Food & Drink

Junk bonds

Andrew Lam
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CHEAP EATS Yeah, ever since they shot Prop 8 tentatively down, I have had to hire grad students and interns to sift through all the marriage proposals. Their job is to weed out the ones with typos in them, suspected vegetarians, those that contain the words “growth” or “cicadas,” and most importantly any that aren’t from Hedgehog, the dyke of my dreams.

As you might imagine, it’s grueling work. And since Hedgehog is not one to repeat herself, the “slush pile” is rapidly taking over our apartment.

Recycling comes on Friday.

Meanwhile, I think I understand now why the queers I play flag football with in San Francisco hate the idea of ever playing co-ed. I’m always saying, at our under-if-at-all-attended practices out at Big Rec, “There’s some boys over there with a football. Let’s play them.” And my teamies look at me like I just suggested charades, or voting Republican.

Well, my New Orleans flag football team is co-ed. And very straight, at that. Although our team color is pink, and our name is Piggy and the Conch Shells, and we lost our first game 63-6. (I could go on and on: I play for us, blazzy blazzy blah.) Anyway, so, last night, en route to winning our second straight game, I found out why no one I know votes Republican.

I was rushing the quarterback, see, and I was getting to him. If it was football football, I would have wrapped him up around the legs or waist, toppled him or driven him to the turf, and then done a funky fuck-you-I-kicked-your-ass dance. But no. It’s flag football. So you have to reach for and pull off one of three flags we all wear on a belt around our waist: there’s one on each hip, and one on the butt.

So I’m reaching for his left hip, and, understand, please: there are alleged blockers trying to be in my way, one of my blitzing teammates reaching for the right hip, and (does anyone see where this is going?) as soon as I make my grab, the quarterback twists away from the other rusher, leaving me with a handful not of flag, but of man-junk. Yes, I missed the sack, but did yank me some penis. Note: accidentally. And shorts-enshrouded. Nevertheless, he threw an interception.

Which is of course an even better result than a sack. But I couldn’t find it in me to do a dance, or celebrate, or even smile. I just stood there and felt squirgly. And hoped he wouldn’t get his way with the ref, at whom he was screaming. In vain, thank God.

What would the penalty have been? … Holding?

Illegal use of hands?

Ruffling the quarterback?

Later in the game, I did get called for roughing the quarterback when I popped him in the face, trying to block his pass. That time (wisely) he didn’t let go of the ball, and I pulled his flag. And the ref threw his. Still, the dude was so mad he kicked the ball into the stands — at which my 15-yard penalty became offset by his, ha ha.

In summary: I now know first-hand (ha ha again) why my queers back home no like play football with the boys. It was a disturbing moment for me, and I’m theoretically bisexual! I’ve held that shit before — albeit not on a football field. Not to mention he was a complete stranger. I mean: eww.

I did apologize to him after the game, and hinted that if he didn’t like to play rough, he might consider a boys-only league. Sike. I just said I was sorry I hit him in the face, I was trying to block the pass.

“I know. That’s ok,” he said. “I was mad at the ref, not you.” And he asked me out. (So I guess it was better for him than me.)

“No, thanks. Prop 8 went down,” I explained. “I’m a betrothalled woman.”

In all possible seriousness, though, my new favorite restaurant for real (if not for long) is Pho 2000, in the ‘Loin. They pile all the steak up together so it’s bright-red raw when it comes to your table. You want it cooked, you have to push it into the broth.

I’m telling you: Fuck Turtle Tower. 

PHO 2000

Mon.-Sat. 8:30 a.m.-8:30 p.m.; Sun. 8:30 a.m.-7:30 p.m.

637 Larkin, SF.

(415) 474-1188

Cash only

No alcohol

 

State Bird Provisions

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State Bird Provisions

virginia@sfbg.com

APPETITE I would venture to say Fillmore newcomer State Bird Provisions is the ideal companion to that district’s storied jazz tradition, even though there’s no direct musical connection. The spirit of jazz is present in playful, dim sum-style presentation — and in the improvisatory way that near-legendary husband-wife chef duo Stuart Brioza and Nicole Krasinski (formerly of Rubicon) change the menu almost daily. They adhere to the now-typical seasonal approach, yet are guided by a stronger creative prerogative than most. What sounds good? Where else could a dish be taken? What ingredients are new? Plates materialize on carts or trays like flashing jazz riffs, of the moment but never rootless.

The actual soundtrack is more Johnny Cash than John Coltrane: this fits the casual, toned-down setting, with pegboard walls and a front kitchen where cooks greet your arrival. After multiple visits since the restaurant opened two months ago, the staff remembers me, and Brioza is up front with a warm welcome.

A short, thoughtful selection of bottled beers, teas, wines by the glass, and rotating house lassis (fennel salted yogurt, coconut milk persimmon) helps orient visitors. And for those who fear the unknown, the menu lists a handful of “main” dishes. I’d recommend you go elsewhere if you want predictability. God knows there’s more than enough comfort food and traditional menus out there.

The joy of State Bird is that it’s unlike anywhere else. I find larger plates satisfying, even habit-forming, particularly the must-order CA State Bird (a quail, in case you were wondering). This is the one carryover from Brioza’s Rubicon days, the bird crusted in pumpkin seeds and cumin. But small plates offer the wider range of thrills. I am reluctant to even use the played-out term “small plates,” so keep that free-flowing, dim sum spirit in mind. Most dishes fall within the $5–$9 range, and everything on the menu is roughly $2–$18. When one adds up the final check, the variety is amazing given the per person price (on my visits, $30–$40 without drink).

In any case, a full printed list wouldn’t do the dishes justice. Take, for example, the basic-sounding seven pepper flatbread with oxtail (peppers used include long pepper and madras). I’ve seen a lot of oxtail and even more flatbread. This one is different. Upon first visit, the flaky, twisted bread, which forms a bit of bowl in which to pour braised, tender oxtail, transported me to Eastern Europe. It recalled crispy, fried langos bread from my travels in Hungary. (Chef Nick Balla at Bar Tartine does a top notch langos, by the way.). It speaks to the depth of Brioza’s influences and talent that a dish could evoke tradition while being one-of-a-kind. By my next visit, the dish shifted in shape, now topped with lentils and cream. This time its spice profile conjured Morocco and Spain, another time India. Whatever the incarnation, this may be my favorite.

There are countless delights: spanking fresh raw tuna is dashi-poached, coated in toasted quinoa with smoky bonito rosemary aioli, tossed with chrysanthemum leaves. Duck liver mousse is silky and ridiculously good (almost dessert-like) with almond financier cakes. Beef is served in three cuts — brisket, short ribs, chuck — on a bed of fried nettles with pomegranate.

Vegetarian dishes are just as captivating. Mushrooms arrive coated in hazelnut streusel with vanilla cream. Beets are crusted in rye grain, perked up with horseradish-ale cream. Char-grilled chicories are tossed with lemon, olive oil, dates, and almonds over spicy yogurt.

Bites (less than $6) are equally interesting. Celery root curd shows up in different ways: in a raw chicken ‘salad,’ bright with Buddha’s hand citrus, or in a jar of creamy smoked sturgeon and sea urchin.

Krasinski extends the inspiration to unusual desserts, sometimes with welcome savory notes. Two-dollar shots of peanut milk gently sweetened with muscovado (an unrefined brown sugar) are imperative. They call it “world peace” peanut milk because of the happy feelings it invokes. Milk chocolate and sesame mix with candied clementines and cocoa jam, the clincher being a crispy little wafer of chocolate, sesame, and tahini. Pear brandy and long pepper make winning companions in sabayon form — a finish on a high note.

STATE BIRD PROVISIONS

1529 Fillmore, SF.

(415) 795-1273

www.statebirdsf.com

Subscribe to Virgina’s twice-monthly newsletter The Perfect Spot, www.theperfectspotsf.com

 

The cat and the hedgehog

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le.chicken.farmer@gmail.com

CHEAP EATS You know who I love? Hedgehog. One year ago today we had our first date, and now we are domestical partners. She calls me root beer eyes. I know it’s a compliment because her favorite drink is Abita root beer with bourbon in it, and sometimes she looks at me like that.

One year ago today, I was a tagalong nanny for a Tulane-S.F. State couple, and Hedgehog was supervising sound editor for an HBO show set in New Orleans. This year, she is also a writer for that show, and I am a tagalong housewife. Count em: two dreams come true!

For our anniversary, she’s on set all day, and I’m writing this then going to play flag football. Maybe we will see each other in bed.

What a difference a year makes! One year ago today, for example, it was Monday. I had the day off. She did too. For our first date we were going to go to the cemetery, but then we found out it was closed. In New Orleans, the dead do not receive visitors on Mondays. They have been partying too hard all weekend. They have hangovers, and couldn’t get out of bed, let alone a grave.

So we went to the French Canadian Quarter instead, ate lunch, walked along the river, looked at the water, drank at a gay bar, walked some more, and did not kiss.

OK.

Now, the big loser in all of this, of course, is Stoplight. The cat. Not only because I’ve been home a lot less, but — even sadlier than that — my domestical partner is allergic to my domesticated partner. So before we left for the Big Greasy this time, I had to have a little talk with my furry friend.

Well, but first I had to have a little talk with some cheese farmers from Petaluma. Which brings us (very very naturally) to the downtown Berkeley farmer’s market one Saturday.

As it happened — and we’ll never know why — Hedgehog was stricken on that particular day with a very bad stomachache, so all she could do while I sought out and talked with my cheese farmers was sit on a bench and watch some hippies play their guitars. Maybe she was moaning and groaning, too. I know I would have been, if I had to sit on a bench and watch hippies play their guitars.

In fact, I was sure she was going to puke. (The kids had it. It was going around.)

Now: my cheese farmers, on whose cheese farm Stoplight was born, had told me way back when that if things didn’t work out for him in the big city, they would take him back. This, they unflinchingly, un-guilt-trippingly agreed to do. So I bought some cheese.

The drop would be made the following Saturday. Meanwhile, I was surprised to learn upon fetching my li’l sicky, Hedgehog was hungry. So here’s to the curative powers of hippies! I take back everything I said about them.

The Berkeley farmer’s market has a lot of greasy looking and happy smelling food stands, but Hedgehog understandably wanted something healthy. Which to her means pho. Pho ga. (That’s chicken.)

We have a running argument about pho. Beef is best, I say. Whatever, says she. For sure, downtown Berkeley is not the best place to be when dying for Vietnamese food in a hurry.

But we saw Saigon Express there on the corner of Addison and Shattuck, went in, sat right next to the bathrooms (just in case), and ordered our pho.

And of course Hedgehog was yelping the place while we waited for it. Two people mentioned food poisoning.

Food poisoning doesn’t scare me. Stomach bugs do. But according to Hedgehog, it’s impossible to tell the difference. “Food poisoning takes three days to hit you, usually,” she said.

“Really?”

“Could be,” she said. Then she started Googling that. But the pho came and was surprisingly fantastically delicious. At least mine was. The beef broth, heavy on the star anise, was really very wonderful. And the rare beef was still pink.

The noodles had a good texture. A little bit of pull to them, not mushy. Basil, cilantro, jalapenos, sprouts. And nobody threw up. Not even Hedgehog. New favorite restaurant:

SAIGON EXPRESS

Mon.-Sat. 10:30 a.m.-9:30 p.m.

2045 Shattuck Ave., Berk.

(510) 486-1778

MC/V

Beer & wine

Brews you can use

Andrew Lam
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caitlin@sfbg.com

BEER Even if your hankering for a beer paunch pales in comparison, say, to your desire to fit into your Valentine’s Day party dress, you have a responsibility to indulge during SF Beer Week. It’s not just a gustatory pleasure — consider yourself stumping for a burgeoning local industry. From Feb. 10-19, the fest will stage everything from urban beer hikes to beer-and-chocolate pairing events, beer-and-cheese couplings to a showcase of the finest in local bitter ales. Recently, the Guardian had the pleasure of a one-on-one (via email) with David McLean, the mastermind behind the superlative suds at Magnolia Brewery. He is also a member of the SF Brewer’s Guild, the organizing entity behind Beer Week. McLean shared with us his can’t-miss picks for hobnobbing and hops during this year’s festival. And yes, they include an stout made with Hog Island oysters.

