Benu
22 Hawthorne Street
San Francisco, CA 94105
(415)685-4860
Chef Corey Lee
Dinner Tuesday through Saturday
Tried: August 2010
Baume
201 South California Avenue
Palo Alto, CA 94306
(650)328-8899
Chef Bruno Chemel
Lunch Friday only
Dinner Wednesday through Sunday
Tried: September 2010
I went to Benu with unbelievably high expectations and to Baume with relatively low expectations, and left with basically the same impression from both-- that each restaurant suffers from too much focus on appearance instead of content. Somewhere underneath the sculted exterior (in the case of Benu) and the unnecessary theatrics (in the case of Baume), the potential for great food is struggling to escape from each chef's blinding vision of what he wants the restaurant to be.
The plating and presentation of every single dish at Benu, from the starting amuse to the concluding petit fours, were flawless. They were easily the most beautiful plates I have ever seen in any restaurant, including French Laundry, and they could all be featured as museusm pieces if anyone were to curate a collection on fine dining. Sadly, the taste did not live up to the beauty and majesty of their appearance. Monkfish liver, one of my all time favorite ingredients, tasted fishy in the context of contorting it to look and act like foie gras torchon-- it was literally fish out of water. In a similar fashion, the components of most of the tasting menu were underseasoned or mismatched, not helped by wine pairings that were overpowering, had too high alcohol levels, or had lost aromatics likely from having the bottles open for too long. The "shark fin" soup, composed of black truffle custard, Jinhua ham, and dungeness crab, and the beef rib cap, served with mitsuba greens with a hint of Korean sesame-soy flavoring, were the only dishes among the lineup that contained a sparkle of vitality and animation, something that made you want to exclaim "mmmm" with a satisfied exhale.
In contrast, the food at Baume, if you could separate it from all of the distractions of the bubbles, foam, smoke, and sodium alginate, was almost delicious. For example, the abalone with matsutake mushrooms would have been pure poetry if not for the off-putting smoke and paint-chip texture of the shiso sorbet, since both the abalone and the matsutake mushrooms were perfectly prepared. Had the chef made a real sorbet, the dish would have been a winner.
Since I had the menu decouverte, I only observed but did not personally experience the sillyness of knocking over the vegetable terrine as the servers were instructing the diners to do with the dish in order to see its stacked presentation (begging the question of why it was not plated that way in the kitchen in the first place). The only thing I discovered from the menu decouverte is why most of these techniques have been discarded by restaurants years ago; I felt like I needed to get an antidote to liquid nitrogen after the meal. Ferran Adria must be turning over in his bed at Harvard. Baume is about as avant-garde as Madonna in ripped lace and plastic jewelry. Almost every dish was foaming, fizzing, bubbling, smoking, or encased in rubbery bubbles of sodium alginate. The most frustrating part is that there might actually be tasty food underneath the smoke and mirrors.
While both of these restaurants show glimmers of promise, I have neither the level of patience nor the credit card limit to be able to indulge in further investigation.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Declining Returns
Central Michel Richard
1001 Pennsylvania Avenue
Washington DC 20004
(202) 626-0015
Chef Arthur Cavaliere
Lunch weekdays
Dinner nightly
Last tried: August 2010
This was the second time in a month that a previously impressive place has sadly declined since my last visit. I also noticed for the first time how dated the restaurant appeared, reminiscent of a formerly attractive older woman stuck in the hairstyle, makeup, and outfit that were fashionable once upon a time. I toyed with the idea of ordering some of the more traditional French dishes such as frisee salad with lardons and egg or moules mariniere-- until I saw the digital photos of those dishes in a slide show playing on the large flat screen television next to the bar area, displaying overwrought, vertical incarnations of those French classics, all of which would have been perfectly at home in a Wolfgang Puck establishment during the Dynasty/Dallas era.
I still loved the layers of crispy potato tuiles in the Central burger, still cooked perfectly medium rare with the melting cheese and rendered bacon strips enhancing the flavor of the overall burger, but the bun was cold, leaving me to question its freshness. Although it did not taste stale, it had definitely seen better days. The accompanying salad, although properly dressed with a well-seasoned vinaigrette, was composed of unintentionally wilted greens, including overcooked green beans that seemed out of place, as though the kitchen wanted to use up leftovers from an unsuccessful nicoise salad offering.
Recalling a past interview of Michel Richard in which he fondly described his first memory of the crunchy texture of Kentucky Fried Chicken and how he fell in love with the possibilities of American cuisine, I ordered the fried chicken with mashed potatoes. For $21, I got two pieces of chicken, one boneless/skinless breast cutlet and a frenched thigh, on a gummy bed of mashed potatoes that had an odd microwaved flavor that mirrored its texture. The fried chicken pieces were definitely crispy, given that the kitchen cheated and used panko bread crumbs, but that is chicken katsu, not fried chicken. Even worse, both pieces were flavorless and dry inside the thick, although undeniably crunchy, crust of fried panko batter. I did, however, love the horseradish aioli accompanying the dish, which had more flavor and punch than anything else I had ordered. I did not need a full gravy boat of the aioli, but I certainly appreciated the generosity, especially since it was also quite good on the burger to counter some of the gaminess of the beef (not dry aged gaminess but older meat gaminess).
Consistent with the over-the-top theme, my favorite dessert, the "Kit Kat," a hazelnut-crusted chocolate wafer topped with chocolate ganache, came on a plate of hazelnut creme anglaise and accompanied by a scoop of hazelnut ice cream. Each of these components were beautiful. Stick them together the way they were presented, and they get lost in an overindulgent sugary mess. In addition, the coffee was nice and watery like old tea, which I could fully appreciate because the coffee was served ten minutes before dessert, notwithstanding my request that they be served together.
At least the wine list still had a number of interesting selections, dispersed among yawn-inducing choices like the Veuve Cliquot yellow label offered at $100/bottle, Grgich Hills Chardonnay at$82/bottle, and an unidentified Pauillac at $65/bottle (albeit it was at least the 2005 vintage). So the impressive wine towers decorating the dining room are not completely wasted.
1001 Pennsylvania Avenue
Washington DC 20004
(202) 626-0015
Chef Arthur Cavaliere
Lunch weekdays
Dinner nightly
Last tried: August 2010
This was the second time in a month that a previously impressive place has sadly declined since my last visit. I also noticed for the first time how dated the restaurant appeared, reminiscent of a formerly attractive older woman stuck in the hairstyle, makeup, and outfit that were fashionable once upon a time. I toyed with the idea of ordering some of the more traditional French dishes such as frisee salad with lardons and egg or moules mariniere-- until I saw the digital photos of those dishes in a slide show playing on the large flat screen television next to the bar area, displaying overwrought, vertical incarnations of those French classics, all of which would have been perfectly at home in a Wolfgang Puck establishment during the Dynasty/Dallas era.
I still loved the layers of crispy potato tuiles in the Central burger, still cooked perfectly medium rare with the melting cheese and rendered bacon strips enhancing the flavor of the overall burger, but the bun was cold, leaving me to question its freshness. Although it did not taste stale, it had definitely seen better days. The accompanying salad, although properly dressed with a well-seasoned vinaigrette, was composed of unintentionally wilted greens, including overcooked green beans that seemed out of place, as though the kitchen wanted to use up leftovers from an unsuccessful nicoise salad offering.
