuffed with whipped cream, ice cream, or pasty cream. Can sometimes be savory.
Choux pastry: One of the basic French pastry doughs. This one is light and and puffs when cooking due to a high water content.
Beignet: Deep-fried choux pastry dough, though yeasted dough is sometimes used in France. While usually served with sugar and/or jam, beignets can also be stuffed with meat and vegetables before frying.
Zeppole: Italian analogue to the beignet. Deep-fried pizza dough with sugar and spice.
Krapfen: Sweet yeast dough deep-fried and stuffed (usually injected) with fruit or cream. The Berliner (jelly doughnut) is the most celebrated krapfen.
Rocket: Arugula. That's all. It's just arugula. Wild rocket is wild arugula (or rucola).
Panna cotta: Italian for "cooked cream." A dessert made of sugar, egg, cream, gelatin, and flavoring (such as vanilla or coconut). Served chilled. Heavier than Jell-O, lighter than custard.
Affogato: Italian for "drowned." A scoop of ice cream (usually vanilla) drowned in a shot of hot espresso.
Chicory: Bitter leafy vegetable. Includes such luminaries and escarole, endive, frisee, puntarelle, and radicchio. Because of its fibrous texture and bitter flavor, many chicories hold up well to grilling and sauteeing. One type of chicory is cultivated for its root and used as a coffee substitute, but this is not the chicory you encounter on restaurant menus.
That's all I've got right now. I'll update this periodically. Please comment with other terms you'd like explained.
Most of my knowledge of the basics comes from The Food Lover's Companion, an indispensable everyday glossary of food terms and preparation techniques. Buy it.
Frittata: I know this is pretty basic, but you'd be surprised how many people don't know. An egg dish that exists somewhere in the netherworld between crustless quiche and omelette. Veggies and meat are added to scrambled eggs but the eggs aren't scrambled in the pan. It's cooked on the stove until it sets and then carefully finished under the broiler. Served hot or at room temperature as a slice or as an individual frittata.
Po'boy: A sandwich of Cajun extraction with nebulous etymology. Consists of a chewy French roll loaded with turkey, ham, or roast beef (served cold) or shrimp, crayfish, oysters, or crab (usually fried and served hot). Often dressed with spicy mayo, mustard, pickles, lettuce, tomato, etc.
Brandade: A mix of salt cod, cream, and olive oil often with potato as well. Pureed and served hot with bouillabaisse. When potato's added, the mixture is often fried as a croquette or used to stuff peppers or beignets.
Bouillabaisse: A fish-stock and tomato stew loaded with fresh fish and shellfish. From Provence.
Sabayon: French term for zabaglione, a sauce made from egg yolk (sometimes whole eggs), cream, sweet wine, and sugar. Essentially a light airy custard. It's becoming trendier to omit the sugar and make savory sabayon to accompany entrees.
Au poivre: Something (usually a steak) cooked with one side crusted in loosely cracked black pepper. Served with the peppery pan sauce.
Sugo: Basically Italian gravy. A slow-cooked meat and vegetable sauce that can either be served chunky over noodles, or the sauce can be strained and used as a stock or based for another dish. In sugo (basically the same as ragu) very little initial liquid is used and most of the sauce consists of the natural juices of the vegetables and meat that you're cooking.
Bottarga: Pressed and salted fish roe. Usually tuna roe (bottarga di tonno) but sometimes mullet (bottarga di muggine) or swordfish (bottarga di idon'tknow) roes are used. Usually a small amount is served grated over pasta or beans. It has a strong salty fishy flavor and is quite delicious. It's origins stem from when fish roe was packed and salted for storage and shipment the eggs at the bottom would be pressed from all the weight above it into a formless cake.
Mojama: Salted and air-dried tuna loin. Basically tuna jerky. Has a similar flavor to bottarga but is meatier and a bit less fishy.
Bresaola: Salted and air-dried lean beef.