SFBG: How has the beer scene changed over the past year in the Bay Area? Has there been a profound expansion? 

DM: Here and everywhere. We started in 2011 with about 1,700 breweries in the country. We are creeping up on 2,000 a year later and there are something like 800 or so known to be in planning. It’s safe to say craft beer is exploding right now. In the Bay Area, some notable highlights are Southern Pacific, Elevation 66, Dying Vines, Pacific Brewing Laboratories, and Heretic Brewing. There are plenty more on the way in 2012.

SFBG: Anyone new on the scene whose brews you’re excited to sample? 

DM: After many delays (all par for the course) it is super-exciting to have Southern Pacific Brewing Company open just in time for Beer Week. As the first new brewery built in San Francisco in many years — close to 10 — that one leads the pack in terms of excitement level. Another SF company just getting off the ground is Pacific Brewing Laboratories, which is starting to get its Squid Ink IPA and a couple of other beers into bars and restaurants. Almanac’s latest seasonal release, Winter Wit, should be hitting the streets just in time for Beer Week too, and it’s worth hunting down.

SFBG: A food-beer pairing event you think is a can’t-miss?

DM: Some pairings are just so perfect as to be timeless. They’re less about being creative and more about flavors that need no help fitting together. A personal favorite is oysters and beer, particularly oysters and certain kinds of stout, especially dry stouts. We go a step further at Magnolia with an oyster stout we make using Hog Island Sweetwater oysters in the beer. The effect is subtle, and maybe it is gilding the lily, but a few freshly-shucked Sweetwaters and a glass of that beer, Oysterhead Stout, is about as good as it gets. We’ll be spending all day on Valentine’s Day shucking a variety of oysters and serving them with that stout and some other good oyster-pairing beers until the oysters run out. If I were free on Mon/13, you might find me at the “Butcher and the Beer at the Beast and the Hare” — it’s a dinner with [4505 Meats butcher] Ryan Farr and Almanac Beer.

SFBG: Your tip for making it through Beer Week — how do you survive such a strenuous schedule?

DM: The well-timed vacation waiting on the other side of Beer Week helps maintain my sanity during Beer Week. With multiple events to work everyday, it’s a definitely a marathon and not a sprint. But it is also one of the premier celebrations of craft beer in the country and the sense of enthusiasm, camaraderie, and support from the beer community is more than enough to help us all get through the week. It’s energizing, actually. But don’t forget to hydrate.

SF BEER WEEK OPENING CELEBRATION

Fri/10 6-10 p.m., $65

Concourse Exhibition Center

635 Eighth St., SF

www.sfbeerweek.org

 

An upside

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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le.chicken.farmer@gmail.com

CHEAP EATS I’ve been saving something for you. Something special. For a time just like this.

The 49ers have fizzled in the drizzle, and the spring season of dyke football is a long way off. Not to mention spring training. Not to mention Spring.

Sportswise we are left with the Warriors. And speaking of lose-lose situations, there’s the murky mess that our sheriff is in. Oh, and the Republican candidates for prez, whose collective aim is so untrue (also speaking of the Warriors) that even those of us who try and stay out of it are covered in mud and shit.

Is everyone sick and suicidal, or just sick?

Well, my dears, I have something for you, and it isn’t duck soup. It’s better. It’s butter corn ramen at Halu, which is my new favorite restaurant by 10 miles. Or at least thirty blocks.

Unfortunately, we aren’t the only ones who know about it. Halu isn’t open for lunch and doesn’t accept reservations for dinner. It’s a hole in the wall. So, unless you get there at five, expect a line.

And expect that line to be worth waiting in. (I rarely say that.)

About a year ago or so I started hearing about this place from all sides. Alice Shaw the Person gave me its business card. Which I lost. But I still recall her rhapsodic description of skewered scallops wrapped in bacon. We were getting ready to play soccer. “One of the best things I ever ate,” she said. “The scallops …” Her eyes fluttered and started to roll back under their lids, until I thought she might lose consciousness. Which would have sucked because we’d have had to forfeit.

Then Papa, my butcher, started in on it. “Pork jowls,” she kept saying. At football practice. In the huddle. Every time I saw her: “Pork jowls.”

When people say pork jowls, I listen. They only need to say it once. After three or four times, I start to dream cheeky things. So, long before I ever ate there, Halu was on my mind and under my skin.

I tried to go once with a big group, but at least one of us was too hungry to stomach the wait, so we wound up at the Burmese place around the corner on Clement.

Then, finally, last summer while Hedgehog and me were house sitting in the Richmond one week, we walked over right at five and sat right down and ordered all the wrong things. Lava ramen, which was the best and second-spiciest bowl of ramen I had ever had, but it wasn’t spicy butter corn ramen. Or, as they inexplicably call it, spicy corn butter ramen. Which, I would have to wait three more months to learn, is even better.

Amazingly tender roast pork, crisp kernels of fresh corn, and pats of butter melting into it as they bring the bowl to your table. The noodles taste homemade, and the broth has an insane amount of flavor to it.

I must not have looked at the menu the first time I was there, or I would have become a Halu addict sooner. But the lava ramen was on the wall, with a lot of other yummy sounding dishes, and all the Beatles posters and ’60s stuff — including a cool old bass and an even cooler acoustic guitar.

The yakitori menu is on the wall too, and every time I get my butter corn butter ramen butter fix, I sample one or two of these, on the side. So far I’ve had mochi bacon, which was divine, and of course the pork jowls, which were even diviner. Chicken livers. Good. The boneless short ribs were a little dry.

Oddly, since it was what sold me on the place in the first place, I have yet to try the bacon-wrapped scallops. (Sorry, Alice Shaw the Person.) Other didn’t-get-yets include asparagus bacon, enoki bacon, and eringi bacon, because in my opinion two of those things are mushrooms. But I do love asparagus.

One time we had karaage (fried chicken), by way of an appetizer. It was nothing special.

Otherwise, though: worth the wait. Way. Go say hi to Baseball Mary across the corner at Clement Street Bar and Grill. The game’ll be on, if there is one.

HALU

Tue.-Thu. 5-10 p.m.; Fri.-Sat. 5-11 p.m.; closed Sun.-Mon.

312 8th Ave., SF.

(415) 221-9165

MC/V

Beer and wine

Baumé

Andrew Lam
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Baumé

virginia@sfbg.com

APPETITE There are meals that live on in memory: dioramas of conversation, heartwarming food, and that misty glow from a fine bottle of wine. Then there are those that are game-changers, the food an elaborate tapestry, weaving complex threads of creativity into an unexpected whole as impacting on the taste buds as to the eye. It borders on art.

Baumé (pronounced “bo-meh”) in Palo Alto vies for the latter category at a level not seen enough in the Bay Area. Foams may be long over, but for an adventurous food lover, to sit down for three hours with merely a list of ingredients and almost 20 bites and courses, is an exciting event. I’d call Baumé one of our best fine dining restaurants. It is artful, employing molecular processes alongside classic French technique. A list of menu ingredients like vadouvan, Calvados, kabocha, caviar, and the like tease, but essentially give little intimation as to what lies ahead.

Naming Baumé one of 2010’s best new restaurant openings in both the Guardian and my Perfect Spot newsletter, I found chef Bruno Chemel’s vision inspiring, even as the restaurant was still discovering itself. Returning at the end of 2011, it is coming into its own. Prices reflect this “sense of self.” Formerly just over $100 per person, it’s now a whopping $168 without drink. Add on wine pairings and it’s $288 (or $368 if you desire the premium wine pairing). It’s one mighty expensive night out. But there are more courses than there were before, more intermezzos, bites, and delights at every turn. If you’re going to splurge, Baumé is one of the more experimentally satisfying options.

The setting is understated, modern, but still a little staid, even museum-like. Thankfully, intimacy and bright orange and brown tones keep it from being cold, with one small room of four or five tables and additional individual tables behind curtains. Service is seamless — although with this many courses, expect to see waitstaff often throughout the meal. I am always impressed when I can ask even a server filling my water about ingredients and all are well-versed on each dish. This level of care is crucial in a place like Baumé.

Even a menu of expensive aperitifs (four, ranging from $15-28) has been elevated since my last visit. A Baumétini ($18) is dramatically presented with sparkling sake poured over liquid nitrogen lilikoi and passion fruit “ice,” a frosty haze erupting from the glass. The taste is tart, intense, palate-cleansing.

On a white, indented ceramic block sits a round roll of fig pistachio “focaccia” — the bread course. Looking more akin to mochi, the warm, green roll perks up in yuzu glaze with salt flecks. This was followed by juicy beets and onions in panko crumbs with a potent shot of celery beet juice. In 2010, Chef Chemel’s most memorable dish was a 62-degree egg. This is the only dish I recognize from the year before, silky as ever, though its presentation is different over lentils in a vermouth sabayon, topped with tiny sage leaves and toasted garlic bread crumbs.

Chemel shines at produce: a delicate autumn salad is one of the most beautiful and finest tasting dishes. It combines bits of apple, pear, squash, and vivid red leaves with acorn wafers. The dish blossoms with a gorgeous pairing of 2005 Domaine des Baumard Clos du Papillion Savennieres from the Loire, a 100 percent Chenin Blanc that surprises with orchard fruit contrasted by mineral earthiness.

Other stand-out moments included the add-on course (yes, for even more money) of Alba white truffles from Piemonte, Italy, in season and available for a matter of days. The staff generously shaved a luxurious truffle over cauliflower tapioca risotto, pairing it with 2006 Morey-Coffinet Morgeot Chassagne-Montrachet 1er Cru from Burgundy.

Fatty suckling pig in crispy skin is a winning main with braised endive and ginger foam. Apple plays prominently in both freeze-dried green apple slices and a sauce of balsamic Calvados (French apple brandy). A bright, acidic 1999 Heitz Cellars Trailside Vineyard Cabernet from Napa alternately displays a raisin richness reminiscent of port, making it an ideal apple-pork companion.

Dessert comes in four parts, but it’s a liquid shot that leaves an impression: fizzy young coconut water soda with a creamy lychee float. After dessert, I was served house eggnog with nutmeg foam in an egg shell. Perfect for December, it was a playfully refined statement to end a nearly three-hour feast. 

BAUMÉ

201 S. California Ave., Palo Alto

(650) 328-8899

www.baumerestaurant.com

Subscribe to Virgina’s twice-monthly newsletter, The Perfect Spot, www.theperfectspotsf.com

 

Barrel-aged beauties

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Barrel-aged beauties

virginia@sfbg.com

APPETITE Here are two new barrel aged beauties worth seeking out, plus more to look forward to in 2012.

1512 SPIRITS BARREL-AGED 100% RYE

I’ve enthused about small production 1512 Spirits (www.1512spirits.com) rye before, crafted by Salvatore “Sal” Cimino with a unique custom still up in Santa Rosa. During the day you’ll find him giving shaves and cutting hair in his classic Nob Hill barbershop, at 1512 Pine Street (www.1512barbershop.com).

His brand new release is a barrel-aged 100 percent rye, just on the market in a very limited release ($59.99 per half-bottle) with the largest allocation available through K&L Wines, www.klwines.com. Ryes are (blessedly) flooding the market these days but only a handful are made from 100 percent rye and even less with the one-man attention that goes into 1512. Sal cautiously guards his process, not allowing anyone else present when distilling.

Whiskey fans may quibble about a $60 half bottle when they can get cheaper ryes (or higher-priced stand-outs like Thomas H. Handy Sazerac Rye, available at Cask, www.caskstore.com). But this rye is the opposite of high production whiskey. One tastes the hands-on care in each sip. Though 100 proof, it is bright, fresh, popping with apple, vanilla, pepper, a gentle rather than bracing spice, and a lingering complexity.

