A Certain Je Ne Sais Coi

373 Broadway Street
San Francisco, CA 94133
(415)393-9000
Chef Daniel Patterson (formerly Elisabeth Daniel)
Dinner Tuesday through Saturday

Last tried: January 2007



Previously tried: May 2006

Daniel Patterson caused quite a stir at the end of last year with his article in the New York Times about the perceived provinciality of San Francisco restaurants. Whether you agree with his opinion or not, many people viewed his article as throwing down the gauntlet. With Coi, Chef Patterson put his money where his pen is. While I am not sure that he has necessarily taken culinary innovation to the next level, the style of Coi is certainly more akin to Winterland and Manresa than Boulevard or Bistro Fill-in-the-blank. What I am sure of is that Coi is a delicious and welcome addition to the Bay Area food scene. Welcome back, Chef Patterson.

The decor is rather minimalist in both the spacious lounge area and the intimate rectangular interior dining room, with a color palette of grey, brown, and beige tones. The only bit of bright color is in the large flower arrangement at the far end of the windowless dining room. The overhead lighting is diffused by brown rice paper covering the ceiling, and votive candles floating in wood blocks are placed on each table, casting a flattering warm glow over each table. Creamy beige Frette linen and ceramic holloware imported from Japan complete the table ensemble. The framed black and white photographs on the wall are actually MRI's (magnetic resonance imaging) of corn, onion, and various fruit.

Coi's menu offers two options: a ten-course tasting menu at $105 per person or a four-course menu (with three or four selections for each course) at $75 per person, which includes an 18% service charge (basically equivalent to approximately $90 for tasting menu and $65 for the four-course menu before tip). The tasting menu is not required to be ordered by the entire table, and the kitchen is also flexible in substituting items between the tasting menu and the four-course menu. On my last visit, our dining party ended up ordering the entire menu, with only one person having the tasting menu. I was quite happy at how adaptable and accommodating the kitchen was, without sacrificing quality. I would note, however, that the tasting menu is more refined and better articulated in terms of conveying the delicate flavors of Patterson's offerings.

To start, the kitchen sent out an amuse of finely diced celery root and fennel doused in a champagne vinaigrette, presented in single-serving spoons whose circular handles created a support to allow the spoons to be free-standing. The tart, crunchy and cold vegetable mixture was almost sorbet-like and very refreshing. The second amuse was a chilled foamy carrot soup with a hint of lemongrass and cilantro, with bits of pickled mango and strands of glass noodles hidden at the bottom of the bowl. The sweet scent of the carrots intermingling with the Thai spices was as enchanting as the taste.

The first official course of the tasting menu was one of the most impressive flavor and texture combinations I have experienced. A forkful of bone marrow was sauteed and topped with a spoonful of pearly grey California osetra caviar, accompanied by a quenelle of cold pureed beets. The bone marrow was crisp and golden outside as though it had been tempura-fried and rich and buttery inside, highlighted by the salty caviar and the sweet beets. This well-articulated combination of hot, cold, sweet, savory, creamy, and crispy in a single dish was powerful.

The next course, raw scallops with shaved curls of ripe avocado, edible purple pansies, and razor thin radish disks, sprinkled with sel gris, was also quite a nice flavor combination, not to mention beautiful in appearance. The meyer lemon and olive oil on the bottom of the plate provided just enough seasoning without overpowering the delicate scallops. The only problem with this lovely dish was that the scallops were just slightly past their ideal stage of freshness. While freshness is critical for any crudo, scallops are particularly persnickety in that regard.

Patterson returned to batting a hundred with the asparagus salad. I was astounded by how fresh and perfectly cooked-- I mean exactly, perfectly, not a millisecond too soon or too late-- the thick asparagus spears were. With crumbled pieces of creamy hard-boiled egg and bits of crunchy, buttery levain croutons scattered on the top and a creamy swirl of pale green sauce ravigote (veloute with chives and tarragon) encircling the plate, this simple dish was breathtakingly good. The crispy pig's feet that followed was just as successful. The shredded pig's feet was meaty and chewy, almost like carnitas, inside a golden-brown panko-crusted exterior, placed on a bed of whipped yukon gold potatoes. The frisee lettuce dotted with bacon vinaigrette on the side was simultaneously rich and refreshing, with the bits of pancetta in the dressing echoing the bacony flavor of the pigs' feet.

As a thoughtful counterpoint to the richness of the previous dishes, the next course was a small bowl of chilled pea puree soup containing fresh peas and a scoop of ricotta sorbet. The sweet-sour flavor of the ricotta came through clearly in this refreshing soup like a soprano melody, and the spike of lime and mint flavors in the puree added to the sparkling freshness. Until I tasted the sweet and crunchy fresh peas interspersed in the soup, I never realized how much I love peas. (The tasting menu portion of the soup is perfect; in the larger serving size in the four-course menu, even these stunning flavors grew a bit weary.)

The last seafood dish was a rectangle of sauteed sea bream, with perfectly salty crisp skin and moist white fish underneath, resting on a slice of tender pork belly on top of a bed of braised lettuce in a saffron citrus sauce with cubeba oil. The sea bream and the pork belly worked well together, each complementing the flavors of the other meat, and the braised lettuce was surprisingly very flavorful and vibrant. I would have expected braised lettuce to simply wilt and die, or at the very least, be overpowered by the fish and the pork. I was wrong on all counts. This simple yet unexpectedly tasty fish dish transitioned to the final savory course, steamed lamb roll with braised artichoke hearts, charred cipollini onions, and lavender-lamb jus. Like Patterson's other dishes, this lamb dish combined different textures, flavors, and scents to create a multi-sense taste experience.

From the four-course menu, the roasted monkfish in a light yuzu sauce with Chinese broccoli was exceptional. Monkfish is notoriously difficult to prepare, and I usually refrain from ordering it because I dislike the overly chewy texture that often results. The monkfish preparation at Coi tasted like perfectly prepared sweetbread, with the yuzu providing a pleasant tangy, zesty accent as well as a citrus scent. The coriander-crusted duck breast with huckleberry-black olive emulsion was rich and satisfying, but I found the duck to be a bit too tough. The only dish that did not live up to the level of the rest of the menu offerings was the wild mushroom cracked wheat risotto topped with ramp foam. It seemed that because the cracked wheat is naturally tougher and more substantial than arborio rice, the risotto had to be cooked for longer, but instead of getting rid of the toughness, it merely became sort of mushy and chewy at the same time. Although the ramp foam and the mushrooms were both beautiful when tasted alone, these elegant flavors got lost when combined with the rest of the risotto.

Among the desserts, my favorites were the meyer lemon meringue pie with graham cracker crust and a side of celery sorbet, and the medjool date terrine with Vietnamese coffee ice cream. In keeping with the rest of the menu, these desserts were unique yet delicious. I could clearly taste celery in the sorbet but the strong flavor worked quite well in a sweet dessert formulation, and complemented the lemon meringue. The rich medjool date terrine almost tasted chocolately without the overwhelming heaviness that a chocolate dessert can sometimes leave behind. In fact, I preferred it to the actual chocolate tart, which I felt was incongruous with the tamarind gelee although the smoked yogurt sauce was certainly interesting.

The area where Coi could use improvement is service. There are not very many tables yet the servers seemed confused and lost. Although friendly and solicitous, their insecurity and nervousness were palpable as they tentatively served the courses, working to remember the components of the dishes being served, and seemed generally unable to strike a balance between being hovering or absent. The only person confident in his knowledge and expertise was the wine director, Paul Costigan. Yet, despite his casual demeanor, even he seemed overextended at times in trying to coordinate the front of the house and oversee the somewhat inexperienced staff.

Overall, my experiences at Coi were quite gratifying, even after just a couple of months of opening. The restaurant atmosphere and Patterson's cuisine are sophisticated, modern, and very appealing. I would not be at all surprised to see Coi join the ranks of destination restaurants in San Francisco where reservations are sadly difficult to obtain.

Missing Craft

43 East 19th Street
New York, New York
(212)780-0880
Chef Tom Colicchio
Chef de Cuisine Damon Wise
Dinner nightly



Tried: May 2006

Like the rest of country, I have been religiously following Top Chef on Bravo, and I was quite excited to try Craft. The restaurant is beautifully appointed with tan leather panels on the walls, dark yellow filament bulb lamps hanging from high ceilings, and an entire length of the wall from the lounge area through the dining room displaying wine racks. The sophisticated low lighting is flattering to everyone without being overly dark, adding to the sexy and modern atmosphere. The dark wood tables in the dining room are all extra large to accommodate family style dining, with sliding drawers on the side covered in felt for servers to use for support in displaying and opening wine bottles.

With such a large wine storage facility right in the restaurant, I had expected the wine selections to be extensive. While the wine list was sufficiently hefty, it was one of those lists where I had a difficult time finding wines under $100 a bottle (and no half bottle selections). While I appreciate the cachet of an illustrious and pricey wine list, I have no desire to blow through my credit card limit just for dinner. I found this particularly surprising given that Craft is supposed to be family style dining, albeit elite family style dining with roast chicken for $28 and sirloin for $50, a la carte.

Which brings me to the menu. Everything is a la carte. Not just appetizer, entree and dessert but every side dish as well. I dine out quite frequently. I also cook when I have time. But since I am not a professional cook, I was not crazy about having to assemble every component of my meal. Part of what I look forward to in going to a restaurant is to see how a chef puts a dish or tasting menu together. I would rather not have to figure out which mushrooms, vegetables, potatoes, grains, or pasta would go with which fish, shellfish, or meat, and then to figure out whether they should be roasted, sauteed, or braised. I felt like I was shopping for an outfit as opposed to ordering a meal (and I hate shopping-- after twenty minutes, I get a headache and need a drink). I was, however, quite happy to receive a tasty amuse of hanger steak tartare with jalapeno and citrus served in a Chinese soup spoon while I studied the possibilities.

