Gastronomie

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

Fish & Farm, a New Local Gem

We're in the midst of a restaurant explosion of sorts in San Francisco, one which shows few signs of letting up. Part of what I love is how spread out these new restaurants are -- Serpentine in Dogpatch, Local on 1st Street (something of a culinary wasteland, to be sure), and my current favorite, Fish & Farm in the Tenderloin.

My first taste of Fish & Farm was a couple of months ago, as part of a media dinner. I didn't feel right writing about that meal since it was fully comped, but I was torn because I knew that I'd be back on my own dime, and soon. I've now been to F&F three times, and I may be a little bit enamored.

The focus here is on local and sustainable, and while those concepts are currently being abused to within an inch of their lives, Fish & Farm is trying to do them right. For example, they're growing herbs on their rooftop garden, and they've committed to supporting local purveyors by sourcing most of their fish, meat and produce from within 100 miles of the restaurant.

All this sounds great, but without delicious food to back it up, it doesn't go very far. So how 'bout that food?

So far, I have enjoyed everything I've eaten at Fish & Farm -- and that covers a LOT of ground. A few key highlights for your enjoyment:

• Oyster & Pumpkin Salad ($11) blew my socks off. The roasted pumpkin was tender and sweet, while the panko-battered oysters were briny and crisp. I can't remember the last time I had such an innovative salad that I enjoyed.
• Pan-Seared Corvina ($25) has been on the menu in a few iterations, and both versions I've tried have been great. The delicate fish is never overpowered by the preparation, but makes a great vehicle for subtle but rich flavors. (One of the accompaniments was a sweetbread raviolo. The pasta was perfect, even if I didn't adore the filling, so I can't wait to try a main pasta dish soon.)
• And then there's the grand-daddy of them all -- a Marin Sun Farms (if I recall correctly) Rib Eye Steak ($38). That may seem pricy, but it's very much in line considering the cost of MSF's beef at retail. Anyway, I have told anyone who wants to listen that this was the best steak I ate in 2007. It's a very generous cut, easily shareable (unless you are C, who can eat his weight in good beef).
• Smashed Potatoes (~$6)... Catherine has already written about these here, and they really are that good.

The wine list is superb and extremely interesting, with maybe my favorite policy in the city: if a wine from the bottle list appeals to you, but you want only a glass, you can have it for a third the price of the bottle. Considering that 90% of the list is under $50, this is an easy way to try a wine you're curious about.

Cocktails are strong and delicious -- none was overly sweet, and all the herby/fruity ingredients are local and/or organic. In fact, the rosemary in the San Francisco Martini ($8) comes from the aforementioned rooftop garden. Bartenders are funny and charming, and great at making cool drinks on the fly, or picking a wine from a bare bones description of what you like. (Even when you  insist you don't care for Chardonnay, you might eat crow when they make you taste a Chard they know you'll like. Hmph.)

As to desserts... I have admittedly not been wooed by any of them yet, though the Pug's Leap Goat's Milk Buche from the Cheese Course ($12 for 3), made me want to start rediscovering goat's milk cheeses again. The dessert menu doesn't seem to change as frequently as the savory menu, and frankly, I think that's a wise choice for a place this small and without a pastry chef.

Fish & Farm is a small place -- maybe 40 or so seats -- so you may find yourself waiting a little while, even with reservations. Because of how comfortable the room is, I've noticed that people linger long after dessert. Practice patience, enjoy a cocktail at the bar, and you'll be richly rewarded.

Fish & Farm
339 Taylor Street (inside the Mark Twain Hotel)
San Francisco, CA
415.474.3474

Tags: Food, Food & Drink, Wine, San Francisco, Local, Cocktails, Restaurant Review

Sitting Down at The Alembic

Earlier this week, an old friend came to town, and we planned to meet for a drink at Alembic; she's a bartender and I knew I wanted to take her somewhere with creative drinks and a spirits list to rival the best places in Manhattan. Plus, I mostly just love the vibe there, and the fact that you can generally hear the person you're sitting with.

As it turned out, we were both hungry so decided to grab a table instead of waiting for seats at the (packed) bar. I'd had a few nibbles here before, and had been quite pleased, so I was looking forward to making  a meal of the simple and well-thought-out menu of high-brow bar food.