Salumi: A general term for Italian-style cured meats. Salami being one of many types of salumi. While salumi is usually made of cured pork, there is some beef salumi (see bresaola) and some cooked salumi (cotto, for instance).
Charcuterie: Salumi's French counterpart. Cooking plays a more significant role in charcuterie and includes things like rillettes and pates.
Rillettes: Meat (or sometime fish) that is chopped and heavily salted and then slow-cooked in (usually) its own fat. Served cooled and shredded into a paste. Usually served on toast.
Confit: This refers to a few different cooking and preservation methods. Originally it is meat preserved in fat. In the classic duck confit the duck is slow-cooked (essentially poached) in its own fat. Nowadays the duck is usually served within a few days of cooking, but originally the cooking pot would be sealed and stored. When the fat cooled it formed a thick preserving layer over the meat that would keep it stable for many months. Confit can also refer to fruit preserved in sugar. Whole fruit or pieces of fruit are covered in sugar until the sugar infusesall the into the fruit juices to the core. Confit cherries are a classic dessert delicacy and the maraschino cherry is its bastard mutated grandson. Many confit recipes now (like onion confit) consist of quick-cooking methods designed to replicate the textures and flavors of classic confit.
Provencal: Generally speaking this means cooked with tomatoes, onions, and garlic. The use of tomatoes in particular is what distinguishes Provencal cuisine (and its Mediterranean proximity) from other regional French cuisines.
Offal: A general term for organs and entrails. Basically any part of the animal that isn't muscle or bone.
Vacherin: A Franco-Swiss dessert of meringue, whipped cream, and often fruit but I've had vacherin with chocolate and almonds as well.
Pot de Creme: Thick egg custard traditionally served in a wee pot. (Pronounced poh-du-crehm).
Ganache: Melted chocolate mixed with milk or cream. When ganache cools it partially solidifies but is still soft and malleable.
Profiteroles: Cream puffs. Choux pastry stuffed with whipped cream, ice cream, or pasty cream. Can sometimes be savory.
Choux pastry: One of the basic French pastry doughs. This one is light and and puffs when cooking due to a high water content.
Beignet: Deep-fried choux pastry dough, though yeasted dough is sometimes used in France. While usually served with sugar and/or jam, beignets can also be stuffed with meat and vegetables before frying.
Zeppole: Italian analogue to the beignet. Deep-fried pizza dough with sugar and spice.
Krapfen: Sweet yeast dough deep-fried and stuffed (usually injected) with fruit or cream. The Berliner (jelly doughnut) is the most celebrated krapfen.
Rocket: Arugula. That's all. It's just arugula. Wild rocket is wild arugula (or rucola).
Panna cotta: Italian for "cooked cream." A dessert made of sugar, egg, cream, gelatin, and flavoring (such as vanilla or coconut). Served chilled. Heavier than Jell-O, lighter than custard.
Affogato: Italian for "drowned." A scoop of ice cream (usually vanilla) drowned in a shot of hot espresso.
Chicory: Bitter leafy vegetable. Includes such luminaries and escarole, endive, frisee, puntarelle, and radicchio. Because of its fibrous texture and bitter flavor, many chicories hold up well to grilling and sauteeing. One type of chicory is cultivated for its root and used as a coffee substitute, but this is not the chicory you encounter on restaurant menus.
That's all I've got right now. I'll update this periodically. Please comment with other terms you'd like explained.
Most of my knowledge of the basics comes from The Food Lover's Companion, an indispensable everyday glossary of food terms and preparation techniques. Buy it.
Friday, July 06, 2007
HFF Has Lunch: Boulevard - San Francisco, Ca
It's time to crack into the heavy hitters in San Francisco dining. Lunch at Boulevard seemed like a good first step.
I know Boulevard is no Dining Room or Fifth Floor, but it's at least a half-step up in classiness (and prices) from the places I've been frequenting in SF.