Recalling a past interview of Michel Richard in which he fondly described his first memory of the crunchy texture of Kentucky Fried Chicken and how he fell in love with the possibilities of American cuisine, I ordered the fried chicken with mashed potatoes. For $21, I got two pieces of chicken, one boneless/skinless breast cutlet and a frenched thigh, on a gummy bed of mashed potatoes that had an odd microwaved flavor that mirrored its texture. The fried chicken pieces were definitely crispy, given that the kitchen cheated and used panko bread crumbs, but that is chicken katsu, not fried chicken. Even worse, both pieces were flavorless and dry inside the thick, although undeniably crunchy, crust of fried panko batter. I did, however, love the horseradish aioli accompanying the dish, which had more flavor and punch than anything else I had ordered. I did not need a full gravy boat of the aioli, but I certainly appreciated the generosity, especially since it was also quite good on the burger to counter some of the gaminess of the beef (not dry aged gaminess but older meat gaminess).
Consistent with the over-the-top theme, my favorite dessert, the "Kit Kat," a hazelnut-crusted chocolate wafer topped with chocolate ganache, came on a plate of hazelnut creme anglaise and accompanied by a scoop of hazelnut ice cream. Each of these components were beautiful. Stick them together the way they were presented, and they get lost in an overindulgent sugary mess. In addition, the coffee was nice and watery like old tea, which I could fully appreciate because the coffee was served ten minutes before dessert, notwithstanding my request that they be served together.
At least the wine list still had a number of interesting selections, dispersed among yawn-inducing choices like the Veuve Cliquot yellow label offered at $100/bottle, Grgich Hills Chardonnay at$82/bottle, and an unidentified Pauillac at $65/bottle (albeit it was at least the 2005 vintage). So the impressive wine towers decorating the dining room are not completely wasted.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Kitchen Confidential Redux
Medium Raw by Anthony Bourdain
UPDATE:
Medium Raw is No. 2 on the New York Times Bestsellers List for hardcover fiction.
PREVIOUS POST:
I have never tasted Anthony Bourdain's cooking or tried his former restaurant, Les Halles in New York. So when I say I am a huge fan of Anthony Bourdain, I am referring to the author, not the chef. I have read A Cook's Tour and Nasty Bits in addition to Kitchen Confidential, and I scarfed up every word of Medium Raw within 48 hours of getting my copy.
I did not read any book reviews, interviews, or blog posts before experiencing the book for myself. The only preview I had was to a small slice of his grueling book tour schedule and only from the outside. A friend had generously treated me to a ticket for a book-signing dinner event at Left Bank Restaurant in Larkspur, California. For $125/person, we stood in a line around the block while each person received an autographed copy of Medium Raw (attendees had the option of getting the autograph personalized by providing the spelling of names to one of the ushers who would write them out in large block letters with a thick black Sharpie on post-it notes to be placed inside the book cover or in some instances, on foreheads or chests), got the opportunity to snap photos with a dazed-looking Bourdain, who was wearing that unmistakable please-get-me-out-of-here look on his face which none of the hundreds of his fans seemed to recognize despite its frequent appearance on television, and then got squeezed into communal tables for a surprisingly decent banquet dinner, featuring well-executed house-made charcuterie, flavorful fish soup (despite being a bit thin and lukewarm), followed by an impressive boudin blanc and pork tenderloin, accompanied by generous pours of surprisingly decent Chardonnays and Pinots from Trione Winery in Sonoma.
Even though I knew that the event would be a zoo, I was still excited, like everyone else, to get a glimpse of the man in person. I wish I could say that Bourdain did not seem like a caged animal, signing book after book and then getting up to recite a stand-up comedy routine while acting like it was his first time making witty observations about Rachael Ray and the Food Network and answering the same questions he must get in every single lunch, dinner, and other event he has to endure during his book tour. Throughout the evening, Chef Roland Passot (whom I would bet money has never spent that much time in one shot at any of his Left Bank franchises) was yelling into a microphone in the dining room like Ozzy Osbourne. As the cherry clafoutis desserts were being dropped by the harried servers and after Bourdain delivered a few more stock lines about Tyler Florence's influence on Applebee's and Guy Fieri's wardrobe choices, his assistants escorted him out through a side door to a waiting towncar. He was still unable to avoid being stalked by a couple of giggling, drunk girls in short skirts teetering on heels. He is, after all, not a bad-looking guy and famous to boot, even if he is not the bad-boy chef he used to be.
In sum, the entire experience was akin to seeing the movie rendition of a book you love and being invariably disappointed. Sadly, my sneaking suspicion that I might be disappointed was confirmed after I had digested all 281 pages of Medium Raw, and sad was the dominant emotion I felt thinking about what I read. I miss that foul-mouthed young chef with his devil-may-care attitude, and after reading Medium Raw, I suspect Bourdain does too. His wistfulness is palpable from the pages of every disjointed story, composed in a style that tries too hard to be effortless and flip but is instead oddly reminiscent of the ringmold/squeeze bottle presentations that Bourdain ridiculed in Kitchen Confidential. His observations and commentary, so fresh and enlightening ten years ago now seem somewhat contrived and calculated. The unabashed curse words that so effectively seasoned his prose in his earlier books sounded more like something written by an amateur writer trying to emulate Bourdain.
My impressions of Bourdain as a supremely talented writer, with great expertise in his chosen subject matter (at least at one point in his life Bourdain actually was a chef, unlike his BFF Michael Ruhlman who still makes me itchy every time he talks about being a chef) and an almost unending capacity to entertain, have not changed. But even while reading his still-entertaining prose, I could not help but feel, notwithstanding his oft-repeated proclamation that he is no longer cool (do the words "doth protest too much" ring a bell), like I was watching an aged rock star desperately clinging to the stage. Despite his resolute endeavors to be honest with and about himself and his unrelenting and genuine dedication to no-BS, Bourdain still seems to be in denial about the fact that he is a writer, not a chef. I may be wrong, but I am guessing that restaurants and chefs around the world who burden him with tasting menus and extra courses are doing so because he is a food and travel writer, not because he is a fellow chef. Deep down, he knows this, and even though things are much better now and he would not want that life back, he misses that crazy young chef. Me, I miss the crazy young writer.
Bourdain's ever-colorful description of his last experience at Per Se during the few weeks before Jonathan Benno left reads like a self-portrait-- dissatisfied, disappointed, and guilt-ridden for feeling that way. Perhaps, once he comes to terms with his success and his new life, I might like the next book as much as I liked his earlier creations.
UPDATE:
Medium Raw is No. 2 on the New York Times Bestsellers List for hardcover fiction.
PREVIOUS POST:
I have never tasted Anthony Bourdain's cooking or tried his former restaurant, Les Halles in New York. So when I say I am a huge fan of Anthony Bourdain, I am referring to the author, not the chef. I have read A Cook's Tour and Nasty Bits in addition to Kitchen Confidential, and I scarfed up every word of Medium Raw within 48 hours of getting my copy.