Conceptual difficulties aside, our dining party finally selected a series of appetizers, entrees, side dishes, and wine. Half a dozen oysters of different varieties was an easy and successful starter. They were fresh, plump, and briny, with the mignonette sauce lending just the right amount of piquant acid. The marinated Peruvian octopus, served on a bed of soft and buttery circles of fingerling potatoes, was also fantastic, with the charred suction cups adding great flavor to the tender and not too chewy bite-sized tentacles. The yellowfin tuna tartare, however, was sufficiently past its prime that not even the toasted garlic and pepper crust could hide the fishiness, and the quenelle of chopped tuna mixed with scallions on the side was even more fishy. The mayonnaise sauce served with the tuna was so dissonant that it seemed like it was plated on the wrong dish. The hamachi, although slightly fresher than the tuna, was still quite chewy in texture, and the stringy sinew of the fish had not been removed before serving, making this delicate fish as tough to cut as steak. The Tasmanian sea trout was probably the freshest among the three fish appetizers, but I could not really taste it underneath the aggressive pepper and thick layer of chopped chives and less than ideally fresh trout roe covering the fish. The last appetizer we had, the Maine diver scallops, were actually fresh, but again, their delicate flavor was drowned by the mound of toasted garlic chips and peppercorns thickly spread on top.

Things improved with the entrees. The roasted loup de mer was delicate and flaky with crispy skin, and presented very simply, highlighting the flavor of the fish. The 21-day dry aged Porterhouse for two was exactly the kind of rich, melt-in-your-mouth marbled meat that I crave in a good steak. It was served in a large copper pot, with the meat pre-sliced by the kitchen yet still left just barely attached to the T-bone, allowing easy access for sharing. The roasted branch of rosemary on top still gave off a faint herbal scent, and the glistening fat that had melted during roasting clung to my knife and fork as I easily sliced off a forkful of the tender pink-red meat with smoky black char on the edge. The only thing that was not perfect on this dish was the jus which had an oddly sweet barbecue spicing that was incongrous with the flavor of the beef. The Porterhouse is probably ample enough for three or even possibly four people, but then some of you may fight over the bone marrow. The dish comes with two large bones generously filled with that glorious meat butter. If I ate nothing else that night but the bone marrow (which was perfectly salted to bring out maximum richness and flavor), I would have been happy.

Among the side dishes, the roasted hen of the woods mushrooms were the clear winner. The flavors were clean yet earthy and intense, and the texture was perfect. Although the braised local ramps were also appetizing, all I really tasted were garlic and butter. The potato gratin had a nicely browned top but the inside was lumpy and curdled. I was least excited by the bacon and egg risotto, which tasted like overcooked rice mixed with bacon fat.

To conclude the meal, we had a selection of cheeses: Hoja Santa (goat cheese from Houston, Texas), Evora (sheep cheese from Setubal, Portugal), Idiazabal (sheep cheese from Basque, Spain), Sechon de Pays from the Rhone Alps, Mountain gorgonzola from Lombardy, Italy, and Cabrales (combination goat, sheep, cow cheese from Asturias, Spain). We also received a dessert amuse of a shotglass filled with white chocolate panna cotta topped with a thin layer of rhubarb jelly. The panna cotta was a bit jello-y in consistency and difficult to spoon out of the shotglass but the flavors were quite scrumptious.

I learned later that the week of my visit coincided with the opening of Craftsteak in New York. Although I could see the possibilities of Craft and there were definite moments of brilliance, I do not know that the demanding and picky Tom Colicchio I have seen on Top Chef would have been entirely happy with all aspects of this dining experience.

Perfection Per Se

10 Columbus Circle, 4th Floor
New York, NY 10019
(212)823-9335
Chef Thomas Keller
Chef de Cuisine Jonathan Benno
Lunch Friday through Sunday
Dinner nightly
Jackets required



Tried: May 2006

Per Se is dining nirvana. The statement by one of the servers in response to a question I had posed about the menu sums up the entire experience: "You can have whatever you want here." Between the captain, the sommelier, server, and runners dedicated to each table (every one of them knowledgeable about each dish), with the captain overseeing and orchestrating the entire experience, everything at Per Se-- from the decor, service, pacing, wine, surrealistically amazing food, to even the restrooms-- was the platonic ideal of a dining experience. From the moment we stepped into the restaurant until we exited the doorway several hours later, we were completely cosseted in ultimate dining luxury. I am not sure how Thomas Keller is able to dine in any other restaurant, given his demand for and achievement of absolute perfection in his own.

On this visit, Chef Keller was personally in the kitchen at Per Se, and we were informed that he comes to the restaurant at least once a month. So that he could monitor the kitchen at the French Laundry from the kitchen at Per Se and vice versa, there is a large, flat-screen television mounted above the expediting table with a constant video feed between the restaurants. This obsessive attention to detail is not only apparent in every single dish (presented on houndstooth-patterned white china personally designed by Thomas Keller, which matches the houndstooth pattern on the personally designed tablecloths), but in smaller details such as the unobstrusive small cushioned stools provided for purses, which during my visit also served as a toy stand for a diner who had his young son with him.

Whereas the French Laundry, housed in a stone cottage in Napa Valley with a garden outside, looks and feels like someone's country estate, Per Se could only be located in Manhattan. The restaurant is quite formal, with plush upholstery, marble finishes, and tinted glass wine cellar visible in the foyer by the restrooms, which are also replete with marble (and outfitted with individual sinks next to the toilets in large private rooms in lieu of stalls). The enormous picture windows, visible from every table, provide an impressive view over Central Park and the New York City skyline.

The first amuse was the famous salmon tartare "ice cream" cone, which was as delightful and delicious as when I first encountered it at the French Laundry six or seven years ago. A classic is a classic, and I was happy to see it as a sign of the beautiful meal to follow. The second amuse was a tangy and fluffy gougere, which transitioned smoothly into the first courses of cauliflower panna cotta with caviar and sauteed glass eels on a brioche round. The creamy, almost white custard of the cauliflower panna cotta was served in a small bowl with a clear oyster glaze on top, reminiscent of a chilled version of Japanese chowan mushi, highlighting the generous mound of fresh and briny sevruga caviar on top. The sauteed glass eels in the second dish looked like short strands of silvery angel hair pasta and had the same consistency but with a slight oceany taste, completed by the miniature dice of oven-roasted tomatoes, celery branch, and nicoise olives. The buttery brioche round underneath the vegetables and eels was still crispy despite being bathed in the tangy vinaigrette made with Cepa Vieja sherry vinegar.

The Bijin daiginjo sake and 1996 Laurent-Perrier Brut both matched well with each of these first courses. I was particularly pleased with the pages and pages of half bottles on Per Se's wine list, and indulged in some personal wine pairing, with the help of Sommelier Jeff Eichelberger and also the captain overseeing our table. In addition to the flexibility offered by the extensive half bottle selections and wines by the glass, I noted that unlike many other restaurants of this caliber, Per Se's wine list actually had a number of bottles that would not send a diner into bankruptcy. I could have spent hours just perusing and daydreaming about the wines on that list, but the restaurant also allows diners to bring in their own at $90 per 750 ml corkage, with a 3-bottle limit.

For the second courses, our table had the hearts of palm salad, mascarpone-fava bean agnolotti, roasted sweetbread, and foie gras torchon. It is undisputed that Chef Keller excels in all aspects of fine dining, but what I particularly appreciated is his acute sensibility for contrasting flavors and textures. The fresh and sweet hearts of palm were tender yet crunchy to the bite, and dressed with glistening transparent-gold yuzu gelee, candied peanuts, and vibrantly green and white young bok choy. A stripe of barrel-aged tamari glaze which tasted like savory caramel sauce was streaked across the plate, adding exactly the right amount of salty intensity as well as a striking visual accent. The pale green filling of mascarpone and pureed fava beans inside the al dente agnolotti was rich and sweet, augmented by the surrounding sauce of farm butter and pignoli oil that was reminiscent of hollandaise sauce. The fresh and slightly crunchy fava beans surrounding the pasta, the chewy saltiness of the accompanying pancetta, and the minty spice of the fresh shreds of basil leaves on top balanced out the richness of the dish. The third dish, bite-size morsels of creamy herb-roasted sweetbreads, came with caramelized Belgian endive adding a bit of pleasant bitterness, softened by the sweetness of Asian pear matchsticks, all tied together in a shallow pool of licorice-veal broth. Last but not least, the torchon of Moulard duck foie gras was thick, pink, and creamy. Accompanied by a relish of sweet and tangy mango and papaya, crispy ginger, and pickled sweet ramps and accented with baby basil microgreens, it could have been dessert.

For the seafood courses, we had crispy skin Australian Barramundi, Japanese Medai, and Scottish langoustines. A barely visible dusting of chili powder on the side of the plate next to the crisped Barramundi provided a delicate kick of spice that echoed the meyer lemon-piquillo pepper vinaigrette accompanying the dish. The tender and flavorful artichokes and mildly bitter wilted arugula added different layers of texture and taste. Among the seafood selections, I was probably least enamored of the Medai, which had the neutral flavor and somewhat stiff texture of swordfish, but the tomato-saffron sauce infused with tiny calamari squares, fennel bulb, and rose finn potatoes were delectable. The langoustines, prepared a la plancha, were served with caramelized romaine hearts, red radish chunks, julienned white radishes, and to-die-for truffle beurre blanc. Again, I noted with pleasure the counterpoint of the slightly bitter and crunchy white radishes and the sweetness of the red radishes and caramelized lettuce against the richness of the lobster-like meat of the Scottish langoustines and the earthy truffle beurre blanc.

The final savory courses consisted of young rabbit rillettes, squab breast with seared Hudson Valley foie gras, and beef tenderloin. The rabbit came with shredded ribbons of orange carrots, cubes of yellow heirloom carrots, and fresh English peas, all bathed in a warm and soothing rabbit jus and decorated with pea shoot microgreens. The dish tasted like springtime with the sweet vegetables and the savory yet delicate rabbit rillettes and jus. Next we had the breast of squab topped with a generous slice of seared Hudson Valley foie gras, accompanied by a mixture of young green almonds, mizuna (Japanese mustard greens), and ortanique supremes. The sliced almonds were the palest shade of green with a clear, gelee like center, and tasted like a milder version of honeydew melon. The ortanique supremes looked and tasted like tiny tapioca-like beads infused with orange flavor. My only criticism of this spectacular dish was that the incredibly unique flavor of the green almonds were lost when eaten together with the squab, the foie gras, or with the squab reduction. The last dish, Snake River Farms beef tenderloin with Bordelaise sauce was the ideal ending for the savory dishes. Of course it was cooked perfectly medium rare without any part of meat looking gelatinous (too rare) or grey (too well) but again the highlights were the accompaniments beginning with the light dusting of dried mushrooms on the plate, risolee of fingerling potatoes, morel mushrooms, and fava beans, and the evil genius of fried bone marrow topping the beef.

