Food & Drink

Tony’s Pizza Napoletana

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Tony’s Pizza Napoletana

paulr@sfbg.com

Carrying coals to Newcastle is hard work, so when we’ve finished up, how about some pizza to refresh ourselves? And where would we begin the search — North Beach, the Newcastle of pizza? No, too obvious. Chic pizza these days is found practically everywhere in the city except North Beach — in Dogpatch, in Glen Park, in the Mistro, and the Marina. Why would anyone go to North Beach?
Well, one good reason would be Tony’s Pizza Napoletana, which has an air of Neapolitan or Roman authenticity that goes far beyond the pies themselves and is really unmatched in this respect by any of the newer places, despite their commendable pizzas. While I am not a huge fan of trying to recreate the foods and styles of other places — restaurants are not zoo exhibits, and the best way to have authentic food experiences is to travel to the places where those experiences are indigenous — Tony’s is relaxed enough in look and atmosphere, and intense enough about the food, to become an authentic experience in its own right. It feels unforced and right, like a place that’s been there forever yet is as fresh as if it opened yesterday. (It actually opened early in the summer in the longtime home of La Felce.)
One of the underrated joys of North Beach is the display of fabulous, oversized culinary apparatus — the kind of implements you could never have in your own home, unless you’re Pat Kuleto. One example is the coffee roaster in the window of Caffe Roma, and another is the pizza oven — I should say, one of the pizza ovens, since there are three — at Tony’s, which isn’t in a window, but you can get a booth quite nearby and watch the action.
The oven of which I speak is gas-fired (no, not coal-fired, this isn’t Newcastle) and has an attractive dome covered in a mosaic of red tiles. The oven’s heat is steady and fierce, and as the clad-in-white pizzaioli — led by owner Tony Gemignani — wield their long-handled peels, you have a brief sense of men working in a foundry, except that what emerges from the heat isn’t a sequence of gold ingots but of pizzas, and pizzas in a surprising variety of shapes and forms.
At most of the newfangled places, pizza takes its familiar form, as a yeast-leavened wheat dough rolled into a thin disk and topped with various combinations of sauces, cheese, vegetables, and meat before being baked. You might luck out and spot a calzone, in which the disk is folded over on itself to form a mezzaluna-shaped pocket. But nowhere else are you likely to find stromboli, a sort of pizza roulard in which the pie is rolled up into a log, baked, then sliced into rounds like a büche de Noel. Tony’s Romanos Original 1950 version ($11) is stuffed with ham, pepperoni, sliced Italian sausage, sweet peppers, and mozzarella and American cheeses — and if that isn’t rich enough, the crust acquires a pastry-like flakiness, perhaps from the rolling.
Also plenty rich-looking are the Sicilian-style pies, which are baked in square pans, like focaccia, and heavily laden with toppings. They look like party platters as they emerge from the oven and are rushed to large, clamorous tables of partiers. Smaller parties, though, can probably make do with the more svelte, conventional pies, among them the margherita ($18), which is probably the signature Italian pizza, and also Tony’s, and is baked in a 900-degree wood-fired oven.
The margherita also is so simple that there isn’t much maneuvering room. You have your crust, your tomato sauce, a few blobs of mozzarella, and some basil leaves. Not much to go wrong; not much to stand out, either. Tony’s tomato sauce is tangy, the basil leaves lightly blistered but still basically fresh and fragrant, the coins of melted mozzarella like reflections of a full moon on the still surface of a pond. One’s attention, then, is drawn to the crust, and it is gorgeous: a thin but not too thin mat, soft but not droopy and blistered just enough on the bottom to lend character. I would hesitate to say Tony’s is the best margherita pizza I’ve ever eaten only because I’ve eaten so many good ones, and in part this must say something about the soundness of the recipe. I’ve never had a better one than Tony’s, can I put it that way?
Since humans do not live by pizza alone — or bread (and the bread is excellent, with pesto, EVOO, and chopped garlic for dipping) — there is also a host of unleavened items on the menu, including pastas, small plates, and salads. An antipasto-style plate of white Italian anchovies ($10) couldn’t be plumper, nestled on their bed of fresh arugula leaves like middle-aged, bleached-out snowbirds surrounded by palm fronds on a Florida beach in February while, nearby, lurks a clutch of Calabrese peppers — sort of like blood-red pepperoncini, sweet with a bit of bite. They could be snowbirds who’ve been in the sun way too long.
For a salad, how about spinach ($10) with pine nuts, goat cheese, slivers of red onion, a balsamic reduction, and EVOO? All immaculately fresh and nicely balanced, though the sweet-tooth found the balsamic a bit too sweet, and I thought the price was a little dear for what was, in the end, ordinary.
The sweet-tooth did like the chocolate truffle cake ($7 for a massive, ship’s-prow slice), which was refreshingly not all that sweet. Sometimes it’s best to carry fewer coals to Newcastle, particularly if the coals are sugary.

TONY’S PIZZA NAPOLETANA
Wed.-Sun., noon–11 p.m.
1570 Stockton, SF
(415) 835-9888
www.tonyspizzanapoletana.com
AE/DS/MC/V
Beer and wine
Noisy
Wheelchair accessible

Recklessly defensive

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Recklessly defensive

le.chicken.farmer@gmail.com

CHEAP EATS I like to live like I like to love: with my back to the wall, my skirt hiked up, and my hair a mess. Come to think of it, I like to play ping-pong and soccer that way too, but rarely wear skirts to games.

In case they never see me again, my soccerish pals Alice Shaw the Person and Elbie wanted to buy me brunch after our 3-3 tie last Sunday. It was the first game of the new season, but I’m going to miss the second and third, as well as the fourth through tenth, and quite possibly all of next season, come to think of it, and the next after that. And … hey, you never know.

When I went to Berlin last summer, there were isolated pockets of concern that I wouldn’t come back. This time it’s an all-out rumor. Everyone in the world, myself included, seems to think my return ticket might maybe be just for show. My friends who have actually met my Romeo, Romea, are convinced of it.

We make a damn good couple.

And I haven’t been helping matters by quitting my nanny gigs, subletting my shack, and giving away half my things. I’m even selling my car, Alice Shaw the Car, to Alice Shaw the Person’s little sister, which seems to make a certain sense, but certainly not financial sense. Funny, everything I have ever done that was by-the-books sound, advisable, or fiscally responsible has blown up in my face.

On the other hand, my soccer team won two championships in a row, and yes I am still thank you in love. But it’s a tricky proposition, living insanely without going insane. It’s like playing like I play: recklessly defensive. Sometimes you overcommit and slip and then your back-to-the-wall is skidding across the grass while the other team scores.

I wish I could take my soccer team to Germany with me, because they tend to pick me up, so to speak. But they’re all Brazilian and would struggle with the language. And the weather. And the style of play.

Anyway, I’m unaccustomed to winning, and a little disappointed because all we get for it is a T-shirt and a team photo. Otherwise, it’s almost the same as losing: you shake the other team’s hands and say the exact same thing they say, "Good game, good game," and then you go get beers or pancakes or something, or both. I don’t know, maybe there are other differences.

The real problem is that our league plays on Sundays, in the morning, so where are you going to get fed and watered afterward without having to wait in line?

Sports bars! It took me many years to figure this out, and then … I didn’t figure it out. Someone else did. I think it was Elbie’s guy who suggested the Fiddler’s Green after last game, and after this one I was hurrying down Haight Street to get in line at the Pork Store when I noticed Martin Mack’s, other side of the street, a block or so away. And it was empty, even though there was football and soccer and more football on TV. It was a sea of empty tables in there, and, yes, they serve brunch.

So I called Alice Shaw the Person’s cell phone and said, "Forget it. Forget the Pork Store."

And that was how I came to discover boiled bacon and cabbage. It was on the specials board, along with Guinness and beef stew, and I forget what else. Me and Elbie ordered those two things, and Alice got the Irish breakfast, and it was all a lot of too-much food for all of us, even though we’d just run around like we did.

Ten bucks apiece.

My dish came with unannounced but not unwelcome potatoes, mashed. The bacon scared me at first, not because it was Irish bacon, or boiled, but because it was smothered in this parsley-specked creamy white sauce that screamed mayonnaise. The waitressperson told me two or three times, no mayo, before I would taste it. And then I tasted it and it was awesome. If there was mayonnaise in it, I now love mayonnaise.

Stranger things have happened.

MARTIN MACK’S

Mon.–Sun., 10 a.m.–2 a.m.

1568 Haight, SF

(415) 864-0124

Full bar

AE/D/MC/V

L.E. Leone’s new book is Big Bend (Sparkle Street Books), a collection of short fiction.

Noodle Theory

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Noodle Theory

paulr@sfbg.com

The migratory patterns of restaurants might not be as riveting or significant as those of birds, but they do offer their little quirks and joys. When an Oakland restaurant opens a second front across the bay, in the city — The City, our very own — one sits up and takes notice. I am talking about Noodle Theory, which is the first Oakland, or indeed East Bay, restaurant to hop across our little mare nostrum that I can think of in quite a while, or maybe ever. Since the 1989 earthquake and the realignment of regional dining habits (the city was largely cut off for a month by the Bay Bridge closure), most of the traffic has gone the other way — city restaurants opening in the suburbs, where increasing numbers of diners are. (Also Chronicle subscribers; do we detect a pattern here?) In this sense, Noodle Theory is a kind of reverse commuter.

With a name like Noodle Theory, you would expect … noodles, and lots of them, and Noodle Theory delivers. Executive chef (and owner) Louis Kao’s menu is a brief primer on the noodles of east Asia, including soba, udon, and ramen. (Noodles, as it happens, are an ancient presence in east Asian cuisine, although it’s apparently a myth that Marco Polo introduced them to Italy.) But the food extends beyond noodles, and many of the noodly dishes display a worldly sophistication that transcends memories of those packs of instant ramen so many of us subsisted on as undergraduates.

The look of the restaurant suggests the basic Asian, even Japanese, tendency of things. (The space’s previous occupant was, in a small irony, a Thai restaurant.) The long, deep dining room, which includes the bar, is screened from the street by a pair of slatted rosewood panels that look like upright futon frames. One wall is upholstered in squares of rust-red leather, while the other consists largely of a floated sheet of iridescent green fabric. The basic effect is one of uncluttered sleekness that also manages to be slightly warm. One glance tells you that you’re somewhere in the Marina, and you’d certainly be pardoned for supposing you had ended up in a sushi bar.

The tableware, too, exudes a minimalist high style: oversized plates and bowls of white porcelain, some hemispherical, others rectangular or square. Some of this must be purely for show, but there’s also a functionality angle, since many of the dishes are complex compilations of noodles, broth, and feature ingredients, like the Szechuan-style oxtails ($13), braised in red wine and served in a deep round bowl with ramen and bok choy. I associate Szechuan style with chili heat, but there was none here, just the deep, brown, Burgundian richness of the braising liquid and tender meat on its knuckles of bone. Despite an ostensible Chinese provenance, the dish was like a cross between osso buco, beef Burgundy, and pho. And that was fine.