I did not read any book reviews, interviews, or blog posts before experiencing the book for myself. The only preview I had was to a small slice of his grueling book tour schedule and only from the outside. A friend had generously treated me to a ticket for a book-signing dinner event at Left Bank Restaurant in Larkspur, California. For $125/person, we stood in a line around the block while each person received an autographed copy of Medium Raw (attendees had the option of getting the autograph personalized by providing the spelling of names to one of the ushers who would write them out in large block letters with a thick black Sharpie on post-it notes to be placed inside the book cover or in some instances, on foreheads or chests), got the opportunity to snap photos with a dazed-looking Bourdain, who was wearing that unmistakable please-get-me-out-of-here look on his face which none of the hundreds of his fans seemed to recognize despite its frequent appearance on television, and then got squeezed into communal tables for a surprisingly decent banquet dinner, featuring well-executed house-made charcuterie, flavorful fish soup (despite being a bit thin and lukewarm), followed by an impressive boudin blanc and pork tenderloin, accompanied by generous pours of surprisingly decent Chardonnays and Pinots from Trione Winery in Sonoma.
Even though I knew that the event would be a zoo, I was still excited, like everyone else, to get a glimpse of the man in person. I wish I could say that Bourdain did not seem like a caged animal, signing book after book and then getting up to recite a stand-up comedy routine while acting like it was his first time making witty observations about Rachael Ray and the Food Network and answering the same questions he must get in every single lunch, dinner, and other event he has to endure during his book tour. Throughout the evening, Chef Roland Passot (whom I would bet money has never spent that much time in one shot at any of his Left Bank franchises) was yelling into a microphone in the dining room like Ozzy Osbourne. As the cherry clafoutis desserts were being dropped by the harried servers and after Bourdain delivered a few more stock lines about Tyler Florence's influence on Applebee's and Guy Fieri's wardrobe choices, his assistants escorted him out through a side door to a waiting towncar. He was still unable to avoid being stalked by a couple of giggling, drunk girls in short skirts teetering on heels. He is, after all, not a bad-looking guy and famous to boot, even if he is not the bad-boy chef he used to be.
In sum, the entire experience was akin to seeing the movie rendition of a book you love and being invariably disappointed. Sadly, my sneaking suspicion that I might be disappointed was confirmed after I had digested all 281 pages of Medium Raw, and sad was the dominant emotion I felt thinking about what I read. I miss that foul-mouthed young chef with his devil-may-care attitude, and after reading Medium Raw, I suspect Bourdain does too. His wistfulness is palpable from the pages of every disjointed story, composed in a style that tries too hard to be effortless and flip but is instead oddly reminiscent of the ringmold/squeeze bottle presentations that Bourdain ridiculed in Kitchen Confidential. His observations and commentary, so fresh and enlightening ten years ago now seem somewhat contrived and calculated. The unabashed curse words that so effectively seasoned his prose in his earlier books sounded more like something written by an amateur writer trying to emulate Bourdain.
My impressions of Bourdain as a supremely talented writer, with great expertise in his chosen subject matter (at least at one point in his life Bourdain actually was a chef, unlike his BFF Michael Ruhlman who still makes me itchy every time he talks about being a chef) and an almost unending capacity to entertain, have not changed. But even while reading his still-entertaining prose, I could not help but feel, notwithstanding his oft-repeated proclamation that he is no longer cool (do the words "doth protest too much" ring a bell), like I was watching an aged rock star desperately clinging to the stage. Despite his resolute endeavors to be honest with and about himself and his unrelenting and genuine dedication to no-BS, Bourdain still seems to be in denial about the fact that he is a writer, not a chef. I may be wrong, but I am guessing that restaurants and chefs around the world who burden him with tasting menus and extra courses are doing so because he is a food and travel writer, not because he is a fellow chef. Deep down, he knows this, and even though things are much better now and he would not want that life back, he misses that crazy young chef. Me, I miss the crazy young writer.
Bourdain's ever-colorful description of his last experience at Per Se during the few weeks before Jonathan Benno left reads like a self-portrait-- dissatisfied, disappointed, and guilt-ridden for feeling that way. Perhaps, once he comes to terms with his success and his new life, I might like the next book as much as I liked his earlier creations.
Monday, May 03, 2010
James Beard Awards 2010 Results
Outstanding Chef: Tom Colicchio
Outstanding Restaurant: Daniel
Best New Restaurant: Marea
Outstanding Pastry Chef: Nicole Plue (Redd)
Outstanding Service: Alinea
Outstanding Wine Service: Bernard Sun, Restaurant Jean Georges
Best Chef Southwest: Claude Le Tohic (Joel Robuchon MGM Grand Las Vegas)
Best Chef Southeast: Sean Brock (McCrady’s)
Best Chef South: Michael Schwartz (Michael’s Genuine Food & Drink)
Best Chef Pacific: David Kinch (Manresa)
Best Chef Northwest: Jason Wilson (Crush)
Best Chef Northeast: Clark Frasier and Mark Gaier (Arrows)
Best Chef New York City: Daniel Humm (Eleven Madison Park)
Best Chef Midwest: Alexander Roberts (Restaurant Alma)
Best Chef Mid-Atlantic: Jeff Michaud (Osteria)
Best Chef Great Lakes: Koren Grieveson (Avec)
Rising Star Chef: Timothy Hollingsworth (French Laundry)
Outstanding Restaurant: Daniel
Best New Restaurant: Marea
Outstanding Pastry Chef: Nicole Plue (Redd)
Outstanding Service: Alinea
Outstanding Wine Service: Bernard Sun, Restaurant Jean Georges
Best Chef Southwest: Claude Le Tohic (Joel Robuchon MGM Grand Las Vegas)
Best Chef Southeast: Sean Brock (McCrady’s)
Best Chef South: Michael Schwartz (Michael’s Genuine Food & Drink)
Best Chef Pacific: David Kinch (Manresa)
Best Chef Northwest: Jason Wilson (Crush)
Best Chef Northeast: Clark Frasier and Mark Gaier (Arrows)
Best Chef New York City: Daniel Humm (Eleven Madison Park)
Best Chef Midwest: Alexander Roberts (Restaurant Alma)
Best Chef Mid-Atlantic: Jeff Michaud (Osteria)
Best Chef Great Lakes: Koren Grieveson (Avec)
Rising Star Chef: Timothy Hollingsworth (French Laundry)
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Marlowe and Me
Marlowe
330 Townsend Street
San Francisco, CA 94107
(415)974-5599
Chef Jennifer Puccio
Lunch weekdays
Dinner Monday through Saturday
Last tried: May 2010
Prawns with hot & boozy cocktail sauce. I almost never order shrimp because they are nearly always overcooked, but so glad I decided to overcome my prejudice for these beauties. Be careful-- that horseradish bloody mary sauce kicks back, but it is completely addictive. (So far the Poulet vert and upside down apple crisp have been the only letdowns, but mostly because they are mundane when compared with the other offerings.)
Tried: April 2010
I have not been this excited about any place since I first tried Canteen. Marlowe is my new favorite restaurant in San Francisco, the kind of place where you can go over and over without breaking the bank or getting bored.
The Marlowe burger is the first one in the Bay Area that can rival Father's Office in Los Angeles, Holeman & Finch in Atlanta, and the foie short rib burger at db Bistro Moderne in New York. The horseradish aioli served with the the tempura-like French fries may even place the Marlowe burger above these other masterpieces. For the first time, I truly appreciated why burger snobs go apoplectic when people put ketchup on burgers and fries.