Even the cheese course involved an elaborate production. The cabra romero, a semi-hard goat cheese that tasted like a cross between gruyere and parmesan, was served with a confit of spring garlic, English cucumber, picholine olives, sweet red onion and vine-ripened tomatoes, with a drizzle of parsley infused olive oil and topped with micro cilantro. The cayuga blue, an incredibly pungent soft goat's milk blue cheese, was served with white wine poached Granny Smith apples and cherry-pepper shortbread.

A note about Per Se's vegetarian menu: when restaurants offer a vegetarian tasting menu, I am impressed but rarely tempted enough to order it. Although I still ended up going with the meat-incorporated tasting menu at Per Se, I have never before been so drawn to a vegetarian menu, and I did order one item from that menu-- the "toad in the hole," a sunny-side up quail egg inside a toasted brioche, served with white asparagus. It was as rich and tasty as Eggs Benedict. Here is a further sampling of what was being offered on the vegetarian menu that day (the menu at Per Se changes daily): degustation of early summer melons with hearts of palm, risotto with sugar snap peas, herb-roasted hen of the woods mushroom with creamed ramp tops au gratin and potato gaufrettes, valrhona chocolate brownie with pistachio crumble.

By the time the desserts arrived, I nearly raised a white flag but was glad to power through. The sorbet courses included a banana sorbet with caramel genoise, mascavado gelee, candied pecans, and pecan soup, and a pineapple sorbet with candied pineapple pieces, rum cake, and hibiscus foam. Each table also received the famous semifreddo "coffee and doughnuts" as a sort of dessert amuse. To close, we had a series of chocolate desserts: brioche and chocolate with mascarpone sorbet and chocolate tart with lemongrass ice cream and candied lemon bits that looked like pieces of crushed ice.

Some additional minor observations: Lately, every restaurant seems to offer butter sprinkled with maldon salt. Although I like the taste, I always found the crunchiness of the salt grains disquieting and unpleasant against my teeth. At Per Se, two types of butter were served with the bread-- a sweet butter from the West Coast and a salty butter from Vermont. The salty butter was yellow-orange in color and had almost a mild cheddar cheese flavor but without any crunchy salt grains anywhere to disturb the creamy texture. And of course my personal idiosyncracy-- used napkins were replaced with fresh ones when diners left the table, rather than refolding soiled napkins.

At $210 per person, before wine (but with service included), this level of dining definitely does not come cheap. Yet I left feeling that I would never eat that well again, or be treated to such sublime service.

Bar Crudo: Anything But Crude

New location as of May 16, 2009:
655 Divisadero Street
San Francisco, CA 94117
(415)409-0679
Chef Mike Selvera
Dinner Monday through Saturday



Tried: April 2006 (Former location)
603 Bush Street
San Francisco, CA 94109

Bar Crudo can be described as a dressed-up version of Swan Oyster Depot or a Westernized version of a sushi bar. This tiny two-story restaurant, located next to the Tunnel Top, has a raw bar on the first floor and tables on the second floor, with several large modern art-like renditions of jellyfish hanging over the wrought iron staircase. The place exudes casual chic in both the atmosphere and the food. Given that crudos and seafood courses are generally my favorite parts of a tasting menu, dining at Bar Crudo is like getting to pick out and eat just the cookie dough chunks from a carton of vanilla ice cream. Maybe someone will next open an all foie gras restaurant or an all french fry restaurant!

The short menu, consisting of cold (oysters, clams, shrimp, crab, lobster, and raw fish preparations) and hot (chowder, mussels, seared scallops) seafood, is well conceived and well executed. The affordable wine list is similarly well thought-out and surprisingly extensive, with two sparkling wines, ten whites, and seven reds, most of which are available by the glass as well as by the bottle. The restaurant also offers twenty different beers, including a large variety of Belgian beers. I ordered a bottle of 2004 Verdejo and watched the chef rapidly and expertly shuck oysters, without any gloves or hand towels. Similar to a sushi restaurant, the best seats are at the bar where you can check out the action.

I ordered all of the crudos on the menu, including the Ono which was the special for the evening, and finished with the sherry duck liver mousse. It was one of the most refreshing and satisfying meals I could recall. The menu is very well priced, particularly given the quality and quantity of the seafood offerings: oysters at $2 each, each crudo plate between $9-$12, with the priciest item being the large seafood platter comprised of a dozen oysters, half a dozen clams, shrimp, and mussels, 1/2 crab, and 1/2 lobster for $65.

Of the crudos, my favorite was the Ono topped with enoki mushrooms, daikon sprouts, and tobiko, with a citrus vinaigrette. Micro-thin slices of fresh red jalapeno and droplets of sriracha sauce decorating the platter added a kick of spice to the fresh and meaty white fish, while the bright orange miniature pearls of tobiko provided saltiness as well as a satisfying tapioca-like texture that complemented the refreshing crunch of the green sprouts and the long delicate white mushrooms. I also quite enjoyed the arctic char. Scoops of tobiko turned green by the addition of wasabi topped the pieces of soft yellow-orange arctic char smothered with creamy horseradish, reminiscent of lox and cream cheese. I was less crazy about the sprigs of fresh dill on top as I found them a bit overpowering, but they were easy to remove. Another type of tobiko, this time flavored with habanero, topped the black bass crudo. Because the blood oranges were not fully ripe, they ended up being somewhat bitter. Nonetheless, they provided nice acidity and the bitterness was masked by the hard boiled quail eggs that came with the bass.

The last two crudos were tuna and scallops. The large cubes of yellowfin tuna were as substantial as rare beef, and the ginger, soy, and sesame oil flavoring reminded me of spicy teriyaki, particularly with the thin julienned strips of scallions on top. The raw scallops with orange, fennel, olive, and mint was the only combination that I thought was not quite as successful as the others, as the delicate flavor of the scallops got lost in this otherwise tasty and novel flavor combination. I did, however, appreciate how fresh the scallops were.

Bar Crudo does not serve dessert, but the sherry duck liver mousse could be the next best thing. (For people who prefer savory to sweet like myself, it really is the best dessert on the planet.) The small white ramekin of creamy and nutty whipped foie gras, drizzled with sweet sherry, was the height of decadence. Smeared on thick grilled bread, with a side of pungent cornichons and pickled espelette peppers, it was a fabulous end to a great meal, made all the better by its reasonable prices.

Citronelle: Running Chaud et Froid

3000 M Street NW
Washington DC 20007
(202)625-2150
Chef Michel Richard
Dinner nightly



UPDATE: April 2007
I went back after hearing that Adam Curling from Komi had become the sommelier there. I was not disappointed with his wine pairings. Somehow Curling manages to find the perfect wine to match the flavors of every dish. At the same time, each wine selection on its own is so beautiful that I would have been happy to enjoy it solo.

I wish I could say I was as impressed with the food. The "mosaic" surf and turf, a visually arresting dish of raw scallop, beef, tomato, and bell pepper carpaccio arranged on a plate to resemble a mosaic, had overly chewy beef and sandy scallop slices. The seared scallops in a subsequent dish were overcooked and rubbery. The only memorable dish was the "virtual fettucine," squid cut into the shape of fettucine noodles dressed with clams and squid-ink flavored garlic croutons. The "breakfast" dessert, consisting of cookies made to look like bacon strips, a meringue inside an egg shell to resemble a soft-boiled egg, and cubes of mango topped with strawberry sauce to look like home fries with ketchup, were quite entertaining to look at but flat and uninteresting in taste.

Citronelle remains a notable power dining restaurant and perhaps the focus on food will return one of these days. I'm sad that I will be missing out on Adam Curling's talent going forward.


Tried: April 2006
I was very excited to try Citronelle. It was going to be the apex of my dining experience in Washington D.C. Our party arrived at the restaurant about ten minutes early and were shown immediately to our table. The restaurant had two levels, with the bar area on the first level and the dining room below ground. The upstairs lounge area looked a bit worn and dated but in a comfortable, sit-and-relax-with-a-drink-and-cigar sort of way. In the back left corner of the downstairs dining room, there was a large wine cellar behind tinted glass walls. The back wall was covered by a large modern light panel mural that changed colors every few seconds, casting rotating shades of yellow, red, blue, purple, and green over the room. The decor was an interesting mix of traditional and eclectic. The tables were spaced comfortably apart that each table felt intimate. The chairs, however, were all so low that most of the diners looked like children seated at the grown-ups' table.

I almost forgot about the discomfort of the short chairs as I studied the menu and the wine list. Since we were left unattended for about fifteen minutes without anyone coming by to take our order or drinks, I had plenty of time to do so. As I reviewed the menu, I found that I was more tempted by the choices offered in the three-course menu than the chef's tasting menu. This was surprising since one would expect the tasting menu to be the showcase of the chef's best dishes. The three-course menu at $85 per person with $15 supplement for cheese course, offered items such as cuttlefish fettucini, white asparagus three ways, rabbit tasting, crab risotto, rockfish vegetable crumble with baby bok choy, duck two ways with beet cinnamon sauce, and pork four ways. In contrast, most of the chef's eight-course tasting menu looked fairly mundane: lobster and pea soup, foie gras, lobster with eggplant, halibut with kohlrabi, and venison with potatoes.

The problem was that our server informed us that we could not order multiple items a la carte from the three-course menu selections. We were also informed that we could only get the foie gras if we ordered the tasting menu, which had to be ordered by the entire table. In the end, we reached a compromise. After much wrangling and multiple trips back and forth between our table and the kitchen, we were permitted to substitute one item on the tasting menu and order two dishes from the three-course selections to supplement the tasting menu.

Richard's reputation of creating delicious illusions with food was apparent with the amuse trio-- a simulated boiled egg, a cigar, and a green egg salad. The wedge of boiled egg was actually mozzarella cheese shaped like the egg white with pureed yellow tomatoes shaped to look like the egg yolk inside. The cigar was made with layers of browned filo dough on the outside with mushroom "tobacco" inside. Lastly, the green egg salad was actually chopped baby green beans mixed with tobiko, shallots, and wasabi served inside a real egg shell sliced cleanly in half to serve as a bowl and lid. Each of these surprises were visually intriguing as well as tasty. The only thing that marred this experience was the fact that the server forgot the wine pairing so I had my champagne after I had already finished the entire amuse plate.