Less soupy were a set of pan-seared duck-breast flaps ($16) nested in a tangle of chubby wheat noodles. The noodles glistened with a thick coating of the coconut red curry sauce that is a staple in Thai cooking. The most striking quality of the sauce was its heat; despite its shy, orange-pink, nursery-room tint, it packed a real chili charge that left us smacking our lips for relief.

Many of the smaller dishes, even if noodleless, bring their own pleasures. Each table gets a complimentary dish of soy-seasoned edamame to nibble on, and as much as I love bread and butter, there’s much to be said for healthful nibble food that’s also tasty. If the edamame isn’t enough, then perhaps a bowl of dry-sautéed green beans ($6), a wealth of plump torpedoes nicely blistered and generously seasoned with ginger, garlic, and scallions. And the dinner menu offers quite sophisticated starter courses, such as tabs of grilled Hawaiian butterfish ($10), set up like a lean-to over a salad of ramen noodles and wakame (the translucent green threads of seaweed familiar to sushi lovers), with a wading pool of wasabi cream to one side.

All noodles might be starch, but at Noodle Theory, not all starch is noodles. There’s a wonderful soft bun, for instance, that serves as the basis for the chicken katsu sandwich ($10), whose guts consist of a panko-crusted filet and a purplish smear of Asian slaw. The bun was fabulous and the filet juicy-crisp, while the slaw slightly disappointed despite its rich color. But the taro-root chips on the side gave some consolation.

As for sweet starch: how about the doughnut holes ($8), a stack of a half-dozen or so beignet-like disks, dusted with sugar and ready for dipping into either butterscotch or chocolate ganache sauce? In addition to being one of the few items on the menu without a discernible Asian influence, the doughnut holes are sublime and nicely proportioned. They’re just enough for two people to share without feeling that they will soon need CPR or being so bloated that they will have to lie down on a futon to sleep it off.

NOODLE THEORY

Lunch: Mon., Wed.–Fri., 11:30 a.m.–3 p.m.;

Sat.–Sun., 11:30 a.m.–5 p.m.

Dinner: Mon., Wed.-Sat., 5–10 p.m.; Sun., 5–-9 p.m.

3242 Scott, SF

(415) 359-1238

www.noodletheory.com

Beer and wine

AE/MC/V

Noisy

Wheelchair accessible

Pot in the kettle

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Pot in the kettle

culture@sfbg.com

Save for the teeny-weeny skirts and gunfights, Sandy Moriarty is like Nancy Botwin, the main character of Showtime’s Weeds. To casual observers, these women may look like regular God-fearing folk, but in their circle of marijuana smokers and edibles-eaters, both are local celebrities. Unlike the activities of her television counterpart, everything Moriarty does is legal.

Known now for best-selling lemon bars — sold exclusively through Oakland’s Blue Sky dispensary and made with her psychedelic 10X cannabutter — and as a cooking professor at Oakland’s Oaksterdam University, Moriarty’s culinary escapades with cannabis began as a personal endeavor to test the plant’s potency.

"I’ve always been interested in cooking and I was intrigued by the process of cooking with cannabis," said the Fairfield resident. "I wanted to push the plant to its limits and see what it could render me."

In the process, Moriarty discovered she could help a larger range of cannabis patients who needed stronger medication in their food. These "extreme case" patients, Moriarty said, include those with spinal injuries, cancer, and multiple sclerosis.

"The need for something stronger [than what was available] intrigued me," said the mother of two. "I wanted to help those people."

So for several years Moriarty sporadically experimented with different cooking techniques. Her aha! moment came in the fall of 2004, when she discovered that slowly simmering a mixture of butter, leaf shake, and water for a few hours would evaporate the water and render all the THC-rich trichomes off the leaves. Unlike the cannabutters she had produced before, she could smell a sweet, rich, and buttery aroma that had a nutty taste.

"I let other people try it, and when they started dropping like flies, I knew that was it," Moriarty said. "It was like — wow!"

The discovery helped the 58-year-old catapult her life in a new direction. Though still a property manager by day, Moriarty now tends simmering stockpots of cannabutter in the kitchen of her ranch-style home at least four times a week (usually in the late evening or near dawn). And since January 2008, she’s been sharing how to make her cannabutter, as well as other ways to cook with pot through oils and alcohol-based tinctures at Oaksterdam cannabis college.

Indeed, her cooking class — which is incorporated into a Oaksterdam weekend and semester curriculum that includes lessons on horticulture and politics/legal issues — is one of the most popular courses at the school. "A lot of students come just for the cooking," says Oaksterdam facilitator Trish Demesmin. "And once she gets to talking about her 10x butter, they’re all ears."

But Moriarty hasn’t stopped there. Feeling that she has conquered the realm of baked edibles — her creations, which are known for packing a potent THC punch without the ganja taste or smell, have gained something of a cult following — Moriarty is now focused on creating savory dishes such as pastas, salad dressings, and sandwiches. And thanks to the super-concentrated butter, Moriarty has been able to incorporate the green herb into dishes like fillet of sole Florentine, Thanksgiving turkey — even fried chicken. She plans to feature these dishes, along with recipes for baked goods, drinks, and vegan- and diabetes-friendly food items, in her upcoming cookbook, tentatively titled Cooking with Cannabis.

Moriarty’s brother Al Wilcox says his big sister has come a long way from her days of baking brownies filled with stems and seeds. Wilcox, who medicates every day to help his arthritis, said the greatest advantage of his sister’s food is that its strong potency means patients can eat less while watching their weight. The proud sibling predicts Moriarty could become the next Brownie Mary. "She’s done this all on her own, and she’s been real gung-ho about it," Wilcox said. "She wanted to help people, and now she is."

To attend Moriarty’s cooking class, enroll at Oaksterdam University, 1776 Broadway, Oakl. (510) 251-1544, www.oaksterdamuniversity.com. Weekend seminars and semester-long courses are available. All students must be 18+. Nonmedical cardholders are welcome.

A CANNABIZED THANKSGIVING

Want to take your Thanksgiving dinner to new heights? Try Moriarty’s recipes below.

CANNABUTTER STUFFING


1 cup cannabutter (plus an extra 1/2 cup or less to rub inside and outside of the turkey)

2 cup chopped onions

1 cup chopped celery

1/4 cup chopped parsley

1 Tbs. fresh sage or 1 tsp. dried sage

1 Tbs. fresh thyme or 1 tsp. dried thyme

3/4 tsp. salt

1/2tsp. pepper

1/4 tsp. nutmeg

1/4 tsp. clove

1 cup chicken stock

2 large eggs

Preheat oven to 350. Mix all the ingredients together, except for the chicken stock and eggs. Blend the mix with the chicken stock and eggs. Rub extra cannabutter on the outside and inside the cavity of the turkey. Stuff the turkey with stuffing mix and bake for 20 minutes per pound. Bake until outside of the turkey is golden brown and stuffing reached 165-degrees.

BLUEBERRY MUFFIN BARS



2 cups all-purpose flour

1 Tbs. baking powder

1/2 tsp. salt

2 large eggs

1 cup milk

2/3 cup packed brown sugar

1 cup cannater melted

1 tsp. vanilla

1 1/2 cup fresh or thawed frozen blueberries

Preheat oven to 350. Grease a 9×12 baking pan. Mix the flour, baking powder, and salt. Blend the eggs, milk, sugar, and cannabutter together. Mix the flour and cannabutter mixtures together, including the blueberries. Bake for 30 minutes or until an inserted knife comes out clean.

Granted

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Granted

le.chicken.farmer@gmail.com

CHEAP EATS Some things in life just smell way better than they taste, Kentucky Fried Chicken being an obvious example. There are two kids named Boink and Popeye the Sailor Baby who will one day wonder why their nanny used to take them to Jackson Park all the time. Alameda has a lot of nice playgrounds featuring state-of-the-art sliding boards and other nice touches, such as other children. What Jackson Park has, besides abandoned shopping carts, riff-raff, and a bus stop, is Kentucky Fried Chicken.

I’ve never been inside, but I’m glad it’s there. And the kids … well, even without all the bright-colored plastic, they find plenty to do. They scrape the bark off of piss-soaked trees with little sticks and look for unusual bugs — while their grownup stands nearby, nose to the Colonel, and dreams.

If there’s one thing I will take from my two years as a nanny — besides neck and shoulder issues, some permanent hearing loss, and an addiction to migraine medicines, I mean — well, wisdomwise, I have learned a lot. But the one lesson that really stands out is this: that, though you show a kid a waterfall, wildlife, redwood trees, and sunset, they will be infinitely more fascinated by leaf blowers.

Mind you, this is not to even mention their fascination of fascinations: the garbage truck. You can take my word for it, because nannies know more kids than most parents do. It’s as true as math: the sweeter the adorable little angel, the more obsessed with garbage trucks they will be. And no amount of exposure to Yosemite will help.

Who knows? Maybe it’s innately wise to take natural wonders for granted. When you are one yourself.

Of course, the reverse is also true: some things in life taste way better than they smell. (Fish sauce. I rest my case.)

The point I want to make about bacon fries is that they smell way better than they taste, and they taste (are you ready for this?) … absolutely insanely wonderfully delicious. Go figure! Who would have guessed that french fries, already one of the best things in life, could be improved on by the best thing in life? And here’s where I wish I had actually invented my dream punctuation, the sarcastic mark, instead of just talking about it for 25 years.

Of course … bacon fries!!!

Where to get them is Broken Record, the great bar with the even greater backroom kitchen, way out in the Excelsior District. I’m pretty sure that people have been telling me about Broken Record for a long time. "Broken Record," they said. "Broken Record … Broken Record … Broken Record," they said and said and said. If only I could think of a way to describe what this sounded like.

Nor am I proud to admit that I didn’t listen. Then: the bar, or the restaurant part of the bar changed hands, or chefs, word was, and alas I had missed the boat. The assumption being that the new people would ruin a good thing, and I, being more than a believer — being an all-out act of entropy, found this reasonable to assume.

But change is change. A good thing can go bad, or vice versa, or a good thing can change into an entirely different good thing. Hold on a second, my estrogen patch is coming loose. Or — I was saying — you can just leave the judgment out of it and say that things change.

All I know is I was playing late-night soccer one night out at Crocker, and afterward some folks were getting a beer, and invited me along, and I said no thank you and they said, "bacon fries."

And just like that a new favorite restaurant was born. All I want to do now is play late-night soccer at Crocker. And I haven’t even tried their burgers yet! Supposedly they trim off all the beef fat and grind it themselves, replacing the beef fat with bacon fat.

Why would anyone ever eat a burger anywhere else, not to mention fries? I can think of reasons. Well, geography, for one. But why would anyone live anywhere but here?

I comfort myself with thoughts of sausages. And the knowledge that technically, I did invent the sarcastic mark. I know exactly what it looks like, and have drawn it many times on cocktail napkins, as well as regular napkins.