The generous mound of steak tartare has the exact right texture and the perfect balance of mustard and spices, my only "criticism" being that I would have preferred the quail egg raw, not poached. The chilled asparagus soup in the "soup'n sandwich" appetizer tasted fresher and sweeter than I can ever remember asparagus being, and the ricotta and morel bruschetta (the "sandwich" part of the appetizer) managed to be both light and decadent at the same time, with the creamy ricotta playing off the lush morels and the char on the large toast point from the grill. The bone marrow comes split in half for easy access, with a tangle of herb salad to cut the richness, and a small dish of caper salsa verde. I would have been happy to make a meal with just the bread and salsa verde, with a glass of the well-matched Loire Valley Rose, with its unmistakable cabernet franc charred bell pepper scent.
I cannot wait to go back to this place, again and again. Hopefully I will have enough room in my stomach to try everything else on the menu eventually, but I have a feeling that the Marlowe burger will be a non-negotiable staple, like the fried chicken at Little Skillet or the margherita pizza at Pizzeria Picco.
330 Townsend Street
San Francisco, CA 94107
(415)974-5599
Chef Jennifer Puccio
Lunch weekdays
Dinner Monday through Saturday
Last tried: May 2010
Prawns with hot & boozy cocktail sauce. I almost never order shrimp because they are nearly always overcooked, but so glad I decided to overcome my prejudice for these beauties. Be careful-- that horseradish bloody mary sauce kicks back, but it is completely addictive. (So far the Poulet vert and upside down apple crisp have been the only letdowns, but mostly because they are mundane when compared with the other offerings.)
Tried: April 2010
I have not been this excited about any place since I first tried Canteen. Marlowe is my new favorite restaurant in San Francisco, the kind of place where you can go over and over without breaking the bank or getting bored.
The Marlowe burger is the first one in the Bay Area that can rival Father's Office in Los Angeles, Holeman & Finch in Atlanta, and the foie short rib burger at db Bistro Moderne in New York. The horseradish aioli served with the the tempura-like French fries may even place the Marlowe burger above these other masterpieces. For the first time, I truly appreciated why burger snobs go apoplectic when people put ketchup on burgers and fries.
The generous mound of steak tartare has the exact right texture and the perfect balance of mustard and spices, my only "criticism" being that I would have preferred the quail egg raw, not poached. The chilled asparagus soup in the "soup'n sandwich" appetizer tasted fresher and sweeter than I can ever remember asparagus being, and the ricotta and morel bruschetta (the "sandwich" part of the appetizer) managed to be both light and decadent at the same time, with the creamy ricotta playing off the lush morels and the char on the large toast point from the grill. The bone marrow comes split in half for easy access, with a tangle of herb salad to cut the richness, and a small dish of caper salsa verde. I would have been happy to make a meal with just the bread and salsa verde, with a glass of the well-matched Loire Valley Rose, with its unmistakable cabernet franc charred bell pepper scent.
I cannot wait to go back to this place, again and again. Hopefully I will have enough room in my stomach to try everything else on the menu eventually, but I have a feeling that the Marlowe burger will be a non-negotiable staple, like the fried chicken at Little Skillet or the margherita pizza at Pizzeria Picco.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Slow Start to 2010
As a result of both limited time and a limited budget, I find myself increasingly reluctant to try any new restaurants and instead splurging only to visit my favorite restaurants in the area. The few times I ventured away from the places I knew would provide a good ROI, my expectations were rapidly shot down, with unpleasant reminders in the form of credit card statements that still glow in the dark.
A prime rib craving sent me to House of Prime Rib. Anthony Bourdain, experienced eater and self-professed king of no BS, espoused the place, so how bad could it be?
The place felt like Cheesecake Factory for meat. Worse, I do not recall any of the staff at The Cheesecake Factory looking as beaten-up and demoralized as all of the servers and "chefs" (someone must have decided that having all of the carvers introduced as "chef" and come over to each table would create the impression of fine dining) at House of Prime Rib. Unlike Bourdain, I have no particular aversion to or snobbery against chains or fast food; cheap and generally reliable-- what's not to like?
The only memorable item was the Yorkshire pudding, which was warm and perfectly seasoned, with toasty-crackly top and edges and a souffle-like interior. The salad, with canned shredded beets and Russian dressing spun-in tableside, was quaintly retro, as was the sourdough roll with a small bread knife stuck through it. But the star of the meal, the House of Prime Rib cut of meat, although carved expertly from the requested medium-rare portion in the silver bullet cart, was chewy and flavorless. Hardly the buttery, sweet, melty meat I was craving.
The next less than successful adventure was RN74. First of all, I am way too old to deal with the posing that goes on at the bar at this place. Reminds me of Bix or Spago in the early 9o's. As expected, the wine list was lovely, filled with extensive Burgundy selections, but even that fell short on the older vintages as well as bottles priced under $200. (I enjoy wine porn as much as the next guy, but does anyone actually spend that much on wine when dining out? I have always wondered about that, even when the economy was not in the toilet.) As for the food, I thought small plates calculated to match with wine should have been better articulated, but the combinations were clunky, such as mushy chickpeas with too-large chunks of undercooked chorizo, and everything tasted like a salt lick. Perhaps the intent is to make people drink more, but all it accomplished was to make me drain my water glass repeatedly. Thankfully service was perfectly attentive without being overbearing.
I have had some better luck on the non-fine dining end. Naked Lunch, the sandwich outpost of the former chef of Cafe Majestic, Ian Begg, offers truly spectactular sandwiches, and not just because they always have the foie gras duck prosciutto sandwich on the menu (fortunately they have replaced the truffle oil with truffle salt). Any roasted fish sandwich they offer, and I do mean "any," should not be missed. Before Naked Lunch, my love was Kitchenette, particularly anything described as "Korean" on the menu. Surprisingly, fried chicken sandwiches are not among the best offerings at either place.
Which brings me to Little Skillet. I could eat the 8-piece chicken box with potato salad, cole slaw, and biscuits every day (with a bottle of rose). Cash only, but this decadent meal will only set you back $18 (before the wine, which they do not serve). This place is dangerous to my existence, although if I die of heart failure and/or excessive cholesterol, I will no longer have to deal with discovery fights or firm management . . . .
A prime rib craving sent me to House of Prime Rib. Anthony Bourdain, experienced eater and self-professed king of no BS, espoused the place, so how bad could it be?
The place felt like Cheesecake Factory for meat. Worse, I do not recall any of the staff at The Cheesecake Factory looking as beaten-up and demoralized as all of the servers and "chefs" (someone must have decided that having all of the carvers introduced as "chef" and come over to each table would create the impression of fine dining) at House of Prime Rib. Unlike Bourdain, I have no particular aversion to or snobbery against chains or fast food; cheap and generally reliable-- what's not to like?
The only memorable item was the Yorkshire pudding, which was warm and perfectly seasoned, with toasty-crackly top and edges and a souffle-like interior. The salad, with canned shredded beets and Russian dressing spun-in tableside, was quaintly retro, as was the sourdough roll with a small bread knife stuck through it. But the star of the meal, the House of Prime Rib cut of meat, although carved expertly from the requested medium-rare portion in the silver bullet cart, was chewy and flavorless. Hardly the buttery, sweet, melty meat I was craving.