I had the privilege of tasting early batches of Cimino’s future releases, including a 105 proof poitín, or “poteen” in the States, a rare Irish spirit made in this case from potatoes. (The word poteen refers to small pot stills in which the liquor is historically made). Despite the use of potatoes, I would not liken this to potato vodka. Clear, bold and light, it evokes cucumber and summer, with the spirit of an eau de vie and robustness of a white whiskey. There’s nothing in the US quite like it. (Release is set for April.)

Also later in 2012, Cimino is releasing a bracing white wheat whiskey — with more than 70 percent wheat. (I sampled it at 120 proof, but it will be bottled closer to, or below, 100 proof.) For that proof, it’s awfully smooth, evoking surprising flavors from straight-up wheat bread to clean chocolate notes. Another unusual sip, it confirms that this Nob Hill barber is creating some of California’s — and yes, the country’s — more interesting, very small batch, historical spirits. Aged Rye $59.99

BOLS BARREL-AGED GENEVER

The classic Dutch spirit, Bols Genever (www.bolsgenever.nl), has been produced by the Lucas Bols company since 1575. Not many distilleries can boast such a heritage. Master distiller Piet Van Leijenhorst has crafted the spirit for more than 25 years. Genever is often referred to as the original gin that London dry and other gins descended from. It’s worlds apart from what we commonly call gin, more akin to whiskey in boldness but with its own unique, herbaceous profile.

In trying the new Bols Barrel-Aged Genever, which Esquire magazine just named best new liquor of 2011, I notice the complexity rises a few more notches. Made with traditional botanicals (like cloves, anise, hops, ginger, juniper, etc…), the genever is aged 18 months in French Limousin oak. Bottled in a grey, earthenware bottle, it is as striking visually as it is in flavor. It drinks bold with a silky texture — subtly sweet with vanilla honey, cinnamon spice, wood and pepper linger on the finish.

As with a good whiskey, I like to sip Bols Barrel-Aged Genever neat, pre- or post- dinner, but it also gives intriguing dimensions to classic cocktail greats like a Mint Julep or Manhattan (substitute whiskey for genever). Bottles are $49.99.

 

COCKTAIL INTELLIGENCE: FIFTH FLOOR DELIGHTS

Food and wine are the draws at gorgeous Fifth Floor (www.fifthfloorrestaurant.com), but bartender Brian Means, formerly of Zero Zero, has created singular cocktails worth a stop in the mellow lounge. Perhaps you’ll skip dinner entirely.

The unassuming Mr. Means creates some of the more promising recipes I’ve tasted from an up-and-coming crafter. As I judge multiple cocktail contests, his entries consistently exhibit a surprising level of sophistication, often placing high. He shakes (and stirs) with an unfussy hand, comprehending classic cocktail foundations, but varying off-path enough to keep it interesting.

Here are three of his cocktails I’d recommend, currently on the Fifth Floor menu:

Pink Elephant — Death’s Door (one of my favorite gins), with rosato vermouth, pineapple gomme syrup, orange bitters and smoked absinthe. Means doesn’t let the smoke overpower. Rather, it gives off a faint smoke aroma, hinting at brawn behind a delicate surface. Don’t judge it by its color.

Loretto Wrangler — Named after a key Kentucky bourbon town (home of Maker’s Mark, the Wrangler’s base spirit), Loretto Wrangler includes Cynar (Italian artichoke liqueur), Graham’s Six Grapes port, Dubonnet Rouge, and Bitter Truth chocolate bitters. It may sound like a lot of ingredients, but never fear. Playing like a classic, spirit-driven whiskey cocktail, it unfolds with layers of bitter, sweet, boozy, and — thanks to the choco bitters — meaty, goodness.

Spanish Maiden — El Tesoro blanco tequila and elderflower liqueur with a lemon twist makes for an obviously pleasing aperitif pre-dinner, right? Add in a dash of sherry and this bright refresher takes on depth and dimension, if ever so subtly, while still remaining stimulating and light. *

Subscribe to Virgina’s twice-monthly newsletter, The Perfect Spot, www.theperfectspotsf.com

 

A real SF tweet

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le.chicken.farmer@gmail.com

CHEAP EATS I keep buying little plants and killing them. This makes me miss chickens, which are, in my experience, both easier to keep alive and more gratifying to kill. Now that they come from the grocery store, I cook more chickens than ever. Therefore, I would like to have fresh herbs in my kitchen. Therefore, I keep buying these little plants.

And killing them.

Luck would have it, I was in New Orleans when the 49ers beat the Saints. Did you see that? Both Coach and Wayway, with whom I was in constant textual contact that day, described hoots, honks, and general happiness in our neighborhood here. And that was before kick-off! I can imagine what it was like after.

Here there was dead-ass silence for a change. Except me and Hedgehog, who were writhing and screaming on our leather couch in front of our 50-inch flat screen plasmatic TV. Until we both wet our pants and had to jump in our Jacuzzi bathtub.

By our I mean someone else’s.

Except the pants.

Next day on KCBS John Madden called it the best game he ever saw — which is saying something, as he’s seen a lot of games. Me, I am not so prone to hyperbole. Either that or I am journalismically challenged by the old-fashionedest of lag times between my opinion of Things and publication. (Don’t worry; as we speak, Hedgehog is teaching me how to twit.)

Well, whatever happens(ed) with the rest of this football season, I want you to know where I’ll be watching the games next season, since in real life I don’t even own a TV, let alone a big flat plasmatic one .. .

At my new favorite restaurant: The Old Clam House!

Twenty-two years I’ve been living in and around this city, and for exactly that long have I been meaning to eat at The Old Clam House. It’s the oldest restaurant in San Francisco! In the same location! Since 1861!

To give you some idea of how long ago that is, think of it like this: 151 years.

Considering what all has gone down since then — the big earthquake, the other one, and Donte Whitner’s hit on Pierre Thomas — it’s amazing that even some of the Clam House is still standing. But the bar area is original, according to them. And from the photos you can tell that it is.

So that was where we sat. Checkerboard floor, wood trim, old-fangled ceiling tiles, and the Niners game on TV. Mind you, I had just played football, over at Crocker Amazon, so I probably didn’t smell very pretty. Or look nice.

In fact I was starving, cold, and frazzled. And my hamstring was gone, so I had to sit on ice. We ordered clams paella acini and Swiss chard with onions and bacon, and Hedgehog ordered something stiff to drink, because as hard as it is to play on my football team, I think it’s even harder to watch.

The paella was delicious, and in an unusual way: cioppino sauce, sausage, olives, cheddar cheese. And acini are little tiny pastas, between couscous and orzo. We’d have preferred rice, but it was good this way too. The clams were good, and plentiful, the sausage so-so, and the Swiss chard of course was great. (Bacon.)

As for the bread and butter, besides being pretty good breads and butters, I like it that they tell you on the menu not only where the bread comes from, but where the butter comes from: Acme and Strauss, respectively.

Butter does matter.

My favorite touch, however, was the little glass of warm clam broth with onions that they brought to our table first. That was a yummy, warming treat, and a very nice touch.

Plus I ordered a Coke and it came in a carafe.

But listen up, Mr. Madden: I totally agree. And for more up-to-date (and shorter) musings on sports, food, and Things, you can henceforth tweeter me at @lechickenfarmer. *

THE OLD CLAM HOUSE

Daily: 11 a.m.-10 p.m.

299 Bayshore Blvd., SF.

(415) 826-4880

AE/D/MC/V

Full bar

Fresh and fancy-free

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0
Fresh and fancy-free

virginia@sfbg.com

APPETITE Despite all its high-end culinary buzz, San Francisco is loaded with amazing cheap eats (as my colleague L.E. Leone has been documenting for decades for the Guardian). Here are three new places I consider worth adding to your go-to list.

 

CHUBBY NOODLE

Chubby Noodle easily counts as a best cheap eats opening of 2011. In the back of comfortably retro Amante (www.amantesf.com) bar, order at a kitchen window, illuminated in neon by the word “Hungry?” Then slide into roomy booths to fill up on fresh, daily ceviche, Hawaiian tuna poke ($11), and heartwarming red miso ramen ($9 with pork and poached egg; $11 with shrimp). I expected good from owners of the excellent, neighboring Don Pisto’s — but it’s better than good.

Whatever you do, don’t miss organic, buttermilk-brined, Mary’s fried chicken ($9 for five-piece wings or strips, 2 piece drum and thigh meal $7). It’s traditional American fried chicken with a contemporary Asian attitude, dipped in habit-forming, creamy sambal dipping sauce. Tender chicken strips are an elevated, gourmet version of chicken tenders from childhood.

House kimchi is no slouch, working its gently heated wonders as a side ($4) or on a kimchi kobe beef hot dog ($6). Besides the fried chicken, my other favorite dish is spicy garlic noodles ($8). Chewy and homemade, they’re oozing with garlic, oyster sauce, and a little jalapeno kick. The Korean pork tacos ($9) aren’t carbon copies of the usual trendy dish. Instead of shredded pork, chunks of Niman Ranch rib chop give beefy heft, contrasted by Korean pickles, yogurt sauce, and arbol chile vinegar.

570 Green, SF. 415-361-8850, www.thechubbynoodle.com

 

ROOSTERTAIL

Roostertail is, yes, another rotisserie joint. A few visits after the recent opening, I’m impressed with the friendly staff who exude a warm welcome, even when merely grabbing take-out (Note the just-launched curbside pickup with prepaid phone orders). The space boasts silver counter tops and bright red stools, festive with beer and wine on draft.

When it comes to rotisserie, I’ll take dark meat, thanks ($5.75–<\d>$18.50, quarter to whole birds). The organic, juicy meat is delightful with the garlicky green house sauce. Husband-wife team, Gerard Darian and Tracy Green, get their mainstay right.

A pulled pork sandwich ($10.75) is a solid sandwich pick, on an Acme bun topped with fresh coleslaw unencumbered by mayo. Tiny chicken wings didn’t excite (I prefer Hot Sauce & Panko’s creative, meatier wings), nor did the cheesesteak sandwich. But there’s brisket, five different sandwiches, or hefty salad options, along with soulful sides ($4–<\d>$5.50) like brisket baked beans or brussels sprouts with bacon.

1963 Sutter, SF. (415) 776-6738, www.roostertailsf.com

 

GALETTE 88

There’s a Ti Couz-shaped hole where my Brittany crepe hunger resides.

Through the years, crepes didn’t get better than at the now-defunct Ti Couz in the Mission. At the end of an alley off Kearny, the new Galette 88 isn’t exactly a replacement. There’s not quite the same depth of buckwheat earthiness. The French galettes (a.k.a. buckwheat crepes; savory: $6–<\d>$10, sweet: $5–<\d>$6) are even thinner, still crisp, a little less flavorful, but nonetheless worthwhile. Gluten-free and healthy, they’re made with only three ingredients — water, sea salt, buckwheat flour made from buckwheat which is a plant, not a grain — loaded with fiber, vegetable protein, calcium, iron.

Order Four Barrel coffee, Mighty Leaf tea, or hard cider and choose a crepe. Bruce’s Choice ($10) is my first pick, layered with smoked salmon, caramelized onions, and capers, topped with avocado slices, greens, and a tart/sweet lemon chive creme fraiche. Light yet filling, the zesty lemon sauce makes it.

Bleu Velvet ($9) is a savory-sweet choice with blue cheese, browned apples, arugula, honey, and toasted almonds. Dessert crepes (lemon sugar, roasted apples with salted caramel, chocolate with candied orange peel, or Nutella), made with eggs, milk, wheat flour and sugar, lacked the subtle chewiness and flavor of Ti Couz’s wheat dessert crepes. But in their absence, Galette 88’s crepes contend for the best in town.

It’s already one of the more pleasant FiDi lunch options (with just-added dinner, Wed.-Fri.): casual, order-at-the-counter ease, the owner flitting about, ensuring water cups are filled and everyone is content. The space is minimalist with live birch trees towering in one corner and a decidedly Mission air that’s rare in FiDi.