Once you cross that threshold (I'll call it the Zuni-Bar) expectations step way the fuck up in terms of decor, service, presentation, and amenities. It's silly, but it's true. That's one of the reasons you go out to eat--to have a good time in a nice place.
Plus, it was my birthday. So I wasn't paying.
We were greeted professionally at the door and directed to a nice round table in the back of the dining room. Sunny day. Views of the Embarcadero and the Bay Bridge. Gorgeous.
Boulevard's wine list is a nice mix of major French and California wines with a broad selection of funkier boutique and independent wineries. Prices ranged from the mid $20's to close to $1000. Most of the wines fell in the $50-$80 range, but there was a decent selection below that.
We went with a bottle of Bonnaire NV Blanc de Blancs. Dry, crisp, and very tart. I thought it was pretty fucking great.
First round of appetizers were a couple orders of the beef carpaccio--thin slices of seared beef with shaved Washington summer truffles. Fragrant and meaty. I had the softshell crab, also really nice though the accompanying bacon-cabbage slaw was really freakin' vinegar-y.
Other appetizers were the seared scallops--one of the best scallop preparations I've had. Also a mixed lettuce and nectarine salad that was simple and elegant.
Entrees were also pretty good. Slightly overcooked pork tenderloin with really nice grilled figs and polenta. The stuffed sand dab was enjoyed as an entree and that was mild and flavorful. The lamb burger was a big hit as was the bavette.
Second bottle of wine was a Bourgogne rose that was nice and dry with good fruit without being overly Bandol-y. Not that Bourgogne is anywhere near Bandol, but you get my point.
Desserts were fucking great--I had a neoclassical Rocky Road Sundae: two scoops chocolate sorbet, candied walnuts, and a light marshmallow creme. Angel food cake with ginger and mascarpone was good but light on flavor.
All throughout the meal we had impeccable and unpretentious service in an absolutely stunning dining room. Bussers were quick and efficient (guy cleared our entire table of six in one pass). We never felt hurried and other than taking a little while to get to us at the beginning (that's what happens when the entire restaurant fills up from 11:30-11:45.
Admittedly the food was not particularly memorable (except for the carpaccio, that was pretty distinctive) but it was just a fucking nice place to have lunch. When those things click on all cylinders, the food can get knocked down to 1a on the priorities. It just goes to show that service and decor can't be dismissed, especially when you're stepping things up past the "neighborhood restaurant" level.
It's all psychology baby.
Boulevard
1 Mission St.
San Francisco, Ca 94105
415 -543-6084/www.opentable.com
www.boulevardrestaurant.com
I know Boulevard is no Dining Room or Fifth Floor, but it's at least a half-step up in classiness (and prices) from the places I've been frequenting in SF.
Once you cross that threshold (I'll call it the Zuni-Bar) expectations step way the fuck up in terms of decor, service, presentation, and amenities. It's silly, but it's true. That's one of the reasons you go out to eat--to have a good time in a nice place.
Plus, it was my birthday. So I wasn't paying.
We were greeted professionally at the door and directed to a nice round table in the back of the dining room. Sunny day. Views of the Embarcadero and the Bay Bridge. Gorgeous.
Boulevard's wine list is a nice mix of major French and California wines with a broad selection of funkier boutique and independent wineries. Prices ranged from the mid $20's to close to $1000. Most of the wines fell in the $50-$80 range, but there was a decent selection below that.
We went with a bottle of Bonnaire NV Blanc de Blancs. Dry, crisp, and very tart. I thought it was pretty fucking great.
First round of appetizers were a couple orders of the beef carpaccio--thin slices of seared beef with shaved Washington summer truffles. Fragrant and meaty. I had the softshell crab, also really nice though the accompanying bacon-cabbage slaw was really freakin' vinegar-y.
Other appetizers were the seared scallops--one of the best scallop preparations I've had. Also a mixed lettuce and nectarine salad that was simple and elegant.