Broken Record

Mon.–Sat., 6 p.m.–11 p.m.;

Sun., 6 p.m.–10 p.m.

1166 Geneva, SF

(415) 424-6743

Full bar

Cash only

L.E. Leone’s new book is Big Bend (Sparkle Street Books), a collection of short fiction.

Appetite: Food for Thought helps Mission grads, Frescobaldi gets Luce

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Appetite: Food for Thought helps Mission grads, Frescobaldi gets Luce

Every week, Virginia Miller of personalized itinerary service and monthly food, drink, and travel newsletter, www.theperfectspotsf.com, shares foodie news, events, and deals. View the last installment here.

foodforthought1109.jpg
Digging into some Food for Thought

11/11-11/23 of the Mission’s best restaurants participate in "Food for Thought" to help Mission grads get to college
Do nothing but eat out at one of your favorite Mission restaurants this Wednesday night and you’ll be helping some of the neediest Mission high school grads get to college. With 23 of the ‘hood’s best restaurants participating, a portion of all dinner sales (restaurants have committed anywhere from 25-100% of that night’s sales) go to Food for Thought. In it for the long haul, Food for Thought offers, among other things, tutoring centers for elementary school kids, academic support groups in junior high, and college prep programs for high school students, working with them through each phase of schooling. There’s even raffle prizes at each restaurant, like a trip for two to Mexico. You don’t have to be told twice to eat out at Range, Mission Beach Cafe, Little Star Pizza, or Bar Bambino, do you?
11/11 regular hours at 23 Mission restaurants
List of participating restaurants: www.missiongraduates.org/foodforthought

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rest1109.jpg
A Luce interior

11/11 – Luce celebrates its Michelin Star with the Frescobaldi family
It’s an honor for a chef to receive a Michelin star, especially a French chef like our own Dominique Crenn at Luce in the Intercontinental Hotel (she’s also on this season of The Next Iron Chef). Luce celebrates in a big way by cooking a 6-course Tuscan feast, Inspirations of Tuscany, with Marchesi de’ Frescobaldi’s wine estates’ executive chef, Donatella Zampoli. Frescobaldi, the legendary Italian family who even traded their wines with Michelangelo back in the day, will, naturally, be pairing their wines with dinner. Not only is this a rare, special night, but $10 of every 6-course dinner benefits CUESA, so the focus remains local as it is international. Courses include Thomas Family Farms potato gnocchi with bone marrow and lobster paired with a glass of 2006 Attems Cicinis, or sweetbread and beef tongue with potato espuma (foam to you), slow cooked egg and pancetta jus partnered with a 2005 Nipozzano Riserva Chianti Classico. Can’t make it out Wednesday? The party rolls on all month until November 21, with a 4-course Michelin Star prix-fixe menu available any night for $60 per person.
$75; $30 for wine pairings
11/11 – make a reservation during regular hours, 5-11pm
888 Howard Street
415-616-6566
www.lucewinerestaurant.com

The problem of happiness

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The problem of happiness

le.chicken.farmer@gmail.com

CHEAP EATS Sometimes it just takes one word, and this week’s one is shoehorn. There. I’m done. And you barely even got your pants down, or your skirt up. Skype is an amazing thing, as is technology in general. As are words.

Yesterday morning, outside a coffeehouse in Guerneville …

Today, inside a coffeehouse in Oakland …

One night I put my laptop on the pillow next to me and slept while she went about her business.

It’s weird (or maybe not) that many of the men who mistreated, malpracticed, or underwhelmed me last year are trying to reconnect right now. Proving once again that straight guys just love a lesbian. Had I thought of this, I would have faked it.

Can I tell you how much pleasure I get from not doing anything at all? Well, I do read their e-mails. After months and months of silence, they suddenly can’t stop thinking about me, they’re sorry they blew it, blah blah blah. And I don’t write back, not even to say, Thank you for blowing it. I met someone a lot better than you.

And a lot better for me. Last month in Joshua Tree she taught me how to be more ladylike. Instead of saying, "I gotta go pee," I can now say, in German, Ich muss mich frischmachen, or roughly, "I have to freshen up" … which is really fun to say before going behind a cactus and squatting over some dirt, then wiping your hands on your jeans.

In New Jersey last week I returned the favor. I taught her how to put gas in a car. She’s never owned a car in her life, but loves to be the driver, and loves to do all the more classically manlier things, like getting the gas. So I showed her how. While the pump was pumping we stood straddling the hose (not really) and kissed real slow and long (really). I forgot where I was.

When the kiss was over, I looked away and accidentally into the wide eyes of a man filling his pickup truck next pump over. His mouth was a little bit open — more from pain, I think, than disbelief. I smiled. He didn’t. His hands were in his pockets.

It’s fun outside of the Bay Area, but good to be back too. This morning I had breakfast at Sconehenge with my friend Hickymajig, and we had a contest to see who was nervouser. She won. But I did not go down without a tremor. And a twitch. And a lightheaded feeling in my legs. And a fluttery stomach, cold sweat, shaky hands, and other more serious symptoms, like I only ate half of my huevos rancheros ($7.50).

The second half is on the floor in my car, fantasizing about lunch. For a restaurant called Sconehenge, Sconehenge has very few things called scones on the menu. But they do have them, and they’re supposed to be great.

But we both ate Mexican breakfasts. Very good. Very very very good. And cheap! And big! My huevos had a huge pile of salsa on top, and a ton of melted cheese. Warm flour tortillas that I slathered with butter, rolled up, and poked into my egg yolks. The rice and beans were delicious. Nevertheless, if Hickymajig reads this it will be from a hospital bed, so I would like her to know that the entire Bay Area, including me, is thinking about her and wishing her well, on buses, in bathrooms, and wherever else Cheap Eats is read. Behind a cactus …

My thing is partly a problem of happiness, which is a good problem to have. My armchair therapists tell me I deserve to be happy, get over it. And I’m trying, I swear. I breathe, I read, I write, I laugh. But my body continues to act as if it’s about to get run over by a minivan.

Maybe I drink too much coffee. And that’s another good thing about Sconehenge. Their coffee sucks. You can only drink one cup, if you’re lucky.

I told you this column was over after the first sentence. So if you made it this far, don’t blame me. It’s nighttime already where my heart is. And here I haven’t even gone to work yet! Kids need me. Their moms, more so. Oy.

Or, take my word for it: schuhlöffel.

SCONEHENGE BAKERY & CAFE

Mon.–Sat., 7:30 a.m.–3 p.m.;

Sun., 8 a.m.–2:30 p.m.

2787 Shattuck, Berk.

(510) 845-5168

No alcohol

MC/V

L.E. Leone’s new book is Big Bend (Sparkle Street Books), a collection of short fiction.

Noeteca

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Noeteca

paulr@sfbg.com

Wine — unlike, say, Coca-Cola — has never been a big breakfast drink. Unless you count mimosas, which are basically an exercise in camouflage anyway, champagne bearded with orange juice to give the appearance of healthfulness. No, even the most dedicated wine-drinker must make do with something else in the morning, and that something else is probably coffee.

At Noeteca, a handsome establishment opened by Alex Kamprasert and Scott McDonald in early October on a residential stretch of Dolores Street in outer Noe Valley, the wine-bar aura is modified by glass cases of whole-bean coffee displayed just inside the door, next to a glass case full of pastries. You might feel slightly disoriented at the sight, as if you’ve drifted by mistake into a Starbucks. The coffee station is, in part, a bow to the space’s previous tenant, the Last Laugh Café, and also a visual expression of Noeteca’s commitment to be a kind of public "living room" that isn’t just a place to gather in the evening — although it is that — but to visit in the morning or any time during the day. In this sense, despite the Italian-ish name, Noeteca’s nearest relations are probably the wonderful cafes of Paris, those nameless but indispensable places where you can get an espresso early in the morning, a glass of wine late at night, and good food at any time.

Notwithstanding a similarity in philosophy, Noeteca doesn’t look like any Paris café I’ve ever been in. It resembles, instead, a fusion of lounge (including, for enhancement of living-room atmospherics, a chaise or two in a far corner of the dining room), restaurant, and takeaway bar, and it manages all this in a fairly tight space. And while the food has some traditional Gallic touches, it’s a little more eclectic than anything you’d likely find in a typical French café. As for the wines: the by-the-glass list is lengthy, worldly, and reasonably priced, with — in a welcome touch — pours available in half- as well as full sizes. Need a switch from Cotes du Rhone? Try a hit of Polesio, a tight, quick-on-its-feet wine made from Sangiovese grapes in Italy’s little-known Marche region along the Adriatic.

Since the closing of mc2 in the first dot-com Götterdammerung, the Alsatian specialty tarte flambé, a pizza-like flatbread topped with onions, bacon, and crème fraîche, has been a rare sighting in these parts. I don’t remember seeing one for years, in fact, until recently it turned up on Noeteca’s menu ($7.95), with a lovely thin, blistered crust that was a bit softer and more luxurious than a typical pizza crust. The pie itself wasn’t quite large enough to be a main course, but it did make a tasty, splittable starter.

Autumn means mushrooms and stew, and maybe mushroom stew ($10.95). Here the funghi included shiitake, portabella, and white button; they were swirled into a cream sauce heavy on pearl onions, then packaged in a nice earthenware crock under a gratin blanket of coarse bread crumbs. Very tasty and meaty, although the pearl onions did become oppressive. We couldn’t finish them all.

Our old friend the croque monsieur — basically a ham-and-cheese sandwich — was cleverly recast here as croque napoleon ($8.95), an elegant, savory bread pudding layered with ham and cheese. The pudding was cut into thick slices that leaned against one another like dominoes under a slicking of mornay sauce. On the side: a heap of mixed baby greens dotted with cherry tomatoes. Little side salads like this turn up with many if not most of the larger courses; they are colorful and light but turn repetitive after a while.

One way to get around an uninvited little salad is to have a big salad, like Kris’s chicken salad ($9.95). The theme here was deconstruction; the (chopped) chicken was mixed with pecans and red onions and molded into a disk that stood on one side of the plate, while on the other was the obligatory pile of baby greens and, all around, scatterings of cucumber coins and cherry tomatoes. The vinaigrette was simple but very good.

Given the display of sweets in the glass case at the door, it’s not surprising that the desserts are pretty convincing. And there is at least one genuine star: the chocolate bomba ($6), a softball-sized shell of dark chocolate filled with vanilla and chocolate gelati. Eating it combined some of the pleasures of an Easter-morning hunt for hidden chocolate eggs and of breaking open a piñata. With drama and spectacle like that, the coppa catalana ($6), a version of crème brûlée, suffered slightly by comparison, although its caramel flavor was deep and its texture nicely balanced between firm and creamy. The bomba, incidentally, did not come from the glass case, but the coppa catalana might have. You should not construe these remarks as permission to have either of these delicacies for breakfast. Stick with a mimosa instead. *

NOETECA

Mon.–Sat., 7 a.m–9:45 p.m.; Sun., 7 a.m.–3 p.m.