88 Hardie Pl., (415) 989-2222, www.galettesf.com *

Subscribe to Virgina’s twice-monthly newsletter, The Perfect Spot, www.theperfectspotsf.com

 

Try your luck

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le_chicken_farmer@yahoo.com

CHEAP EATS Here’s how I’m different from most people, yo. When most people go to a restaurant and become gastrointestinally challenged on the walk home to the point of very nearly having to do something undignified in the bushes, they don’t go back to that restaurant.

Me, I not only go back, I order the exact same thing!

I don’t think it’s stupidity, per se. Maybe it’s patience. Extraordinary patience. Or curiosity. I needs to know, is all. In fact, maybe I needs to know more than I needs almost anything in life, including I guess dignity.

My motto is: Poison me once, shame on you. Poison me twice, shame on you again, mother fucker. And poison me three times . . . ack-ga goddamn it, stop poisoning me!

So . . . I don’t know, maybe it is stupidity.

You tell me:

The first time I ate at Ly Luck, I got a li’l unlucky with a bowl of duck wonton noodle soup. Is all. But maybe it wasn’t the soup, either. Maybe it was something I picked up off the floor and licked earlier that morning, at home. Or maybe a bug one of the childerns gave me, when I picked them up off the floor and licked them. Who knows?

Point is: usually, as you know, duck soup is medicine to me. This being flu season, I couldn’t just throw my leftovers away. I couldn’t. Even with just a common cold, you don’t always feel like going out, and there was, as I hope I have established, at least a chance that this soup wasn’t poisonous. I got what was left to go, fridged it, and a few days later I took a look.

Maybe it was a week. Anyway, it looked fine. Just fine, but not like a lot of soup. So, being very hungry, and not at all sick, I put my old leftovers back in the back of the fridge and made some eggs.

For the record, it smelled fine too.

But then I ate my eggs and went about my little life, trying to write, taking long baths, cooking up stuff for Hedgehog, playing my various sports, and just generally thinking about tomatoes, when all of a sudden one day, many weeks later around lunch time, I found myself on Fruitvale Avenue, returning a library book or something, and there was Ly Luck.

I didn’t think about it, I ducked in for the duck soup do-over.

Instead of duck wonton noodle soup, however, I accidentally ordered duck yee wonton soup. In Chinese, yee means that the wontons are fried, the broth is gelatinous glop, and the duck is just little tiny pieces of duck, and peas. And, you know, carrots and things ($5.50). But mostly gelatinous glop and fried wontons.

Yum!

I love gelatinous glop with fried wontons in it, turns out, but while it didn’t make me sick, luckily for Ly Luck (not to mention me) I couldn’t really call it medicine, either. I mean, fried things can be health food, in my book, but probably they don’t have curative powers. (This may require research.) Anyway, when I was done with the duck yee wonton soup, I ordered an order of duck wonton noodle soup to go.

This did I store in my fridge until dinner time, around about which I got hungry again.

Where was Hedgehog during all this? Welding class. New Orleans. Writer’s meetings. On an airplane. I think she was on an airplane exactly then, yes, about 30,000 feet over Albuquerque.

I think she heard me scream, over all those feet and the roars of all those engines, not to mention the episode of This American Life I was listening to when I dug distractedly into our refrigerator and pulled out the to-go container of soup in the little plastic white bag.

And opened it.

And saw the horror movie science project that I saw, all fuzzy and colorful and fingery, kind of clawing (or so I imagined) for my throat. I had grabbed the wrong one. Which settled it for me:

New favorite restaurant!

LY LUCK

Sun.-Thu. 11 a.m.-9 p.m.; Fri.-Sat. 11 a.m.-9:30 p.m.

3537 Fruitvale Ave., Oakl.

(510) 530-3232

MC/V

Beer & wine

 

Easy honors

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Easy honors

virginia@sfbg.com

APPETITE It’s true: the East Bay cocktail scene is growing by leaps and bounds lately, with a slew of new bars (many opened by San Francisco bar stars) popping up from Albany to Alameda. Two comfortable new hangouts just debuted Jan. 3, serving cocktails for the geek and casual imbiber alike. Both claim noteworthy bartenders covering various shifts. I spent an evening tasting through their menus. Here’s an early peek at cocktail stand-outs at these two. For more exciting drink destinations in the East Bay, click here. 

 

HONOR BAR

Situated in its own building — with parking lot — not far from Emeryville’s shopping center madness (and E-ville’s other shining bar beacon, Prizefighter, www.prizefighterbar.com, which opened at the end of 2011), Honor Bar serves gourmet pub food in a room glowing with vintage signs, a Creature from the Black Lagoon pinball machine, and granite red bar at the center of it all. After passing through an entrance lined with cigar signs, records, even a stuffed owl, grab a beer from a tub of ice. It’s all on the honor system, so ask a bartender to add it to your tab. (No surprise: this is already garnering early buzz).

Cocktail menu quality was pretty much guaranteed under bar manager Alex Smith who came from SF’s Gitane. I’ve written about his exquisite drinks at Gitane few times, and was unsurprised to find his offerings at Honor Bar more casual but nonetheless sophisticated, easily exhibiting promise at this early date to be among the best cocktails in the East Bay.

While slurping oysters with St. Germain herb mignonette or dipping Kennebec fries ($3.50) in salt and vinegar aioli or Serrano ham jelly, select from cocktails (all $10) grouped under “stirred” (spirituous) or “shaken” (mixed with other ingredients). I was immediately won over by gently smoky, spicy, bright layers of the Porfiriato. Tequila, guajillo pepper-infused mezcal, Cocchi di Torino, Licor 43, and cinnamon bitters meld in a complex yet drinkable whole.

The spirit of tiki hovers over but does not overwhelm the bourbon-based Bleeding Monarch. Passion fruit lends a tropical air, orgeat adds texture, balsamico amaro and Campari finish with deliciously bitter undertones. Black Sabbath is as badass as it sounds: Laphroiag Scotch dominates with a rough and tumble, smoky presence, given nuance by Averna, absinthe, and orange bitters.

Smith’s established skill with sherry shows in Jenkins’ Ear, highlighting oloroso sherry with aged rum, Angostura bitters and cardamom-spice properties of Hum liqueur — no element out of balance. Dessert with a savory essence can be had in a Winter Flip. Whole egg softens brandy and tawny port, while Smith’s housemade Indian pudding is a cream base (rather than a thick pudding) for layers of spice.

1411 Powell, Emeryville, (510) 653-8667, www.honorbar.com

 

THE NEW EASY

In Oakland’s Grand Lake district, Easy Lounge closed, transforming into the New Easy. Big Easy inspiration is evident in upcoming Nola Sundays with BBQ, punch bowls (proceeds go to charities), and New Orleans tunes. The space is funky, eclectic, charming, with boozy quotes etched into one wall, stars painted on another, white lights draped over individual picnic tables. The small back patio is warmed by heat lamps and a skeleton gazing over cactus plants.

The welcoming neighborhood joint focuses on farmers market ingredients. Each Saturday a new menu of cocktails is created using ingredients from the big Grand Lake Farmers Market a block away.

Summer-Jane Bell not only created the menu but was hands-on with space design elements, painting stars as she crafted the menu. Her winning bartender team includes Yael Amyra (Circolo, Burritt Room), Ian Adams (15 Romolo, Orson), David Ruiz (Mr. Smith), and Morgan Schick (Nopa, Michael Mina).

Bell’s menu is decidedly playful, reminiscent of American childhood… but with booze. The festive theme starts as you receive Chinese take-out boxes of fresh-popped popcorn, while bites of mini sliders and grilled cheese sandwiches are passed around. I had the most fun with Mad Hatter ($10). Sailor Jerry rum and a spicy ginger soda are obvious mates, but the bright orange, creamy drink surprises with golden raisin puree and carrot juice. Bright and healthy, spice and sweetness (but not too much) make it a delightful alternative to an orange creamsicle.

Gift Horse ($9) was probably the most balanced, making fine use of Hayman’s Old Tom gin, which I haven’t seen much on cocktail menus in awhile. Dolin Blanc vermouth and Bell’s winter bitters made with a tequila base, unfold in floral, dry layers with notes of cranberry and fennel from the bitters.

Winter Sideshow ($11) offers the most spectacle, even if I prefer the former two drinks. The drink will change with the seasons, a base of Beefeater gin and Pür Spiced Blood Orange liqueur the backdrop for Angostura-flambeed kumquats, lit before you.

3255 Lakeshore Ave., Oakl., 510-338-4911, www.easy510.com 

Subscribe to Virgina’s twice-monthly newsletter, The Perfect Spot, www.theperfectspotsf.com

 

Brighter Days

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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le.chicken.farmer@gmail.com

CHEAP EATS Kayday, she doesn’t so much like it in Seattle, and this comes as no surprise to me. Or her. Or you, probably, if you’ve ever been there. If not, just go to weather.com and sample a 10-day forecast, any 10 days, this time of year. That’ll give you some idea what she’s up against. It’s a beautiful city with good coffee and, traditionally, strong music, but that doesn’t make it any kind of long-term livable for a sunny-dispositioned nature such as Kayday’s.

This bodes well for the eventual re-existence of our band, which (to be fair) has been not only Seattled but New Orleansed into a pretty perpetual state of discontinuation.

We’ll have our day.

Meanwhile, Kayday keeps coming down for the weekend. One time it was Thanksgiving. Just a day or two beforehand we were talking or texting and I said, not meaning much by it, "What are you doing for the holiday?"

"Oh, I don’t know," she said. "You?"

"Smoking a big fat turkey," I said. "In Berkeley." Then, though it seemed like a long shot: "Wanna come down and eat with us?"

She did! Which impressed me, considering how hard it is to get city-side folks to cross the bridge for dinner.

Kayday came back again just a few weeks after, in the meat of December, by which time the planet was so dang tilted folks up there had mold in their ears. Many had forgotten what daylight even looks like.

It’s dark when she goes to work in the morning, Kayday said, and dark again by the time she comes home.

"That sounds downright Germanic," I said. "What are you doing by way of anti-depressant?"

"Plotting to move back to San Francisco," she said.

When she’s here, she goes for long runs in Golden Gate Park, which is known to fog over, too — but apparently it’s a different, more cheerful quality of fog.

I believe it. Anyway, we went to LCX for dinner: me, her, and Hedgehog. LCX stands for Le Cheval um … used to be. I guess.

Because that’s the situation here. What used to be Le Cheval in downtown Oakland is now Le Cheval a.k.a. LCX in downtown Oakland. Only a block away from where it was.

What happened: about a year ago, after fifteen years at Clay and (I think) 10th, Le Cheval got evicted. Boo. Hiss.

But, in the spirit of showmustgoonmanpersonship — hooray — they opened LCX, which is run by the old owner’s son. There are still Le Chevals in Berkeley and Walnut Creek, but the downtown Oakland one is now this: this … wine bar. With food.

I can’t tell if it’s the same, because I hadn’t been to the old Le Cheval in a long time, before they closed, but my sense is no.

Yes.

Maybe.

Well, the only thing I recognized on our table was fried calamari, which was every bit as tender and delicious as I remembered from the old place. It came with a little bowl of salty peppery lemony dipping juice, which it didn’t really even need. Just a little.

Perhaps not coincidentally, I also ordered bo luc lac, chunks of grilled tenderloin steak with green beans. And that came with the same salt-pepper-lemon dip. With or without which, the dish was fantastic: the meat was tender, rare, and garlicky, and the beans had real snap to them.

Alas, my buds were not so lucky in their ordering. Kayday was OK with her beef with vegetables, but Hedgehog did not like her lemon grass beef. And I agree it was lame — neither lemony nor grassy. I blame her misfortune on Lotus Garden, in the Mission, for making such an event out of their lemon grass chicken. Remember? It was so good that Hedgehog can’t stop ordering lemon grass this and that, even when she’s not at Lotus Garden.

I know how that is.

LCX

Mon.-Thu. 11 a.m.-10 p.m.; Fri. and Sat. 11 a.m.-9:30 p.m.; Sun. 4p.m.-9 p.m.