Entrees were also pretty good. Slightly overcooked pork tenderloin with really nice grilled figs and polenta. The stuffed sand dab was enjoyed as an entree and that was mild and flavorful. The lamb burger was a big hit as was the bavette.
Second bottle of wine was a Bourgogne rose that was nice and dry with good fruit without being overly Bandol-y. Not that Bourgogne is anywhere near Bandol, but you get my point.
Desserts were fucking great--I had a neoclassical Rocky Road Sundae: two scoops chocolate sorbet, candied walnuts, and a light marshmallow creme. Angel food cake with ginger and mascarpone was good but light on flavor.
All throughout the meal we had impeccable and unpretentious service in an absolutely stunning dining room. Bussers were quick and efficient (guy cleared our entire table of six in one pass). We never felt hurried and other than taking a little while to get to us at the beginning (that's what happens when the entire restaurant fills up from 11:30-11:45.
Admittedly the food was not particularly memorable (except for the carpaccio, that was pretty distinctive) but it was just a fucking nice place to have lunch. When those things click on all cylinders, the food can get knocked down to 1a on the priorities. It just goes to show that service and decor can't be dismissed, especially when you're stepping things up past the "neighborhood restaurant" level.
It's all psychology baby.
Boulevard
1 Mission St.
San Francisco, Ca 94105
415 -543-6084/www.opentable.com
www.boulevardrestaurant.com
Thursday, June 28, 2007
A Response: An HFF Manifesto
Apparently unbeknownst to me there are other people reading this blog. This is a good thing. It's also made my very aware that these random strangers might not "get" what's going on here.
Steven is an attentive reader who took umbrage to my Oliveto write-up.
I will now respond. Italics represent the content of Steven's comment.
"Oh right, Alice Waters. I hear she's an uncut eight inches." In the face of such wit, it's tempting to respond with another ad hominem attack.
This is sort of a weird use of the term ad hominem. The size of Alice Waters' penis and its circumcisional status is irrelevant to her abilities as a chef. And while it might have mattered to Bertolli when he was blowing her, it also has no relevance on his abilities as a chef. I don't believe I was making that assertion. I'm sure there are many fine chefs who have large uncircumcised genitalia.
However, it can't be denied that working under Waters earlier in his career gave Bertolli an immeasurable amount of fame and exposure and aided greatly in his ability to open his own successful restaurant.
In a post in which I am speculating (rightly or wrongly) that perhaps Bertolli's restaurant doesn't deserve all of its accolades, I think that suggesting a (probably) figurative submissive sexual relationship with Alice Waters is a fair one to throw out there.
Flippant and tasteless, perhaps. Ad hominem? Hardly.
Besides, if you read this blog you know my love-hate relationship with California Cuisine and its sacred cows.
Lastly, if you have photos DISPROVING the rumored size of Ms. Waters' penis, please show them to me and I'll promptly remove that comment.
You're an idiot.
Come on, you can do better than that. At least criticize my sexual prowess or something. There's a whole lexicon of insults out there.
But I think I can do better.
We'll later see that this was an overly optimistic statement.
Unlike you ("I should probably give Oliveto a second chance") I can judge Oliveto on the basis of more than one visit. I've had a few bad meals there. Many good ones. And a few excellent ones. I've eaten at enough restaurants to know that it deserves the praise it gets.
Notice here where he implies that I haven't eaten at enough restaurants. Interesting. You obviously like Oliveto. A lot of people do. That's not a bad thing. There was a lot to like about that place. My goal is to get people to question why that is. Which I succeeded in getting you to do and you have defended it competently. I don't think it deserves the praise it gets. But I'm not saying that I know one way or the other. How do you know what anything does or does not deserve?
It balances excellent cuisine with appropriate prices. It's impressive and imaginative without being pretentious and exclusive.
