Friday Afternoon Laughs

How is it that people are becoming so oversensitive and increasingly rude at the same time?

"Do you have any food restrictions?"

When I get asked this at a restaurant, my answer is always "no, I eat everything." Which is largely true (these days, large seems to be the operative word, but I digress), since I would hate to miss anything, even if some components may be less desirable in the gastronomical scheme than others. At the risk of sounding [even more] horribly spoiled though, sometimes I am still tempted to think out loud:

1. Lobster

Almost always overcooked and frankly really boring, but it's expensive so it must be good.
No thanks.

2. Truffle oil

There is only word to describe this ingredient-- gross.
I would rather eat unadorned sodium alginate.

3. Lobster WITH truffle oil

4. Seared scallops

I doubt I will ever recover from being sick of this preparation.

5. Beef tenderloin

Might as well have a boneless skinless chicken breast; not much difference in flavor or texture.

Honorable Mention: Crab cakes (I have not seen this item included in anything but a bar menu in quite some time, but still, why would someone do this to something as wonderful as crab?)

Friday Morning Laughs

In the midst of a truly heinous week (two more work days left!), I appreciate anything that makes me chuckle, even in pathetic agreement.

Chef-Writers

I love reading Anthony Bourdain. He is sarcastic, funny, entertaining, and insightful-- what is not to like? I have never once thought I would really like to taste his cooking, but who cares?


I can tolerate reading Michael Ruhlman. Even if he were not constantly reminding you that he went to CIA and is formally trained as a chef, he is in fact quite erudite in the culinary arts and not a half-bad writer. Even though I do not feel that my life is incomplete for never experiencing his cooking, I would generally prefer to read his writing over listening to Andrew Knowlton or Toby Young.


The ones that make me shrink and feel insignificant are those who are incredible chefs AND also good writers. With what free time is Daniel Patterson able to create such masterful tasting menus at Coi and write pieces for publications like New York Times and San Francisco Magazine? While I have never been a huge fan of his cooking style, no one could dispute the chefly credentials of Grant Achatz. When he publishes a piece that is thoughtful, well-written, and entertaining, the refrain that runs through the back of my mind is That is really not fair.

I can crank out a decent motion for summary judgment; I cannot crank out anything more complicated than Eggs Benedict (and I cheat because I would never serve it unless accompanied, or rather distracted, by a bottle of good bubbly).

Restaurant Website Issues

1. Why must basic information like days and hours of operation be so difficult to find? A simple home page showing address, phone number, and hours may be pedestrian but also practical and helpful.
2. Why must there be so many graphics such that the site takes forever to load, particularly on mobile devices?
3. Can I please see a sample wine list, along with the sample menu, so that I can be prepared when I show up that the majority of the wine selections are priced above $100/bottle? Or worse, include only domestic wines?
4. I doubt that Thomas Keller, Michael Mina, or Wolfgang Puck will be expediting my dinner. Would it be so disillusioning to post an easily accessible bio of the person who might actually be doing that at a particular kitchen?
5. The cheesy music whose graphic I cannot immediately locate in order to turn the sound off is not only irritating, but makes it more likely that I will turn to alternative sites, like Yelp, to get restaurant information during the work day so that I am not announcing my potential dinner plans to the entire office.

More Reasons To Admire Those Who Toil in Restaurants

Alternate title for post:
Why I would drink [even more] excessively if I worked in a restaurant.

I recently had the opportunity to shadow a sommelier at a high-end restaurant during dinner service. Apart from confirming my belief that I would so be fired before the end of the shift if some restaurant were actually crazy or desperate enough to hire me, one thing that stands out starkly in my memory from that experience is how insignificant, dismissed, and non-human I felt around the diners. I have heard servers talk about feeling invisible, but that was not quite it. I was definitely visible, since people clearly saw me and asked me for things, but it was more of a benign lack of acknowledgement of my existence, coupled with an attitude of entitlement.