1019 Clay, Oakl.

(510) 763-8495

AE,D,MC,V

Full bar

Shining season

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Shining season

virginia@sfbg.com

APPETITE In its opening weeks, AQ in SoMa* reminds me of lauded Commonwealth and Sons and Daughters. At all three restaurants, precision marries inventiveness — at a reasonable cost. AQ’s starters are $9 or $13, while entrees are $24. After dining in cities the world and country over, I can vouch that it is rare to see this level of skill and creativity at this price.

Seasonal menus are a dime a dozen here, but how often do you see seasonal trees and plants with seasonal bar glassware, and a seasonally changing bar top? As AQ’s bar morphs from copper to Italian marble for the winter and fall leaves enliven, the space exudes celebratory beauty. There’s exposed brick, funky whisk lighting, open kitchen, and a ridiculously cool basement lounge with mid-century lamps and couches viewable from a mini-bridge walkway at the restaurant’s entrance.

Then there’s the food. Owner-executive chef Mark Liberman combines New York and San Francisco sensibilities with Mediterranean and French influences. But when it comes to style and ingredients, he’s decidedly Californian. (Liberman has cooked on both coasts, as well as in France and Napa, and with Daniel Boulud and Joël Robuchon in Vegas). Nuance prevails without getting mired in overwrought fussiness. Starters are small, but entrees are as filling as they are complex.

All this comes into focus when you taste Monterey squid and charred avocado ($9). Parsnips and grapefruit add brightness, while black sesame char over silky avocado ushers in a dish rich, earthy, unusual. A delicate starter, it is rife with flavor.

I adore boudin noir (blood sausage or black pudding, depending on if you’re from the US or UK-Ireland) and Liberman’s version is a thrill. A warm, spiced pile of tender meat (not in a sausage casing) is companion to chestnuts done three ways ($9): raw, confit, and as a cream sauce. With quince and sorrel, the dish pops. At this point, I’m catching my breath at the level of detail and sapidity, recalling countless basic salads or sandwiches I’ve had for the same price.

Not as revelatory as the charred avocado or boudin noir, a toasted barley and Dungeness crab dish ($13) tossed with mushrooms and Douglas fir, still pleased, as did the cauliflower ($9) in various iterations from charred to raw, doused in vadouvan spices with golden raisins. In the Autumn spirit, roasted pumpkin ($10) sits alongside carrots, ancho cress greens, with a heaping scoop of mascarpone cream. Even a little gem salad in buttermilk dressing ($10) fends off typicality with poppy seeds, watermelon radish, and cured sardines.

On the entree front, one witnesses Liberman’s range in a juicy, utterly satisfying slow-cooked veal breast (all entrees $24), subtly candied in orange, accompanied by unfried, plump sweetbreads and broccoli. He does not leave vegetarians in the shadows with Kohlrabi “Bourguignon.” Kohlrabi, a brawny German turnip, stands stoically in the center of the plate, a root sprouting from the dish with flair. Notes of horseradish and star anise peek out, but it’s the red wine sauce that must be lapped up.

Desserts ($8) are equally expert in detail but didn’t wholly captivate. I enjoyed ginger cake with Asian pear and salted toffee, cooked in Amaro Montenegro, and a devil’s chocolate cake dusted in coffee and smoked streusel, with shavings of roasted white chocolate — although I could have used more smoked streusel to bring out the earthiness of the cake.

A winning team of talented bartenders, helmed by Timothy Zohn, is worth a visit alone and should be a new go-to for cocktailians. (All menu cocktails are $10.) Winter’s chill diminishes when sipping a New Amsterdam # 1: raisin-infused Bols Genever, maple syrup, Old Fashion bitters, and a splash of apple cider. Head south with Mexican Piano: Espolon blanco tequila, huckleberry syrup, lime, and tarragon, topped with a torched bay leaf. The menu contains lovely aperitif and digestif cocktails, many amaro based, with a section of classics given seasonal treatment, like a sazerac of date-infused Russell’s Reserve Rye, sugar, and Peychaud’s winter bitters. (The vintage glassware is gorgeous)

Already, AQ feels like “the whole package.”

AQ

Mon.-Sun. 5:30 p.m.-11 p.m., Sunday brunch 11 a.m.-2 p.m.,

1085 Mission, SF.

(415) 341-9000

www.aq-sf.com

MC/Visa

Full bar

Subscribe to Virgina’s twice-monthly newsletter, The Perfect Spot, www.theperfectspotsf.com

*Due to an editing error, AQ’s location was misstated in the paper as being in the Mission. Since the time of this review, AQ has since discontinued the lunch service referred to in the paper edition. 

 

Holeyness

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le.chicken.farmer@gmail.com

CHEAP EATS Remember when we used to go out to Ocean Beach on New Years Eve nights and burn Christmas trees? I want to do that again. I think you can still have a bonfire, right — at the end of the park?

Maybe next year.

Over the last couple holiday seasons I have been gradually feeling my way back into the spirit of things — last year by visiting Joshua Tree and hacking a chicken’s head off, and this year via the good ol’ American tradition of watching football on TV and eating potato chips and geese.

That was Christmas Eve. I even got some presents for people!

At this rate, by 2013 I will be a good Christian. Until then though, and with due respect to Georgie Bundle’s avocado-smoked goose (out of this world), I think my favorite Christmas Day tradition is how the Jews do: Chinese food and a movie.

There were two shows we would have preferred, but for the occasion it seemed like a good idea to choose a chosen person’s: Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris, which was by Christmas only still playing in Berkeley.

Now, I know it’s unpopular to like Woody Allen, but I can’t help it, I still do. He repeats himself, he’s predictable, he has a favorite type font, and all the other old problems … but: still fucking funny, and in this case even sweet, to boot.

But I’m not a movie reviewer.

Hi. My new favorite insecticide is Orange Guard®, because it works. And smells good. As part of my re-entrification into religiousness program, I have been practicing genocide. On ants, of which Oakland has several.

In fact, I’m pretty sure Woody Allen played an ant in an animated movie once, in case you’re looking for a tie-in.

Just so you know though, I’m not. I’m trying to find my way — via the scenic route, as usual — to Chinatown.

Oakland’s.

Christmas morning, late morning, before the movie. And as it happens there was a line of ants marching in under our cottage door while we were marching out, so I got the Orange Guard®, sprayed the franks and beans out of them, and then slipped on the mess my massacre made and almost broke my leg.

Restaurantwise, as usual Hedgehog had done her homework, and mine too. We went to Gum Kuo, because they open early and have Chinese donuts. It was the kind of place where we were the only whiteys in the place. The waitressperson seemed to want to ignore us, which gave us time to study the donuts before ordering them.

They are sliced crullerlike thangs that you’re supposed to dunk into rice porridge, or jook. But I’m honestly not very much interested in porridge, or jook. No. I’ll dip my own personal Chinese donuts in a steaming bowl of roast duck won ton noodle soup, thank you. And they were delicious, drowned suchwise, but unnecessary, because roast duck won ton noodle soup is a big enough breakfast for me any day of the week — Christmas included.

And that wasn’t even everything. We also had fried chicken wings, which were weak, and some barbecued pork and cilantro rice rolls, which were strong. Hedgehog wasn’t convinced, but I loved them. They’re chopped up pieces of pork with tons and tons of cilantro, wrapped in a gooey rice dough and drenched with something soy saucy.

Admittedly, the rice wrapper was overdone and gloopy, but the insides were so good I was almost thankful for the flaw. Otherwise, my head might have unscrewed and shot through the ceiling. Which would have been embarrassing.

The soup was not out of this world, but the duck part was excellent, and the won tons had discernible shrimps in them, and the noodles tasted homemade, and, hey, maybe it was a little out of this world.

In any case, we had a good time. By the time we left there was a line out the door of the place. And then it was like that after the movie, too. This leads me to believe that Hedgehog and me are ahead of our time.

Although: there are other possible interpretations.

GUM KUO

Sun.-Thu. 7:30 a.m.-10 p.m.; Fri. & Sat. 7:30 a.m.-midnight

388 9th St., Ste. 182, Oakl.

(510) 268-1288

Cash only

No alcohol

Chip-chip-hooray

Andrew Lam
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CHEAP EATS What’d I say 50 weeks ago? “More fun in one-one,” or something, and, well, I had it!

But I earned and deserved this, dear reader, after the shit show that was one-oh. This year, my Favorite Year Ever, started on a choo-choo across the country, and ended with a chocolate chip cookie. In between, I re-rocked Boston and took NOLA by storm (January), fell in love with the prickliest li’l softest-centered dyke that ever strapped on a strap-on (February), befriended yet another awesome little baby (March), was carried off a football field on some shoulders (April), turned forty-fucking-eight (May), restormed NOLA (June), co-chicken-farmed France (July), remembered how to write in Mexico (August), drove across the country (September) … and so on and also forth — until that cookie I was trying to tell you about.

What was so special about this chocolate chip cookie, late December, 2011 (my Favorite Year Ever), was that it didn’t have any chocolate chips in it.

I know, right?

What seemed like chocolate chips turned out to be raisins; except then what appeared to be raisins turned out to be dried cranberries. Only they weren’t; they were dried cherries. Give or take the ones that weren’t dried cherries either but chocolate covered pretzels — some of which, upon closer examination were butterscotch chips that were really white chocolate chips.

In other words, I don’t know what the hell was in them, just that they were the magickest chocolate chip cookies I ever ate, and there’s one left.

I’m in love with Hedgehog’s best friend Jellybean over these cookies. The sweetie pie, she let us stay at her apartment while she was out of town, and left a little box of homemade cookies on the kitchen table. When I grow up, I would like to be that thoughtful.

Not to mention substitutive (shall we say) with my cookie ingredients. But so long as we’re on the subject of chocolate chip cookies without chocolate chips in them, let me also direct your attention to a strange Mexican restaurant’s turned up last year or so like a hole in the head of my very own neighborhood (that I won’t be living in for another six months): the Mission.

I’m talking about Reaction, where once I ate with Hedgehog, Coach, and Papa before going out somewheres. The thing to remember about Reaction is: happy hour. Between 5 and 7 you can get five tacos for $5, or a free taco with your fancy-pants drink.

Hedgehog got that. Neverminding the drink, the papas taco came with it did not float her boat — although she admits to holding potato tacos to an unreasonably high standard set by Taqueria El Atacor #11 in Los Angeles.

Coach got something vegetarian, because that’s the way she is, and both me and our center, Papa, being the other way inclined, got five-for-fives.

Strangely — since they open at five and we’d showed up at six — they were out of some of the things on the menu.

There was one waiter, and he had two tables. The rest of the restaurant was empty. Just us, sitting in the front window, quietly discussing relationships and pass blocking, and, in the back of the room, in the opposite corner, as far away from our party as it was possible to be, a table full of loud dudes, hooting and drinking and laughing.

Two more divergent groups would be possible to imagine, and — as it happened — imagination was not our waiterguyperson’s weak suit. Anyway, he somehow kept confusing our order with theirs, bringing the wrong things to the wrong table, and whatnot.

For which I loved him, but … I mean, even I have to admit: come on. The food at my new favorite restaurant was just OK. Super cheap, though. Thanks to the happiness of the hour, all four of us ate for under thirty, so … hard to complain.

Happy New Year, m’dears.

You see? Our 49ers are going to the playoffs for the first time in 10 years! Woo-hoo for one-two. 

REACTION

Mon.-Sat.: 5 p.m.-midnight; closed Sunday

2183 Mission, SF

(415) 552-8200

AE/D/MC/V

Full Bar

 

Dishes for a winter’s night

Andrew Lam
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Dishes for a winter’s night

APPETITE As we arrive at the end of 2011, here are a few dishes of soothing comfort for a winter’s night from four under-the-radar places.

EGG NOODLES IN A JAPANTOWN CULINARY RESPITE

Bushi-Tei (1638 Post, SF. 415-440-4959, www.bushi-tei.com) has long been one of my underrated restaurant picks. There’s much to love in the two-tiered space lined in rugged Japanese woods, with 18-foot communal table, and ever-sure conversation starter: Japanese toilets in the bathrooms (air dryers and seat warmers!)