The first official course was a lobster pea bisque with lentils, squid ink brioche, and carrots. The bisque was fragrant and creamy, if a bit ordinary, and the squid ink brioche was completely lost in the dish. The 2004 Weingut Gruner Veltliner, while lovely on its own, was too acidic and citrusy to match the flavors of the bisque. The wine actually worked better with the next dish, the cuttlefish fettucini. Likewise, the plump and buttery 2002 Stony Hill Chardonnay that was paired with the cuttlefish fettucini worked better with the bisque. (The timing of the wine service was off for most of the evening. The inadvertent benefit, however, was that it allowed me to try different wines, as opposed to just the intended pairing, with some of the courses.)

The cuttlefish fettucini was another example of Richard's virtuosity in food fake-out. The fettucini was not pasta, but ribbons of raw cuttlefish sliced to resemble the noodles, in texture as well as appearance. The fresh beets, celery greens, and light cream sauce blended beautifully with the cuttlefish "noodles," and the bright orange pearls of briny trout roe added the perfect amount of saltiness and visual appeal. In contrast, the seared scallops with eggplant puree, grilled scallions, and hearts of palm were forgettable despite being solidly executed.

Before the next course was served, the sommelier brought over a glass of 2003 Domaine Kientzler Riesling. When I mentioned that I thought this was an interesting choice to pair with the seared foie gras, the sommelier informed me that I was not having the foie gras. Since the foie gras was the whole reason for my ordering the tasting menu, I corrected his misimpression. This resulted in a lengthy conversation between the sommelier and our server, followed by our server disappearing to the kitchen for several minutes, followed by another lengthy conversation between our server and the sommelier, followed by the sommelier removing the Riesling. Quite a service circus.

When the foie gras was finally served, the wine pairing was a 2002 Domaine Reynaud Banyuls, which matched well with the chocolate sauce served with the seared foie gras. The richness of the foie and the chocolate was balanced with the sweetness and mild acidity of minced pears, apricots, cherries, and pineapples in the dish. The dish again displayed Richard's command over flavors and ingredients.

The next course was sauteed halibut with sliced kohlrabi, celery, and potato in a lime-verbena emulsion, topped with celery greens. The Riesling was brought out again, correctly this time (our server joked that we would be having the Riesling with every course). The fish was cooked acceptably, but the celery was overpowering and I could taste little else. The last seafood course, lobster with eggplant, was also satisfactory but not exceptional. In addition to the disappointment of having the same ingredient twice in a tasting menu, even though the repeated ingredient was lobster (which frankly I find to be overrated anyway), the eggplant and lobster blurred together with no distinctive notes in flavor or texture. The opulent 2003 Domaine Jean-Claude Bachelet Chassagne-Montrachet, however, paired well with the richness of the dish.

With the final course, pork four ways, Richard again displayed his expertise. The first was a soft, rich, and melty braised and seared pork belly with a Bearnaise sauce. The second was braised shredded pigs' feet deep-fried in a crunchy panko crust with foie gras mashed potatoes. The third was a slice of pork tenderloin in a red wine reduction sauce. The fourth was a pigs ear and apple risotto, with a tangle of frisee lettuce drizzled with dijon vinaigrette on the side. Although every one of these variations were masterful, I found the whimsical combination of pork and apples in the risotto, using pigs ear (which tasted like extra chewy bacon), to be particularly impressive. This was nothing like what I have seen at some other restaurants that claim a "four ways" preparation by offering the same meat with four different but indistinct sauces. The earthy and muscular 1996 Chateau Lacoste Borie Pauillac that was served with the pork did not quite match any of the four variations, but I suspect that was because the sommelier did not adjust the pairing with this substitution in the tasting menu.

The two dessert courses consisted of apple two ways-- a sorbet and a cake-- and a chocolate mushroom vacherin. Both the hard candy caramel top on the apple cake and the pool of caramel sauce on the bottom of the dessert were delectable. The chocolate vacherin was rich and chocolatey but unremarkable.

Citronelle is one of those illustrious restaurants with a renowned chef whose reputation is so established that he has nothing to prove to anyone anymore. When he is in the mood, Chef Richard's cuisine is extraordinary. While I cannot deny that there were moments of culinary brilliance during my visit, I felt like I was paying more for an expensive name than the cuisine. At $230 per person for tasting menu and wine pairing, I wish I could have seen more of Chef Richard's creative flair. I was also surprised that service was rather disorganized at a place where I would have expected it to be seamless. I am very glad I finally got a chance to try Citronelle, but I wish that I had the opportunity to do so when Chef Richard was still inspired to apply his creativity and genius more than just intermittently.

Not Much Innovation at the Laboratorio

1110 21st Street NW
Washington DC 20036
(202)293-7191
Chef Roberto Donna
One seating at 7:30pm based on Chef's schedule

CLOSED

Tried: April 2006



Laboratorio del Galileo is an enlarged variation of the chef's table found in many restaurants, where diners can have a specialized tasting menu, order from the main menu and receive additional specialty items, and/or just watch the chef and the kitchen staff at work preparing the food for the restaurant. At Laboratorio, there are about eight tables in a small dining room set up in the back of the restaurant, facing a small kitchen that is separate from Galileo's main kitchen, with a giant mirror mounted at an angle over the plating station so that everyone in the room can observe the chef at work (actually all you can really see is the chef plating). Despite the cookie-cutter setting, the Laboratorio experience is not cheap: $110-$125 per person and the optional wine pairing is $70-$75 per person. (A note about water: the restaurant does not offer regular tap water as an option. I resented being charged $4 per bottle for water, especially when I am not given a choice.) On the upside, there are twelve courses presented, and the portions are quite ample. No one will ever leave the Laboratorio hungry.

Just making a reservation to dine at the Laboratorio is labor intensive. One must confirm with the restaurant in advance that Chef Donna is available on a given date to host a Laboratorio dinner. Once the availability of the chef and the openings on a particular night have been established, verified, and confirmed, diners must complete a detailed written form to be submitted in advance by fax or email, listing every single food allergy, dislike, and preference for every member of the dining party.

Upon being seated in the Laboratorio, each table received a large paper cone filled with deep-fried twisted breadsticks. They were hot, crisp, and salty with a hint of sweetness, and tasted like long savory donuts. This and the Bomboloni, Italian donut holes which were served as the last dessert course, were my favorites of the evening. In addition to the breadsticks, the server brought over a large basket containing different types of freshly baked bread. Sadly most of its contents, especially the focaccia, were overly salty.

The first course was a deep-fried soft shell crab served with an eggplant puree, pan-fried pancetta, and a sauce of lemon juice and olive oil spiced with some crushed red pepper. Although the flavors came together nicely, I found the crab to be too greasy and heavy. Fortunately the prosecco paired with the crab brightened up the dish. The second course was a step up in richness-- roasted foie gras with peaches and duck jus. The peaches were a nice complementary flavor but there was not enough to add the necessary acidity to the dish. I was also disapppointed to find that the foie gras had been overcooked such that the inside had become spongy. Fortunately the wine pairing was a crisp white wine from Trentino that lent a refreshing touch.

The next course was a lobster tail with crispy pancetta and deep-fried shallots, served in a pea puree with chopped chives and celery microgreens. The pancetta and shallots added to the luxury of the ingredient but the lobster was slightly overcooked and chewy. Though I generally like lemon with lobster, I found the lemon juice used to keep the pea puree bright green too strong for the soup. I also wished that the pea puree were either cold or hot, as the lukewarm temperature was disquieting. However, the Chardonnay from Piedmont paired with this course married well with the richness of the lobster and pancetta.

The next two courses were both pasta dishes-- ravioli filled with mortadella in a pistachio sauce and taglierini with pesto and crab-- followed by a creamy risotto with asparagus. The Italian expertise of the kitchen clearly shined with the perfectly cooked pastas and risotto, exactly elastic and chewy without being too al dente crunchy or becoming gummy or mushy. The sauces of each of these dishes were also dead on. The problem was that in succession, in a tasting menu, none of them stood out and they all blended together in a sea of overwhelming richness. I also found it somewhat odd that the chef could not identify the microgreens in his risotto (Chef Donna later sheepishly admitted that it was an "Asian blend" that he bought pre-mixed).

The last two savory courses consisted of a fish course followed by a meat course. The slowly cooked black cod was served with sauteed dandelion greens and a dressing of cherry tomatoes and capers. I appreciated the acidity of the tomatoes and capers but thought that the combination would have gone better with a halibut or some other less fatty fish. The last course, lamb tenderloin with porcini mushrooms, was solidly executed. The lamb jus was flavorful and soothing, and the earthy mushrooms matched well with the medium rare lamb and the 1999 Barbaresco paired with the dish.

The palate cleanser, an apricot thyme sorbet, did not arrive until after the cheese course. On the other hand, the generous scoop of rich sorbet tasted more like ice cream than a sorbet. The desserts included fried prunes filled with ricotta served with a scoop of honey ice cream and a platter of Bomboloni. As full as I was, I finished every last one of the Bomboloni, which were hot, crispy, fluffy, and sugary in exactly the right way.

The name "Laboratorio" suggests experimentation and new concepts being developed. While the fare was hearty and filling, nothing stood out as different, inventive, or even particularly memorable. Although Donna (assisted extensively by sous chef Claudio Sandri) executed the various courses with experienced efficiency, the meal never quite got away from an assembly-line feel. Nonetheless, it appears that Donna will come out on top in his rematch against Morimoto, adding to his wall of fame. Galileo is publicizing the rematch to be aired in May and inviting guests to come watch the episode at the bar in the restaurant. Indeed, the entire restaurant seems to be dedicated to Chef Roberto Donna's career on camera, starting with the foyer in front of the main restaurant, which is plastered with so many photographs and tributes to Donna that it looks like a shrine.

After the servers collected the signed credit card receipts from the room, the guests were sent off with pre-autographed copies of the menu and a pageant queen like wave from Donna as he left the Laboratorio.