We ordered our first round of cocktails (a Glenrothes concoction called "Boutonniere" for me, a Balvenie 15-year  for Angela), and settled on two Deviled Duck Eggs ($1 each), Herb Frites ($5), Mac & Cheese ($9) and an order of Lamb Sliders ($10).

The sliders are the only thing I probably wouldn't order again, which is a shame, because they could be standout. The bread is a bit too porous, which makes a mess, and both times I've ordered them, the meat itself has been somewhat dry.

The mac & cheese, though seemingly ubiquitous these days, is a really beautiful version made with local cheeses (Mt. Tam and Serena, I believe), and a generous shaving of truffles. Comforting, creamy and decadent, this is an easily shareable dish for two.

The duck eggs are perfectly lovely, and a steal at $1 each -- these are large eggs, and very filling. Paired with an order of fries, you could have a nice, fatty, booze-soaking meal for well under $10. Those fries, by the way, are herb-dusted and addictive, especially when used as a delivery-mechanism for the aioli they are served with. On this recent visit, it was a tangy lemongrass-and-garlic version. Really standout.

It was somewhere between the sliders and eggs that something went awry, though. I'd finished my cocktail, and asked for a Lagavulin on the rocks. Our waitress came back to tell me, very apologetically, that they were out, so she'd ordered me a Talisker. No problem there. But when she reappeared a moment later, she said, "oh, we are also out of Talisker, so this is a Macallans."

Now, some of you who don't drink Scotch may say, "what? I've heard of Macallans -- it's supposed to be good, right?" But the problem is, Scotch has a myriad of flavor profiles, and the closest comparison I can draw would be if you'd ordered a big, tannic, cabernet and instead received a glass of Beaujolais Nouveau. I was looking for something peaty and salty, not a smooth, mellow, caramelly Scotch.

I asked if they had Caol Ila, another Islay scotch, and she said yes, but was I sure I didn't want the Macallans, because the Caol Ila was $16 compared to the Macallan's $10.

Seriously? SERIOUSLY?? (Let's not talk about the fact that the bill actually arrived with both the Macallan's AND the Caol Ila -- it was removed when we asked, of course, but just added to the "ick" factor of the experience).

Right around the same time, Angela ordered a Cynar and ginger. Waitress-lady says, "we don't have Cynar". So Angela orders an Averna instead. Waitress girl goes over, futzes with the POS system a bit, and comes back.

"We're out of Averna, but good news! We have Cynar after all!" Angela and I stared at each other gape-jawed, and burst out laughing.

Here's the thing: I don't necessarily expect a server at a small neighborhood eatery to remember the distinctions between and Islay and a Lowland Scotch, let alone which ones come from where. And I don't think it's unreasonable that they wouldn't be sure of the difference between Cynar and Averna, or really what the hell to do with them.

But when you're waiting tables at Alembic? A temple dedicated to the respect of some of the world's finest spirits, and one where the resident bartenders and owners use things like Glenrothes and Nocino in their cocktails? Then I do have an expectation that you will at the very least ASK A BARTENDER when you are out of the Scotch I want, and not just order the next thing you recognize that's the same price in the computer.

Boys of Alembic? Dave and Daniel and all my other favorite bartenders? PLEASE don't let this happen again. I come to you because you understand libations. You understand that using Sarticious instead of Hendrick's in a cocktail renders a totally different flavor. Please teach your floor staff to respect booze the way it is meant to be respected.

Alembic
1725 Haight Street (next door to Red Vic's)
San Francisco
415.666.0822

Tags: Food, Wine, Food & Drink, San Francisco, Bars, Cocktails, Alembic

An update on Sketch!

Unless you've been living under a rock, you know that a fierce ice-cream battle rages here in the Bay Area. East of the bridge, we have Ici and Sketch, while the city's Bi-Rite Creamery seems to be beating Mitchell's by a fine hair.

Having now eaten at all four on numerous occasions, I feel wholly equipped to say that Bi-Rite's salted caramel ice cream kicks some serious ass, but is (for me anyway) only consumable very rarely. It's just too rich. Mitchell's Macapuno ice cream, on the other hand, is one I could eat once a week and be happy.