When I heard new chef Michael Hung Jardiniere and pastry chef Yuko Fujii of Fifth Floor were coming aboard, I hoped the refined French Japanese cuisine would remain intact. I was delighted after a couple visits to see Hung has married comfort and intricacy, inventiveness and tradition. Tasting menus are $55, or $8-18 starters, $17-27 main courses.

Tak and Keiko Matsuba thankfully still run the restaurant: they’re among the most adorable husband-wife teams I’ve met. They bring a gentle passion to each aspect of the place, including Tak’s thoughtful wine pairings, like an Alsace Riesling with fish or sake with noodles.

There’s a Sunday brunch offering elegant bowls of egg noodles in Sonoma duck ragout or Haiga rice porridge laced with salt-roasted albacore tuna and a poached farm egg. A small serving of grilled Monterey calamari ($8) in a ginger bourride (a stew made with egg yolk and garlic) impresses with nuanced sauce and juicy squid.

Memorable dinner dishes include tataki of Hawaiian albacore ($12), a delicate, sashimi-style starter over black sesame aioli. Handmade egg noodles ($17) steal the show from worthy entrees like roasted Kurobuta pork Nabemono (Japanese stew). Hung makes his egg noodles with egg and soda, and at a recent dinner tossed them in brown butter cauliflower and hatcho miso, a miso from South Central Japan.

Fujii shows her skills in a unique dessert of Kabocha squash and matcha mochi dotting a coconut tapioca broth. Dense and warm, it is thankfully unsweet and richly satisfying, its three lush bean pastes — red bean, green tea, squash — the shining finish.

Post-dinner, Tak offers a pour of Denshin “Yuki” Junmai Ginjo sake brewed by Ippongi Kubohonten Co. He spoke of its cowboy boot, kimono-wearing sake maker whose area of Japan, Fukui, was hit hard by the recent earthquake. Matsuba loves to support such producers, welcoming them when they are in the States. We’re lucky to have this haven of pristine East-West cuisine in our city.

EGG YOLK AND RICOTTA RAVIOLI AT A COZY NOB HILL SPOT

Seven Hills (1550 Hyde, SF. 415-775-1550, www.sevenhillssf.com) is one of those neighborhood favorites many outside the ‘hood aren’t aware of. An Italian spot run by French natives(?), it’s a mellow respite for conversation with caring service. I enjoy the pasta most, especially in the form of a signature ravioli uovo ($9.50) filled with ricotta, spinach, and oozing Full Belly Farm egg yolk. In a light pool of brown butter and white truffle oil, it flirts with decadence. Spaghetti ($9.50/$19) is a heartwarming bowl (conveniently in two sizes) dotted with French Grandpa George’s recipe of plump fennel sausage, caramelized onions, and bell peppers in tomato sauce.

CHESTNUT SOUP IN A TINY FRENCH BISTRO

Bouche (603 Bush, SF. 415-956-0396 www.bouchesf.com) has only been open a couple weeks and thus is too new to comment in-depth upon. On a recent visit, I suffered tiny pangs of nostalgia, wishing Bar Crudo, since moved to the Panhandle, was still in this tiny, charming space. But the one dish out of a number of Bouche’s small plates ($6-18) that began to assuage those pangs was a creamy chestnut soup ($6). Its aroma evokes a winter panorama, the soup dotted with sage leaves fried in butter (which I could smell downstairs before the dish arrived to my table upstairs), with a side of crispy root vegetable chips to place on top.

HEALTHY “UNFRIED” CHICKEN IN PALO ALTO

Call it healthy “fast food” for the Peninsula set: LYFE Kitchen (167 Hamilton Ave., Palo Alto. 650-325-5933, www.lyfekitchen.com) is a bustling, new eatery in downtown Palo Alto. Draft beers, wines, smoothies, and juices flow, while vegan, vegetarian, and organic foods encourage guilt-free eating. This sort of place would take off in downtown SF: its healthful approach doesn’t leave taste behind, while its connection to celebrity chef Art Smith is a point of interest for foodies.

Alhough not everything worked (I’m afraid fries are ultimately better — and less soggy — when actually fried), two stand-outs are Art’s unfried chicken ($11.99) and a roasted beets and farro salad ($7.79). Chicken is a dish I often brush past for more enticing options, but this tender, “unfried” chicken is pounded flat, textural with breaded crust, on a heartwarming bed of roasted squash, brussels sprouts, dried cranberries, tied together by a drizzle of cashew cream and Dijon vinaigrette. The salad is loaded with roasted red beets over whole-grain farro and field greens, with a melange of fennel, walnuts, dried cranberries, oranges, red onion, and basil in maple-sherry vinaigrette. Every bite packs a flavor punch. Here one can fill up with a clear conscience. *

Subscribe to Virgina’s twice-monthly newsletter, The Perfect Spot, www.theperfectspotsf.com

 

10 places to eat and drink on Christmas Day

Andrew Lam
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3
10 places to eat and drink on Christmas Day

Because you and yours might be itching for something other than ham, sweet potatoes, and intense family time, we here present a list of restaurants that will be open Christmas Day providing non-holiday-oriented dinners and desserts. Relish in the savory bite-sized flavors of dim sum, or skip the solid food entirely and head to a downtown lounge for a cocktail with friends or solo.

 

Chouchou

Now this French restaurant is just plain cute. Perfect for dinner, or if you just want to grab a glass of wine and a chocolate pear tart while everyone else is doing the presents thing. Start off with an organic salad of mixed greens, red chard, tomatoes, goat cheese, apples, and pistachios. Then, enjoy the spot’s infamous homemade French onion soup. Still hungry? Request the Camembert apple tart, caramelized with honey.

Open Sun/25 5:30 p.m.-9:30 p.m.

400 Dewey, SF

(415) 242-0960

www.chouchoubistro.com


Mangia Tutti Ristorante

For over a decade Mangia Tutti Ristorante has been a local favorite offering a comfortable, casual atmosphere for inexpensive homestyle Italian food. Located in the Financial District, Mangia Tutti Ristorante serves garlic pastas with Italian sausage and prawns, homemade ravioli, and spaghetti. Even the bread is too good for words. And of course there are a wide variety of red wines to choose from — how else are you suppose to enjoy Italian food?

Open Sun/25 5:00-9:30 p.m.

635 Clay, SF

(415) 788-2088

www.mangiatuttisf.com


PPQ Dungeness Island

Although its often very busy for dinner, the cuisine here is worth the wait. Garlic noodles, peppercorn crab, and crab-fried rice are just a few of this Vietnamese restaurant’s mouth-watering selections. Its prices are very reasonable, and after all that holiday shopping you did it will be nice to eat on a budget.

Open Sun/25 1:00 a.m.-10:00 p.m.

2332 Clement, SF

(415) 386-8266


Top of the Mark

Feeling fancy? Feeling romantic? Take your love to Top of the Mark for that breathtaking view and fawning service. Top of the Mark has been a San Francisco landmark since the late 1930s, when the 19th floor penthouse apartment of the Mark Hopkins Hotel was converted into a cocktail lounge. With over 100 cocktails to choose from you can get a little holiday buzz and wonder at the gorgeous views of downtown San Francisco.

Open Sun/25 10:00 a.m.-1:00 p.m.

Mark Hopkins San Francisco

1 Nob Hill, SF

(415) 616-6916

www.topofthemark.com


Boboquivari’s

Yes, there is a restaurant in the city where there is free valet service. After handing over your keys you can bite into a savory steak and a twice-baked baked potato. Boboquivari’s has been mentioned in over a dozen “top restaurants in San Francisco” lists, so you should definitely treat yourself to a wonderful Christmas Day dinner. Wash down your filet mignon with its Basil Hayden’s bourbon martini, the “bohattan,” because an unconventional Christmas meal calls for a cocktail. 

Open Sun/25 5:00 p.m.-10:00 p.m.

1450 Lombard, SF.

(415) 441-8880

www.boboquivaris.com


M’s Café

It’s Christmas Day and you’re in a pickle. You shouldn’t have taken those last shots of tequila the night before at the Christmas Eve party and now you’re in desperate need of a cure-my-hangover-quick breakfast before heading to Mom and Dad’s house. When it comes to breakfast and brunch, M’s Café has got you covered. Try its corned beef hash (to die for!), its French toast (amazing!), and its black and white pudding (yum!). Mom will never know of the debauchery that took place the night before.

Open Sun/25 7:00 a.m.-4:00 p.m.

1376 Ninth Ave., SF

(415) 665-1821


Chabaa Thai Cuisine

Celebrate Christmas Day with the rich flavors of the Far East. Its colorful curries and Thai spices make its feasts succulent and tender. You have the option of spicy or veggie dishes, red, yellow, and green curry, and of course panaeng. This Outer Sunset restaurant will even deliver to your home, so if you really can’t step away from that basketball or football game before halftime, no worries, just order online.

Open Sun/25 11:00 a.m.-1:00 a.m.

2123 Irving, SF

(415) 753-3347

420 Geary, SF

(415) 346-3121

www.chabaathaicuisine.com 


Great Eastern Restaurant

What’s better than dim sum on a Sunday? Dim sum on Christmas Day. Located in the heart of Chinatown, this Chinese restaurant’s food will make you want to return every Christmas just for their Peking spareribs, clams with black bean sauce, and variety of dumplings. Invite the gang to a filling and tasty meal (for cheap).

Open Sun/25 9:00 a.m.-nidnight

649 Jackson, SF

(415) 986-2500


Waterfront Restaurant

Pier 7 houses an elegant seafood restaurant perfect for groups on this holiday. With dishes like crab mashed potatoes and lobster risotto, everyone’s tastebuds will be pleased. If you have relatives visiting from out-of-town they will love the beautiful view of the Bay Bridge through the restaurant windows. For dessert, order the sticky pudding with caramel ice cream that has a perfect cake-to-ice cream ratio.

Open Sun/25 11:30 a.m.-10: 00 p.m.

Pier 7, SF

(415) 391-2696

www.waterfrontsf.com


Aslam’s Rasoi

Probably one of the best Pakistani and Indian restaurants in the city, Aslam’s is open every day, every holiday. This Mission spot has a staff that is friendly and engaging, so don’t be afraid to ask questions or for recommendations. Its most popular dishes are the goat cheese naan, lamb korma, and chicken tikka masala. With a broad palette of Pakistani flavors, the chef and owner — Aslam himself — blends cuisines for a healthy dining meal.

Open Sun/25 5-11 p.m.

1037 Valencia, SF

(415) 695-0599

www.aslamsrasoi.com

Toasts with the most

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0
Toasts with the most

virginia@sfbg.com

APPETITE We seek wine recommends the year ’round, but never more than the during the holiday season. Here’s some affordable sipping assistance for ringing in the new year or decking the halls with friends. (Key local shops like K&L Wine Merchants, Jug Shop, Arlequin, Bi-Rite, or SF Wine Trading Co., may stock these bottles or can likely get them for you).

 

GOING BUBBLY

Nothing says New Year’s Eve like champagne, and at a recent Bubble Lounge industry tasting my palate was piqued by a few. I cannot afford Armand de Brignac champagne, but if you can splurge, by all means, be my guest. Offered in elaborate, hand-carved bottles marked by pewter labels, attention to detail is paramount. Thankfully, the champagne is as elevated as the package. The Blanc de Blanc is buttery with oak, balanced by a chardonnay crispness; the Rose is a gently flushed beauty; Brut Gold is a showcase blend of Pinot Noir, Chardonnay, and Pinot Menuier. I may never be able to stock my wine cabinet with a bottle — it’s often priced at more than $300 a bottle — but I anticipate the joy of tasting it again.

However, at a ridiculously reasonable $7.99 per bottle, Spain’s Jaume Serra Cristalino Brut earned my kudos with earthy, citrus notes and bone-dry finish. The Cristalino Rose was also lovely, redolent of mushroom and tart cherry, made with Pinot Noir and the less common Trepat grape.

Cloverhill Sparkling from Tasmania, priced around $30, is bready and crisp, balanced with honey. Zardetto Rose Raboso Veronese and Zeta Prosecco are both real values: the Rose is laden with strawberry and vanilla cream, while the acidic Prosecco is food friendly. (Both around $15).