To illustrate, I was floored to read about diners complaining about servers and bussers trying to clear their plates when they are not finished eating. On the flip side, I have also heard complaints about plates not being cleared fast enough once people are done eating. Yet these are the same crazies who begrudge servers the measly 15% gratuity they deign to leave, after expecting their every desire to be fulfilled immediately, getting irritated if servers do not tell them enough about the food, if servers tell them too much about the food, if servers hover, if servers fail to apparate at their side the moment they want ___________. Do not even get me started on diners who decide to pop into a restaurant two minutes before closing and then get grouchy at being "rushed." How happy do you get when your boss gives you a project at 5pm on a Friday. Are lack of manners de rigueur for dining out these days?

Those would be front of the house issues. The kitchen has a whole other set of issues with which to contend. A recent episode of Top Chef Masters had the chef contestants preparing a meal for a vegetarian who does not eat dairy and has a gluten allergy. The following are some examples of actual conversations I have had with people at work trying to decide where or what to eat:

"I don't like poultry."
"What about turkey at Thanksgiving?"
"Fine, I like turkey and chicken, but nothing else."
"Rabbit tastes like chicken."
"No."

"I won't eat organs."
"You loved foie gras."
"That was before I found out it was liver."

"Indian sounds good, as long as I don't have to eat lamb."

"I don't like ground meat, except hamburgers."

"I can't eat cheese because I'm lactose intolerant." (Cheese does not contain lactose.)

"Sausages gross me out."
"What about hot dogs?"
"Hot dogs are okay."

"I want my steak well-done."

"I don't like raw fish."

"I don't like seafood."

"I eat everything. Except sweetbreads."

"I don't like spicy food."

"I put Tabasco on everything."

Feel like ripping your hair out yet? After training for years, accepting all kinds of abuse, and being paid pittance for most of your career, why would you subject your culinary creations to this type of audience. I am frankly surprised that chefs do not hack off one of their ears in frustration.

Flour + Water Missing Something

Flour + Water
2401 Harrison Street
San Francisco, CA 94110
(415) 826-7000
Chef Thomas McNaughton
Dinner nightly



Tried: August 2009

Scoring high with the critics early in the game is both impressive and certainly good for business. During an economic climate when many restaurants would kill to get even a half-full dining room on a weekend evening, there was already a long line of people spilling onto the street corner in front of Flour + Water at 5:30 p.m. on a Monday night, all vying for one of the cramped tables in the deliberately shabby-chic interior.

I have to admit I was definitely curious after it had garnered three stars from Michael Bauer of the San Francisco Chronicle. While I am not a huge fan of his dismissive and somewhat antiseptic writing style, the man does have a palate. In this instance, however, he raised my expectations way too high, and perhaps any new restaurant, no matter how talented the kitchen, was bound to fail to meet them under the circumstances.

Flour + Water does quite a decent margherita pizza, with the appropriate blistery crust, aromatic basil, and sweet tomatoes, without any of the underlying blandness that can mar this type of pizza if the pizzaiolo does not calibrate the balance exactly right. Plus, the fior di latte mozzarella was so delectable that I did not even miss mozzarella di buffala.

The rest of the menu, unfortunately, reminded me of a pretty girl who does not know how to use makeup or dress to complement her looks. The meaty Monterey Bay sardines, although nicely charred, were dry and underseasoned, not helped by the overpowering mint puree smeared on the plate as though it were an afterthought. The yellow cherry tomatoes and clump of undressed watercress on the side, while both beautiful and fresh ingredients in and of themselves, were similarly out of place, leaving the entire dish to taste minty, fishy, and undersalted.

The oxtail "terrine" was actually not a terrine at all but deep-fried croquettes filled with oxtail confit. The meat was exactly as tender as it should be, and the crispy fried exterior was satisfying to the point that I did not mind that it was a little burnt, but the odd sweet sauce with its slightly Asian flavor drizzled around the plate clashed with the seasoning of the oxtail "terrine," as well as with the shards of parmeggiano artfully placed around the arugula on which the croquettes were presented. The most frustrating part of the dish was the generous scattering of chanterelle mushrooms, one of my favorite ingredients, which were gritty. I still ate them, suffering through the unpleasant crunch of the grit against my teeth echoing through my head, in the same way that I refuse to stop eating oysters when less-expert shuckers leave pieces of shell in them.