The next less than successful adventure was RN74. First of all, I am way too old to deal with the posing that goes on at the bar at this place. Reminds me of Bix or Spago in the early 9o's. As expected, the wine list was lovely, filled with extensive Burgundy selections, but even that fell short on the older vintages as well as bottles priced under $200. (I enjoy wine porn as much as the next guy, but does anyone actually spend that much on wine when dining out? I have always wondered about that, even when the economy was not in the toilet.) As for the food, I thought small plates calculated to match with wine should have been better articulated, but the combinations were clunky, such as mushy chickpeas with too-large chunks of undercooked chorizo, and everything tasted like a salt lick. Perhaps the intent is to make people drink more, but all it accomplished was to make me drain my water glass repeatedly. Thankfully service was perfectly attentive without being overbearing.
I have had some better luck on the non-fine dining end. Naked Lunch, the sandwich outpost of the former chef of Cafe Majestic, Ian Begg, offers truly spectactular sandwiches, and not just because they always have the foie gras duck prosciutto sandwich on the menu (fortunately they have replaced the truffle oil with truffle salt). Any roasted fish sandwich they offer, and I do mean "any," should not be missed. Before Naked Lunch, my love was Kitchenette, particularly anything described as "Korean" on the menu. Surprisingly, fried chicken sandwiches are not among the best offerings at either place.
Which brings me to Little Skillet. I could eat the 8-piece chicken box with potato salad, cole slaw, and biscuits every day (with a bottle of rose). Cash only, but this decadent meal will only set you back $18 (before the wine, which they do not serve). This place is dangerous to my existence, although if I die of heart failure and/or excessive cholesterol, I will no longer have to deal with discovery fights or firm management . . . .
Friday, January 08, 2010
Best of 2009
BEST OF 2009:
1. KOMI
2. Manresa
3. Ubuntu
4. Sushi Isano
5. Ishikawa
6. Nemuri-An
7. Aziza
8. Commis
9. Sorella
10. Quince
Honorable Mention:
11. Holeman & Finch
BEST STANDBYS:
1. Kiss
2. Pizzeria Picco
3. Zuni
4. Sushi Sam's
5. Father's Office
6. Refuge
7. Naked Lunch
8. Pizzeria Delfina
9. El Norteno
10. BarBersQ
Honorable Mention:
11. Piccadilly Fish & Chips
1. KOMI
2. Manresa
3. Ubuntu
4. Sushi Isano
5. Ishikawa
6. Nemuri-An
7. Aziza
8. Commis
9. Sorella
10. Quince
Honorable Mention:
11. Holeman & Finch
BEST STANDBYS:
1. Kiss
2. Pizzeria Picco
3. Zuni
4. Sushi Sam's
5. Father's Office
6. Refuge
7. Naked Lunch
8. Pizzeria Delfina
9. El Norteno
10. BarBersQ
Honorable Mention:
11. Piccadilly Fish & Chips
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Observations on Top Chef Season 6
Crossovers between Top Chef and The Truman Show:
- "So I grabbed the Calphalon non-stick pan ..." (Kevin)
- "We all got into the Venza and headed to Whole Foods ..." (Bryan Voltaggio)
Are we really supposed to believe that these lines came from the chef himself (especially that one)?
- "I did watch Michael Chiarello on [Top Chef ]Masters. He is an awesome chef. He has pioneered fine dining in the Napa Valley." (Michael Voltaggio)
- "The Napa Valley Wine Train is known for great cuisine." (Michael Voltaggio)
What on earth did Kevin do to tick off the producers? Maybe the M Resort wanted to recoup the cost for all those High-Stakes Quickfires by betting against the leading contender? Not to dispute the culinary talents of the Voltaggio brothers (or of Harold from Season 1), but Kevin got screwed almost as badly as Tiffani did on Season 1 with his sous chef selections.
Really, you had to boot out the two moms after just the introductory childhood memory appetizer and not let them stay to taste the remaining 3 courses? Chintzy much?
Why make savory chefs do dessert, especially now that Top Chef is spinning off Top Pastry Chef?
Bravo finally seems to have caught on that making chefs responsible for decor in Restaurant Wars is pointless. Will it ever come to the realization that event catering is different from restaurant cooking?
I appreciated and completely agree with Harold's comment that he hates the question, "Did you taste your food?" (the Top Chef equivalent of the "Did you stop beating your wife" cross-examination). Can we also get rid of the "Why do you deserve to be Top Chef" question? When did oral advocacy become part of a cooking competition? Perhaps I should be prepared to cook an omelette at my next motion hearing.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Friday Afternoon Laughs
How is it that people are becoming so oversensitive and increasingly rude at the same time?
Friday, September 25, 2009
Friday Morning Laughs
In the midst of a truly heinous week (two more work days left!), I appreciate anything that makes me chuckle, even in pathetic agreement.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Chef-Writers
I love reading Anthony Bourdain. He is sarcastic, funny, entertaining, and insightful-- what is not to like? I have never once thought I would really like to taste his cooking, but who cares?
I can tolerate reading Michael Ruhlman. Even if he were not constantly reminding you that he went to CIA and is formally trained as a chef, he is in fact quite erudite in the culinary arts and not a half-bad writer. Even though I do not feel that my life is incomplete for never experiencing his cooking, I would generally prefer to read his writing over listening to Andrew Knowlton or Toby Young.
The ones that make me shrink and feel insignificant are those who are incredible chefs AND also good writers. With what free time is Daniel Patterson able to create such masterful tasting menus at Coi and write pieces for publications like New York Times and San Francisco Magazine? While I have never been a huge fan of his cooking style, no one could dispute the chefly credentials of Grant Achatz. When he publishes a piece that is thoughtful, well-written, and entertaining, the refrain that runs through the back of my mind is That is really not fair.
I can crank out a decent motion for summary judgment; I cannot crank out anything more complicated than Eggs Benedict (and I cheat because I would never serve it unless accompanied, or rather distracted, by a bottle of good bubbly).
I can tolerate reading Michael Ruhlman. Even if he were not constantly reminding you that he went to CIA and is formally trained as a chef, he is in fact quite erudite in the culinary arts and not a half-bad writer. Even though I do not feel that my life is incomplete for never experiencing his cooking, I would generally prefer to read his writing over listening to Andrew Knowlton or Toby Young.
The ones that make me shrink and feel insignificant are those who are incredible chefs AND also good writers. With what free time is Daniel Patterson able to create such masterful tasting menus at Coi and write pieces for publications like New York Times and San Francisco Magazine? While I have never been a huge fan of his cooking style, no one could dispute the chefly credentials of Grant Achatz. When he publishes a piece that is thoughtful, well-written, and entertaining, the refrain that runs through the back of my mind is That is really not fair.
I can crank out a decent motion for summary judgment; I cannot crank out anything more complicated than Eggs Benedict (and I cheat because I would never serve it unless accompanied, or rather distracted, by a bottle of good bubbly).
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Restaurant Website Issues
- Why must basic information like days and hours of operation be so difficult to find? A simple home page showing address, phone number, and hours may be pedestrian but also practical and helpful.
- Why must there be so many graphics such that the site takes forever to load, particularly on mobile devices?