 

CIDER SIPPING

With a long American history, cider is low in alcohol and a happy food companion… a welcome change of pace from wine and champagne. I received a few samples this fall, my pick being an upstate New York duo. Newton Pippin Original Sin Cider, is made from single heirloom Pippin varietals, known as “the prince of apples”. Uber dry and crisp, it pairs well with a wide range of foods (I rather like it with pretzels and mustard). Cherry Tree Original Sin Cider is a winning combo of tart cherries combined with crisp heirloom apples. (Both come at around $12 per bottle.)

 

VALUE WINES

A few recent favorites that won’t break your bank:

Lasseter Enjoué, Sonoma — This $24 rose from the just-opened Lasseter Family Winery (you may know John Lasseter as Pixar-Disney’s CFO and director of films like Toy Story) is a dry Rhone-style rose, whispering with Mediterranean breezes and flower gardens. It’s a Syrah, Mourvedre, and Grenache blend, (enjoué, means “joyful, playful”). Although winter might not seem ideal, I’d sip this softly acidic beauty for a winter escape or hold onto it until the days lengthen … my favorite of the four wines at the elegantly understated winery. John, his wife Nancy, and winemaker Julia Iantosca have a love of Bordeaux and Rhone wines, apparent in their blended wines representing varietals from both regions. Purchase online at www.lasseterfamilywinery.com or at the winery (tastings by appointment).

Gerard Bertrand Chateau L’Hospitalet, France — 2007 Gerard Bertrand Chateau L’Hospitalet Reserve is one of the better French bargain reds. At a mere $8.99 per bottle, this wine from the La Clape region of the Languedoc is fruit-forward, begging to partner with a hearty cassoulet or coq au vin. A blend of 30 percent Grenache, 40 percent Syrah, and percent Mourvedre, its soft spice is balanced by minerality and subtle oak.

Landmark 2009 Grand Detour Pinot Noir, Sonoma — At $40, this is Landmark winery’s lower-priced Pinot which I actually prefer to its $65 Kanzler Pinot. It’s robust for a Pinot with earthy cherry and minimal oak, but offers enough acidity to be food friendly, unfolding as it sits. This casual, comfortable winery (with bocce ball and small lake) offers tastings and bottles to purchase or online at www.landmarkwine.com.

Mapema Sauvignon Blanc and Malbec, Argentina — Mapema’s 2011 Sauvignon Blanc ($14) and 2009 Malbec ($19) are both affordable winners. The Sauv Blanc claims 90 percent stainless steel fermentation (10 percent aged in new French oak), allowing the grape’s zesty, acidic properties to dominate. Lemongrass hints and a well-rounded finish go nicely with seafood. The Malbec offers hints of cherry and cocoa, with solid tannins from 50 percent new and 50 percent one-year French oak, pairing well with pork, lamb, or hearty grains.

Huge Bear Sauvignon Blanc, Sonoma — The name Huge Bear might not be poetic (though I dig the old world, Wild West California label), but the 2009 Sauvignon Blanc ($25) offers floral melon and citrus notes, soothing with Asian take-out. The 2009 Chardonnay ($40) is pricey but showcases crisp apple, pear and mineral notes, followed by a butter cream finish. These are small production at merely 150 cases each, fine local retailers at www.hugebearwines.com

Kracher’s Cuvee Beernauslese (pronounced bear-en-ow-SCHLAY-zuh) — I adore Austrian wines and this $27 blend of Chardonnay and Welschriesling grapes is much more than a sweet finish to a meal. It’s a layered, acidic dessert wine, dripping with vanilla honey balanced by mineral pineapple and lemon zest.

Subscribe to Virgina’s twice-monthly newsletter, The Perfect Spot, at www.theperfectspotsf.com

 

Tough mustard

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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2

le.chicken.farmer@gmail.com

CHEAP EATS Zeni said she’d been cooking for three days. But the shopping was the hardest part. She had to go all over town, she said, to get the right sausages and other meat … things.

Such as knuckles.

I have a new favorite butcher shop, but first I have to tell you about Zeni’s feijoada. Her man Nutmeg, who plays soccer with me and Alice Shaw the Person (and some other people) has been talking up Zeni’s feijoada for many, many seasons. Most often after the game, when all of us are hungry. But since our team conducts its games in Portuguese, a language I don’t understand, it’s all pretty much feijoada to me.

There’s always all this hollering on the field: feijoada, feijoada.

"I’m trying," I say, whenever it seems like they might be talking to me.

Generally speaking, we win.

But now Nutmeg and Zeni are moving back to Brazil, and as soon as we learned this our post-game chatter shifted from feijoada to feijoada-with-a-sense-of-urgency.

Then the next thing I knew I had died and gone to heaven. Which I readily identified by the smell of it, and then by this steaming plate of rice and black beans with sausage, pork, and everything but the chicken sink. The dish was sided by finely chopped collard greens, or couve, garnished with orange slices, and sprinkled with farofa — which is cassava flour toasted with butter and bacon.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I could have gone straight from that meal to the firing squad, uncomplainingly, but as it was I got to go to Berkeley, instead, and make some kitchen noodle soup with Crawdad’s kids.

Now, my friend Papa is learning to be a butcher, which is about as admirable and honest a line of work as is out there, to my way of thinking. So every time I saw her I would ask about her career and she would say, among other things, "Steak sandwich!" with the same kind of reverence with which Brazilians say feijoada.

I pictured raw, sawed beef on a roll, which made me happy. Then one day, eventually, we climbed that hill to Avedano’s, on Cortland St. in Bernal. Or Holly Park. In any case, Avedano’s is a butcherer of local grass-fed beef and other responsibly-raised animals, and they don’t only just saw and hack them for you to take home; they’ll also make you a nice (and entirely cooked) samwich. If you want.

Hedgehog had the Tuscan pork sandwich, with pickled onions and tomato. I got the steak with pecorino, arugula, and pickled tomatoes.

And these things did we eat on a bench. Outside. There, in the sunlight and warmth of mid-day, San Francisco, my love and I got in a huge fight over mustard. I won’t bore you with the details, cause I don’t remember them. But suffice to say that I loved my sandwich, and Hedgehog loved hers.

I’m not a very experienced sandwich eater, though. With my first bite, I lost a big juicy piece of steak to the sidewalk. It landed right between my feet, where other people’s dogs sit on their asses, between other people’s feet, and stare at other people’s sandwiches, panting and trying to make just the right face.

"Pick it up and eat it," Hedgehog said.

So I did.

I might have pushed the limit of the five-second rule, but it’s the spirit of the rule that matters.

And the steak was that good, I’m saying. Slightly rare, succulent … I couldn’t let some dumbass Bernal dog come and lap it up. It was mine!

And it was delicious, even with residual sidewalk all over it. Anyway, I didn’t get any dog ass cooties, or other exotic diseases. That I know of. Yet.

Although: a big dumb dog did come along, only moments later, and sniff and lick a little at the spot, before it’s owner tugged him away. "Ha," I said.

I am not, as you know, a dog lover.

AVEDANO’S

Mon.-Fri. 11 a.m.-8 p.m.; Sat. 9 a.m.-8 p.m; Sun. 11 a.m.-6 p.m.

235 Cortland, SF.

(415) 285-6328

AE/D/MC/V

No alcohol

Cream of the crop

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0
Cream of the crop

virginia@sfbg.com

APPETITE On a recent misty morning in Point Reyes, and then during a Petaluma afternoon inland, I visited two of our most beloved creameries. The damp earth of a dairy farm in dark, early hours is oddly intoxicating, while sampling fresh cheese in various stages of ripening is sheer pleasure. These dairies make me proud of the familial, forward-thinking, humane food practices that have been going strong in the Bay Area for decades.

 

STRAUS FAMILY CREAMERY

One look in the eyes of cows at Straus Family Creamery (www.strausfamilycreamery.com) and you’re changed. If you did not care where your milk came from, you do now. Petting baby cows, tagged with names such as Wilma or Eve, you become attached, even protective, of these peaceable animals.

Organic before it became a “trend,” Bill Straus began farming this coastal Point Reyes land in 1941 with 23 cows (there are now over 300 milk cows). His wife Ellen read Rachel Carson’s game-changing Silent Spring in the 1960s, mobilizing them both toward a lifelong commitment to environmental sustainability. Theirs were the first certified organic dairy farm west of the Mississippi in 1994, leading in sustainable farming practices.

Early on a soft, gray weekday, I trekked up to the farm, right on Tomales Bay, via scenic winding roads. The air smells funky with cows, yes, but also bracingly of earth, water, grass.

Bill and Ellen’s son Albert Straus now runs the farm. Majoring in dairy science, he launched the famed ice cream line (he’s a real aficionado), continuing to grow Straus Creamery in sustainable practices like composting solids and waste to fertilize their land (or that of nearby biodynamic wineries).

Straus keeps a “closed herd” so no infection or disease gets transported to the cows. While he works with 300 milking cows, he’s simultaneously raising 250 young cows who begin milking after two years.

As prices of basics like grain and production have gone up at least 25 percent in the last couple of years, there’s not a lot of profit to made allowing the natural process vs. increasing milk flow by injecting cows with hormones. It is heartening to see those like Straus, who care more about the quality and health of the product for consumers, along with the animals and their land, than the bottom line. Still, Straus presses on, under standards for organic farm certification that are stricter than for any food product.

“Most farmers are pretty risk averse, but I seem to continue to go the other way, “Albert told me with a laugh.

He’s pleased to note that around 50 percent of Marin and Sonoma farms are now organic. (Learn more about the organization formed in part by Albert and Sue Conley of Cowgirl Creamery, Marin Organic, www.marinorganic.org, now celebrating 10 years and responsible for promoting much of the region and industry’s growth).

 

COWGIRL CREAMERY

A day spent with Cowgirl Creamery (www.cowgirlcreamery.com) founders Sue Conley and Peggy Smith, among the finest cheesemakers in the country, is a delight. There are close ties to the Straus family: Conley and Smith not only source milk from Straus, but Sue was in part inspired to launch Cowgirl by the Strauses.

Both from rich culinary backgrounds, Peg and Sue created highly-lauded cheeses like that triple-cream dream, Mt. Tam, and earthy, unique Red Hawk. Their shop in the Ferry Building is a cheese destination.

The Cowgirls produce 10 different cheeses, seven in Petaluma (a town boasting other major creameries like Clover Stornetta and Three Twins), and three in their original, smaller Point Reyes facility. Peg notes that in Europe keeping cheeses regionally uniform — like Camembert in Camembert, France, for example — means strict style regulations. “We are lucky to have such great variety of cheeses here,” she told me, celebrating the freedom of experimentation led to some of the most popular Cowgirl cheeses.

Besides an idyllic lunch at Sue’s house, the day’s high point came in sampling Mt. Tam in numerous states of age, from an hours’ old, just-brined specimen that tasted salty-sour-tart to a meaty, acidic example at seven days, and finishing with a creamy, nutty 32-day chunk. (Mt. Tam is usually sold in the mid 20-30 day range.)

Schedule a tour of Cowgirl (tours resume in the Spring) or the Straus farm (group tours only), and you may come away as I did, with an increased appreciation for cheese, cows, our diverse region, and the artisans who strive to create the best… and change the world while they’re at it. *

Subscribe to Virgina’s twice-monthly newsletter, The Perfect Spot, www.theperfectspotsf.com

 

Do drop in

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0

le.chicken.farmer@gmail.com

CHEAP EATS I am not my new favorite restaurant’s new favorite customer. No. If restaurants could review the people who eat at them, I would be roasted and raked right now. Or deep-fried.

Really, I deserve worse.

We were dining with people we hadn’t dined with before and didn’t know especially well: our landlordladypersons. They were kind enough to sublet their amazing li’l cottage to us, and to share with us their amazing li’l tomatoes, and sunshine and garbage collection in general. And, oh, we love it here in the Oakland foothills. Therefore, we invited them out to dinner. Not the foothills; the people, these beautiful two foothillbillies who have roofed our heads until the end of the year.