1551 Dolores, SF

(415) 824-5524

www.noetecacafe.com

Beer and wine

DS/MC/V

Moderately noisy

Wheelchair accessible

You and yers

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You and yers

le.chicken.farmer@gmail.com

CHEAP EATS Dear Earl Butter,

North Carolina was different. Since we would be there only one day, and that day was a Sunday, and all the barbecue places near my sister’s house are closed on Sunday, she had the presence of mind on Saturday to pick us up a pile of barbecue.

Mind you, she’s a vegetarian now, like the rest of my sisters and most of my brothers. But the more vegetarian the rest of my family becomes, the more meat I feel I have to eat. It’s complicated math, or maybe simple math and complicated metaphysics, but I know that you, of all people, will understand. My sister does.

My brother-in-law picked us up at 4 a.m. at the train station in Greensboro, where they live now in a rented single-wide, out between the last street light and the dump. Their couch folded into a bed, and the bed was very comfortable, but I was too hungry to sleep, so I visited the fridge. And there it was, lit from within, two quarts of pulled pork and a pint of barbecue slaw. There would be donuts and bagels and coffee when we woke up, but another way of looking at it is that I had barbecue for breakfast, lunch, and dinner that day.

And Earl, what I’m driving at, or meandering toward, is that none of this so-called authentic North Carolina barbecue was even half as good as what you brought over to Deevee’s house last time. Which is remarkable, considering that whoever made this must have lived here a lot longer than you did, I guess. And for sure more recently.

You lived here, what? A year? Twenty years ago? I guess you’ve just got a natural touch for North Carolina barbecue. Or another possibility is that sometimes you just flat-out outgrow a thing. Maybe I don’t like North Carolina barbecue as much as I thought I did. It happens. Example: I used to think my own hometown in Ohio had the best barbecue ever, but the last time I ate some I burped plastic the whole next day.

And I should mention that I did eventually get me some Georgia barbecue last week too, in Marietta, and it was way better than what we had here, although Romea might disagree, which goes to show you. When I come back, let’s go to Dibb’s Barbecue on Fillmore Street. I missed it last time I was on that street, remember?

But first we’ve got one more week of planes, trains, and automobiles, only not in that order. Like, right now we are on a train. Romea’s sleeping next to me, on my pillow, in my poncho. She’s probably dreaming my dream, too — which is (right now) of bacon fries. Did I tell you about bacon fries? Don’t wait for me to come back for that one. If you’ve got $5, go get you some, and if not borrow $5 off my brother.

I heard he stole my car from you. Don’t let him do that.

Yours,

me

P.S. I love her.

L.E.,

That is great. I went to the Lawrence Bakery Café, and got what I have gotten there for the last four, five, or six years. Which is a cheeseburger and french fries. I would like to say that in all that time, their prices have never changed. But that is not true. At some point, a cheeseburger and fries went up from $3.75 to $4. Is that an outrage? No, it is not an outrage, it is perfectly fine. I love the Lawrence Bakery Café and several places around the Mission for the very same reason: they serve very good food at very good prices, giving a guy like me, well, a chance.

I can cook food. Most everybody knows it. But it was out of necessity that I learned to cook. Believe me, if I had the dough, I would be eating out every night, maybe at fancy-pants places, but also at great regular places, too.

My kitchen has been very good to me over the years. But I would leave it in a second and never speak to it again if I could. Please do not let my kitchen know that I wrote this.

Yers,

Earl

LAWRENCE BAKERY CAFE

2290 Mission, SF

(415) 864-3119

No alcohol

Cash only

L.E. Leone’s new book is Big Bend (Sparkle Street Books), a collection of short fiction.

Greens

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Greens

paulr@sfbg.com

If there is a better-known vegetarian restaurant in the world than Greens, I’ve never heard of it. But — that sounds a little like hype, and hype is on cozy terms with falsehood. Greens is also 30 years old this year, and since restaurants often age in dog years, or worse, we are talking about a place that can’t ignore the many risks of geriatric life, among them fatigue, complacency, boredom, and a descent into tourist-trappiness. No doubt there are others.

Apart from the fusty, undersized sign above the door, Greens still looks sensational. It helps, surely, that the restaurant was designed around a giant wall of multi-light windows that look directly west, across the Marina to the Golden Gate Bridge. Stepping into the restaurant (from the Fort Mason parking lot, prosaic even by parking-lot standards) is like stepping into a postcard; even the tables away from the windows have an expansive view of sea and sky. (And even the table for four in the small, semi-private room at the south end of the main dining room has a commanding view of the bridge.)

A view can be a mixed blessing. View restaurants are often bad, while vegetarian restaurants can be pointedly austere. Greens incorporates its singular view into a theme of subdued, white-linen elegance that gives no clue to the meatless nature of the food. It is one of those rare places that combines high style and a pedigreed menu with something for everyone, even doubtful omnivores.

Greens’ cuisine, in fact, has long seemed to me to have more in common with that of Zuni Café, its exact contemporary, than with the city’s other tony vegetarian temples. The grill is skillfully deployed for smokiness, and the rustic cooking of Italy is well-represented on the menu, since so much of Italian cuisine is naturally meatless and produce-driven. But the kitchen takes inspiration and influences from around the world, including Southeast Asia and the American Southwest.

For a quarter-century, my foundational text for vegetarian cooking has been The Greens Cookbook by Deborah Madison. Madison was Greens’ opening chef, but she left in the early 1980s and was replaced by Annie Somerville, who still runs the show while having published several Greens-related cookbooks of her own, which I also regularly consult. Given the stability in the kitchen, it’s not surprising that the restaurant’s cooking style hasn’t changed much over the years. In fact, you can still get the fabled black-bean chili, a dish about as old as the place itself and muscley enough to sate most meat-eaters.

But … how about a pizza to start? In the early 1990s, on my first visit to Greens, I noticed that the menu offered the same Mexican pizza I’d been making from the cookbook. I was prepared to be shamed, but the restaurant’s pie turned out to be a disappointment, mainly because of a stinginess (it seemed to me) with the toppings. As a home cook, I applied toppings with abandon, but home cooks don’t have to make a profit.

Nonetheless, the gods must somehow have divined my dismay, because a recent corn and grilled onion pizza ($16) was a veritable cornucopia of late-summer bounty: corn kernels, yellow cherry tomatoes as sweet-tart as fruit, plenty of cheese (fontina and grana padano), and blobs of garlicky pesto, all on a nicely blistered crust. It was like waking up on Christmas morning and finding even more presents under the tree than you had tentatively counted the night before. But I am mixing my seasonal imagery. The interval from Labor Day to Thanksgiving could well be the best time to visit Greens, since the kitchen still has access to summer produce even as the delights of autumn (among them peppers and squash) start to trickle in.

Squash — sunburst and butternut — figured in the fabulous Zuni stew ($14.50), "Zuni" here being a reference to the Indian tribe, not the restaurant. The stew (arranged around a set of grilled polenta triangles) was a mélange of (besides the cubed squash) corn kernels, Rancho Gordo beans, diced red bell peppers, carrots, broccoli, and roasted Early Girl tomatoes and flavored with onions, ancho chilis, majoram, sage, and chipotle lime butter. It was tasty, colorful, noticeably spicy, and managed to honor a pair of seasons as well as the ancient Indian trifecta of corn, beans, and squash.

Back to the Mediterranean for the farro sampler ($16.75), a potpourri of farro salad scented with lemon and mint, cucumber coins, cherry tomatoes, summer and shelling beans with tarragon, baby beets on a mache nest, hummus (garlicky!), black and green olives, triangles of grilled pita, and a rather thrilling, earthy-sweet tomato jam that went nicely with the pita and hummus but could as easily been spooned over vanilla ice cream.

Some ice creams — huckleberry, say — don’t need and probably wouldn’t accept such help. Huckleberry ice cream (the color of grape chewing gum) turned up in the company of a wonderful apple-huckleberry galette ($8.75) whose pecan streusel could have stood on its own, or perhaps with the cardamom cream mille-feuille laid atop slices of roasted pear ($8.50). I have never entirely accepted the stewed or poached pear, but roasting helps retain firmness — an important consideration with pears, whether red, green, or some other color.

GREENS

Dinner: Nightly, 5:30–9 p.m.; Lunch: Tues.–Sat., 11:45 a.m.–-2:30 p.m.;

Brunch: Sun., 10:30 a.m.–2 p.m.

Bldg. A, Fort Mason Center

(415) 771-6222

www.greensrestaurant.com

Beer and wine

AE/DS/MC/V

Not noisy

Wheelchair accessible

Appetite: Tanks to Tractors, Gingerbread Wishes — food with a purpose

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Appetite: Tanks to Tractors, Gingerbread Wishes — food with a purpose

Every week, Virginia Miller of personalized itinerary service and monthly food, drink, and travel newsletter, www.theperfectspotsf.com, shares foodie news, events, and deals. View the last installment here.

appvets1109.jpg
Members of the Farmer-Veteran Coalition will speak at Toby’s Feed Farm

11/8 – Tanks to Tractors free farmers and veterans event
For a Sunday countryside excursion with purpose, Tanks to Tractors is a special event at Toby’s Feed Barn in Pt. Reyes Station, honoring veterans who have returned home to work on America’s farms. Veterans have incredible stories to share about what led them to this meaningful work post-service – work all the more needed as US farmers are retiring in droves. The wonderful Marin Organic with the Farmer Veteran Coalition put on this event with story telling from Amy Fairweather (Swords to Plowshares, Iraq Veteran Project Director), Nadia McCaffrey (Gold Star mother and founder, Patrick McCaffrey Foundation), Wendy Johnson (educator, author, co-founder of Green Gulch Garden), Michael O’Gorman (project director of Farmer Veteran Coalition), and others. On top of that, there’s free light snacks and drink. A unique way to honor Veterans Day…
Sun/8; 5-7pm, free
Toby’s Feed Barn
11250 Highway One, Pt. Reyes Station
www.farmvetco.org
www.marinorganic.org

appcookies1109.jpg
Decorate the dickens out of your cookies at One Market

11/7 – Make-A-Wish Gingerbread Wishes event at One Market
Venerable Make-A-Wish Foundation throws a cookie decorating party at One Market, with 100% of the proceeds benefiting Greater Bay Area Make-A-Wish. With striking Bay views before you, bring kids (both young and old) to the luncheon, with finger sandwiches and drinks served by One Market, where everyone works with their own cookie decorating kit designed by pastry chef, Patti Dellamonica-Bauler, including three Gingerbread Wishes cookies and embellishment goods like icing, sprinkles and candies. Decorating cookies was never sweeter.
Sat/7, 11am-1pm, $20
1 Market
415-777-5577
www.makewish.org

6 pop-up lunches

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6 pop-up lunches

Blame the economy’s downturn. Or blame the Tamale Lady’s success. Whatever the reason, suddenly mobile food carts seem to be all the rage — and those that serve the midday (rather than midnight) crowd all the more so. But while the idea of the Crème Brulee Man and Magic Curry Cart has gone from experimental to expected, another nontraditional lunch option has bubbled to the surface: pop-ups and dining windows. These more stationary — yet equally delightful — options have been sneaking onto industrial loading docks or into neighborhood supermarkets, seducing customers with their unconventional locales and keeping their loyalty with indisputably good food.