I thought the prices were inappropriate and the food unimaginative. I guess we'll agree to disagree here.
To be fair, Oliveto might not be the best fish restaurant in the Bay Area. But that's my point. It's not a fish restaurant. From your description (more than 50% of your comments are positive) it sounds like most of the food was at least OK.
Actually I would say that more than half of my food was good. That's my whole point though. Excellent ingredients competently prepared should be the baseline for any restaurant of Oliveto's stature. I want to see where restaurants push beyond that. I don't care if you aren't a "fish restaurant." You're doing a seafood dinner and I'm going to judge that seafood dinner by the same standards that I'll judge your meat. Same standard as movies, plays, art galleries, blogs, etc. If you're putting something out there for public consumption it's going to be judged by people who don't give a fuck if you are or are not a seafood restaurant. Because I can play the trombone doesn't mean I can play the saxophone and I would fully expect to be torn a new asshole by critics if I gave a saxophone recital and sucked.
I actually can play the saxophone, but that's neither here nor there.
And that's despite the fact that Oliveto is a meat restaurant. You know that, right?
No? Really! That's amazing. I wondered why Bertolli ceased working the kitchen to open his own charcuterie and sausage-making business. Running a meat-focused restaurant makes a lot of sense...
Of course I know that you shrill, condescending, impotent douche!
That is an example of ad hominem. The fact that you're an impotent douche has no relevance to your abilities to criticize me.
They are one of the world's greatest meat restaurants.
This would perhaps be an overstatement. And it's an overstatement that calls into question your own objectivity.
And that's another principle of this blog. You can't pretend to be objective. I'm calling it like I see it (completely colored by my tastes, mood, and opinion) based on that visit. If I go back and something's changed, I'll comment on it again (I've changed my tune on Wood Tavern and Maverick, for instance). I have my tastes, I'll admit. Italian is one of least favorite of the major cuisines. And I think that California Cuisine is a viable but creatively bankrupt institution. That's clear to anyone who reads this blog. So the deck was already stacked against Oliveto. But I don't see anything wrong with that.
But to say with a straight face that Oliveto (or any restaurant) is one of the world's greatest in any category is showing your hand a little too early, I think.
So, again, to spew up so much vitriol based on one unrepresentative experience is more than unfair, it's rude.
I really don't think I spewed that much vitriol. Other than my profane, swaggering bookends, I think most of my comments were well reasoned and substantiated.
The point is, I'm exaggerating to make a point. The women at my table didn't actually eat everything on the plates (though they ate more than their fair share). And they probably weren't as attractive as I might've made them out to be. Oh well. Does what I write have to be factually accurate for it to be true? I'd say no.
Besides, I can attack Oliveto more strongly than I might other restaurants. Oliveto is a successful institution that is immune to any potshots a little opinionated blogger might throw at it. That's the style of this blog. That's the point. Language that one might consider "rude" (who says we have to be nice? who made that rule?) forced you to have both an intellectual reaction to the content of the post and a visceral reaction to how that content was expressed. It forced you to jump to the defense of something you love with a zeal and indignation you wouldn't've had if you'd read a more "polite" review.
You claim that "David Bowie, Martin Scorsese, and Dr. Dre are it for decades-long enduring creative thinking." It's hard to continue reading your review after that.
It's really hard to take your criticism seriously if you thought I was being serious.
I mean, have you heard of Miles Davis? Prokofiev? Graham Greene?
No I haven't. Who are they? Are they as awesome as Dr. Dre? I hope so. Dr. Dre is pretty awesome though.
In the (paraphrased) words of Homer Simpson: If they're so great, how come they're dead?
Your presumptiveness is interesting. Would you respond in a similar way if I told you I had a master's degree and season tickets to the symphony? I would hope not, because that's not relevant to the topics I discuss here.
And I think that Paul Bertolli continues to be pretty creative. I've had stuff at Oliveto that I've never had anywhere else, cooked with consummate skill. Can you ask for much more?