On the East side, I still think Ici's ice creams are tooooo sweet, though I understand there are people who like that kind of thing. To be honest, I have rarely finished a whole cup of their confections, and I'm now more likely to get a single bon-bon if I don't take a pass altogether.

Then there's Sketch. My happy place. They recently closed their doors for a couple of months to redo the interior of the shop, and bring in new equipment. Gone are the Italian-style gelati bins; instead there are shiny new soft-serve machines -- three of them -- each serving two flavors.

Now, Ruthie told me that the machines do wonders for maintaining and consistent texture to the flavors, and that makes sense -- they produce a wide assortment of textures from granitas to gelati to heavier ice creams. And the flavors I tasted did have an even better mouthfeel than before.

BUT. The one major flaw in the system is that the only flavors that can be combined are the two flavors in each machine. I'm not sure why they can't do a pull from two different machines -- I understand that it won't be as aesthetically pleasing, but that essentially meant that I couldn't have my old favorite Strauss Yogurt with the Coconut I was so craving.

Instead, I went for the Coconut with Cocoa Nib combination. And don't get me wrong - it was superb. The Cocoa Nib was almost like a lightly chocolatey marshmallow, and the Coconut was so light it (and I freaking hate writing things like this) "danced" on the tongue, leaving behind a strong, rich flavor without a heavy butterfat coating. Pretty perfect, really. Still, I was sad to pass up my tangy favorite.

Next on my list to try at Sketch is the olive oil sundae -- basically the ice cream flavor of your choice (Ruthie or Eric will steer you to a complimentary flavor) drizzled with olive oil and sea salt. I have it on good authority that it's phenomenal.

Sketch Ice Cream
1809 4th Street
Berkeley, CA
510.665.5650

Summer's Long Departure

This is one of my favorite times of the year -- the days are getting shorter, but what we have of them bring sparkling-razor-focused sunshine. The haze is gone for a few weeks, and the weather gets a bit temperamental. Yesterday it was 75 degrees at 8pm; today, it's 67 at noon.

My favorite fruit in all the world (tomatoes) are at their apex, and some days warrant eating them out of hand. Other days, it seems cool enough to start canning and souping.

It's the last of the weekends at the lake, the last of the cookouts, the last of lazy mornings in the sun, reading a good book with a glass of iced tea. All these "lasts" remind me how lucky I am to live here, to BE here, and to have wonderful people (and dogs!) around me to share these moments with.

I've compiled a few of my favorite end-of-season recipes for you -- I know I'm looking forward to enjoying the last of the summer light streaming through my windows while I pull together these dishes.

Farmer's Market Penne
Chicken & Squash Risotto
Revelatory Tomato Soup & Grilled Cheese Sandwiches
Bread Salad with Cannellini Beans

PS -- don't forget to come out tonight and celebrate the final days of summer in Old Oakland.

Tags: Food, Wine, Food & Drink, San Francisco, Oakland, French Bulldog, Lake Berryessa, Recipes

The Who: Eric Gower. The Where: Purcell-Murray

I'm mighty impressed with Brett for having guessed the chef in this post. However, no one guessed that we were watching Mr. Gower do his thing in the epic demonstration kitchen at Purcell Murray's Lifestyle Showroom.

Purcell-Murray is a fascinating business. They are the wholesale distributor for several extremely high-end kitchen appliance brands (think La Cornue, Gaggenau, Thermador... you get the idea). Instead of leaving all the brand marketing to the retailers they furnish, they have taken product education to the next level by offering classes and demos to the public in their showrooms. 

In other words, before you drop a mint on your fabulous new kitchen, you can try out the brands and appliances you're interested in. Brilliant people, I tell you.

So, when we were recently invited to attend a cooking demo and dinner with Eric Gower, author of The Breakaway Cook, we jumped at the opportunity.

I'll let you explore that website to learn about Gower's philosophy and all that -- there's nothing I could write here that hasn't been written better there. However, what I CAN tell you is that he is definitely on to something here.

So often, throwing together a meal on short notice or after a long workday (hah!) results in a "good-enough" meal, but one without much punch. Gower's idea that a handful of un-basics, kept on hand in the pantry or fridge, can turn simple dishes into extraordinarily flavorful dishes is one worth exploring.