KITCHENETTE SF


Douglas Monsalud and his crew started serving "spontaneous, organic, covert nourishment" out of a loading dock less than nine months ago, and the Dogpatch lunch scene hasn’t been the same since. The weekday eatery features a thoughtful, rotating menu of inspired delights, always including a few sandwiches, a salad, a dessert (recent choices include bacon snickerdoodles and a nectarine/raspberry galette), and a housemade beverage (like honeydew/lime fresca or organic lemonade). Not only is everything delicious, most items are made from locally-grown ingredients. My favorite? Marin Sun Farms’ pork schnitzel sandwich with braised cabbage and pink lady apples, a butterscotch cookie, and organic strawberry soda with local seltzer.

Weekdays, 11:30 a.m.–1:30 p.m.; 958 Illinois, SF. www.kitchenettesf.com

LITTLE SKILLET


Leave it to the Bay Area to host a joint that pairs fried chicken and waffles with farm-fresh, organic ingredients. This offshoot of Farmer Brown draws the in-the-know lunch crowd down to SoMa for crispy fried poultry, creamy grits and cheddar, angel biscuits and gravy, and red velvet cupcakes. For you old-school beverage aficionados, they stock Dublin Doctor Pepper (the original Doctor Pepper from Texas, made with real cane sugar), Fitz’s cream sodas, and Faygo grape soda. After ordering from the little blue shuttered window, wait across the street on the funky concrete loading dock until you hear your name. Then, perched on milk crates with other soul-food seekers, you’ll get your Southern charm with SF values.

Mon.–Sat., 9 a.m.–3:30 p.m.; 360 Ritch, SF. (415) 777-2777, www.littleskilletsf.com

NAKED LUNCH


Ian Begg and Ryan Maxey (formerly of Café Majestic) opened the door to Naked Lunch in mid-August. The sweet little annex to Enrico’s features a menu that changes almost daily, although the signature foie gras sandwich will probably remain a fixture (controversy or not). At $15, it’s outside my tax bracket, but the dried chorizo sandwich with bacon, d’anjou pear, pickled onion, and baby greens was pure perfection — the salt from the bacon balanced with the sweetness of the pear. Ian and Ryan have plans to open a gastropub. For now, I’m just happy they’re rockin’ the sandwich combinations each week.

Mon.–Fri., 11:30 a.m.–2 p.m.; 504 Broadway, SF. (415) 577-4951,www.nakedlunchsf.com

AMERICAN BOX


American Box, brought to us by the folks at Fish and Farm (inside Hotel Mark Twain), offers more than simple sandwiches and beverages. From the now infamous Juicy Lucy’s cheeseburger box, served with local organic potato salad and secret sauce, to the Niman Ranch taco box with sweet and spicy slaw, chef Chad Newton’s Tenderloin pop-up cuisine is attracting curious foodies along with the neighborhood business crowd. Take your box to go or meander across the hotel lobby and enjoy a quiet spell in the dining room. There’s nothing like a very grown-up lunch box to put a smile on your face — even if Mom didn’t pack it for you.

Weekdays, 10:30 a.m.– 1:30 p.m.; 339 Taylor, SF. (415) 474-3474, www.americanboxlunch.com

SAIGON SANDWICH


No one seems to mind squeezing into this hole-in-the-wall Tenderloin spot for an authentic $3 banh mi sandwich. It must be because of the sweet roasted pork on a chewy roll, served with pickled daikon, carrots, jalapenos, and cilantro. The two efficient women who run the counter aren’t messing around, though, so don’t hem and haw before you order — and don’t even think about making any special requests or alterations. Instead, quietly grab a pork bun or coconut dessert to accompany your sandwich and move along to make room for the next guy in line.

Mon.–Sat., 6 a.m.–6 p.m.; Sun., 7 a.m. – 5 p.m.; 560 Larkin, SF. (415) 474-5698

YATS NEW ORLEANS ORIGINAL POBOYS


You tell me where in SF you can get an authentic po’boy with red beans and rice in the back of a dive bar, and I’ll buy you a beer. Really. Otherwise I’ll bet money the only place is at Jack’s Club, a neighborhood bar that’s already fab thanks to a pool table, a CD jukebox, and vintage pinball machines. But head to the back and you’ll find a little window that pumps out real Southern goodness to the San Francisco masses. The Debris sandwich (pulled roast with gravy) is my favorite, although the rustic gumbo with smoked sausage, seafood, and chicken is a close second.

Mon.–Tues, 11 a.m. –4 p.m.; Wed.–Fri., 11 a.m.– 8 p.m.; Sat., 11 a.m.–6 p.m.; 2545 24th St. (Inside Jack’s Club), SF. (415) 282-8906, www.whereyats.com

What if …

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What if …

le.chicken.farmer@gmail.com

CHEAP EATS Surreally, I find myself a student at Kennesaw State University north of Atlanta. It’s weird. Not the least because I am not really of course a student. I’m a guest of the university. Technically I’m a guest of a guest of the university.

Romea is the rock star. I’m a tag-alonger, which suits me. Turns out I am good at tagging along. Sometimes I even say things. For example, I have managed to interject the word "barbecue" into several cuisiney conversations, and while they acknowledge it exists, days pass before anyone offers to take us to it. Liberal academic smarty-pantses in the South (or at least here) associate barbecue with Republicans, I find, and therefore don’t want any, at worse, or at best consider it a guilty pleasure. To which I say … well, to which I am speechless, actually.

Being a hanger-onner, I hang on, biding my time in respectful silence and tiding myself over (to the amusement of our hostess) with fried chicken wings from the grocery store deli. Next week in North Carolina, I know, I will have my way. My way = pulled pork and sweet tea.

Speaking of sweet, Romea and me are so increasingly insanely in-lovingly besmoldered of each other, I don’t think we can at this point bear to be apart. There are physical symptoms. And it’s so great to be so in love with a writer, but so strange to not be able to read her novels. Not to mention her short stories. One of which I have heard her read now twice, and I’ve read it on paper, and am just now beginning to get an inkling of what happens.

I know I’m going to be fluent in German one day, but …

I mean, I feel certain about Romea. About us. I have never been more sure of anything, but …

Well, her love poems to me she has the decency to write in English, at least, and with all the possible objectivity in the world I can say that they are wonderful, but …

You know, it could take decades. I could be old, and about to die happy, in love and in German, as I imagine, before I can really really read one of her novels, and …

I mean, not that it could possibly matter … not that in fact it isn’t half the fun of it, not knowing, but what if … what if I ultimately only then find out that I find her prose slightly somewhat stilted? Or something. I’m just asking.

This afternoon Romea rocks the Goethe Institute in Atlanta. This morning, against the worst odds ever, we sit side by side on our comfy bed in the cozy attic apartment of KSU’s International House, her practicing today’s reading aloud, in German, me trying to write in English, and about 20 guys in work boots walking with Southern accents on our heads, sliding ladders, scraping shingles, hammering roof nails, staple-gunning … Outside our window, on the lawn, there’s a generator, a table saw, and a 100 percent chance of rain. Thunderstorms, actually. I can’t wait. It’s going to seem so quiet, so calm, ka-boom.

I’ve danced to a lot of things in my day, but can’t quite pick the beat out of this one. Still, I have something to say. It’s just going to be hard to understand me over all this racket. One day in Berkeley, I said ONE DAY IN BERKELEY when Vik Wholesale was closed, I mused with the Maze at India Chaat & Sweets over curry goat. Curry goat! Well, goat curry, technically, is what they call it there. And it’s $12.99. Almost all their stuff is more than $10, which would explain why no one else was eating there.

Oh, but it was so quiet. I could hear the Maze’s musings, and he could hear mine, and neither of us had to raise our voice, as I recall. In fact we kind of whispered.

And the curry goat curry was great. But really, why anyone would want to eat there except in an emergency (i.e. Vik’s is closed) … is far, far beyond me.

INDIA CHAAT & SWEETS

Mon., Wed.–Fri., 11:30 a.m.–3:30 p.m, 4:30 p.m.–9:30 p.m.

Sat., 11:30 a.m.–10 p.m.; Sun., 11:30 a.m.–9:30 p.m.

824 University, Berk.

(510) 704-1200

Beer & wine

MC/V

L.E. Leone’s new book is Big Bend (Sparkle Street Books), a collection of short fiction.

Beer here!

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Beer here!

molly@sfbg.com

It all started with Stella.

I’d made my weekly (OK, sometimes twice or thrice-weekly) stop at Amnesia and ordered a pint of the Belgian lager not-so-affectionately known among beer snobs as "British Budweiser." Why Stella? It’s light, easy to drink a lot of, and feels classier than PBR. So when I’m not on a $2-a-beer budget, Stella Artois is often what I order.

This time, however, the mustachioed bartender Matthew Harman didn’t simply poor me a glass. It was earlier than usual. He had some time. And he knew me well enough to guess I might be open to the speech he was about to give.

"Do you really want a Stella?" he asked. "Because there are better beers that aren’t shipped halfway across the world and owned by InBev." I consented to let him give me tastes of alternatives and eventually settled on a slightly more hoppy but equally drinkable lager from Sudwerk brewery in Davis.

I enjoyed the beer. But better yet, I enjoyed the wake-up call. Though I’ve become accustomed to buying groceries, clothing, gifts, coffee, and even liquor from local, independent manufacturers and retailers, when it comes to beer, I’ve been lazy. I don’t think before I drink.

What’s worse? I live in the land of craft brews. Though there are now 1,500 craft breweries nationwide, the movement started in Northern California, Oregon, and Washington — with flagship brands like Anchor, Pyramid, and Anderson Valley within driving distance (or, in the case of Anchor, a stone’s throw) from my office. And as the industry has grown and changed, there are ever more options for a range of palates — and purses. In short: there’s little excuse for thoughtless imbibing.

So why drink local? First, there’s the environmental reason: it requires a lot of energy to ship all those heavy bottles and kegs full of liquid across the country and around the world. Then there’s wanting to support the local economy: money spent on Bay Area businesses stays in the Bay Area. There’s the more intangible concept of local pride. "We support our lousy local sports teams," says Lars Larson, master brewer at Berkeley’s Trumer Brauerei. "Why not support our local brewing excellence?" And perhaps most important is taste: beer, like produce and dairy products, is best when fresh.

But the world of beer-making is complex. When it comes to assessing a brewery’s greenness, for example, the question often becomes: how green? If you grow your own hops but send them to Wisconsin for brewing, is that still environmentally sound? Or if a brewery is based in Seattle but makes beer in Berkeley, does it still support the local economy? The answers vary and can be subjective. But the good news is that whatever the reason for wanting to choose brews more thoughtfully, there’s a nearby option — or 12 — to satisfy it.