I had heard so much about the hand-made pasta that I had to try one notwithstanding the slight disappointments of the other dishes. Each component of the thick spaghetti with butter beans and pancetta in a tomato sauce was prepared exactly right. The pancetta was rendered down to the point where the pieces were crispy yet retained their bacony-meatiness, the butter beans were soft and creamy, and the thick spaghetti were cooked to exactly the al dente texture I like, with that chewy tug reminiscent of good soba. Nonetheless, as a whole the dish looked and tasted like a slightly better rendition of something I might have at home on leftover night.

Sadly, if Bauer had given Flour + Water his standard two and half stars, I might have loved it.

In Search Of ...

A taste (and I mean, just a taste) of sublime, tender, juicy pastrami prepared by Chef de Cuisine J.P. Carmona as an amuse at the Iron Chef dinner at Manresa Restaurant a couple of months ago fired up my pastrami craving. Otherwise, I have found to date no place on the West Coast, in either Northern or Southern California, that matches the platonic ideal of the pastrami from Katz's Deli in Manhattan (although The Refuge in San Carlos probably comes closest, notwithstanding the mildly spongy texture and slight cinnamony flavor).

I have generally been so impressed with the artisan sandwiches and salads created by the crew at Kitchenette, a little catering outpost on the edge of San Francisco in an area that looks like a cleaned-up version of Thunderdome, that I purposely manufactured a reason to be in the City on the day they posted pastrami on the menu. Yet even Kitchenette's pastrami disappointed. Too chewy, too peppery, with the necessary interspersed fat layers gristly instead of melty.

I gave up and ordered pastrami from Katz's on line (more feasible than begging a Michelin two-star restaurant to make me a sandwich). It suffered a bit in transit, and probably the first and only time I would pay over $20 for a sandwich, but it assuaged my craving for the time being short of actually flying to New York. I am not quite that crazy yet.

Other cravings that all seem to require travel, some farther than others: ramen, burger, pizza, fried chicken.

Conversations with the Chef

Whenever possible, my favorite way to eat in a restaurant is "omakase," i.e., chef's choice. Of course, this generally only works in restaurants I have frequented previously, although it also works sometimes in places with open kitchens where the chef notices that I am eating everything not nailed down, or at least not faster than my fork, chopsticks, or fingers.

The best part of omakase dining is the opportunity to try something new or unusual, which might include something that the chef is excited about having recently created or something he enjoys eating himself (I am referring to the chefs I know, who happen to be male, so I am not intending to be sexist with this pronoun usage). Sometimes the chef is testing something out on me, which is flattering as well as fun. Sometimes the chef is showing off to remind me that his kitchen prowess is even greater than hitherto expected. Sometimes the chef is treating me to a taste of something extraordinary because he knows I am celebrating a special occasion (which can frankly be just eating at his restaurant).

The stressful part is when the chef comes by to say hello or checks in to see how I like a particular dish. I have just experienced an incredible expression of the chef's artistry. What words can I use to convey on the spot, at that moment in time, not only mesmerized by the flavors I had just experienced but also with whatever minimal literary skills I possess further impaired by the accompanying wine or sake, exactly how mindblowing the poached geoduck with ponzu and grated daikon was, how the flavor of the freshly shucked baby peas melted in my mouth with the white chocolate and mint, or how the pink, tender duck breast slices with their outlines of savory, melty, charred fat blended perfectly with the chewy, earthy and creamy farro risotto.

As highly descriptive words like "wonderful" or "delicious" escape from my mouth, I want to yell, do you have any idea how amazing this food is?

Thankfully for most of these chefs the answer is of course I do, you silly drunk person.