Yin and Yang of Haute and Comfort Cuisine at CityZen

1330 Maryland Avenue SW
Washington DC 20024
(202)787-6006
Chef Eric Ziebold (formerly sous-chef French Laundry)
Dinner Tuesday through Saturday



Last tried: April 2006

CityZen in the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, located in the Southwest district of Washington D.C., is modern and elegant yet comfortable, much like the cuisine of Chef Eric Ziebold. The best seats in the house are near the large open kitchen on the far end of the restaurant, on the opposite end of the spacious bar area, where you can view the quiet, efficient movements of the chef and the kitchen staff as well as ogle the wines in the floor-to-ceiling wine racks lining the glass wall of the temperature-controlled transparent cellar.

The menu offers three options: five-course tasting menu for $90 per person; five-course vegetarian tasting menu for $80 per person; and a standard three-course menu for $75 per person, with each course to be selected from the five or six a la carte choices in the categories of appetizer, entree, and dessert. Interestingly, rather than being an excerpt of the a la carte menu with a few additional ingredients added or substituted, the tasting menu items are completely different from the a la carte dishes. Although I opted for the tasting menu, I could not help being irresistably drawn to all of the delicious sounding dishes listed among the three course options. Since I was there mid-week and the restaurant was not as packed as it is on weekends, the kitchen agreed to incorporate additional individual dishes from the a la carte menu as supplements to the tasting menu.

Our gracious and patient server did not bat an eye as we enumerated our various requests, including indulging my attempt to fashion my own wine pairings, which he executed as though they were part of his regular wine service (the restaurant offers wine pairing at $68 per person, but CityZen had such a spectacular list of wines by the glass as well as half-bottle selections, I could not resist playing with the list). Between the available menu options, I would recommend the tasting menu as the best display of Chef Ziebold's talents, but I also found some incredible, not-to-be-missed gems in the standard three-course menu offerings.

As our server walked away, I was sure that I had given him a complete migraine and he would run away screaming. Instead, he came back smiling with a tiny white plate containing a small gumball-size three-mushroom fritter filled with a truffle puree and decorated with a taupe-colored comet tail of creamy mushroom sauce speckled with black pepper. The delicate crunch of the crispy exterior of the fritter yielded to an explosion of rich, earthy, and creamy flavors. As I was smacking my lips at the memory of this tiny exquisite taste, a second amuse was placed in front of me-- a tender bite of roasted cobia resting on a ragout of couscous and spiced with a swirl of olive tapenade. The fish was so soft it was almost sushi-like in texture, and the flavors and textures of the couscous and salty tapenade complemented the fish impeccably.

The first course of the tasting menu was a Maine lobster chibouste. This creamy yellow dome looked like a large egg yolk, had the texture of a perfectly cooked souffle, and tasted like just-caught and cooked lobster that had been pureed with cream. The tender slices of morel mushrooms, buttery ramps, and fresh English peas swimming in the light broth that surrounded the chibouste were just as exquisite. (I did not realize at the time that I would be having this combination of lobster and peas repeatedly, as every restaurant in Washington DC seemed to be featuring it as part of their menu this month. CityZen's, however, was by far the best executed.)

From the a la carte menu, I tried the spring garlic soup with frog's legs, farm egg with cured shoat leg, and the trout club sandwich. The garlic soup had a tad too much cream but was generally flavorful and soothing, and the light golden morsels of deep-fried frog's legs in the soup were faultless. Bernard Loiseau would have been pleased with this rendition. The farm egg was soft-boiled perfectly such that the egg white was firm yet still soft and the yolk burst open at the touch of my spoon, oozing decadently over the mixture of braised leeks, morel mushrooms, and the salty and chewy pieces of cured shoat leg which tasted like pancetta. My favorite among this amazing trio of appetizers was the trout club sandwich. The cured New Zealand sea trout had the delicately rich flavor and softness of arctic char. Placed on top of griddled brioche with roasted romaine lettuce, slices of sweet red onion lightly pickled in vinegar, and topped with bright orange pearls of smoked trout roe, this dish was simple, clean, fun, and completely scrumptious.

The second course of the tasting menu was a sweet white filet of Atlantic halibut on a bed of pillowy soft potato puree infused with extra virgin olive oil, accompanied by a saffron broth containing a sweet and savory relish of peppers and olives. The halibut was sauteed to buttery crisp perfection on the outside without losing any of the juicy softness inside. The flavor of the delicately salty and tender fish combined beautifully with the olives and peppers, warm saffron broth, and creamy whipped potatoes.

The entrees fell somewhat short in comparison with the preceding dishes. The portions of both the shallot-crusted sweetbreads and the black bass were so large that they became tiresome after just a few bites. I suspect this is an inevitable symptom of having to satisfy hotel dining requirements, which is unfortunate as I could see the potential of these dishes. As it was, the large mound of watery sweetbreads overpowered the delicate shallot breading and turned the entire dish rather soggy. Similary, the skin of the large piece of bass had lost its intended crispy texture in the trip from the kitchen to the table, while the rest of the fish had turned chewy. The flavorful and smooth egg mousse accompanying the bass, however, was immaculate. The grilled venison loin, which was the final savory course on the tasting menu, had a perfectly pink center and a pleasing char on the exterior. The accompanying ragout of white asparagus and fava beans added a fresh spring touch while the rich Bordelaise sauce with caramelized parsnip tied together the vegetables with the luxurious tender meat. I also tried the lamb saddle cured with garlic oil saucisson. Although I personally found it a bit too strong and gamey (to be fair, lamb is not my favorite red meat), it was pink and juicy, and the accompanying braised artichokes and sweet carrots were fragrant and beautiful.

A side dish that should not be missed is the box of homemade parker house rolls, which are served in a tiny wooden treasure box. When the box is opened and presented by the server, the first thing that greets you is the most incredible freshly-baked bread aroma. Each roll is the size of a miniature muffin, and half the fun is pulling the hot rolls apart to pop each steaming hot buttery morsel in your mouth, which then melt like cotton candy. The light sprinkling of Maldon salt on top accentuates the rich and buttery flavor.

To close, we had a chocolate feast: a torchon of valrhona chocolate with miniature slices of buttery brioche cinnamon toast, and valrhona chocolate mousse on a soft graham cracker with marshmallow covered with a shell of dark chocolate on a pool salted caramel sauce. The chocolate mousse tasted like the Beverly Hills version of a mallomar, and the torchon is a chocolate lover's dream dessert, thick rich chocolate through and through. My favorite though was actually the delicate cinnamon toast on the side.

Interesting yet homey and novel yet familiar, CityZen was quite a satisfying experience.

Aqua Man Doing Well

252 California Street
San Francisco, CA 94111
(415)956-9662
Chef Laurent Manrique (formerly Campton Place)
Lunch weekdays
Dinner nightly



Last tried: April 2006

Chef Laurent Manrique has his work cut out for him. Aqua is not only as packed as it was when it first garnered acclaim under George Morrone in the early nineties and later under Michael Mina, it is now so well known that it has become as much of a San Francisco institution as Fisherman's Wharf. Just as everyone in the country knows Fisherman's Wharf for cheap seafood, they know the name Aqua for upscale seafood. Indeed, the restaurant staff seemed to be more accustomed to visitors filling the hundred-plus seats of the dining room than San Francisco residents.

The long polished bar, enormous mirrors on the walls, high ceilings, and towering floral arrangements are all still very striking, but the plush decor that was considered au courant ten years ago now looks a little like a throwback to the set of Dynasty. Manrique's menu is similarly lavish, yet it is anything but dated. Almost as impressive was our server's experienced versatility in serving styles while describing the menu options to a group of tourists dressed in jeans and T-shirts without the slightest bit of condescension and efficiently handling of a table of business people clearly entrenched in a dinner meeting right next to them, while managing a table of German and French speakers who spoke very little English and other groups of diners ordering the seven-course tasting menu. We ordered not just the seven-course tasting menu but requested additional dishes to be incorporated and changes to the wine pairing. Our server effortlessly facilitated all requests without missing a beat.

The amuse bouche consisting of a small cup of creamy salsify soup decorated with a drop of olive oil and a thin, deep-fried taro chip topped with ahi mousseline and pickled diced carrot was a delightful taste combination of salty, sweet, creamy, crispy and tart. The first course that followed as just as impressive, a miniature cannoli filled with smoked sturgeon, caviar, and chopped chives. The only thing that fell short of absolute perfection was the caviar, which was a little mushy missing the pop of fresher pearls. The lemon-olive oil sauce drizzled around the cannoli was the ideal condiment to delicately flavor and season this appetizer. The meal was off to a very good start.

I was particularly impressed with Manrique's interpretations of raw fish. I love Japanese food, but consequently I am very picky about raw fish. Putting tuna tartare on the menu is akin to performing Beethoven's 5th -- everyone knows every single note so it had better be flawless. Manrique's take on this familiar dish did not disappoint. I loved the generous square of thick cut chunks of pink tuna presented with a raw quail egg on top, mimicking steak tartare, with slivers of white almond, droplets of spicy harissa, a dollop of lemon date chutney, and a chiffonade of basil and cilantro around the edge of the plate. Continuing the steak tartare theme, our server mixed all of the ingredients tableside. I was pleasantly surprised that these seemingly aggressive flavors, including the dusting of cumin on the plate, came together quite harmoniously to create a new version of tuna tartare. The unadorned rectangle of masa served with the tuna was just the right vehicle to scoop up the well-spiced mixture. The 2004 Saint M Riesling from Pfalz, Germany had the right balance of sweetness and mineral to match this bold combination.

Even more striking was the fluke sashimi with balsamic pickled pumpkin, fried shallots, and a tangle of daikon sprouts and shiso shreds, sprinkled with toasted pumpkin seeds. I normally prefer fresh raw fish to be presented as simply as possible, but these seemingly incongruous elements combined to create an explosive and brilliant new flavor and texture combination. The 2004 Greco with delicate flavors of apricot, fern, and mint was a gorgeous pairing with this innovative crudo dish.

The next course was a parmesan-black pepper souffle in a miniature copper pot with sea urchin and crab inside, served with a side of fresh crab claw and lump meat mixed with crunchy cucumber. While I could not taste the sea urchin, the souffle was fluffy, creamy and hot, with the savory parmesan adding a pungent streak of savory flavor. The only flaw was that there were bits of crab shell on the bottom of the souffle. Had I not scooped up every bit of souffle though, I might not have noticed. The 2003 Colin-Deleger Chassagne-Montrachet, 1er Cru, paired with this dish worked quite well. This oaky and opulent white burgundy paired equally nicely with the celery root soup from the a la carte menu, served with a small trembling circle of black truffle flan and golden fried pieces of boneless frog's legs.