If you still just love the taste of Stella, or want an import that has no local substitute (like Guinness), or appreciate that the Budweiser you’re sipping was probably made in a brewery 60 miles away, well, more power to you. Even Harman won’t argue (though he’ll happily give tastings of alternatives to anyone who stops by the Valencia Street bar Sundays at 6 p.m.). The real point is to use the same criteria for choosing beer — values, politics, and palate — you do for food and wine. Here’s hoping our guide to some of the Bay Area’s famed and favorite breweries will help you make that decision.

ANCHOR BREWING COMPANY


This landmark brewery has existed in one form or another since 1896, making it the granddaddy of Bay Area brewing. Its current identity comes to us with thanks to Fritz Maytag, who bought 51 percent of the operation in 1965 and is still the driving force behind the company best known for its unique Anchor Steam beer. We love Anchor’s handcrafted brews, commitment to the community, and willingness to experiment with new ideas, including distilling gin and whiskey.

1705 Mariposa, SF. (415) 863-8350, www.anchorbrewing.com

ANDERSON VALLEY BREWING COMPANY


This pillar of the Bay Area craft brew scene has been building its reputation on balanced, drinkable options like Boont Amber since 1987. Other favorites include the nearly hopless Summer Solstice, the oh-so-hoppy Hop Ottin’ IPA, and the Brother David line of abbey-style ales (named for Toronado owner David Keene). But we’re particularly excited about the 2009 Estate Fresh Hop beer, produced with hops grown on brewery grounds (where, by the way, all water is taken from wells on the property and all beer is made in a facility that’s 40 percent solar-powered).

17700 Hwy 253, Boonville. (707) 895-2337, www.avbc.com

MOONLIGHT BREWING


Beer drinkers looking for a truly local, truly independent brewery need look no further than this Sonoma County one-man operation. Well-respected brewer Brian Hunt established the tiny business in 1992 and still delivers his keg-only offerings like Death and Taxes black beer, Reality Czeck pils, and Homegrown Fresh Hop Ale himself. Hunt also has been growing a share of his hops onsite since 2003.

Santa Rosa. (707) 528-2537, www.moonlightbrewing.com

PYRAMID BREWING COMPANY


One of the first craft breweries to appear on the public’s radar, this Seattle-based company also has been operating out of its Berkeley brewery and alehouse since 1997. Until recently, Pyramid operated as a publicly-owned company; now it is part of the Independent Brewers Union. Under this arrangement, the brewery is owned by East Coast brewers Mad Hat but conducts its business as an autonomous unit. The company also has revamped its image, renaming classics like Pyramid Hefeweizen (now Haywire Hefeweizen) and Pyramid Apricot Ale (now Audacious Apricot Ale) and introducing a host of new offerings — some only available at Pyramid brewpubs. But with locations in Sacramento, Walnut Creek, and Berkeley, that means plenty of access to exclusives like the nitrogenated Draught Pale Ale or the session beer Crystal Wheat Ale.

901 Gilman, Berk. (510) 527-9090, www.pyramidbrew.com

RUSSIAN RIVER


Now based in Santa Rosa, the brewery most famous for its Pliny the Elder Double IPA used to be owned by Korbel Champagne Cellars. Vinnie Cilurzo and his partner bought the business in 2003, but have continued to combine aspects of both industries, including a line of beers that are aged in used wine barrels from local wineries. Look for tasting nights of this special line, nicknamed the "’Tion" beers, at pubs like Toronado.

725 Fourth St., Santa Rosa; (707) 545-BEER, www.russianriverbrewing.com

SIERRA NEVADA


The big news surrounding the Chico-based brewery that introduced much of America to Pale Ale is its upcoming Estate Harvest Ale, inspired by the winemaking of its Napa and Sonoma neighbors and made with hops and barley grown onsite. Also exciting? Two collaborations with Maryland-based brewery Dogfish Head — Limb and Life, released on draft this month, and Life and Limb, due out in 24-oz bottles and limited draft in November.

1075 E. 20th St., Chico. (530) 893-3520, www.sierranevada.com

SPEAKEASY ALES & LAGERS


Many beer drinkers gravitate to Speakeasy because of the distinctive, noir-feeling of its packaging and stay for the big, satisfying taste of classics like Big Daddy I.P.A. and Prohibition Ale. Though the Bayview-based brewery’s offerings are available on tap and in the bottle all over the Bay Area, we suggest visiting a Firkin’ Friday happy hour open house at the brewery from 4 to 9 p.m. every week.

1195 Evans Ave, SF. (415) 64-BEER-1, www.goodbeer.com

TRUMER BRAUEREI


This Berkeley brewery encompasses what’s advantageous about imported and local beers. The only non-Austrian outlet for this 400-year-old recipe gets many of its ingredients from its sister company in Salzburg. But bottles, packaging, and, of course, the beer, all are made in the East Bay. What makes Trumer special is a process called "endosperm mashing," which means brewers separate the barley husks from the starchy endosperm during milling, then reintroduce them at the end of the process to highlight the warm, toasty flavor of the malt. Trumer also uses a process called krausening, a slow, secondary fermentation that helps build natural carbonation. (One reason for its signature glassware is to show off the tiny Champagne-like bubbles.)

1404 Fourth St., Berk. (510) 526-1160

21ST AMENDMENT


This Prohibition-themed South Park brewery has been getting lots of attention lately for its canned craft beers — Hell or High Watermelon Wheat Beer and Brew Free! Or Die IPA — and for good reason. Though cans are the best way to keep beer fresh (since sunlight can’t penetrate metal), convenient for carrying, allowed at locales where glass isn’t, and (let’s face it) good for shotgunning, the delivery method has long been associated with cheap, watery beer. But this stigma seems to be slowly eroding, thanks in no small part to forward-thinking breweries like 21st Amendment.

563 Second St., SF. (415) 369-0900, www.21st-amendment.com

We realize that this list is only a tiny glimpse at the myriad breweries, alehouses, brewpubs, and better beer bars in and around the Bay Area. Indeed, Northwest Brewing News lists more than 100 such places between Bakersfield and Blue Lake — and we’re willing to bet there are many more. Check our Web site for information and extended interviews about breweries like Bear Republic, Shmaltz, Thirsty Bear, Triple Rock, and Magnolia, plus recommendations from beer experts at Toronado, City Beer, and Healthy Spirits.

Still think we’re missing someone? Let us know.

———

Light beer’s plight

I like to drink beers. Plural. I’m the guy the ad men were thinking of in that classic jingle, the one that goes "Shaefer is the one beer to have when you’re having more than one." One summer a few years back, my friends and I polished off 1,000 cans of beer over a four-day weekend on Lake Shasta; there were only about 10 of us drinking. Do the math on that one, and you get a sense of my taste for the blessed amber fluid.

But that was then, and this is now. And today I have two kids who wake up at 6 a.m. and keep me on the go day and night; I’m not as young as I used to be; and I can’t handle the intoxication the way I once did.

But I still drink beers, plural, every day, and I’m not about to give it up. What I’ve done is switched to light beer. Correction: "Light" is a bad word. Among serious drinkers, it’s called "session beer."

It’s a choice more and more people are making in this country — beer with lower alcohol content is one of the fastest growing parts of the industry. But it presents a problem: how do you drink local (and high quality beer) when most of the craft breweries and brewpubs focus almost entirely on the heavy and the strong?

Quick definition here: light beer is generally promoted and advertised as having fewer calories than regular brew. But I could care less about beer making me fat (I can always give up food). What I’m talking about is what’s known in the business as ABV; that’s alcohol by volume. Typical American beer — say, Budweiser — runs about 5 percent. Typical craft brew — say, Anchor Liberty Ale — is about 6 percent. The more serious stuff is even stronger — Lagunitas Maximum India Pale Ale, for example, clocks in at 7 percent.

Typical light beer — say, Bud Light, at 4.2 percent ABV — has almost 20 percent less alcohol than Bud, 30 percent less than Liberty Ale, and only about half as much as some of the more extreme brews.

And for those of us who would rather have four light beers than two Imperial Red Ales (and really — in America, is that even a choice?), the craft brew pickings are fairly slim. Especially in Northern California.

"You are living in the land of the IPA," Bill Manley, communications coordinator for Sierra Nevada brewery, which makes no lighter beers, told me.

It’s not as if we’re without choices. Anchor makes a Small Beer (with the leftovers from it’s brutally strong Barleywine Ale) that comes in at about 3.5 percent ABV, but you almost never see it in stores. The 21st Amendment brewpub makes an excellent Great American Bitter that meets the session-beer standard of less than 4.5 percent. Magnolia makes an English Mild, and there’s Stone Levitation Ale (4.4 percent). But again: check out most liquor stores and none of those are on the shelf.

Across the country, that’s starting to change. Lew Bryson, a beer writer and blogger in Pennsylvania, has started the Session Beer Project (sessionbeerproject.blogspot.com) to share information about full-flavored, high-quality brews that don’t knock you silly after a bottle or two. "There are more people like us than most craft brewers would credit," Bryson told me.

The term "session beer" comes from England. By some accounts, it dates back to World War II when pubs were only open for short "sessions" so the workers could get back to the munitions plants in a relatively functional state. By Bryson’s definition, a session beer has an ABV below 4.5 percent and doesn’t overwhelm the party.

There are distinct advantages to lower-alcohol beers. "I was at a session brew festival two years ago and went through six pints in about two hours," he said. "I keep a Breathalyzer in my car, and when it was time to go home, I blew .02" — well within the legal limit in every state in America.

A brewpub near Bryson’s house on the outskirts of Philly sells a Belgian ale called Mirage with an ABV of just 2.9 percent. "I can have a couple of pints with lunch and it doesn’t blow my entire afternoon," he said.

Yet the reluctance remains. "A lot of brewers, they hear low-alcohol and they think light beer — and that’s the enemy," Bryson said.

Mike Riley, marketing director at Anderson Valley Brewing that makes no beer with less than 5 percent ABV, added: "It’s one of those stigmas that’s gone on for a long time."

In fact, I could only find one craft brewer in the country that actually makes a "light" beer: Minhas Brewery in Monroe, Wis., which makes Huber Light and Minhas Light. "People were asking for it," Gary Olsen, the brewery manager told me. "Our first reaction was, why make something that doesn’t taste like anything? But we found out you can make a very good lighter beer."