Places I've Eaten in Tokyo

**Places I would go back to eat
*Closed

Daiwa Sushi (cash only)
Harukiya (cash only)
Kagurazaka Ishikawa
Katsumaru (cash only ordering machine)
Motoyoshi
Motoyama Milk Bar
Nemuri-an (cash only)
La Rochelle
Rokusan-tei
Sukiyabashi Jiro (cash only)
Sushi Dai (cash only)
Sushi Isano (near Ebisu Garden)
Sushi Mizutani (cash only)
Tonki
UCC Cafe Plaza

** I had some difficulty making this decision for the places I tried in Tokyo-- for the opposite reason from the Lake Tahoe eateries. For some, where the hype and the actual experience were quite disparate, the election was quite easy. For others, I went back and forth because if it were not for the travel and expense involved, I would certainly have marked it among the italicized "Places I would go back to eat," except that in reality, I would likely not actually go back the next time I return to Tokyo because there are so many other places I would like to try (not sure when but still fun to daydream about) and frankly, there are less expensive places in the United States that I like better.

I need to learn to read Japanese. The most intriguing places have no English menus and no pictures or plastic food displays ...

Another Reason To Look Forward to Summer

Top Chef Masters coming in June. I can't help it; I'm addicted.

Anyone Tried Schwa?

Talk about nerve-wracking...

Places I've Eaten in Atlanta

Places I would go back to eat
*Closed



Colonnade
Holeman & Finch
MF Buckhead
Onyx
Restaurant Eugene

Ingredient Issues

I read an awful lot of complaints about people being sick of tuna tartare. What is rarely discussed in those complaints is the reason why so many tuna tartares are lackluster-- most places that offer the dish do not know how to treat the ingredient. From the hands of talented chefs, I would not mind eating tuna tartare everyday. For example, when Sarah Schafer was at Frisson, she offered a clean, beautiful tuna tartare with wasabi sorbet. Bruce Hill has always been a master of tuna tartare and his version offered at Picco, with shiso, soy, sesame, and Asian pear on crispy, chewy sushi-rice blini, is positively addictive. Even Sushi of Gari offers a tuna tartare sushi, with rice-flour deep fried wakame "chips" layered between the soy-sesame-sake marinated tuna on top and the rice "quenelle" underneath.

My main complaint these days though is not about tuna tartare. I know where to find the good ones, who I trust to prepare it, and to avoid the rest. My gripe today is about sweetbreads-- another ingredient whose popularity seems to be inversely proportional to the number of preparations executed well.

Don't get me wrong-- I am definitely happy not to see much of the gamey, not completely cleaned, brainey, undercooked variety anymore-- I have no interest in bidding for Andrew Zimmern's job. While I am happy to see sweetbreads offered on more restaurant menus, I am finding that the ubiquitousness of this one safe offal has resulted in most variations being bland and disappointing. Why is it that chefs who are so particular about everything else have no problems overcooking sweetbreads, turning them into essentially tasteless kernels of dessicated chicken nuggets, and then trying to hide the fact that it has been mistreated with lots of bacon (although I have to admit that one is not necessarily the worst strategy), layers of thick chicken-fried batter, or worst yet, some affected top shelf attempt at a sweet and sour sauce (do not even get me started on restaurants that still insist on trying to relive the Wolfgang Puck 80's).

Like with tuna tartare, I keep trying them, hoping someone would make them taste as good as they can be. Because when they are prepared well, they can be truly magnificent.

Frustrated With Top Chef

Does it seem that Top Chef should be more appropriately titled Top Caterer?

Do we really care how well the cheftestants prepare hors d'oeuvres on steam tables for 400 people? As if that Today Show bit was not bad enough-- are we really looking for the Next Food Network Star with Season 5?

Wondering if Food Network's ripoff, Chopped, will be any better. (Answer: No.)

I am still curious to see whether Fabio, Stefan, and Jamie can really cook. And not for a party of 800. Isn't that why Colicchio is doing Tuesdays with Tom, as opposed opening yet another Lettuce Entertain You type restaurant in Las Vegas or Houston or Atlantic City?

Lastly, how many contrived lines do you think Toby Young prepares in advance of each taping, hoping to come across as clever and/or funny, achieving neither?

"How Is Everything?"