- Can I please see a sample wine list, along with the sample menu, so that I can be prepared when I show up that the majority of the wine selections are priced above $100/bottle? Or worse, include only domestic wines?
- I doubt that Thomas Keller, Michael Mina, or Wolfgang Puck will be expediting my dinner. Would it be so disillusioning to post an easily accessible bio of the person who might actually be doing that at a particular kitchen?
- The cheesy music whose graphic I cannot immediately locate in order to turn the sound off is not only irritating, but makes it more likely that I will turn to alternative sites, like Yelp, to get restaurant information during the work day so that I am not announcing my potential dinner plans to the entire office.
Thursday, August 06, 2009
More Reasons To Admire Those Who Toil in Restaurants
Alternate title for post:
Why I would drink [even more] excessively if I worked in a restaurant.
I recently had the opportunity to shadow a sommelier at a high-end restaurant during dinner service. Apart from confirming my belief that I would so be fired before the end of the shift if some restaurant were actually crazy or desperate enough to hire me, one thing that stands out starkly in my memory from that experience is how insignificant, dismissed, and non-human I felt around the diners. I have heard servers talk about feeling invisible, but that was not quite it. I was definitely visible, since people clearly saw me and asked me for things, but it was more of a benign lack of acknowledgement of my existence, coupled with an attitude of entitlement.
To illustrate, I was floored to read about diners complaining about servers and bussers trying to clear their plates when they are not finished eating. On the flip side, I have also heard complaints about plates not being cleared fast enough once people are done eating. Yet these are the same crazies who begrudge servers the measly 15% gratuity they deign to leave, after expecting their every desire to be fulfilled immediately, getting irritated if servers do not tell them enough about the food, if servers tell them too much about the food, if servers hover, if servers fail to apparate at their side the moment they want ___________. Do not even get me started on diners who decide to pop into a restaurant two minutes before closing and then get grouchy at being "rushed." How happy do you get when your boss gives you a project at 5pm on a Friday. Are lack of manners de rigueur for dining out these days?
Those would be front of the house issues. The kitchen has a whole other set of issues with which to contend. A recent episode of Top Chef Masters had the chef contestants preparing a meal for a vegetarian who does not eat dairy and has a gluten allergy. The following are some examples of actual conversations I have had with people at work trying to decide where or what to eat:
"I don't like poultry."
"What about turkey at Thanksgiving?"
"Fine, I like turkey and chicken, but nothing else."
"Rabbit tastes like chicken."
"No."
"I won't eat organs."
"You loved foie gras."
"That was before I found out it was liver."
"Indian sounds good, as long as I don't have to eat lamb."
"I don't like ground meat, except hamburgers."
"I can't eat cheese because I'm lactose intolerant." (Cheese does not contain lactose.)
"Sausages gross me out."
"What about hot dogs?"
"Hot dogs are okay."
"I want my steak well-done."
"I don't like raw fish."
"I don't like seafood."
"I eat everything. Except sweetbreads."
"I don't like spicy food."
"I put Tabasco on everything."
Feel like ripping your hair out yet? After training for years, accepting all kinds of abuse, and being paid pittance for most of your career, why would you subject your culinary creations to this type of audience. I am frankly surprised that chefs do not hack off one of their ears in frustration.
Why I would drink [even more] excessively if I worked in a restaurant.
I recently had the opportunity to shadow a sommelier at a high-end restaurant during dinner service. Apart from confirming my belief that I would so be fired before the end of the shift if some restaurant were actually crazy or desperate enough to hire me, one thing that stands out starkly in my memory from that experience is how insignificant, dismissed, and non-human I felt around the diners. I have heard servers talk about feeling invisible, but that was not quite it. I was definitely visible, since people clearly saw me and asked me for things, but it was more of a benign lack of acknowledgement of my existence, coupled with an attitude of entitlement.
To illustrate, I was floored to read about diners complaining about servers and bussers trying to clear their plates when they are not finished eating. On the flip side, I have also heard complaints about plates not being cleared fast enough once people are done eating. Yet these are the same crazies who begrudge servers the measly 15% gratuity they deign to leave, after expecting their every desire to be fulfilled immediately, getting irritated if servers do not tell them enough about the food, if servers tell them too much about the food, if servers hover, if servers fail to apparate at their side the moment they want ___________. Do not even get me started on diners who decide to pop into a restaurant two minutes before closing and then get grouchy at being "rushed." How happy do you get when your boss gives you a project at 5pm on a Friday. Are lack of manners de rigueur for dining out these days?
Those would be front of the house issues. The kitchen has a whole other set of issues with which to contend. A recent episode of Top Chef Masters had the chef contestants preparing a meal for a vegetarian who does not eat dairy and has a gluten allergy. The following are some examples of actual conversations I have had with people at work trying to decide where or what to eat:
"I don't like poultry."
"What about turkey at Thanksgiving?"
"Fine, I like turkey and chicken, but nothing else."
"Rabbit tastes like chicken."
"No."
"I won't eat organs."
"You loved foie gras."
"That was before I found out it was liver."
"Indian sounds good, as long as I don't have to eat lamb."
"I don't like ground meat, except hamburgers."
"I can't eat cheese because I'm lactose intolerant." (Cheese does not contain lactose.)
"Sausages gross me out."
"What about hot dogs?"
"Hot dogs are okay."
"I want my steak well-done."
"I don't like raw fish."
"I don't like seafood."
"I eat everything. Except sweetbreads."
"I don't like spicy food."
"I put Tabasco on everything."
Feel like ripping your hair out yet? After training for years, accepting all kinds of abuse, and being paid pittance for most of your career, why would you subject your culinary creations to this type of audience. I am frankly surprised that chefs do not hack off one of their ears in frustration.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Flour + Water Missing Something
Flour + Water
2401 Harrison Street
San Francisco, CA 94110
(415) 826-7000
Chef Thomas McNaughton
Dinner nightly
As Anton Ego noted in Ratatouille, it takes someone or something else to provide perspective. After finally trying the much-lauded Vetri in January 2012, I now understand why people love Flour + Water so much. Comparatively speaking, it is better executed and better priced. Why is Italian so difficult?
Last tried: December 2011
This is a perfectly nice neighborhood joint, with hearty, homey dishes that are almost as appealing as SPQR or Cotogna and a well-priced wine list. But I still do not understand the reason for the national hype.
Tried: August 2009
Scoring high with the critics early in the game is both impressive and certainly good for business. During an economic climate when many restaurants would kill to get even a half-full dining room on a weekend evening, there was already a long line of people spilling onto the street corner in front of Flour + Water at 5:30 p.m. on a Monday night, all vying for one of the cramped tables in the deliberately shabby-chic interior.
I have to admit I was definitely curious after it had garnered three stars from Michael Bauer of the San Francisco Chronicle. While I am not a huge fan of his dismissive and somewhat antiseptic writing style, the man does have a palate. In this instance, however, he raised my expectations way too high, and perhaps any new restaurant, no matter how talented the kitchen, was bound to fail to meet them under the circumstances.
Flour + Water does quite a decent margherita pizza, with the appropriate blistery crust, aromatic basil, and sweet tomatoes, without any of the underlying blandness that can mar this type of pizza if the pizzaiolo does not calibrate the balance exactly right. Plus, the fior di latte mozzarella was so delectable that I did not even miss mozzarella di buffala.