I can because I haven't had that yet. But hopefully I will. I'll make it back to Oliveto sometime soon, I'm sure.
Oh, this isn't much fun. Let's go ad hominem again:
"The bisque tasted like lobster, cream, and cognac. Which I guess makes it good if you like those things." Idiot.
I'm not sure what makes that statement idiotic. I don't like lobster all that much. It's not that I think it's bad, it's just not my thing. I imagine someone who likes lobster more than I would like the bisque much more than I would. But why didn't you make a note of my point that the two servings of the bisque, served at the exact same time tasted markedly different?
I could tell you that my assessment was corroborated by a professional chef friend of mine who was dining with me. But that shouldn't matter, right?
"I was personally offended by the cioppino." Pretentious boob.
I have every right to be offended. I don't have the right to expect anybody to care.
Though you're using ad hominem correctly now. Kinda. That's pretty cool.
To be honest, I enjoyed reading your review. I think you write reasonably well. But I think you want to show off more than you want to be thoughtful. I suggest you visit a restaurant at least twice before reviewing it. And tone down the wild generalizations and pronouncements. They're just silly.
I don't think I could get a greater compliment than that right there. Thank you.
Of course I want to show off. That's what I hope makes this interesting and different. If I toned stuff down I wouldn't been able to engage in such a great virtual dialogue with you, would I? I think I'm being a whole lot more thoughtful than you give me credit for. I imagine you equate "rude" language with "not thoughtful-ness" like most people of a certain demographic do. Not to make presumptions or anything. I'm serious. Reread the review.
Edward R. Murrow is an infinitely better journalist than Hunter S. Thompson, but Thompson's a helluva lot more interesting to read. And there's a lot more truth in some of Thompson's rants and madness than in Murrow's reporting. Both men did important work. Both are admirable.
With the exception of Wood Tavern, I haven't been to a single restaurant before it's been reviewed in all the local media. I'm not really reviewing a restaurant for the same purpose or with the same intent as those reviewers. I'm don't even consider what I'm doing to be reviewing a restaurant. I'm writing an essay about my experience. If it means that someone who reads what I've written decides not to go to a restaurant, so be it. But it's not my intention to tell people what to do or where to go. Knowing my tastes and opinions, people can take away what they will from what I write.
And that's a beautiful thing.
So there you have it, Steven. I hope that cleared things up for you and for other casual readers. I appreciate your kind words and am glad you're enjoying what I'm doing.
But I'm not going to tone things down or stop being silly. Because that wouldn't be any fun at all. I take what I do very seriously, but that's not to say I'm very serious about what I do.
Here's to ruffling more feathers.
Cheers!
Steven is an attentive reader who took umbrage to my Oliveto write-up.
I will now respond. Italics represent the content of Steven's comment.
"Oh right, Alice Waters. I hear she's an uncut eight inches." In the face of such wit, it's tempting to respond with another ad hominem attack.
This is sort of a weird use of the term ad hominem. The size of Alice Waters' penis and its circumcisional status is irrelevant to her abilities as a chef. And while it might have mattered to Bertolli when he was blowing her, it also has no relevance on his abilities as a chef. I don't believe I was making that assertion. I'm sure there are many fine chefs who have large uncircumcised genitalia.
However, it can't be denied that working under Waters earlier in his career gave Bertolli an immeasurable amount of fame and exposure and aided greatly in his ability to open his own successful restaurant.
In a post in which I am speculating (rightly or wrongly) that perhaps Bertolli's restaurant doesn't deserve all of its accolades, I think that suggesting a (probably) figurative submissive sexual relationship with Alice Waters is a fair one to throw out there.
Flippant and tasteless, perhaps. Ad hominem? Hardly.
Besides, if you read this blog you know my love-hate relationship with California Cuisine and its sacred cows.