I never know quite how to respond when servers sweep by to inquire how the food is. Most of the time, I assume the question is perfunctory, like the "how are you" question that people throw at each other in passing in elevators or hallways at the office. No one really expects a genuine answer to that question, but sometimes when servers ask and wait as though they are looking for a real response, I fall into the trap of answering. Call me Charlie Brown.

In my profession, when I can give specific criticism, that means the work product I received is not bad, possibly even quite good in the overall scheme of things. When the work product is in a condition that I cannot identify specifics to fix but instead just need to take the whole thing back and redo it, that is when things are truly problematic. So when my answer to the server's question is "fine," and I'm pushing food around on my plate, it is not good, but what am I going to say? Your food sucks, and I can't even begin to explain everything that is wrong with it? So I don't bother and instead say "fine." Then they walk away, and so do I.

Every once in a while, I end up answering honestly, but then almost always regret it as soon as the words, "the ___ was underseasoned," or "this combination doesn't really work for me," tumble out of my mouth. I may think I'm providing feedback that is being requested, but then I see the look of panic cross the server's face that reads, oh crap, they hate it so we need to replace it, comp it, give them something else, or comp dessert, or some variation thereof-- none of which I want. For the most part, the only time I answer substantively to the question, "how is it," is when I think 90% is good, but it could be better.

From the server's perspective, I can certainly appreciate that their sole objective is to make a seemingly unhappy customer happy, but it is never my intent to make people jump through hoops. I tend to ask if I want something fixed and I believe there is someone capable of fixing it for me. But I also understand that servers have to deal with the quandry of people who secretly want something else but will insist otherwise while continuing to complain (something I have never understood).

So what happens in my case? I tell the server, "the pasta is a little overcooked," in response to his or her question. The server freaks out and offers to give me something else. The manager or front-of-the-house (or sometimes even the chef, eek) comes over to try to "fix the problem." I say no, that's fine, I don't want anything else, things were generally great, I was just answering a question honestly. They don't believe me and give me a free dessert, which I am too full to eat, but I now feel guilty so I try to eat as much as I can (and not say anything about the fact that the dessert is really not chocolate panna cotta as described, but more like a somewhat clunky chocolate pudding trifle). And then I proceed to grossly overtip because I still feel guilty (e.g., $35 on a $90 check). Because for the most part, I really did enjoy my meal; I just thought it could have been better because the kitchen is clearly talented.

You would think I would have learned to keep my mouth shut. "Does this make me look fat?" No, honey, absolutely not. You look fine.

The Magnificent Seven

Among the chefs who continually impress and inspire:

Jeremy Fox: Such a bad ass that he doesn't even need protein to impress diners with his culinary prowess.

David Kinch: Such a bad ass that he can open a restaurant where he wants to live so that people come to him to experience his two Michelin star fare (he deserves all three).

Johnny Monis: Such a bad ass that he does all tasting menus all the time in his matchbox kitchen and is named in Food & Wine's Hall of Fame Chefs (rightly so) only one year after he is named among the Best New Chefs, all at the ripe old age of 28.

Sang Yoon: Such a bad ass that he serves food the way he wants, no substitutions, no modifications, take it or leave it.

Dennis Leary: Such a bad ass that he himself is cooking breakfast, lunch, and dinner in his two restaurants, with no investors to tell him what to do.

Sam Sugiyama: Such a bad ass that at age 60+, he works alongside his cooks every lunch and dinner, running effectively two restaurants in one, with modern ginza-style omakase sushi behind the scenes and a dragon roll/spicy tuna hellish extragavanza in the main dining room.

Sotohiro Kosugi: Such a bad ass that he can transplant his restaurant from Atlanta to Manhattan without missing a beat. If you want unforgettable Japanese cuisine but lack the net worth to splurge on Masa's, head down to the village and experience the most sublime and authentic fare of all time.

What these bad-ass chefs have in common:
They are all in their kitchens, touching, tasting, and/or seeing the plates that go out. Thank goodness for their obsessive-compulsive tendencies.

Omnivore's 100

See Becks & Posh (citing Very Good Taste)

According to the instructions, I am supposed to bold the items eaten and cross out any items I would never consider eating. For clarity, however, I have indicated yes or no next to the items, and I am not crossing anything off, as I am willing to try anything once.

