Gastronomie

Nowruz-e-taan Piruz!

Yes, indeed. Tomorrow is the first day of Spring, which means that tonight at 10:48 Pacific Standard Time, we celebrate Persian New Year.

Last minute obligations are precluding us from making it to Los Angeles as we'd hoped, so I'm cobbling together a Haft Sinn from last year's provisions. It will do, though it can't possibly hold a candle to my mom's. Dinner tonight is the traditional Sabzi Polo Mahi -- my kid brother is braving the Persian market to pick up a smoked fish and green garlic.

We miss our family muchly, but in the past six weeks of living together, my brother and I have learned that we have each other through thick and thin, as different as we may be, and despite the decade separating us.

As we jumped over the fires last night, I couldn't help but think how different last year was -- all I wanted to do was leave the prior year behind, to move on, to purge the sadness and anger of the Persian year 1385. This year, I am thankful that 1386's hardships and sadness were all steps toward growth and strength. All the people I love are in a much better place, and the upcoming year can only build upon the foundation that is solidly in place.

To all of you who follow along every day, week, month -- you don't know how much your comments and emails mean. To each of you who has been a confidante and friend, thank you! And of my family in Los Angeles, I beg your forgiveness, for I know that our last minute cancellation has caused major disappointment. I love you dearly.

Nowruz-e-taan Piruz, Interwebs!

Tags: Persian, New Year, Nowruz, Nowrouz, Eid, Haft Sinn, San Francisco, Food & Drink

Beer + Monks + Oakland = The Trappist

I have started this post at least four times. Seriously, I'm not exaggerating - something about The Trappist, or Belgian beer, or Oakland, or some combination thereof makes my adorable little MacBook go "pffflt" and shut down Firefox.

But I'm a trooper, and I just have to give Brother Chuck and Brother Aaron some love. (No, silly, they are NOT really monks, though if monkhood were bestowed on the basis of how much joy one can bring to the unwashed masses, they'd definitely be in the running).

The Trappist opened in Old Oakland, and to little fanfare, in December by two guys who love Belgians and were over their day jobs. They offer 15 beers on tap, which rotate more often than I can keep up with, and another 100 or so selections by the bottle. The majority of beers are served in proper stemware (see here), and at the proper temperature. The bar and taps were imported from Belgium, and bring an incredible sense of character to this tiny space on 8th Street.

It's at The Trappist where I first tasted a Flemish Red Ale, which I now know to be a perfect friend to my palate -- I'm quite partial to Rodenbach, as it happens, though Monk's Cafe is lovely, too. These sour beers, somewhere between a Lambic and an Ale in character, are less up Colin's alley, though he too has found a flavor profile he really loves: Barrel-aged Cru beers, Allagash and Carollus in particular, are favorites of his.

There's no food service at The Trappist, but they do have two cheeses available for noshing -- an Aged Gouda and a Chimay -washed soft cheese -- with nuts and the best crackery-breadsticky things I've ever had. Either (or one of each) is more than enough to keep you upright on your barstool while you sample the next beer on your list.

Trappist is far more than you favorite local pub, though it has quickly struck that note with a handful of our neighbors. It's your favorite wine bar, redefined in an unexpected and refreshing way.  It's a place where novices and beer connoisseurs alike can compare notes without pretension or affectation. Maybe most importantly, it's a place where a couple of guys are seeing their dream realized, and are clearly thankful for it, every day.

The Trappist
460 8th Street
Oakland
510.238.8900

Orson is My New Bitch

C's birthday is today (yea, go over here and wish him a good one...) and as true and proper gluttons, we gone done it up right. (sorry. i'm Dooce-ing).

Anyway.

After a mighty fine meal at Levende (proceeds benefiting NextAid), we hopped in the car and headed home. Except, well, I might have gotten "lost". On a route that might have led directly to Orson. Where I might move, if the crew behind the bar would only give me access to the celery stuff they put in the Drink Architected For Me (aka, the Celery Gimlet*).

Anyway, again.

Remember that scene in the Fellowship of the Rings, where the Hobbits are talking about "Second Breakfast"? Well, we had "Second Dinner". Pop-Rock-Cocoa-Nib-Parmesan-Pudding... Lightly-Smoked-Fish... Chocolate-Enrobed-Foie-Gras...

Dammit, it makes me want to go back to selling my soul for The Man, just so I can eat here once a week. Go here. Eat. Spend. Appreciate not blowing your "Points". Let your taste buds dictate the quality for once, instead of your pocketbook.

Love ya, mean it.

*Seriously, people, do you think I'd be blogging at one in the morning when I could be looking at porn if the the drink was anything less than my personal manna?

Interesting Food -- Are You Ready For It?

Last week, Sam and I went to Orson on their first publicly-open night. She wrote an outstanding post about it here, including some excellent tips for getting the most out of a meal at Orson.

I thought I'd toss my two-cents into the ring, as so many of you today are heading over from her post, and decided to take the opportunity to ask an interesting question, as well.

To begin though, I have to laud Jacqueline Patterson's cocktail list. I fell so promptly in love with the Celery Gimlet that I actually ordered two of them instead of trying a second cocktail. Interestingly, I tried Alembic's celery & gin concoction on Friday night, and have to say that Orson's version is a far more balanced drink. Sam's Catch-22, while not my personal cup of tea, is a masterful libation loaded with flavor.

Also, as Sam mentioned, the Lightly Smoked Fish ($15) is a wonder of sous vide cookery -- the outside is texturally similar to hot-smoked salmon while the interior retains the texture of cold-smoking. Charred Octopus ($11) is a light dish, punctuated by paper-thin shavings of beef tendon and sprouted peanuts; an odd combination to be sure, but one which works beautifully.

When Chef Falkner came out to say hello, Sam and I both couldn't help gushing over everything, from the drinks and savory courses I espoused above, to the lovely space and service. We chatted for a bit about the never-ending "California Cuisine" debate, which leads me to ask you this question:

Is San Francisco ready to embrace technique-based cooking?

Ours has long been a culture of ingredient-driven food, and with good reason -- just stop in at any Farmer's Market and you can see why. But in that process, we've effectively denied our restaurant kitchens the opportunity to develop and cultivate the use of creative techniques, styles, and flavors.

I think back to the wonderful and memorable Smoked Yogurt that accompanied our chocolate cake at Coi, and how it disappeared not long after our meal there because it was "too different". And yes, while I know that Winterland's location was cursed, it's still unfortunate that they closed SO quickly (though, by all accounts, service never really got where it needed to be). How about the dishes that Daniel Humm was turning out at Campton Place? How could we have let a creative mind of his caliber run off to New York?

The question has been asked many times, many ways. But I can't help but ask it again. Are we willing to pay top-dollar for food because of the effort it takes? Is San Francisco ready to support a local favorite daughter in her attempt to push the boundaries of what we eat in this town?

Weigh in, please. I'm truly curious to know your thoughts.

Tags: Citizen Cake, Orson, Elizabeth Falkner, Molecular+Gastronomy, Cooking, Restaurants, San Francisco, Food & Drink