Witness: Replace 1/3 of the water in a basic basmati or jasmine rice preparation with carrot juice, and add a bay leaf or two. The result is a fragrant, exotic rice which bears little resemblance to its bland predecessor.

Another one: He served us some scallops crusted with -- get this -- ground lentils. Again, taking something simple but giving it a kick with something you probably already have in your cupboards.

Gower refers often to what he calls "flavor blasts". It sounds a little cheesy on paper, but it sort of works once you taste some of his dishes. He's kind enough to put some of them on his website, here, but I have to tell you -- his is a cookbook worth picking up.

You'll find perhaps handful or two of recipes with more than 10 ingredients. The majority are simple but flavor-packed, and truly easy to put together on short notice, so long as you keep his few ingredients on hand.

Tags: Food, Food & Drink, San Francisco, Purcell-Murray, Eric Gower, The Breakaway Cook, Cooking

Old Oakland scores another hit - Levende East

Miss Teri guessed it right. The restaurant I wrote about in my last post is, indeed, the Old Oakland location of Levende Lounge.

However, there are a few differences between this outpost. For one thing, it's got a much softer feel than the original Levende. Both are stunning in an uber-hip lofty way, but Levende East feels more elegant to me, a little more refined.

Also, where the menu at the Lounge is meant to be predominantly shared plates, Levende East takes a more traditional "course" approach. Oh, and that Bloody Mary Brunch they're so well-known for? Here you can enjoy it on Saturday instead of Sunday.

But other than that, you'll find the same quality of food coming out of Executive Chef Arren Caccamo's kitchen, a compact but well-chosen wine selection (with some 20+ wines by the glass), and cocktails to kill for.

Levende's Beet Salad ($9) is one of my new favorite things; in fact, I wish it was available in a slightly larger version with some form of protein at lunch. The goat cheese disks are coated in pecan crumbs and served warm for a heavenly contrast to the coolness of the beets and greens. The maple vinaigrette is an exceptional match to the other elements on the plate.

OK, let's talk ribs for a moment, shall we? You know those ribs that I raved about at Oola? Turns out, they're kind of chef Caccamo's invention (he was the chef de cuisine there, you see). And, well, he's made them... better. Guava-glazed-falling-off-the-bone-goodness. And then he sets them on top of mashed plantains which, while extremely tasty in their own right, are a bit too heavy for me to finish.

However, that will not stop me from ordering a Peanut Butter Pie for dessert. This is my new favorite feel-good dessert. Smooth, luscious peanut butter mousse, with just the right amount of salt, sits nestled in an Oreo-cookie crust. So perfect is this pairing that I usually end up scraping the whipped cream off my half, which C happily commandeers for his half of the dessert.

Speaking of C, he'd probably disown me if I didn't mention Levende's Mac 'n Cheese side dish, which he has been known to order at the bar for dinner if I'm on the road. Loaded with cheesy goodness, applewood smoked bacon and a crumb crust, it's a pretty damn satisfying version of this comfort food.

Now, in the interest of transparency, I'm going to mention that we're friends with two of the managing partners at Levende. But aside from a "Friends & Family" dinner where we guinea pigged ourselves out to them, we really do pay our own way. We've pretty much been there once a week (it's stumbling... 'scuse me,  walking distance from us) for a cocktail and a bite at the bar or communal table.

Old Oakland is finally turning into the destination spot I always hoped it would become. Welcome to the 'hood, kids!

Levende East
827 Washington Street
Oakland, CA
510.835.5585

Open for Lunch and Dinner M-F, Boogie Brunch & Dinner Saturday

Tags: Food, Wine, Food & Drink, San Francisco, Oakland, Levende, Restaurants

District Wine Bar. Just Another Pretty Face?

Is it fair to judge a restaurant a mere two weeks after opening and post a negative review on a public blog? Probably not. But then, District doesn't bill itself as a restaurant, and this review is only marginally about the food selection.

It is, however, a review of a poorly designed (but beautiful) space, paired with inadequate service (from beautiful people), to serve the needs of a burgeoning ("beautiful-people") population South of Market. Are you seeing a pattern?

District's space is stunning -- high ceilings, exposed beams and brick, gorgeous lighting and artwork. Unfortunately, this is an acoustic nightmare once you pack a couple hundred people in, and only made worse by the thumping sounds of Om Records ricocheting off every surface.