Yes, indeed. And when Anchor starts making (and marketing) Liberty Ale Light, I promise — I’ll give up Bud Light forever. (Tim Redmond)

Fall Feast 2009

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Fall Feast 2009

Man (and woman) cannot live on PBR and pasta alone. I should know. I spent the whole summer trying. But now that my leftover Burning Man groceries are gone and the weather’s getting colder, I can’t help but crave real food again. And what better time and place is there to be really, really hungry for a substantial meal made with fresh ingredients than right now in San Francisco? Despite the struggling economy, innovative restaurants keep popping up — and the old classics are offering better deals. Plus, the changing culinary landscape has led to all kinds of fun, cheap, gourmet alternatives like pop-ups, lunch carts, and temporary restaurants-within-a-restaurant. This edition of FEAST, our drinking and dining magazine, focuses on what we love about the Bay Area’s food scene, from innovative locales to cross-cultural alternatives, from wintery suppers to summery desserts (after all, how cold does it ever really get here?), and from new restaurants to a niche bookstore that only a foodie-city like San Francisco could support. Whether you’re ready to start your Thanksgiving feasting early or are simply transitioning out of your warm-weather diet (or budget), we’re sure you’ll find something in the coming pages to satisfy your cravings. Unless, that is, you’re looking for PBR and pasta. You’ll have to take care of that one on your own — or wait ’til next summer. (Molly Freedenberg)


>>10 latest, greatest openings


>>6 supper-worthy soups


>>4 fine wine bars


>>6 innovative ice creams


>>4 phenomenal falafels


>>A readable feast: Q&A with Omnivore’s Celia Sacks

4 fine wine bars

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4 fine wine bars

It’s time to quit your drinking habit. No, not that one. The one where you sidle up to your usual bar and say, "I’ll have a glass of cabernet (or chardonnay or merlot)" with nary a glance at the wine list. I know, I know. You’re tired. You had a long day. But there’s a big world of wine out there, and lucky for you, we live in a city with lots of delightful options by the glass, from Down Under stickies to the reds of the Med. Here are four places that specialize in remarkable vinos, so it’s easy to trade in that mediocre merlot for a truly vinaceous adventure.

LA GITANE


If you think sherry is only for the likes of Niles and Frasier Crane, La Gitane will change your mind in three sips. Order the tasting of three 1.5-ounce pours ($14) — a light, briny Fino; a tangy, citrus-y Amontillado; and a rich and smoky Oloroso — wines that are stunningly dry but richly flavored (and, at 19 percent to 20 percent alcohol, not at all demure). If you sit at the bar, chances are a charming barman (they all seem to be men here) will pour you a little education along with your wine — in the form of a brief but enthusiastic tutorial of grape varieties and the Solera system (the special process of aging and blending sherry). Find yourself wanting more? You’re in luck: La Gitane offers 20 different sherries by the glass ($6–$18), including a couple of sweet styles and a half-dozen or so sherry-based cocktails ($7–$11).

6 Claude Lane, SF. (415) 788-6686, www.gitanerestaurant.com

SOUTH FOOD AND WINE BAR


Quick, name an Australian wine. If you said "Yellow Tail," you’re not alone. Due to the ubiquity of that single brand, it’s easy to believe that everything that comes out of the country-that-is-a-continent is a $5 shiraz. Not so. The proof is in the glass at South, where the focus is on the food and wine of Australia and New Zealand. Sure, you can order shiraz, but there are far more interesting things to be sipped here. A glass of Peter Lehmann Semillon ($7) might sound intimidating, given that it’s a grape you’ve probably never heard of, but its crisp grapefruit and lemon zest flavors make it a lovely aperitif. More of a red drinker? New Zealand produces pinot noirs that blow most of their California counterparts out of the water. Try St. Clair Vicar’s Choice ($10) from Marlborough; a bold, spicy petit verdot from Victoria ($8); or an iced Riesling from Tasmania ($13) that’s a dead ringer for a honey-dipped apricot. South makes it easy to try them all at its happy hour, weekdays from 3:30 to 6:30 p.m., when all wines are $6.

330 Townsend, SF. (415) 974-5599, www.southfwb.com

YIELD WINE BAR


It’s easy to make yourself at home at this Dogpatch wine bar, either on one of the leather couches arranged around low butcher block tables or at one of the half-dozen barstools lined along the simple wooden bar. Indeed, stepping through the door at Yield feels a bit like entering a friend’s loft: cozy, relaxed, and well-designed. But beyond atmosphere, what really makes this wine bar special is its menu. Every wine is organic, biodynamic, or sustainably farmed, and every dish on the concise list of small plates is vegetarian. The wine menu changes frequently and includes familiar varieties ( sauvignon blanc, syrah, cabernet) as well as more esoteric offerings like the Domaine de Reuilly Rosé of Pinot Gris ($11) — a pale pink, crisp wine with delicate flavors of strawberry and orange zest — or the Tenuta Pederzana Lambrusco ($11) — a fun, sparkling red from Emilia Romana, Italy. Really want to roll the dice? Opt for the never-know-what-you’re-going-to-get carafe special ($10), offered weekdays from 5:00 to 8:00 p.m.

2490 Third St., SF. (415) 401-8984, www.yieldsf.com

ZARÉ AT FLYTRAP


The bar at Zaré at Flytrap is impressive for three reasons: its warm and talented bar staff; its well-edited, Mediterranean-influenced wine list; and its truly affordable happy hour. You won’t find an over-the-top cabernet or run-of-the-mill merlot here. Instead the wine menu invites you to delve into the beguiling wines of Spain, Portugal, the south of France — even Lebanon. That’s right, Lebanese wine. Which you should try. Why? Because Chateau Musar’s "Hochar" ($12) is a smoky, earthy, elegant blend of cabernet, carignan, and cinsault that could easily be mistaken for a fine Bordeaux. Plus, if you come around during a weekday happy hour (4:00 to 6:00 p.m.), all wines by the glass are $5, making it that much easier to take a chance.

606 Folsom, SF. (415) 243-0580, www.zareflytrap.com

6 supper-worthy soups

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6 supper-worthy soups

Take almost any kid to the grocery store and their favorite place is likely the candy aisle. Me? I salivated in front of the soups. All those colorful cans promising savory combinations of belly-warming meat and veggies caught my childhood fancy, no matter the season in my temperate hometown of San Diego. Back then, the decision always was between hearty beef barley, comforting chicken noodle, and more-fun-than-tasty alphabet soup. Now my palate has matured — but my taste for a brothy meal in a bowl has not. I still consider the greatest dining find to be a liquid lunch with ingredients so fresh and seasonings so rich that ordering a "proper" entrée is superfluous.

LA TAQUERIA MENUDO


If you’re looking for a traditional Mexican stew (or just a fantastic hangover cure) in a hipster-free environment, head out of the sunny, skinny-jeaned Mission District and into the fog of the Excelsior. There, at La Taqueria Menudo, you can find a steaming bowl of perfectly spicy pozole. (Similar to menudo, minus the creepy surprises of tripe — or Ricky Martin). This under-appreciated neighborhood joint serves the classic dish with plump hominy and pork so tender it comes apart when you stab it with your spoon. The dish is traditionally served with cabbage and radishes, but La Taqueria serves it with limes, cilantro, onions, and chile de arbol. No matter. The spicy depth of the soup’s flavor unravels in so many layers, and the accompanying tortillas are always so warm and soft, that those deviations get lost in the mist.

4591 Mission, SF. (415) 333-8604

SOUP FREAKS


Overall reviews of this mini-chain are mixed, but we love this company’s dedication to organic ingredients and free-range, hormone-free meat. And say what you will about any of the other soups, the chili here is transcendent. Made with four different types of beans, fresh tomatoes, and bell peppers with a bit of crunch, this cold-weather classic is satisfying year-round.

90 New Montgomery, SF. (415) 369-9602; 1900 Powell, Emeryville. (610) 601-7687; soupfreaks.com

LA MEDITERRANEE


It may be rare to get San Francisco days so sweltering you need chilled soup to counter them. But La Mediterranee’s cold cucumber soup is worth ordering whatever the weather. The cool blend of fresh fruit (cucumber is one, you know) and warm garlic melds perfectly with the creamy yogurt base, proving bright enough for an Indian summer lunch and dense enough for a nippy autumn supper.

2210 Fillmore, SF. (415) 921-2956; 288 Noe, SF. (415) 431-7210; 2936 College, Berkeley. (510) 540-7773, www.cafelamed.com

SUPPENKÜCHE


It’s easy to assume that all German cuisine is bland and heavy, particularly dishes like potato soup. But the kartoffelsuppe at Hayes Valley’s Suppenküche proves that central European food can be hearty without inducing a heart attack — or a born-of-boredom nap. The thick, savory, beef-based stew may warm your belly, but the balance of spice and starch is delicate enough to delight the palate of diners who’ve never set foot in Münich or Milwaukee.

525 Laguna, SF. (415) 252-9289, www.suppenkuche.com

BURMA SUPERSTAR


Made from a mix of samusas, falafel, cabbage, and fried potatoes, the samusa soup at this Richmond District eatery might sound like the last stop for wayward leftovers, but this thick, salted delight is the reason many diners make the trek to Clement Street in the first place. Indeed, this stewed version of the popular eatery’s varied specialties is so good you might be inspired to skip the next course altogether.

309 Clement, SF. (415) 387-2147, www.burmasuperstar.com

SAN FRANCISCO SOUP COMPANY


SF Soup Company may seem to be everywhere, but it’s an entirely local enterprise. Even better, it has found a way to take tomato soup — the dreaded accompaniment to the ubiquitous grilled cheese sandwich of childhood — far beyond its boring, watery reputation. The secret? Combining the sweet acidity of the native South American plant with savory basil in an organic, creamy base. Add in the choice of wheat or french bread and you’ve got a delicious, healthy meal option wherever you are in the city.

Various SF and Bay Area locations, www.sfsoupco.com

6 innovative ice creams

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6 innovative ice creams

It’s not just you. There really is an explosion of new places to get sweet, cold, creamy treats in the Bay Area. But why the new interest in this classic American dessert? Neil Gottlieb, founder of Three Twins in the Lower Haight, considers the trend the newest place the slow food movement is having an impact. "There’s a renaissance of making ice cream the way it should be made — with fresh ingredients." Jake Godby, chef/owner of Humphry Slocombe, agrees. "Ice cream is the new cupcake," he said. But does that mean the market will become oversaturated soon? Mitchell’s manager Linda Mitchell doubts it, explaining that people simply love ice cream — and have a seeming insatiable desire for new and interesting flavors. Plus, Godby adds, each specialty ice cream shop has its own niche. "We’re all kind of different from each other, and we all get along," he said. After extensive testing (and just a few ice cream headaches), we’ve discovered six of our favorite flavors from both new and long-beloved creameries. Pinkberry who?

MEXICAN CHOCOLATE


You may scream for ice cream, but the yelling in my house came from my mother when I tried to nibble a block of Mexican baking chocolate: "That’s not candy!" Bouncing off the walls, I begged to differ. Now Mitchell’s, the family-run parlor that’s been open more than 50 years, has turned the spiced chocolate of my childhood dreams into a bona fide creamy dessert, rich in flavor and accented with blasts of cinnamon. Not even Mom can argue.

Mitchell’s, 688 San Jose, SF. (415) 648-2300, www.mitchellsicecream.com

SALTED CARAMEL


This orgasmic flavor is what inspires people to wait in tangled lines, even in the middle of a rainstorm. Is it the first lick, when salt puckers your taste buds, that’s so enticing? Or the luscious sweetness of caramel that kicks in next? Or the pleasant surprise at the way the two meld into one perfect after-experience? It doesn’t matter. Thanks to flavor combinations like these, Bi-Rite’s ice cream, always made with organic dairy products from Straus Family Creamery, already feels like a San Francisco classic after only three years.