1. Venison: yes (as well as venison jerky and venison sausage)
2. Nettle tea: nettle yes; nettle tea no
3. Huevos rancheros: yes
4. Steak tartare: yes
5. Crocodile: yes
6. Black pudding: yes
7. Cheese fondue: yes
8. Carp: yes
9. Borscht: I believe I have
10. Baba ghanoush: I believe I have
11. Calamari: yes
12. Pho: yes
13. PB&J sandwich: yes
14. Aloo gobi: I believe I have
15. Hot dog from a street cart: yes
16. Epoisses: yes
17. Black truffle: yes
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes: yes (olallieberry and pineapple, but not together)
19. Steamed pork buns: yes
20. Pistachio ice cream: yes
21. Heirloom tomatoes: yes
22. Fresh wild berries: yes
23. Foie gras: yes (for as long as possible)
24. Rice and beans: yes
25. Brawn or head cheese: yes
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper: no
27. Dulce de leche: yes
28. Oysters: yes
29. Baklava: yes
30. Bagna cauda: I believe I have
31. Wasabi peas: yes
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl: yes
33. Salted lassi: I believe I have
34. Sauerkraut: yes
35. Root beer float: yes
36. Cognac with a fat cigar: cognac yes; fat cigar yes; but together not sure (prefer scotch with cigar)
37. Clotted cream tea: no
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O: yes (but not past the age of twenty-one)
39. Gumbo: yes
40. Oxtail: yes
41. Curried goat: curry yes; goat yes; curried goat no
42. Whole insects: yes (but I did not know what they were at the time; I thought they were some type of roasted nuts)
43. Phaal: I believe I have
44. Goat’s milk: as an ingredient yes; straight no
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more: yes
46. Fugu: no (sadly now illegal to import into United States)
47. Chicken tikka masala: yes
48. Eel: yes
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut: yes
50. Sea urchin: yes
51. Prickly pear: yes
52. Umeboshi: yes
53. Abalone: yes
54. Paneer: no
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal: yes
56. Spaetzle: yes
57. Dirty gin martini: yes (but prefer martini with twist)
58. Beer above 8% ABV (alcohol by volume): I believe I have
59. Poutine: yes
60. Carob chips: yes
61. S’mores: yes
62. Sweetbreads: yes
63. Kaolin: no
64. Currywurst: yes
65. Durian: yes
66. Frogs’ legs: yes
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake: yes; yes; no; yes
68. Haggis: yes
69. Fried plantain: plantain yes; deep-fried no
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette: I am not sure (not opposed to any offal, particularly in sausage form, but no specific recollection of chitterlings)
71. Gazpacho: yes
72. Caviar and blini: yes (separately and together)
73. Louche absinthe: no
74. Gjetost, or brunost: no
75. Roadkill: ?? What constitutes roadkill? I suppose I have never scooped up roadkill and eaten it, so no
76. Baijiu: yes
77. Hostess Fruit Pie: yes
78. Snail: yes
79. Lapsang souchong: yes
80. Bellini: yes
81. Tom yum: yes
82. Eggs Benedict: yes
83. Pocky: yes
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant: yes
85. Kobe beef: yes
86. Hare: rabbit yes; hare no
87. Goulash: I believe I have
88. Flowers: yes
89. Horse: no
90. Criollo chocolate: no
91. Spam: yes
92. Soft shell crab: yes
93. Rose harissa: harissa yes; rose harissa no
94. Catfish: yes
95. Mole poblano: yes
96. Bagel and lox: yes
97. Lobster Thermidor: yes
98. Polenta: yes
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee: yes
100. Snake: yes

The Oscars of Food?

The results of the James Beard Foundation Awards for 2008 were announced earlier this week. Some observations on what I found to be surprise winners:

Central Michel Richard got Best New Restaurant. While I have tremendous respect for the big man himself (who I think does food tricks better than Grant Achatz and Jose Andres when he is not phoning it in) and the burger and "Kit Kat" dessert are indeed quite clever and tasty, I cannot imagine that this is actually the best new restaurant that opened in 2007, regardless of the fact that it is markedly better than Citronelle (among my picks for the Emperor Has No Clothes Award, not an official JBF category).