The rest of the menu, unfortunately, reminded me of a pretty girl who does not know how to use makeup or dress to complement her looks. The meaty Monterey Bay sardines, although nicely charred, were dry and underseasoned, not helped by the overpowering mint puree smeared on the plate as though it were an afterthought. The yellow cherry tomatoes and clump of undressed watercress on the side, while both beautiful and fresh ingredients in and of themselves, were similarly out of place, leaving the entire dish to taste minty, fishy, and undersalted.
The oxtail "terrine" was actually not a terrine at all but deep-fried croquettes filled with oxtail confit. The meat was exactly as tender as it should be, and the crispy fried exterior was satisfying to the point that I did not mind that it was a little burnt, but the odd sweet sauce with its slightly Asian flavor drizzled around the plate clashed with the seasoning of the oxtail "terrine," as well as with the shards of parmeggiano artfully placed around the arugula on which the croquettes were presented. The most frustrating part of the dish was the generous scattering of chanterelle mushrooms, one of my favorite ingredients, which were gritty. I still ate them, suffering through the unpleasant crunch of the grit against my teeth echoing through my head, in the same way that I refuse to stop eating oysters when less-expert shuckers leave pieces of shell in them.
I had heard so much about the hand-made pasta that I had to try one notwithstanding the slight disappointments of the other dishes. Each component of the thick spaghetti with butter beans and pancetta in a tomato sauce was prepared exactly right. The pancetta was rendered down to the point where the pieces were crispy yet retained their bacony-meatiness, the butter beans were soft and creamy, and the thick spaghetti were cooked to exactly the al dente texture I like, with that chewy tug reminiscent of good soba. Nonetheless, as a whole the dish looked and tasted like a slightly better rendition of something I might have at home on leftover night.
Sadly, if Bauer had given Flour + Water his standard two and half stars, I might have loved it.
2401 Harrison Street
San Francisco, CA 94110
(415) 826-7000
Chef Thomas McNaughton
Dinner nightly
As Anton Ego noted in Ratatouille, it takes someone or something else to provide perspective. After finally trying the much-lauded Vetri in January 2012, I now understand why people love Flour + Water so much. Comparatively speaking, it is better executed and better priced. Why is Italian so difficult?
Last tried: December 2011
This is a perfectly nice neighborhood joint, with hearty, homey dishes that are almost as appealing as SPQR or Cotogna and a well-priced wine list. But I still do not understand the reason for the national hype.
Tried: August 2009
Scoring high with the critics early in the game is both impressive and certainly good for business. During an economic climate when many restaurants would kill to get even a half-full dining room on a weekend evening, there was already a long line of people spilling onto the street corner in front of Flour + Water at 5:30 p.m. on a Monday night, all vying for one of the cramped tables in the deliberately shabby-chic interior.
I have to admit I was definitely curious after it had garnered three stars from Michael Bauer of the San Francisco Chronicle. While I am not a huge fan of his dismissive and somewhat antiseptic writing style, the man does have a palate. In this instance, however, he raised my expectations way too high, and perhaps any new restaurant, no matter how talented the kitchen, was bound to fail to meet them under the circumstances.
Flour + Water does quite a decent margherita pizza, with the appropriate blistery crust, aromatic basil, and sweet tomatoes, without any of the underlying blandness that can mar this type of pizza if the pizzaiolo does not calibrate the balance exactly right. Plus, the fior di latte mozzarella was so delectable that I did not even miss mozzarella di buffala.
The rest of the menu, unfortunately, reminded me of a pretty girl who does not know how to use makeup or dress to complement her looks. The meaty Monterey Bay sardines, although nicely charred, were dry and underseasoned, not helped by the overpowering mint puree smeared on the plate as though it were an afterthought. The yellow cherry tomatoes and clump of undressed watercress on the side, while both beautiful and fresh ingredients in and of themselves, were similarly out of place, leaving the entire dish to taste minty, fishy, and undersalted.
The oxtail "terrine" was actually not a terrine at all but deep-fried croquettes filled with oxtail confit. The meat was exactly as tender as it should be, and the crispy fried exterior was satisfying to the point that I did not mind that it was a little burnt, but the odd sweet sauce with its slightly Asian flavor drizzled around the plate clashed with the seasoning of the oxtail "terrine," as well as with the shards of parmeggiano artfully placed around the arugula on which the croquettes were presented. The most frustrating part of the dish was the generous scattering of chanterelle mushrooms, one of my favorite ingredients, which were gritty. I still ate them, suffering through the unpleasant crunch of the grit against my teeth echoing through my head, in the same way that I refuse to stop eating oysters when less-expert shuckers leave pieces of shell in them.
I had heard so much about the hand-made pasta that I had to try one notwithstanding the slight disappointments of the other dishes. Each component of the thick spaghetti with butter beans and pancetta in a tomato sauce was prepared exactly right. The pancetta was rendered down to the point where the pieces were crispy yet retained their bacony-meatiness, the butter beans were soft and creamy, and the thick spaghetti were cooked to exactly the al dente texture I like, with that chewy tug reminiscent of good soba. Nonetheless, as a whole the dish looked and tasted like a slightly better rendition of something I might have at home on leftover night.
Sadly, if Bauer had given Flour + Water his standard two and half stars, I might have loved it.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
In Search Of ...
A taste (and I mean, just a taste) of sublime, tender, juicy pastrami prepared by Chef de Cuisine J.P. Carmona as an amuse at the Iron Chef dinner at Manresa Restaurant a couple of months ago fired up my pastrami craving. Otherwise, I have found to date no place on the West Coast, in either Northern or Southern California, that matches the platonic ideal of the pastrami from Katz's Deli in Manhattan (although The Refuge in San Carlos probably comes closest, notwithstanding the mildly spongy texture and slight cinnamony flavor).
I have generally been so impressed with the artisan sandwiches and salads created by the crew at Kitchenette, a little catering outpost on the edge of San Francisco in an area that looks like a cleaned-up version of Thunderdome, that I purposely manufactured a reason to be in the City on the day they posted pastrami on the menu. Yet even Kitchenette's pastrami disappointed. Too chewy, too peppery, with the necessary interspersed fat layers gristly instead of melty.
I gave up and ordered pastrami from Katz's on line (more feasible than begging a Michelin two-star restaurant to make me a sandwich). It suffered a bit in transit, and probably the first and only time I would pay over $20 for a sandwich, but it assuaged my craving for the time being short of actually flying to New York. I am not quite that crazy yet.
Other cravings that all seem to require travel, some farther than others: ramen, burger, pizza, fried chicken.
I have generally been so impressed with the artisan sandwiches and salads created by the crew at Kitchenette, a little catering outpost on the edge of San Francisco in an area that looks like a cleaned-up version of Thunderdome, that I purposely manufactured a reason to be in the City on the day they posted pastrami on the menu. Yet even Kitchenette's pastrami disappointed. Too chewy, too peppery, with the necessary interspersed fat layers gristly instead of melty.
I gave up and ordered pastrami from Katz's on line (more feasible than begging a Michelin two-star restaurant to make me a sandwich). It suffered a bit in transit, and probably the first and only time I would pay over $20 for a sandwich, but it assuaged my craving for the time being short of actually flying to New York. I am not quite that crazy yet.