Bi-Rite Creamery, 3692 18th St., SF. (415) 626-5600, www.biritecreamery.com

DOMAINE CARNEROS SORBET


Three Twins carries only eight flavors of its organic ice creams and sorbets at its tiny shop on Fillmore and Haight (and its several other locations, including one in Napa), so you never know what special flavors will be available. But if you can get the Domaine Carneros sorbet, made from unfermented pinot noir grapes, you won’t want to miss it. The delicate hint of wine mixes with ripe bursts of tangy, tart berries for an unexpectedly balanced flavor, pleasing your child-like and 21+ palate alike. (If the sorbet’s not available, you also can’t go wrong with Lemon Cookie, a Three Twins staple flavor.)

Three Twins, 254 Fillmore, SF. (415) ITS-TWIN, www.threetwinsicecream.com

SAFFRON GINGER


Following the lead of spicemasters like Bombay Ice Cream, Mission District newcomer Xanath has turned the savory spice of saffron into a creamy, lush, and ginger-filled frozen treat. The young, family-owned parlor also offers an array of organic ice creams and vegan sorbets, including options like coconut, strawberry, and peanut butter. And we love the staff, not only because they’re extraordinarily friendly, but also because they let you try as many flavors as you like (before you inevitably settle on Saffron Ginger).

Xanath, 951 Valencia, SF. (415) 648-8996

GOAT CHEESE


I’d like to thank the crazy person who first made goat cheese gelato. In the meantime, I’ll just thank Holy Gelato!, the neighborhood shop that hosts this pungent, creamy party in your mouth. The quirky shop, featuring a picture of Darth Vader glaring at you from a heaping tub of gelato, makes sure you not only get an eyeful of eccentricity, but a mouthful of crazy flavors that’ll have you skipping back for more. (For your best goat cheese pairing, try an accompanying scoop of raspberry sorbet.)

Holy Gelato!, 1392 Ninth Ave., SF. (415) 681-3061, www.holygelato.com

BLUE BOTTLE VIETNAMESE COFFEE


Sure, Humphry Slocombe may have a reputation as the latest hipster trend (and it is). But for good reason: its Blue Bottle Vietnamese Coffee flavor is the most phenomenal thing to happen to ice cream and coffee since the two were first mixed together in … who knows? The shop on Harrison and 23rd streets may be known for its way-out flavors, but it’s the combination of some of the best coffee in the city infused into this simple yet complex ice cream that makes this flavor a hit.

Humphry Slocombe Ice Cream, 2790 Harrison, SF. (415) 550-6971, www.humphryslocombe.com

4 phenomenal falafels

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4 phenomenal falafels

Falafel — those delightful deep-fried chickpea (or sometimes fava bean) balls — could quite possibly be the perfect food. It spans cultures: Originally a fasting food from Egypt, falafel became popular in the Middle East, was adopted by Jewish immigrants to Palestine, and is now a favorite fast food internationally. It spans food preferences: vegetarians like the protein-packed nutrition; omnivores like the crunchy/chewy texture. And, when combined in a pita with vegetables and hummus, yogurt, or tahini, the highly portable sandwich combo spans locations. Here are some of our favorite places to get these diverse delights.

OASIS GRILL


If you find yourself hungry for a quick, tasty lunch or dinner in the FiDi, skip the high-end sandwich shops and head to this unassuming Mediterranean eatery. The tiny grab-and-go spot (there’s only room for two people, or one very large one, to sit down), is the perfect place to get spicy falafel with fresh veggies with a generous helping of tahini and hummus, all wrapped in a thin, soft lavash bread. The only thing more impressive than the falafel — that owner Mohammed not only miraculously manages to remember your order, but to find you amid the throngs of people packed into the tiny shop like a rush hour BART train.

91 Drumm, SF. (415) 781-0313, www.sfoasisgrill.com

LIBA


The folks behind Liba — whose name means romance/love in several languages including Yiddish, Hebrew, and Russian — want you to fall in love with their falafel, and you’ll be hard-pressed to resist. The courtship starts with the exterior of this adorable mobile lunch spot: mint green paint, swirly lettering, and potted plants are smart and inviting. Next, Liba reels you in with organic, local, natural ingredients and an environmentally-focused philosophy. But the kicker is the falafel: just crispy enough and served in a fluffy pita with your choice of toppings that give traditional ingredients an inventive twist (think tomato cucumber salad with mint or red beets with lemon and thyme). If you’re extra hungry, you can even add a side of sweet potato fries to your meal. Doesn’t sound like your average gyro stand? It’s not. With inspiration gathered from a number of countries and cuisines, the only way we can describe it is "falafel fusion." You might not expect it, but get ready for the delicious flavors to hit you like, well, a truck.

155 De Haro, SF. (415) 806-5422, libasf.com

SUNRISE DELI & CAFÉ


Nestled between Asian markets in sleepy Outer Sunset, Sunrise Deli & Café has been around for three decades, always delivering food whose ingredients have never seen the inside of a freezer or plastic packaging. We believe the café’s longevity must be due in part to the falafel, which arrives looking more like the cousin of a burrito than a taco. With Sunrise’s version, eggplant and potatoes strain against the confines of lavash bread, with plenty of tahini and fresh tomatoes to balance all that carby goodness. Though the little balls of grain are always good, try to get them right out of the fryer, when they’re piping hot, crunchy but not greasy, and delicious. But if you do stop here, plan accordingly. You’ll want to arrive ravenous, or else risk quite the bellyache (because you won’t be able to stop eating until this falafel is gone). Have a heftier appetite? Round out your order with other entrees, sandwiches, salads, and dips, which you can enjoy at an inside table or take it all to go.

2115 Irving, SF. (415) 664-8210, sunrisedeli.net

THEATRE TOO CAFÉ


Waiting for falafel inside this Middle Eastern eatery is almost as enjoyable as eating it. The husband-and-wife owners trade quips and squabble lovingly as they prepare your gargantuan lavash wraps, adding a bit of levity along with greaseless chickpea balls and a blazingly spicy spread. (Expect even the "medium" spice to bring tears to your eyes.) If moving your meal seems too momentous a task, you can enjoy your falafel in the Internet loft or the more traditional seating area. Or, if you’re feeling ambitious, take your food to go. With a huge sandwich and a drink that cost less than $10, you should still have money left over for parking somewhere else.

539 Sutter, SF. (415) 392-4866

Appetite: Franziskaner Dunkelweisse, Swoonbeams, cider sauce, and more

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Appetite: Franziskaner Dunkelweisse, Swoonbeams, cider sauce, and more

Every week, Virginia Miller of personalized itinerary service and monthly food, drink, and travel newsletter, www.theperfectspotsf.com, shares foodie news, events, and deals. View the last installment here.

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Foreign Cinema

10/29 – Foreign Cinema’s Oktoberfest German-themed dinner
Get your lederhosen on… or at least be hosted by someone wearing theirs… at Foreign Cinema this Thursday. No, it’s not a German restaurant per se, but I’d trust most meals in the hands of chefs Gayle Pirie and John Clark. Their special Munich-style, three course dinner is $34.95, including one hearty beer, but is also available a la carte (along with the regular menu). Make reservations for the night, down Oktoberfest beers (a Weihenstephaner Festbier or Franziskaner Dunkelweisse) while eating beet and cucumber salad, wiener schnitzel with fried potatoes, and spiced apple cake with praline and cider sauce. Dreimal hoch (i.e. three cheers)!
Thu/29, 6-10pm
2534 Mission Street
415-648-7600
www.foreigncinema.com

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10/29 – Fair Trade Month celebrated at Samovar Tea Lounge
October is Fair Trade Month and downtown’s Samovar Tea Lounge commemorates with a Fair Trade Gala this Thursday. Fair trade speakers discuss the movement from all angles (that of the suppliers, certifiers, retailers, and farmers) with plenty of Q&A to answer your questions. On hand to sample as you join in the discussion are fair trade products from Alter Eco Olive, Frontier Herbs and Spices, La Yapa Quinoa, Tcho Chocolate, Swoonbeams Chocolate, and more, plus Samovar’s new line of Fair Trade Teas.
Thu/29, 7-9pm, $10
730 Howard Street
415-227-9400
www.samovarlife.com

Appetite: Cliff House hits 100, juicy “Appetite City”

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Appetite: Cliff House hits 100, juicy “Appetite City”

Every week, Virginia Miller of personalized itinerary service and monthly food, drink, and travel newsletter, www.theperfectspotsf.com, shares foodie news, events, and deals. View the last installment here.

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11/4 Cliff House Centennial Celebration
Cliff House is one of our San Francisco classics, surviving fires and decades with seaside dining over crashing waves and sunset vistas. In 1909, the third “fire-proof” incarnation was built by Adolph Sutro’s daughter, Dr. Emma Merritt, after the original two locations burnt to the ground. There have been numerous renovations, the last in 2004, two restaurants, the Bistro and more upscale Sutro’s, and George Morrone came on as chef for a time, raising menu offerings commensurate with the views.

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Cliff House’s centennial celebration is coming up on November 4. Though it does cost a lofty $175, there’s no other party quite like it. Benefiting Golden Gate National Parks Conservancy, there will be an intriguing auction of period ball gowns made from recycled Cliff House menus, memorabilia and photographs, by 3D designer, Mari O’Connor. Fashion buffs, check out sketches of the gowns representing various eras throughout the century – sure to be a highlight of the night.

While savoring hors d’oeuvres and cocktails, there’s a Beach Blanket Babylon performance, dancing to the Reinhardt Swing Band or a DJ in the Terrace Room, historical exhibits, with hosts, Gene Burns and John Rothmann, of KGO radio, and comedian, Bob Sarlatte.

If that’s too much money to swing, commemorate 100 years in the Bistro on Wednesday nights with a $19.09 three-course prix fixe, or Sutro’s $20.09 three-course lunch every Tuesday, through the end of 2009.
Wednesday, November 4
6:30pm
$175
1090 Point Lobos
415-386-3330
Vintage attire or black tie eveningwear
www.cliffhouse.com

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Oct. 28 — William Grimes talks about his latest book, “Appetite City”, at Omnivore Books
William Grimes is a former restaurant reviewer for the New York Times whose book, Straight Up or on the Rocks: The Story of the American Cocktail, ignited my passion for the history of the cocktail, leading to excessive reading on the subject afterwards. His knowledge of drink and food is both broad and deep. I’m eager to hear him talk about his latest, Appetite City: A Culinary History of New York, at Omnivore Books in Noe next Wednesday. The book covers the daring, multicultural past of New York’s food scene with Grimes’ impeccable historical writing and attention to detail, plus more than 100 photographs and rare menus. Food and restaurant lovers will find something of interest here – but arrive early enough to squeeze into Omnivore’s small space.
Wed/28, 6-7pm, free
3885A Cesar Chavez
415-282-4712
Omnivore Books

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