Lastly, if you have photos DISPROVING the rumored size of Ms. Waters' penis, please show them to me and I'll promptly remove that comment.
You're an idiot.
Come on, you can do better than that. At least criticize my sexual prowess or something. There's a whole lexicon of insults out there.
But I think I can do better.
We'll later see that this was an overly optimistic statement.
Unlike you ("I should probably give Oliveto a second chance") I can judge Oliveto on the basis of more than one visit. I've had a few bad meals there. Many good ones. And a few excellent ones. I've eaten at enough restaurants to know that it deserves the praise it gets.
Notice here where he implies that I haven't eaten at enough restaurants. Interesting. You obviously like Oliveto. A lot of people do. That's not a bad thing. There was a lot to like about that place. My goal is to get people to question why that is. Which I succeeded in getting you to do and you have defended it competently. I don't think it deserves the praise it gets. But I'm not saying that I know one way or the other. How do you know what anything does or does not deserve?
It balances excellent cuisine with appropriate prices. It's impressive and imaginative without being pretentious and exclusive.
I thought the prices were inappropriate and the food unimaginative. I guess we'll agree to disagree here.
To be fair, Oliveto might not be the best fish restaurant in the Bay Area. But that's my point. It's not a fish restaurant. From your description (more than 50% of your comments are positive) it sounds like most of the food was at least OK.
Actually I would say that more than half of my food was good. That's my whole point though. Excellent ingredients competently prepared should be the baseline for any restaurant of Oliveto's stature. I want to see where restaurants push beyond that. I don't care if you aren't a "fish restaurant." You're doing a seafood dinner and I'm going to judge that seafood dinner by the same standards that I'll judge your meat. Same standard as movies, plays, art galleries, blogs, etc. If you're putting something out there for public consumption it's going to be judged by people who don't give a fuck if you are or are not a seafood restaurant. Because I can play the trombone doesn't mean I can play the saxophone and I would fully expect to be torn a new asshole by critics if I gave a saxophone recital and sucked.
I actually can play the saxophone, but that's neither here nor there.
And that's despite the fact that Oliveto is a meat restaurant. You know that, right?
No? Really! That's amazing. I wondered why Bertolli ceased working the kitchen to open his own charcuterie and sausage-making business. Running a meat-focused restaurant makes a lot of sense...
Of course I know that you shrill, condescending, impotent douche!
That is an example of ad hominem. The fact that you're an impotent douche has no relevance to your abilities to criticize me.
They are one of the world's greatest meat restaurants.
This would perhaps be an overstatement. And it's an overstatement that calls into question your own objectivity.
And that's another principle of this blog. You can't pretend to be objective. I'm calling it like I see it (completely colored by my tastes, mood, and opinion) based on that visit. If I go back and something's changed, I'll comment on it again (I've changed my tune on Wood Tavern and Maverick, for instance). I have my tastes, I'll admit. Italian is one of least favorite of the major cuisines. And I think that California Cuisine is a viable but creatively bankrupt institution. That's clear to anyone who reads this blog. So the deck was already stacked against Oliveto. But I don't see anything wrong with that.
But to say with a straight face that Oliveto (or any restaurant) is one of the world's greatest in any category is showing your hand a little too early, I think.
So, again, to spew up so much vitriol based on one unrepresentative experience is more than unfair, it's rude.
I really don't think I spewed that much vitriol. Other than my profane, swaggering bookends, I think most of my comments were well reasoned and substantiated.
The point is, I'm exaggerating to make a point. The women at my table didn't actually eat everything on the plates (though they ate more than their fair share). And they probably weren't as attractive as I might've made them out to be. Oh well. Does what I write have to be factually accurate for it to be true? I'd say no.
Besides, I can attack Oliveto more strongly than I might other restaurants. Oliveto is a successful institution that is immune to any potshots a little opinionated blogger might throw at it. That's the style of this blog. That's the point. Language that one might consider "rude" (who says we have to be nice? who made that rule?) forced you to have both an intellectual reaction to the content of the post and a visceral reaction to how that content was expressed. It forced you to jump to the defense of something you love with a zeal and indignation you wouldn't've had if you'd read a more "polite" review.