Terra won Outstanding Service. I love the food at Terra, and it remains one of my favorite restaurants consistently for the past decade, but best service? Maybe best casual service, but this one was a head scratcher. Per Se definitely. Jean-Georges of course. Masa's in San Francisco. Charlie Trotter's in Chicago. Not that service at Terra falls short in any way, just not something that comes to mind when I think of Terra. The fried oysters with pork belly, on the other hand, absolutely.

Craig Stoll of Delfina won for Best Chef Pacific over David Kinch of Manresa. Delfina is well-conceived and well-articulated comfort food, but not in the same league as Manresa, which more appropriately belongs in the French Laundry/Jean-Georges/Charlie Trotter's category.

The biggest shocker was in the Rising Star Chef category. My favorite chef of all time (because of his complete crazy obsessiveness, innovation, diligence, and creativity), Johnny Monis, was edged out by Gavin Kaysen. Not to take anything away from the team at Cafe Boulud, but were you impressed with Kaysen's showing on Next Iron Chef? (It was not materially better at Cafe Boulud).

F.O...

Father's Office
1018 Montana Avenue
Santa Monica, CA 90403
(310) 393-2337

3229 Helms Avenue
Culver City, CA 90034
(310) 736-2224

Chef Sang Yoon
Evenings only Monday through Friday
Open at Noon on weekends
(No reservations; no table service)



Last tried: June 2009
Previously tried: May 2008

Whenever I hear the claim "best burger" uttered, it is almost always a hyperbole that is bound to disappoint, to the point where the concept of the "best burger" has become almost as mythical as leprechaun gold at the end of a rainbow. With the Office Burger at Father's Office in Santa Monica, however, I have hit the jackpot.

Juicy ground beef-- and I mean juicy, with glistening meat juice droplets visible with each bite-- on a chewy roll, smothered with a bacon-onion compote, caramelized to the point where it looks like thick dark fudge, and topped with a surprisingly mild and delicate yet rich combination of melted gruyere and Maytag blue cheese, accented by vibrantly green fresh baby arugula. This burger is absolutely to die for and completely deserving of the title of "Best Burger." I first heard about this burger on Daniel Boulud's television series, After Hours, and no offense to the great chef's legendary foie gras stuffed burger at db Bistro Moderne, the Office Burger wins hands down.

One minor thing I found curious is that Chef Sang Yoon, creator of this mind-blowing burger, does not mandate how the burger should be cooked. The place is well known for its no substitutions policy. After tasting the Office Burger, I can see why he permits no permutations (so people with dairy issues are either flat out of luck or have to deal with their own digestive consequences later). I tend to like opinionated chefs who know what they are talking about, especially so dead on, so the FO policy did not bother me, but I did find it curious that the same dictatorial policy does not apply to how the burgers are cooked.

As to other dishes, I tried the grilled asparagus with crispy serrano ham and crumbled hard-boiled egg in a sherry reduction. The sauce was a shade too sweet for my taste, but it did balance out the saltiness of the fried bacony ham and creaminess of the egg with parmesan shavings. The asparagus had great flavor, brought out by the perfect grilling, but the thick variety would have worked better instead of the pencils, which became a bit lost under all of the other elements of the dish.

Do not miss the matchstick fries with garlicy aioli to complement the phenomenal burger (not dried and crunchy like most matchsticks but crisply thin with soft fluffy potato innards). No ketchup or salt anywhere, but trust me, you will not need or miss them. In addition, although I personally prefer wine with my burger (a dry rose works really well with the Office Burger), there are over 30 different artisanal beers available on tap, and the servers/bartenders double as beer sommeliers. At 4pm on Friday, there was a line down the block waiting for the doors to open. I see why people would drive over twenty miles across Los Angeles, fighting the traffic and the crowds, to get a taste of this burger.