Logistically, too, there is little to love. A large ovalish bar sits just about in the center of the cavernous space, which wouldn't be a problem in and-of-itself. It's just that, once people are two and three deep against it, all the pathways to the far sides of the room are nearly impassable. We were lucky enough to score two seats at the bar, and rarely were we left "unbumped" for more than two minutes. That makes it hard to maintain your "beautiful-people" look, you know?

Now, had there been a host at the front door, helping people find their way either to one of the many "niches" or to an appropriate section of the bar, most of this headache might have been avoidable. There is something about walking into a space that's neither bar nor restaurant nor lounge that can be disconcerting, and this one pretty much demands a host or hostess.

Once we were finally seated with a glass of Schramberg Mirabelle Rose ($10), we took a look at the menu, comprised mostly of small plates and a few desserts. We settled on three choices, placed our order, and requested a second glass of wine each.

{Seeing as how this is, after all, a wine bar, a few words about the selections would be appropriate. The wine list is eclectic, with something for everyone. A few choices cater to the more mainstream palate, while the more adventuresome will find plenty to try and love. I really enjoyed a stainless-fermented Domaine Stirn Muscat, and an excellent, EXCELLENT Adami Prosecco, both about $10/glass). Plus, they pour Movia's Pinot Nero by the glass, and I admire that chutzpah.}

About five minutes after ordering, we were presented with Beef Carpaccio ($14), slathered in what I can only describe as bottled Caesar-salad dressing. As the bartender set it down, he asked, "Can I get you guys anything else?" I reminded him of our remaining food items, and he said, "Oh, sorry, I didn't get those - it'll be just a few minutes."

OK, no problem! It's loud, and you're busy, and hey, you're so pretty I'm going to forgive and forget!

Five minutes later (right after we nearly had to stab a different bartender as she overzealously tried to sweep away the last of our carpaccio), our Arancini ($10-ish) arrived. Slightly underseasoned, but the arrabiata-style sauce under them was perfection - spicy, savory, tangy, tomatoey goodness. The fried sage leaves rounded everything out nicely, and we polished the three rice balls off lickety-split.

A barback comes along and clears our plates, and we think, "how nice, fresh plates for our Salumi ($12)." Uh-huh. You know where this is going, right?

Pretty bartender comes back to check our glasses and clears our silverware, and I say, "Um, we do have an order of Salumi coming, right?" He responds, "Oh, did you want Salumi, too?"

Now, I don't think three small plates between two people is, you know, excessive. Am I right? So why did he find it so surprising? And why, when I made it clear that we were EXPECTING the salumi, did he have to ask me if I WANTED said salumi? At this point, pretty is becoming something of a liability.

The salumi, when it DID arrive was stunning. Very good prosciutto, yes. But then... then, "Mole" from Salumi Cured Meats, spiced with chocolate, cinnamon, ancho and chipotle peppers. Fra' Mani soppressata, all delicious and moist and sliced paper-thin, as it should be.

While we were making out with this selection of meaty goodness, a party of three standing behind us ordered a bottle of wine. (That logistics thing rears it's ugly head again -- the bar is PACKED at this point, and these folks had nowhere to PUT said bottle of wine. Hardly their fault, as this is, after all, a WINE BAR).

Bartender brings over the wine, opens, pours a taste for the gentleman, awkwardly passing it to him over my head. Gentleman says, "I'm sure it's fine", and they swap glasses and bottle for cash. Bartender counts it out, and says, "This isn't enough."

"Excuse me?", says the gentleman, "I gave you $46."  Pretty bartender hands the gentleman a wine list and says, "The bottle is $48. See, right there, it says $48." Gentleman looks at the menu and says, "Noooooo... it SAYS $40."

Bartender looks at the wine list again, looks at the cash in his hand, says, "Oh, I was looking at something else" and unceremoniously turns away.

Seriously? That's it? No, "Whoops, silly me!"? Not a smile, not a soupcon of humor or apology or even something resembling humility? NOTHING? Awful. Shameful. Ick.