You claim that "David Bowie, Martin Scorsese, and Dr. Dre are it for decades-long enduring creative thinking." It's hard to continue reading your review after that.
It's really hard to take your criticism seriously if you thought I was being serious.
I mean, have you heard of Miles Davis? Prokofiev? Graham Greene?
No I haven't. Who are they? Are they as awesome as Dr. Dre? I hope so. Dr. Dre is pretty awesome though.
In the (paraphrased) words of Homer Simpson: If they're so great, how come they're dead?
Your presumptiveness is interesting. Would you respond in a similar way if I told you I had a master's degree and season tickets to the symphony? I would hope not, because that's not relevant to the topics I discuss here.
And I think that Paul Bertolli continues to be pretty creative. I've had stuff at Oliveto that I've never had anywhere else, cooked with consummate skill. Can you ask for much more?
I can because I haven't had that yet. But hopefully I will. I'll make it back to Oliveto sometime soon, I'm sure.
Oh, this isn't much fun. Let's go ad hominem again:
"The bisque tasted like lobster, cream, and cognac. Which I guess makes it good if you like those things." Idiot.
I'm not sure what makes that statement idiotic. I don't like lobster all that much. It's not that I think it's bad, it's just not my thing. I imagine someone who likes lobster more than I would like the bisque much more than I would. But why didn't you make a note of my point that the two servings of the bisque, served at the exact same time tasted markedly different?
I could tell you that my assessment was corroborated by a professional chef friend of mine who was dining with me. But that shouldn't matter, right?
"I was personally offended by the cioppino." Pretentious boob.
I have every right to be offended. I don't have the right to expect anybody to care.
Though you're using ad hominem correctly now. Kinda. That's pretty cool.
To be honest, I enjoyed reading your review. I think you write reasonably well. But I think you want to show off more than you want to be thoughtful. I suggest you visit a restaurant at least twice before reviewing it. And tone down the wild generalizations and pronouncements. They're just silly.
I don't think I could get a greater compliment than that right there. Thank you.
Of course I want to show off. That's what I hope makes this interesting and different. If I toned stuff down I wouldn't been able to engage in such a great virtual dialogue with you, would I? I think I'm being a whole lot more thoughtful than you give me credit for. I imagine you equate "rude" language with "not thoughtful-ness" like most people of a certain demographic do. Not to make presumptions or anything. I'm serious. Reread the review.
Edward R. Murrow is an infinitely better journalist than Hunter S. Thompson, but Thompson's a helluva lot more interesting to read. And there's a lot more truth in some of Thompson's rants and madness than in Murrow's reporting. Both men did important work. Both are admirable.
With the exception of Wood Tavern, I haven't been to a single restaurant before it's been reviewed in all the local media. I'm not really reviewing a restaurant for the same purpose or with the same intent as those reviewers. I'm don't even consider what I'm doing to be reviewing a restaurant. I'm writing an essay about my experience. If it means that someone who reads what I've written decides not to go to a restaurant, so be it. But it's not my intention to tell people what to do or where to go. Knowing my tastes and opinions, people can take away what they will from what I write.
And that's a beautiful thing.
So there you have it, Steven. I hope that cleared things up for you and for other casual readers. I appreciate your kind words and am glad you're enjoying what I'm doing.
But I'm not going to tone things down or stop being silly. Because that wouldn't be any fun at all. I take what I do very seriously, but that's not to say I'm very serious about what I do.
Here's to ruffling more feathers.
Cheers!
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, June 15, 2007
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
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
Thursday, June 14, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, June 11, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
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
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
Thursday, May 24, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, May 14, 2007
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
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
Monday, April 30, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
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
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
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)