After such ornate offerings, I was surprised that the foie gras was served quite simply with minimal adornment. The thin strips of smoked duck meat accompanying the seared foie gras were chewy and salty, contrasting with the sweet muscat grapes and toasty almond slivers. The foie gras was clearly the star of this dish, and this relatively stark presentation, together with the 2003 Cuvee Marie Jurancon, was very effective in highlighting its richness.

The penultimate savory dish was a turbot with a side of cauliflower and cuttlefish in red wine lobster butter. This ambitious dish, however, did not come together successfully. The cauliflower was lovely but the cuttlefish was fishy and dissonant. Oddly, despite the seafood connection, the side did not match the turbot which was overly chewy and diluted in flavor in comparison. Still, I thought it was an interesting attempt. The elegant and earthy 2002 Beaune by Bouchard et Fils matched the sauce but not the fish. The last course before dessert was a beautiful, medium rare ribeye beef tenderloin bathed in beef consomme poured on top of shavings of foie gras and shards of veal cheeks. Although I would have preferred the consomme to be warmer and the foie gras and veal were superfluous in the dish, the overall flavor was rich and satisfying. The wine pairing was a 1998 Rocche dei Manzoni from Piemonte.

For a palate cleanser, the kitchen sent out tiny glass goblets of fluffy meringue on top of an olive oil madeleine with basil chiffonade and lemon zest. Again, I am not sure this combination worked but it was certainly more intriguing than the standard sorbet. With dessert, Manrique again showed off his souffle expertise. The coconut souffle was delicate, creamy, and not too sweet yet with a sweet crust around the edge like the browned top of a perfectly baked muffin.

While not everything worked, I admired Chef Manrique for pushing the envelope and found that I actually favored the more avant-garde offerings such as the fluke and the sturgeon cannoli as opposed to the more standard French dishes such as the souffles and the celery root soup, despite his expert execution. I hope he continues to move Aqua in that adventurous direction.

Bushi-Tei Full of Intriguing Possibility

1638 Post Street
San Francisco, CA 94115
(415)440-4959
Chef Seiji Wakabayashi (previously Ondine)
Dinner Tuesday through Sunday



Tried: April 2006

The decor of Bushi-Tei is an interesting blend of modern and traditional, reminiscent of French restaurants in Tokyo, hinting at the nature of the cuisine crafted by Chef Wakabayashi. The walls are made of dark slabs of gnarly, hundred-year old wood brought over from Japan, interspersed with glass and marble fixtures and furnishings. (Speaking of modern, the restaurant even features those very expensive, automated ToTo toilet seats that do everything-- open, clean, flush, and practically transport you back to your table.) Giant vases filled with water and topped with floating votive candles line the large communal table in the center of the restaurant. A few smaller tables for parties of two are placed very close to one another in the small mezzanine area above the communal table, by the floor-to-ceiling window in the front of the restaurant, and along the hallway by the kitchen. This interesting yet odd configuration makes it difficult to discern whether Bushi-Tei is attempting to be casual or formal, a conundrum that also afflicted the enthusiastic yet not quite refined service.

Once your mindset adjusts to these incongruities and focuses on the food, the real fun begins. Interestingly, the amuse bouche-- a tartlette duo, one with salmon tartare mixed with black sesame seeds and chives and the other with mushrooms-- was rather bland with a clumsy shell, giving no clue as to the stellar flavors to follow in the five-course tasting menu (called "Waka's Omakase"). The first course, a napoleon of lobster and raw scallop, decorated with a tangle of frisee lettuce drizzled with Kahlua-balsamic gastrique, vanilla bean oil, and passionfruit coulis and topped with minced wakame, blew away my tastebuds with their delicate and complex flavors, all of which melted together as though they were always meant to be served in this combination. The raw scallop was so subtle and soft that I could not imagine why anyone would ever choose to eat this mollusk any other way. The perfectly cooked lobster tail, layered underneath the scallop, provided complementary texture and flavor in this novel presentation, but what I really loved was the decorative coil of pink-striped tender lobster meat that had been expertly extracted whole from the legs.

I thought nothing could top that first course, until the next one arrived-- a thick disk of pan-seared monkfish liver in a pool of pureed sweet yellow tomatoes accompanied by thin slices of pickled fennel. Monkfish liver is often compared to foie gras, and this presentation, with a caramelized thick sear on one surface, really played up that resemblance. The sweet richness of the liver combined with the mildly acidic sweetness of the yellow tomato puree was pure ecstasy.

Because the tasting menu is not required to be ordered by the table, we were able to sample dishes from the regular menu as well, which the kitchen expertly timed to be served in concert with the tasting menu courses. The tasting menu is $85/person, the appetizers range from $6 to $20 each, and the large plates are priced between $19-$36. I am hard pressed to pick from the appetizers which one was my favorite. The translucent white fluke sashimi on a bed of golden yellow beet disks, decorated with dots of bright magenta raspberry-umeboshi sauce, was a study in contrasting sweet flavors, ranging from the mild sweetness of the fresh raw fish, the more vibrant sweetness of the beets, to the pungent tart sweetness of the pureed raspberry and Japanese pickled plum. The miso marinated Kobe beef was rich, salty, and sweet, with charred slices of ripe camembert cheese on top and a chewy fresh-baked sesame brioche on the bottom, creating an extravant openface steak and cheese sandwich, with a few sprigs of peppercress infused with lemon-pepper oil serving as lettuce and dressing.

In contrast, the herb marinated sockeye salmon on a bed of jicama and daikon sprouts drizzled with a yuzu vinaigrette was less successful. I loved the sauvignon blanc marinated salmon roe that decorated each piece of fish and the flavor combinations were still incredible, but I could not help but be disappointed that the fish was too chewy and the ikura a bit fishy, even with the marination masking the less-than-ideal freshness. Particularly in a restaurant located in the heart of San Francisco's Japantown, with an accomplished Japanese chef to boot, such details should not be overlooked.

But oh, the seared foie gras with pumpkin pot de creme and red onion marmalade-- that one may be the dish of the year. The maple-syrup flavor of the thick pumpkin custard, accented with still slightly crunchy shreds of caramelized sweet red onion, was the perfect stage for the seared foie gras. When my spoon could no longer reach into the edges of the ceramic ramekin, I wanted to pick it up and lick the rest. This decadent dish could easily have been dessert.

The third course of the tasting menu was a piece of sauteed Alaskan halibut topped with a shellfish glacage in a sauce of carrot puree, lemongrass, beurre blanc and curry. The shellfish glacage consisted of finely diced pieces of shrimp and cuttlefish steamed with egg and formed into a miniature seafood pancake. The soft and moist halibut with the glacage was a captivating combination of tastes and varying textures. From the a la carte menu, we tried the grilled sea bass with bok choy and pine nuts in a ginger-tamari lime oil sauce. Although this was a very clean and refreshing dish, it was a bit of a letdown after all of the explosive flavors from the other innovative presentations we had experienced up until this point. I also found the fish to be slightly overcooked and chewy. After these last seafood dishes, the kitchen sent out a white tomato and yuzu sorbet, wrapped in Japanese edible transparent rice paper, the kind that surrounds Japanese caramel candies. The citrus flavor of the yuzu brought out the sweetness of the tomato, resulting in a uniquely appealing palate cleanser. This was certainly no ordinary sorbet.

The last savory course of Waka's Omakase was medium rare roasted venison loin on a bed of whipped satsuma yam, which tasted like sweetened creamy mashed potatoes. The earthy mushroom melange that accompanied the dish matched beautifully with the tender and meaty venison. It was the perfect dish to enjoy with the last of the beautiful Gevrey-Chambertin from 2001 that we had ordered.

A word about the wine list. This is one area of Bushi-Tei that I found lacking. Although I do not need a wine list to be a giant tome with every possible wine of every possible vintage from every wine region in the world, a short wine list should include thoughtfully chosen selections to match the menu. Bushi-Tei's list included less than a dozen seemingly random wine selections, mostly from California, along with a few sakes, beer, and aperitifs. The restaurant also has a separate "reserve" wine list, which is not presented together with the menu and wine list. Our server brought out this list only after he sensed I was not thrilled with the regular list, and the rationale for offering these lists separately remains a mystery. It is also noteworthy that the reserve wines, although decent, are quite pricey. Until Bushi-Tei revamps its wine list, I would recommend BYOW.

The Omakase dessert was a peach compote topped with a quenelle of vanilla ice, resting on layers of green tea genoise sandwiching a layer of raspberry mousse, with creme anglaise ladled around the genoise. While I could not find fault with any single ingredient, there seemed to be too many elements that distracted from the purity of the genoise, which was fluffy and delicate with a hint of sweetness and the aroma of green tea. I would have preferred just the genoise with the creme anglaise. The other dessert we tried, the black sesame blancmange, was very interesting. If I could only get over the overwhelming peanut butter flavor, I might have really enjoyed it.

Two more noteworthy items about Bushi-Tei. Do not miss the brown-rice baguette, which is baked at the restaurant. The toastiness of the brown rice with the chewy bread is delicious together, and quite pronounced if you try it without butter. Second, the restaurant only serves micro-structured electrolysis water with a pH of 8.5-9.5. Did this special water make a difference? Well, I liked the bread.

Our server seemed intent on regaling every customer that walked in that Michael Bauer, restaurant critic of the San Francisco Chronicle, had dined there "four times already" and was "sure to give us four stars." Even without regard to the rough and tumble albeit friendly service, I doubt that the restaurant would qualify for four stars at this point no matter how intriguing the food. I am nonetheless quite fascinated by Wakabayashi's cuisine and plan to return repeatedly to see how the restaurant develops.

Putting on the Ritz

600 Stockton Street
San Francisco, CA 94108
(415)773-6198
Chef Ron Siegel (formerly Masa's)
Dinner Tuesday through Saturday



Update: May 2007
On a return visit, service was flawless and well-coordinated, even with a large dining party with special requests. With Siegel's always-sublime cuisine and Stephane LaCroix's personal attention to wine-pairing, this last visit was close to perfection.