Other cravings that all seem to require travel, some farther than others: ramen, burger, pizza, fried chicken.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Conversations with the Chef
Whenever possible, my favorite way to eat in a restaurant is "omakase," i.e., chef's choice. Of course, this generally only works in restaurants I have frequented previously, although it also works sometimes in places with open kitchens where the chef notices that I am eating everything not nailed down, or at least not faster than my fork, chopsticks, or fingers.
The best part of omakase dining is the opportunity to try something new or unusual, which might include something that the chef is excited about having recently created or something he enjoys eating himself (I am referring to the chefs I know, who happen to be male, so I am not intending to be sexist with this pronoun usage). Sometimes the chef is testing something out on me, which is flattering as well as fun. Sometimes the chef is showing off to remind me that his kitchen prowess is even greater than hitherto expected. Sometimes the chef is treating me to a taste of something extraordinary because he knows I am celebrating a special occasion (which can frankly be just eating at his restaurant).
The stressful part is when the chef comes by to say hello or checks in to see how I like a particular dish. I have just experienced an incredible expression of the chef's artistry. What words can I use to convey on the spot, at that moment in time, not only mesmerized by the flavors I had just experienced but also with whatever minimal literary skills I possess further impaired by the accompanying wine or sake, exactly how mindblowing the poached geoduck with ponzu and grated daikon was, how the flavor of the freshly shucked baby peas melted in my mouth with the white chocolate and mint, or how the pink, tender duck breast slices with their outlines of savory, melty, charred fat blended perfectly with the chewy, earthy and creamy farro risotto.
As highly descriptive words like "wonderful" or "delicious" escape from my mouth, I want to yell, do you have any idea how amazing this food is?
Thankfully for most of these chefs the answer is of course I do, you silly drunk person.
The best part of omakase dining is the opportunity to try something new or unusual, which might include something that the chef is excited about having recently created or something he enjoys eating himself (I am referring to the chefs I know, who happen to be male, so I am not intending to be sexist with this pronoun usage). Sometimes the chef is testing something out on me, which is flattering as well as fun. Sometimes the chef is showing off to remind me that his kitchen prowess is even greater than hitherto expected. Sometimes the chef is treating me to a taste of something extraordinary because he knows I am celebrating a special occasion (which can frankly be just eating at his restaurant).
The stressful part is when the chef comes by to say hello or checks in to see how I like a particular dish. I have just experienced an incredible expression of the chef's artistry. What words can I use to convey on the spot, at that moment in time, not only mesmerized by the flavors I had just experienced but also with whatever minimal literary skills I possess further impaired by the accompanying wine or sake, exactly how mindblowing the poached geoduck with ponzu and grated daikon was, how the flavor of the freshly shucked baby peas melted in my mouth with the white chocolate and mint, or how the pink, tender duck breast slices with their outlines of savory, melty, charred fat blended perfectly with the chewy, earthy and creamy farro risotto.
As highly descriptive words like "wonderful" or "delicious" escape from my mouth, I want to yell, do you have any idea how amazing this food is?
Thankfully for most of these chefs the answer is of course I do, you silly drunk person.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Places I've Eaten in Tokyo
**Places I would go back to eat
*Closed
Birdland
Butagumi
Chisen
Daiwa Sushi (cash only)
Elevage
Esaki
Harukiya (cash only)
Ivan Ramen (cash only ordering machine)
Jangara Ramen
Kagurazaka Ishikawa
Kebab Box
Koju
Kyorakutei
Maison de Caviar Beluga
Motoyama Milk Bar
Nemuri-an (cash only)
Nenrinya
Nihombashi Isesada
Numazu Uogashi Zushi
La Rochelle
Rokukakutei
Rokusan-tei
Ryugin
Salvatore
San Marco Curry House
Snaffles
Sukiyabashi Jiro Ginza (cash only)
Sushi Dai (cash only)
Sushi Isano (near Ebisu Garden)
Sushi Mizutani (cash only)
Sushi Sukeroku
Tempura Motoyoshi (cash only)
Tetsugama (cash only ordering machine)
Tokyo Ramen Street Hirugao (cash only ordering machine)
Tokyo Ramen Street Rokurinsha (cash only ordering machine)
Tsurutanton
Tonki
UCC Cafe Plaza
Ukai-tei
** I had some difficulty making this decision for the places I tried in Tokyo-- for the opposite reason from the Lake Tahoe eateries. For some, where the hype and the actual experience were quite disparate, the election was quite easy. For others, I went back and forth because if it were not for the travel and expense involved, I would certainly have marked it among the italicized "Places I would go back to eat," except that in reality, I would likely not actually go back the next time I return to Tokyo because there are so many other places I would like to try (not sure when but still fun to daydream about) and frankly, there are less expensive places in the United States that I like better.
I need to learn to read Japanese. The most intriguing places have no English menus and no pictures or plastic food displays ...
*Closed
Birdland
Butagumi
Chisen
Daiwa Sushi (cash only)
Elevage
Esaki
Harukiya (cash only)
Ivan Ramen (cash only ordering machine)
Jangara Ramen
Kagurazaka Ishikawa
Kebab Box
Koju
Kyorakutei
Maison de Caviar Beluga
Motoyama Milk Bar
Nemuri-an (cash only)
Nenrinya
Nihombashi Isesada
Numazu Uogashi Zushi
La Rochelle
Rokukakutei
Rokusan-tei
Ryugin
Salvatore
San Marco Curry House
Snaffles
Sukiyabashi Jiro Ginza (cash only)
Sushi Dai (cash only)
Sushi Isano (near Ebisu Garden)
Sushi Mizutani (cash only)
Sushi Sukeroku
Tempura Motoyoshi (cash only)
Tetsugama (cash only ordering machine)
Tokyo Ramen Street Hirugao (cash only ordering machine)
Tokyo Ramen Street Rokurinsha (cash only ordering machine)
Tsurutanton
Tonki
UCC Cafe Plaza
Ukai-tei
** I had some difficulty making this decision for the places I tried in Tokyo-- for the opposite reason from the Lake Tahoe eateries. For some, where the hype and the actual experience were quite disparate, the election was quite easy. For others, I went back and forth because if it were not for the travel and expense involved, I would certainly have marked it among the italicized "Places I would go back to eat," except that in reality, I would likely not actually go back the next time I return to Tokyo because there are so many other places I would like to try (not sure when but still fun to daydream about) and frankly, there are less expensive places in the United States that I like better.
I need to learn to read Japanese. The most intriguing places have no English menus and no pictures or plastic food displays ...
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Another Reason To Look Forward to Summer
Top Chef Masters coming in June. I can't help it; I'm addicted.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
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Manresa 320 Village Lane Los Gatos, CA 95030 (408)354-4330 Chef David Kinch Dinner Tuesday through Sunday Tried: March 2007 Guest Chef Alain...
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BLD 7450 Beverly Blvd. Los Angeles, CA 90036 (323) 930-9744 Daily 8am to 11pm Inadvertently tried: January 2008 This is the first time where...
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50 Clinton Street New York, NY 10002 (212)477-2900 Chef Wylie Dufresne (formerly sous chef Restaurant Jean Georges ) Sous Chef Mike Sheerin...