Which is fast approaching, so we figured we’d go somewhere close. First, though: a cocktail. It was so cute: like we were all on a first double-date together. Which, I guess, we kind of were. We live in these people’s back yard, but we went around to the front door and knocked very formally.

They showed us in, sat us down, and popped a bottle of champagne.

I’m not making excuses. I mean, I am making excuses, but I’m not. I don’t handle my alcohol very well. Still, I did manage to have a polite glass of champagne and a handful of home-roasted almonds without ruining very much of their furniture or saying anything particularly stupid.

We talked about where we were all from, and accordions.

Then we walked to the restaurant. The Bay Leaf! Home of fantastic fried things, and even some fantastic other things, too. My new favorite restaurant was the first place I saw the first time I wandered around my new neighborhood. It’s at the corner of MacArthur and 38th, in the Dimond District. But they’re not open for lunch, or I would have fallen in love with them a lot sooner.

Cold night, warm place. Friendly waitressperson. We ordered two fried oyster dinners, a fried chicken dinner, and a fried catfish dinner. With greens, greens, yams, yams, mac & cheese, fried cabbage, and fried okra by way of sides.

The idea being to share it all, so in addition to the regular dinner plates of fried things, they also brought four empty plates. For sharing.

Luck would have it, waitressperson set the fried catfish in front of me. Being a good citizen, I immediately cut it into four equal pieces, and — being a bad citizen — elected to serve myself first. You know me: I was starving.

So, while everyone else was doling out everything else in no particular order that I knew of, I scooped some mac & cheese from my plate onto my other plate, a piece of fish, and in the process of passing the plate along to Hedgehog, I didn’t dump it in my lap so much as throw it across the restaurant.

It’s not for no reason that Hedgehog calls me Graceful Little Flower. It’s for sarcasm, which is as noble a cause as any, my book. I walk into things. I trip over things that are just barely there, like a color.

And, finally, I drop things — in sometimes (such as this one) spectacular fashion.

It landed face-down behind me, fried catfish and creamy mac & cheese grinding into the carpet. (Yes, my new favorite restaurant is carpeted.) And while I buried my face in my hands out of equal parts embarrassment and loss, a different very nice waitressperson came and cleaned up my mess, and my dining companions swung into suicide-watch mode, there-there-ing and graceful-little-flowering me with sentiments meant to help me fathom that I might not be the clumsiest fucking idiot in the history of the world.

There was plenty of great food, for example, that was still on the table! The fried oysters were the best I’ve had in the Bay Area since the Gravy days. The fried chicken wings were great. That quarter of a catfish fillet on my other plate, the still-plated one, was out of this world …

But saying so only makes me miss the three quarters of it that left this world even earlier. *

THE BAY LEAF

Wed.-Sat.: 3-9 p.m.; Sun. 1-7 p.m. Closed Mon.-Tue.

2000 MacArthur Blvd., Oakl.

(510) 336-2295

MC/V

Beer and wine

 

Just pho you

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
-
0

le.chicken.farmer@gmail.com

CHEAP EATS I can’t tell you how many times in my life I have been sitting in Java Supreme dunking a biscotti and discussing literature and pork with Earl Butter, and then I have to use the bathroom so I go home.

Yeah, well turnabout is fair play, according to Skeeter Willis and others. Some L.A. friends of Hedgehog were here, and wanted to bum around the Mission with us. One thing we did was I took them to meet Stoplight. But I don’t exactly live in my apartment anymore. We were hoping Stoplight would be out back outside (where he mostly is), and accepting visitors (which he mostly isn’t). As a result, we wound up waiting around in my building’s birdseed covered courtyard, discussing literature and pork, until I had to use the bathroom so we went to Java Supreme.

In truth, this happened twice, and both times I got coffee, because even though the Java people know me, and know that I’ve been dipping my biscotti into their coffee for 20 years, without hardly ever using the facilities … still, I like to set a good example: the restroom is for paying customers only.

So I kept drinking, to earn my pee, and then kept needing to pee on account of all the coffee I was drinking. This was a slippery slope, destined to leave me penniless and friendless, pretty much living on the toilet and pissing off basically everyone.

Except that, luckily, Hedgehog’s L.A. friends needed to be getting on back to L.A., and we had offered to drive them as far as Colma, where their car was parked. After dinner.

They wanted Chinese, but Mission Chinese doesn’t open for dinner until 5, and it’s a what, a six hour drive to L.A.? Or longer — at the end of a holiday weekend.

None of us had had lunch. We couldn’t wait. We went to San Tung, which I like anyway better than Mission Chinese. It was only 4:30. There was a parking space right in front. It was surreal: For the first time ever, we not only sat right down but had a choice of tables.

Then came one of the what-the-fuckest things that ever happened to me in a restaurant: nothing. It took them 20 minutes to find the time to take our order. By which time the place did get crowded. Another party of four sat at the other end of our table, ordered after us, and were served before. Which would be one thing. But. A half hour before??? I’m not exaggerating. And we’d ordered many of the same dishes!

Not only did we have to watch them smugly munching their chicken wings while our end of the table was dying of malnutrition, they were boxing up their leftovers, divvying up the bill, and putting on their coats before half of our dishes were even served. To get any of them at all, we had had to go knock on the kitchen door. Figuratively speaking.

That’s crap, and so is San Tung. Henceforth. In my opinion.

My new favorite restaurant is Pho Saigon II, in Richmond at the Pacific East Mall. I went there on the day after Thanksgiving, on Black Friday, to a mall! But I went there for a massage, and to eat pho, so, no, I have not lost my mind completely.

It’s that Asian mall, you know, with 99 Ranch, which I love. Well, there’s a place in there, upstairs, where you can get an hour-long massage for $20. Crawdad told me about it. The Jungle told her.

Now I’m telling you. And:

Pho Saigon II, for all its fluorescence and atmospherelessness, has good, cheap pho. I would think this would go without saying, but, get the beef. Hedgehog, who prefers pho ga, or chicken noodle soup, was sorely disappointed in hers. And I second her disappointment. The broth was lame and the chicken very dry.

The rare steak in my soup was perfect and pink, and the noodles were good, and the broth … just so.

After lunch, come to think of it, we did do a little shopping. We bought three kinds of rice noodles at 99 Ranch. Oh, and I also stepped into one of those little doodad stores and bought a cute little eraser for Hedgehog. I was their only customer. Pepper spray did not play a role.

PHO SAIGON II

Sun.-Thu.: 10 a.m.-9 p.m.; Fri.-Sat. 10 a.m.-10 p.m.

3288 Pierce St., Suite A116, Richmond

(510) 528-6388

Cash only

No alcohol

 

Hey, hey, Hayes

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0
Hey, hey, Hayes

virginia@sfbg.com

APPETITE For years, Hayes has been a strong dining neighborhood. Absinthe, Arlequin, Suppenkuche, the Blue Bottle garage are stalwarts. Recent additions Boxing Room and Nojo beautifully diversify Hayes’ cuisine. A slew of newer eateries have arrived, especially on the tiny lot known as the Proxy Project (www.proxysf.net), an open air setting for the new Biergarten, Smitten Ice Cream, and Ritual Coffee. I’m into Proxy’s funky, industrial areas sectioned off by chain-link fences. However, I don’t find the waits often associated with Biergarten worth it, nor Smitten’s ice cream near as delicious as the fun of watching it being made in liquid nitrogen machines.

One of the best shops I’ve been to in years is just-opened Gourmet and More. French owners stock the store predominantly with French grocery goods, from ciders to foie gras (the latter at least for now). There’s a charcuterie station with meat slicer, and an enchanting little refrigerated cheese room, including gems like a camembert from Calvados (a region in Normandy), soaked in calvados (apple brandy from the region). A local Frenchman makes L’Artisan Macarons (www.lartisanmacaron.com), selling them here individually or by the box — I tried the eggnog and pumpkin ones.

I’ve just about given up on visiting new kiddie studio-cafe, Seesaw (www.seesawsf.com). With minimal hours (Fri-Sun), it seems to be closed or booked with a private party each time I’ve come by to try the unusual offering of Danish Smørrebrød (“butter and bread”): open-faced pumpernickel rye with topping choices like egg salad or herring. Kids, or rather, their parents, sure seem to like the place.

Here are some other new Hayes Valley spots that are rising to the top:

 

PEACEFUL TEA RETREAT, SURPRISING DIM SUM

Taste (535 Octavia, SF. 415-552-5668, www.tasteteasf.com) is an Asian tea house with soothing atmosphere serving impeccable teas in a gaiwan (personal covered bowl) with housemade baked goods, run by husband and wife team (she’s the baker). Early stand-outs include soft, grassy Misty Mountain tea from Jiangxi, China ($5 gaiwan, or $8 gong fu cha for sharing). Dim sum staples like pork buns ($2.50) are OK, but unusual items shine. A red bean wheat bun ($2.75) and veggie curry wheat bun filled with potato, carrot, cabbage ($2.75) taste both healthy and comforting, warm with a dreamy, doughy texture. Tea plays prominent in pu-er macarons ($1.75), while scones are made with fresh tea leaves ($2.50). I like the earthy oolong version.

To sample more for less than it costs individually, try tea pairings for one ($18), two ($38), or three ($58) people. Order for one includes gaiwan tea, three steamed buns, one scone, two macarons, one sesame ball, and an exotic fruit bowl. Pure bliss.

 

SEXY EURO-STYLE CAFE WITH APERITIFS AND BOOKS

What: One of the charming sisters behind Two Sisters Bar and Books (579 Hayes, SF. 415-863-3655, www.2sistersbarandbooks.com) greets you as you enter this narrow strip of a cafe, lined in classic wallpaper, with a cozy window seat, a handful of small tables, and a tiny bar — all bathed in early jazz music and inspired by European travels (including a bookstore in Krakow, a cafe in Vienna, and a bar in Paris), mixed with Brooklyn funk and NorCal roots. Perfect for a casual date or performance aperitif, this is the kind of neighborhood cafe I’ve been waiting for.

Sans full liquor license, the sisters offer inspired amaro-, beer-, and wine-based cocktails. The Iggy ($7) is a salty aperitif of silky Punt e Mes vermouth and grapefruit juice with salt rim. Port of SF ($7) is likewise refreshing with Madeira, lime, ginger, and Pilsner beer. For a husky Manhattan stand-in, go with The Duke’s Son ($9): Amontillado sherry, Carpano Antica vermouth and bitters. Food is made with care in a tiny kitchen. A blanched brussel leaf salad ($8) is my dish of choice. Freshly laden with creamy French feta, cherry tomatoes, and roasted corn, it sings in lemon vinaigrette. Savory bread pudding ($6) is made with fennel, tomato, Manchego cheese, roasted garlic, and black truffle oil.

 

EAST COAST SPIRIT IN A CALIFORNIA BISTRO

Debuting two weeks ago, Dobbs Ferry (409 Gough, SF. 415-551-7700, www.dobbsferrysf.com) comes from restaurateurs with an East Coast background (Dobbs Ferry in Westchester County, NY, is the hometown of two of the owners). Executive chef Mike Yakura, formerly of Ozumo Restaurant Group www.ozumo.com, helms: they’re dubbing the place a “California bistro” with “small town” New York cooking. The three-room space is decorated in muted browns and black with white walls.

Skip the unbalanced cocktails, and head for the dishes. Salads are crisp and straightforward. Eggplant parm pizza ($14) is a pleasant pie of breaded eggplant and basil. Kudos to my waiter for offering extra red sauce: without it the slices are too bready. Crispy sweetbreads ($12) over mustard sauce with bacon are unexpectedly satisfying, while a juicy half ($22) or whole ($35) chicken scarpariello somehow evoked childhood. (Half is enough chicken for two, with gently fried potato cubes like elevated tator tots, Molinari Italian sausage, sweet peppers and a peperoncini for good measure. The broth is the clincher: tart, zingy, savory, it ties the whole uniquely comforting dish together.

Subscribe to Virgina’s twice-monthly newsletter, The Perfect Spot, www.theperfectspotsf.com

 

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