Last tried: March 2006
I have been a fan of Chef Ron Siegel since his days at the now defunct Charles Nob Hill, and he seems to be getting better and better all the time. As the Ritz Carlton Dining Room is always crowded, I am hardly in the minority in that opinion. The Dining Room is so packed that the service does not seem to be able to keep up with the level and pace of the kitchen. At times, it seemed our server did not feel he even needed to try to keep up, given that people were clamoring to dine there anyway.

The service issue was apparent from the moment we were seated. After a haughty inquiry dripping with sarcasm, "Is this table acceptable?" (I had asked to be moved as the first table was directly underneath the air conditioning vents; I noticed that the party subsequently seated at our rejected table asked for their overcoats back from the hostess and kept them on during their entire meal), our server proceeded to ignore us for over ten minutes before asking whether we would like to order a pre-dinner drink. He then ignored us for another fifteen minutes before bringing over the menus.

All that was needed to alleviate this problem was a quick and simple "Sorry we will get to you as soon as we can; we are very busy tonight," but instead we were left just sitting and waiting as our server walked past our table repeatedly, avoiding eye contact. By the time he finally decided to take our order, we had drained our drinks and the remaining ice had melted. To cap it off, when one member of our party requested no cheese for the tasting menu, the server raised an eyebrow and jeeringly asked, "What about cheesecake?" I doubt he was trying to determine whether the request was based on a dietary restriction since cheesecake was not part of any menu option. Rather, he seemed merely to be poking at the fact that cheese and cheesecake were both dairy products, even though no one had stated that the request was due to any allergy. Whatever his underlying motivation, the approach and attitude were bothersome.

As the delectable amuses began to arrive, my building annoyance with the service momentarily subsided. The chilled asparagus soup, sprinkled with dried, powdered candycat mushrooms, was delicate and refreshing, with the mild curry and maple flavors of the powdered mushrooms highlighting the sweetness of the fresh pureed asparagus. Even better was the glistening slice of raw kampachi, decorated with a dark maroon miniature square of ponzu gelee and julienned red-white tiger stripe patterned watermelon radish matchsticks, creating an incredible mouthful of creamy, sweet, and tart flavors. The sea urchin panna cotta topped with a morsel of tempura-fried lobster and drizzled with vanilla bean olive oil was the only amuse that was not quite as spectacular. While I loved the concept of these intriguing flavor combinations, the vanilla bean olive oil was so strong that I could not smell or taste anything but vanilla, and the slick oil fought with the delicate texture of the panna cotta custard. The rich and crispy perfection of the last amuse, deep fried oxtail and chanterelle mushroom ravioli, was disrupted only by the fact that it arrived while we were still enjoying the previous amuse. Having kept us waiting for such an inordinately long time in the beginning, the dishes were now lapping one another.

Timing continued to be an issue as the different courses of the tasting menu were served. The wine service was not coordinated with the delivery of the courses such that they often arrived on top of each other, resulting in either the wine not being identified before pouring or the contents of the dish not being explained before the server rushed off. On more than one occasion, dishes were unceremoniously dumped off with no description of any kind provided. Fortunately, the server's assistant who cleared the plates and replaced the flatware between courses was quite knowledgeable and answered questions from the table when this occurred. (I was, however, quite happy to see used napkins being replaced with fresh ones when diners left the table to use the restroom, instead of getting soiled napkins refolded.)

Siegel's creations are so sublime that my awareness of the service discrepancies dissipated as I got lost in the flavors of each course. The chilled salsify veloute enveloping a single fresh oyster and topped with a scoop of salty, briny osetra caviar was a perfect symphony of creamy and subtle tastes. The white asparagus soup was just as delightful, although the chewiness of the somewhat fishy-tasting icefish pieces at the bottom was a little disquieting. The 1999 Engelgarten, a white wine blend from Alsace by Marcel Deiss, might have been great with these dishes if it were not slightly oxidized. On the other hand, the 2003 Hirtzberger Gruner Veltliner, served with the raw seafood course that followed, was pure enchantment. The crisp fruit balanced by mineral and stone was an ideal match for both the meltingly thin, translucent slices of spiny lobster carpaccio, dressed with tiny sweet orange segments and a tangle of seaweed salad, and the pink-red bluefin tuna sashimi topped with deep-fried shreds of yuba and a tiny but pungent cube of clear shiso gelee.

The next courses were cooked seafood. The soft, white poached turbot accompanied by a single braised baby carrot and a strand of perfectly cooked, bright green asparagus in a champagne reduction, accented with a few grey-gold pearls of caviar, was a remarkably harmonious combination of textures and flavors. The tender piece of snapper with salty, crackly skin was also very well executed. The coconut milk and kaffir lime sauce that was spooned on top was perfect for both the fish and the underlying crab ravioli whose pasta wrapper was pleasingly al dente and the dungeness crabmeat inside succulent and vibrantly fresh. Although I was less enamored of the somewhat flavorless artichoke heart and stringy braised leek accompanying the ravioli, the overall combination of tastes and dual-level presentation (fish on top plate; ravioli/artichoke/leek on bottom plate) were quite impressive. The round fruit and oakiness of the 2003 Chassagne-Montrachet by Michel Colin-Deleger made it a great choice for both fish dishes, matching with their divergent sauces and flavor combinations.

Although still delicious, I found it interesting that the lobster courses were not as well articulated as the rest of the tasting menu, especially given that Siegel and lobster are an infamous combination due to his victory on the Iron Chef television program a number of years ago. The first version was topped with a piece of pork belly and drizzled with a teriyaki-type sauce, and the second was on a bed of braised swiss chard with a vanilla-celery root sauce, accompanied by a caramelized piece of salsify. The 2001 Macon-Village by Jean Thevenet that Sommelier Stephane Lacroix paired with the lobster dishes worked well with these different elements, but the lobster was lost under all of these dominant flavors. Even more surprising, the lobster was a little tough and chewy.

The next course, variations of foie gras, was faultless. The seared foie gras, served with spicy pickled huckleberries in an apple juice/black pepper sauce, hit all of the right notes, particularly with the 1998 Auslese Riesling by Dorsheimer Pittermannchen that was paired with it. The creamy, pink terrine of chilled foie gras, presented with a dollop of magenta rhubarb jam, a stack of cubes of pinot gris gelee, and a cilantro microgreen salad with sweet, crunchy candied pecan pieces, was as tasty as it was pretty. The terrine was so well done, however, that you almost did not need any of the accompaniments to enjoy it, except maybe the grilled bread and of course the matching glass of 2000 Kiralyudvar Tokaji (Puttanyos 5).

The last two savory courses escalated from poultry to red meat. The poultry course consisted of crispy chicken with artichoke in a port reduction, and quail with chanterelle mushrooms and braised kale. The quail drumsticks were extremely tender, with the fragrant mushrooms further elevating the flavors of the dish. The chicken, while well prepared, was not as exciting, and I wished that the braised artichoke were sweeter. It also did not help that the 2001 Vosne-Romanee by Confuron-Cotetidot that was paired with this course was again oxidized.

The red meat course included beef tenderloin with gnocchi and asparagus in a Bordelaise sauce, and rare lamb loin topped with a piece of deep-fried sweetbread on a bed of mushroom risotto in a thyme jus. At this point in the tasting menu, I surmised that the chef must have retired for the evening as the gnocchi were dry on the outside and slightly mushy inside. As I continued eating, I found a piece of string left on the beef tenderloin. Although the beautifully cooked lamb loin was among the best lamb preparations I have tasted, the risotto had been overcooked and the fried sweetbread was somewhat soggy. To top it off, our server attempted to characterize the 2002 York Creek Cabernet that was paired with this course as a wine from "New York," when we reminded him of our preference to steer clear of California wines. Did he seriously think that would work? As expected, the cabernet was too alcoholic and extracted to work well with the food, and simply drowned out all flavors.

Following a refreshing palate cleanser of lychee sorbet with cubes of fresh mango and sweet beet sorbet with tangerine segments, we concluded the meal with cardamom panna cotta in pineapple soup, and chocolate caramel cake with milk chocolate ice cream. The sprinkling of maldon salt on the cake not only intensified the sweetness of the dessert, but its finely crushed crystalline texture mimicked the caramelized crunchy top layer of a well-made creme brulee.

While the service was lackluster on this visit, when I think about the Ritz Carlton Dining Room, what stands out in my mind are the precisely calculated tastes and original flavor combinations of Siegel's tasting menu. I cannot help being drawn back to try more and can only hope that service would eventually catch up.

In the Mood for Fish & Chips

932 Larkin Street
San Francisco, CA 94109
(415)474-5015
Monday through Saturday 11am to 11pm
Sunday 1pm to 11pm
Cash only



Last tried: March 2006

Update: Piccadilly Fish & Chips on Polk Street has reopened after remodeling.



My favorite hole in the wall fish & chips joint, Piccadilly Fish & Chips, recently closed due to a fire. Fortunately I discovered that its sister restaurant, Old Chelsea, although smaller and in an even sketchier neighborhood, serves almost the same satisfyingly flaky white fish and thick-cut fries, both wrapped in newspaper. Although the two grandmotherly ladies who made the fish & chips at Piccadilly did them a little better, the batter coating on the fish is similarly crispy and golden brown, and the inside of the hot fries are fluffy when you bite through the crispy outside (unwrap them as soon as you get them home, otherwise they will steam from the heat and get soggy). For best results, buy some malt vinegar to sprinkle when you are ready to eat, as opposed to having them put the vinegar on the fish & chips before wrapping. Definitely do not forget to get a couple of containers of their homemade tartar sauce.

Note that Old Chelsea is strictly a take-out place. While there are a couple of worn out formica tables and vinyl chairs next to the counter, you probably would not want to sit and eat there, even if you could ignore the odd mix of people wandering in and out talking to themselves. But for really good, satisfyingly greasy-- in a good way-- fish & chips, this is the place.

Take home a large order of fish & chips, less than $15 for five generously large pieces of fish plus a giant sack of fries, pop open a bottle of your favorite beer, and indulge. It's perfect for lunch or dinner when you're not in the mood to cook, especially after an all nighter at work with nothing to eat except vending machine candy...