So, what's the verdict? The food and the wine are fine -- very good, even. And the space is beautiful. But District has some serious work to do in order to bring service up to snuff, and they really ought to consider placing a hostess stand up front to help guide the flow of traffic. Otherwise, it risks becoming a victim of its "all-things-to-all-(beautiful)-people" mentality.

District-SF
216 Townsend Street
San Francisco
415.896.2120

Tags: Food, Wine, Food & Drink, San Francisco, District, Wine Bar, Restaurants

TWO - Hawthorne Lane's Reinvention

Last week, I had a date with a cute boy named C.

(Yes, that C. Practice patience, and perhaps you'll get the full story.)

I was picking him up at the airport, and we wanted to have a late-ish, low-key but delicious dinner. I'd heard a gentle bit of positive buzz about Two, and was able to get us a reservation for 9:15pm. Any menu that's friends with roasted marrow bones is a friend of mine.

A quick perusal of the "50 under $50" wine list found us a bottle of As Laxas Albarino ($34). This particular Albarino was nicely crisp, with a floral nose and lots of food-friendly acidity to make a great pairing for the seafood-heavy menu.

We started with Eastern fluke, over celery and cornichon salad ($9) -- sweet and tender slices of the freshest fluke were a nice appetite whetting bite. Moving on to Crispy-fried Hama Hama oysters, celery root remoulade and Slow roasted marrow bones, tomato stew, crusty bread (both $11), we got a nice idea of the breadth of the kitchen. The oysters were served on the half-shell, set it a rock salt bed as though they were raw. The remoulade with light and flavorful, far from the overly greasy remoulades that so often drown the flavor of delicate shellfish. Meanwhile, the marrow bones, while perhaps a bit on the smaller side than I would have preferred, were well-seasoned, and the tomato stew that accompanied them was incredibly rustic and delicious. We couldn't help but sop up every last drop with the crostini that were proferred.

The Duck confit pizza, caramelized onions, Swedish fontina, sage ($13) was heaven. Really. The crust was perfect. The duck? Perfect. Perfectly seasoned, perfectly cooked. Just one of the best dishes I've had all year. In fact, I took three slices home for lunch the next day, and never even had to heat them up. A GREAT pizza. C ordered the Bacon and egg raviolo ($9) which he proclaimed delicious, even though it had to sit several feet away from me on account of my runny-egg-yolk phobia.

We finished things off with the Cast iron pan half chicken, garlic, Italian parsley, quinoa salad ($16). Flavor-wise, this dish was firing on all cylinders -- crispy, delicious skin, great pairing in the quinoa, etc. Unfortunately, it was so badly oversalted that our tongues were burning after two bites. Regardless, I'd easily give the chicken another shot because it was so incredibly well-cooked.

David Gingrass has done a phenomenal redesign of the old Hawthorne Lane space, bringing it up to date with cork walls, sexy lighting, lots of warm woods and metals -- it's just an overwhelmingly warm and inviting space. Meanwhile, Bridget Batson has modernized her menu while keeping a sense of the familiar. Plus, it's incredibly reasonable as small plates in this city go.

Service was lovely, and even though we shut the place down and the staff were ready to go home, we were encouraged to take our time and enjoy the last of our wine. Two is one of those very rare, but often-sought restaurant reincarnations done right.

TWO
22 Hawthorne Lane
San Francisco, CA
415.777.9779

Tags: Food, Food + Wine, San Francisco, Restaurants

Sweet & Sparkly

I don't know about you, but making grand plans for New Year's Eve always seems to leave me a bit, well, limp. I hate spending a ton of money for mediocre meals and service from surly waiters who are pissed to be working that night. I hate trying to find cabs, and waiting in line trying to get a drink at whatever party I spent a mint to get in to, and most of all hate the melodrama that invariably plays out three feet away from me.

So for the past three years, I've been holding a late-starting party with lots of sweet treats, bubbly and cocktails. It's great because people can have dinner at their favorite restaurant and still make it over in time to "Auld Lang Syne" with friends and really, what more could you ask for?

Since I've been such a ('scuse my language) slack-ass when it comes to recipes lately, I thought I'd share one for a Coffee-Caramel Trifle that has made it into the annual rotation. However, despite the pleas I'm sure to get in that there comments section, I will NOT share the recipe for my Fleur de Sel brownies (aka "crack brownies", as Alder called them). Some things are just not meant for sharing