Searching for a Real Deli in California

3200 California Street
San Francisco, CA 94115
(415)922-3354
Daily 11am to 8pm



Last tried: July 2006

The thick juicy corned beef I loved is now gone. After two disappointing sandwiches, one with thin dried out slices of corned beef and the other with flavorless and fatty yet dry pastrami, I am sadly removing the italics.

Previous summary from March 2006:

Until I experienced Katz's in New York City, I did not understand why New Yorkers constantly waxed poetic about delis. The delis I had tried, granted they were all in California, served acceptable but largely forgettable sandwiches, which were generally the best things on the menu and certainly preferable to greasy chicken soup or bland knishes. Upon seeing the light, however, I resigned myself to the fact that I would get good deli only during my business trips to New York when I could find an opportunity to steal away a couple of hours to escape to the Lower East side and satisfy my craving for a pastrami on rye. Thick, juicy, peppery, melt-in-your-mouth pastrami.

Then came the new California Street Deli at the Jewish Community Center. Having Joyce Goldstein as consultant must be the secret ingredient. The soothing chicken soup had large pieces of white meat and tender chunks of carrots and celery cut in just the right size to scoop up comfortably with a soup spoon. I have never been terribly fond of matzo balls, but here it was not bad-- more of a dumpling that adds heartiness than the soggy ball of unleavened dough I've experienced in the past. The Brooklyn potato knish, fluffy and savory inside and flaky and golden outside, was fantastic. I also appreciated that the plate of pickles, delivered first to the table like a casual amuse bouche, were full sours (I never did get used to the half-sours served in New York delis, which always tasted to me like they were not quite done.)

At a deli, the sides are almost as important as the main dish. The cole slaw at California Street Deli was so tasty with fresh, crunchy, and sweet shreds of cabbage and carrots, mixed with not too much mayonnaise and just enough vinegar and pepper, that I could not think of a better sandwich accompaniment. Until I tried the potato salad. Creamy, chunky, and mildly tangy with just the right amount of saltiness and bits of crunch from the added relish and finely diced celery pieces. The french fries, while ample in quantity, were less successful than the other side dishes as they were slightly overcooked and dry.

But what about the main event? Although the pastrami is fair, it is a bit chewy and not at the level of Katz's. The Niman Ranch corned beef though-- dare I say it?-- may actually be better. Moist, flavorful, salty and sweet, cut into thick, generous slices. With a Dr. Brown's cream soda, I was quite happy to finally have a deli that I can visit for a satisfying sandwich without having to get on a plane.

Feeling Crabby at Swan Oyster Depot

1517 Polk Street
San Francisco, CA 94109
(415)673-1101
Monday through Saturday 8am-5:30pm
Cash only



Tried: March 2006

Even though Swan Oyster Depot has been a San Francisco institution since at least the '50's, I still had a difficult time researching in advance what would be best to sample there. Seafood, fine, but that covers a lot of territory, and I feared encountering Fisherman's Wharf syndrome-- tourist spot with adequate to mediocre seafood and clam chowder. Even the freshest seafood in the wrong hands, drowned in aggressive cocktail sauce or Louis dressing, can be dismally disappointing. Although the potential pitfalls are not completely absent at the Swan, I was pleased to find that the renowned seafood joint lived up to its reputation.

First tip: Wear machine-washable clothes, as you will undoubtedly get spattered with shellfish bits or juices, whether by your own hand, the adjacent diners squeezed in next to you along the narrow counter, or by the staff busily shucking, cracking, and flinging various seafood items as they prepare the food to be served or weigh amounts to go for neighborhood shoppers picking up fresh fish for dinner. Second tip: Skip the mounds of sauce presented in the large glass goblets that look more like ice cream sundae containers. Instead, take some of the lemon wedges in the bowl on the counter, as those are really the only condiments you need (although the homemade mignonette sauce is quite good with the oysters). Third tip: Check out the wine list. Despite appearances to the contrary, Swan Oyster Depot has a nice selection of white wines that match the seafood, including Pahlmeyer Chardonnay if you really feel like spluring, at $95 per bottle (given that it costs about $70-$80 if you can even find it at a wine store, not a bad deal). My favorites were the Muscadet and the Honig Sauvignon Blanc, much more affordable at $6/glass.

The two must-have items at the Swan are the fresh oysters on the half shell and the half (or whole) cracked crab. The oysters were plump, briny, and tasted like the ocean. I also appreciated that they were expertly shucked, with no shell bits to mar the experience. The crab was so meaty, fresh, and delicious that I polished off the entire half order in a matter of minutes.

The combination seafood salad, which consisted of shrimp and lump crab meat on a bed of chopped iceberg lettuce with a giant dollop of pink/orange dressing that looked to be either Louis or Thousand Island, seemed to be very popular among the other diners but held no special appeal for me. The clam chowder, while thankfully not the gloppy thick variety found at most non New England seafood places, contained no clam, no sign of any salt cured pork, and the liquid, although decent in taste, had bits of curdled cream floating in it.

Surprisingly, the restaurant also serves raw seafood sashimi style, complete with soy sauce, wasabi, and pickled ginger. I would not bother with the tuna again, which was somewhat butchered in the slicing with some bloody veins still left on, but the raw scallops were spectacular. If you like sea urchin, they serve it fresh in the black spiny shell, with a spoon to scoop out the roe like a seafood mousse. The younger guys behind the counter are expert at cutting these shells, and presented the uni shining bright yellow in layers in the half-shell. The older gentleman who served us, however, did not look happy at the prospect of cutting one open, and ours consequently arrived somewhat mangled with bits of the outer shell mixed in.

Swan Oyster Depot is not as inexpensive as the inclusion of "Depot" in the name, or its fish market decor, might suggest. If you are hungry to sample the seafood, without veering into the large and more economical seafood salads, the price tag for two can run as high as $80-$100 with drinks.

Was it worth the forty-plus minutes of waiting in line? Depends on how much you like fresh shellfish. I'm thinking that next time I'll go at 8am when they open to avoid the line.

Cool as a Kappa

1700 Post Street
San Francisco, CA 94115
(415)673-6004
Chef Toshiaki Kimura
Dinner Monday through Saturday



Tried: March 2006

Stepping into Kappa, a ten-seat restaurant behind a dark hidden door on the second floor above Denny's in Japantown in San Francisco, feels like entering a foreign country. The few words uttered by the stern, taciturn chef during the entire evening were in Japanese, and the menu posted on the wall, handwritten in brush calligraphy on a large scroll-like strip of paper, was almost exclusively in kanji. Fortunately, there is a condensed English version of the menu available, and the hostess/waitress, who takes the drink orders and serves the food, also speaks a few words of English.

Although no sushi is served at Kappa, the restaurant is built like a large sushi bar, with all of the seats facing the trapezoidal counter where the chef finishes the food for serving. A sashimi selection, however, is among the dishes available on the a la carte small plates menu (starting at $20), and is included in the seven-course prix-fixe menu called "koryori," starting at $75/person, which is required to be arranged a day in advance.

On this evening, the koryori dinner started with Ankimo, an ample-sized circular disk of monkfish liver served in a pool of ponzu sauce, garnished with diced scallions and a scoop of chili-tinted grated daikon radish. Monkfish liver tastes like a cross between uni and foie gras, and with the acidic ponzu sauce and the mildly spicy grated daikon, this dish was a spectacular starter. The next dish was a dungeness crab maki with Japanese cucumber salad, sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds. I was surprised to find small bits of crab shells in the maki. While the dish was still refreshing, since there was nothing else inside the dried seaweed wrapper other than crab meat, the purity of the presentation was disrupted by having to pick out shells.

The next course was a collection of tastes comprised of tamago (Japanese sweet egg omelette), kazunoko (pickled crunchy herring roe) sprinkled with dried bonito shavings, steamed asparagus spears with sesame paste, steamed uni with sushi rice, glazed with tamari and topped with freshly grated wasabi, duck breast wrapped with shiso leaf, a steamed sea snail, and a small dish of okara, which appeared to be a mixture of tofu, ground steamed fish, and white miso. The thick duck breast was meaty yet tender, and matched very well with the minty shiso leaf. The sesame paste on the perfectly cooked asparagus spears tasted like a milder cousin of peanut butter. Overall each flavor was clean and well executed.

A selection of sashimi came next, consisting of hamachi (yellowtail), toro (fatty tuna), mirugai (giant clam), and hirame (halibut), accompanied by the standard garnish of julienned raw white daikon strands and shiso leaf. The thick sauce accompanying the sashimi was a combination of tamari, konbu (kelp), bonito, and soy sauce.

I was less impressed with the next collection of tastes, comprised of spicy grilled herring stuffed with spiced herring roe, grilled unagi, a chicken meatball yakitori sprinkled with chili flakes, snow crab maki with deep-fried panko crust, and grilled beef tongue. The spicy grilled herring had entirely too many small fish bones to be able to eat comfortably, and the grilled unagi was only average in quality and flavor. The grilled tongue was unremarkable, as it seemed to be nothing but sliced, grilled meat with no distinction in spicing or preparation. I also found the slick texture of the meat unsettling. The overcharred chicken yakitori also had the impression of being cooked the day before and reheated. The snow crab maki, although a bit boring, was acceptably soft inside and crispy outside.

The final savory course of the koryori was a clear seafood broth containing turnip, Chinese broccoli, and taro root pieces. The turnip and taro root had been braised until they practically melted into the hot broth. At this point, left with only dessert in the prix-fixe menu but still somewhat hungry, we decided to take the cue from a couple who appeared to be regulars and order some dishes from the a la carte menu. The golden-brown panko encrusted kurobuta tonkatsu ($15) tasted as good as it looked and smelled, and the tender pork dripped juices as I took a bite. Although clean in taste, I was disappointed that the hirame usuzukuri, the other dish we tried (and the most expensive dish on the a la carte menu at $25), was nothing but a large single sashimi plate. We returned to dessert, which consisted of sliced mango, pear, and mochi with red bean paste.

Kappa was overall an interesting experience, but many of the dishes felt too pre-prepared and many ingredients seemed over-preserved, particularly given the cost of the meal. If it were presented in a more casual izakaya format (and pricing), I may have enjoyed it more. The sake list is appropriately impressive with a number of well-known daiginjo and ginjo sake labels, served in miniature carafes.