JOE MONTANA JOE MONTANA JOE MONTANA (and an awesome lunch at Parallel 37)

My awesome, fun, thoughtful, generous boss (hi, Paul!) spoiled my team and me one last time in 2011 by taking all of us to the Ritz Carlton's brand new restaurant Parallel 37 for a long lunch. Several things caught me by surprise: the quality of the food (my expectations are low for brand new openings) and a guest appearance by one of my childhood heroes, Joe Montana. JOE MONTANA!!! I needed a seat belt to contain my excitement (you can find personal anecdote at bottom*).

The restaurant - which is named for the geographic latitude running near The San Francisco Bay - opened just a few weeks ago after the historic Dining Room closed. I hadn't been to the Dining Room so I can't speak to the transformation, but the outcome is a place I'd happily return. It is a vast space marked by earthy tones and a huge central bar area. It is neither pretentious nor overly trendy; it's simply an upscale yet enjoyable environment. I'm now curious to see what this place can do at Happy Hour, dinner, and maybe even a Sunday brunch. Mom and Dad: get ready to eat Friday Lunch here soon.

As I perused the menu, my brain said "you are at a work lunch: scallops, scallops, scallops" (scallops are mature people food); while my heart battled back furiously with "burger, burger, burger!!!!!" My heart won out. I'm now inspired to follow it more often. The burger is a solid A and, I daresay, worth hiking up that big-a$$ hill in three inch heels. What sets it apart? Every ingredient is of the best quality and each played perfectly with the other: a sweet, eggy bun coupled with exceptional quality beef. Most importantly, the thick slice of cheese wasn't lost calories as is often the case in a burger. Rather, this white and tangy cheese emerged as the star of the show. While I prefer a thicker cut of French fry, I had no trouble polishing these off. My one critique is the home-made ketchup: its savory-sweet and seedy texture was simply too much for my taste buds. And, let's face it, we all know Heinz does ketchup best. As if to prove my point, I noticed the waiter "pass" JOE MONTANA a bottle of Heinz after he apparently rejected the homemade version.

My Ceaser salad starter was so large I only ate half. It is served with six large slices of garlic bread (when I start eating more salads in 2012, I could definitely pass this as an entree). The nine or so other diners with me seemed very happy with their selections; the flat iron steak and the scallops looked particularly enticing. The acoustics were such that I could hear everyone and the decor was pleasant to gaze at. While it seems nit-picky to me, I suppose it's only objective to point out that the servers placed a dish with the wrong person on multiple occasions. It's easy enough to say "nope, not mine!" but I have to say it occurred enough for me to take notice.

The average age at my table was about 30. Excepting JOE MONTANA's two daughters, we brought down the dining room age average by about fifty years. This is a refined, leisurely lunch spot. Take your in-laws, your business partners, or someone you want to have an audible conversation with.

*Granted, it only takes a D List celebrity to get me excited but Joe Montana reminds me of the Sundays I spent watching football with my Grandpa when I was a kid. And Grandpa let me eat chips and salsa (unlike my parents) ON THE RECLINER. The 49ers' resurgence has been so exciting this season; just wish my Grandpa was here to enjoy it with me.

The Best of 2010 is Not the Best of 2011

It's with great sadness I report North Beach's The House won't repeat its title as C Roberts Eat's Best of Meal of the Year in 2011. There was nothing offensive about the food (the wine, yes, and I'll address this later) but it didn't have that shocking, "where has this place been hiding my whole life??" reaction. Admittedly, maybe this is because I have been exposed to their food now! I don't think it'd even make this year's Top 10, and that probably has more to do with the fact that this year has been filled with an abundance of incredible meals than The House's shortcomings. But, allow me to talk through this:

One of my top eating partners, Adrienne, and I walked over to The House last Friday night around 6pm. After a 5 minute wait, we were seated at a two top toward the back. I immediately noticed how HOT it was inside; so hot I had to strip down to my camisole and dab my forehead occassionally. I was soon to learn the temperature would affect more than my wardrobe.

I was immediately charmed by our server. She promptly visited our table and rattled off several daily specials with amazing articulation. She was enthusiastic, friendly, and spoke perfect English. We selected a bottle of Cab Franc, which she fetched promptly. Since I was sweating, I was looking forward to a glass of wine to cool off. Well, it seems the Bikram Yoga temperatures were powerful enough to affect the wine: the red wine was bordering on hot; certainly warmer than room temp. Hot red wine tastes... bad. And tastes cheap (which, monetarily, it was not). We were adding ice cubes to our glasses to cool it off.

We ordered one of the daily special appetizers (scallops), the pork chop, and the sea bass that changed my life in 2010. The three scallops were just... good. They were a bit on the rubbery side and not quite as succulent as others I've had in the city. They were topped with tiny beads that look like caviar, which added an unusual pop to each bite. Again, I enjoyed them but I wasn't writing home about it (just writing my blog about them).

We had specifically asked our server to bring each dish out slowly so we could (attempt to) enjoy our wine and catch up. The scallops hadn't been cleared for ten seconds when the pork chop hit the table. I enjoyed the sauce and accountrmeents here, but the meat itself was on the tough side. I definitely had to use my steak knife with considerable effort (my workout for the day). The pomegranate seeds added an interesting crunch while the sweet'n'salty sauce disguised the dryness of the pork.

I was still working on my pork when the next plate came out (minus one point). Perhaps THE most memorable dish I ate last year, the sea bass, came out last. It was very, very good - but it didn't have that life changing factor it had last year. It was fall-apart-at-the touch, but the flavors didn't permeate throughout the fillet like I recall last year. The ultra-thick noodles were as memorable as last year; I challenge you to find a noodle this thick. All things considered, this dish warrants a visit alone and earns an A.

Again, my bread pudding obsession got the best of me. We ordered the warm chocolate bread pudding, but if you put a blindfold on me, I would have guessed it was a simple chocolate cake. That's not to say it was bad, but there was nothing to differentiate it from a devil's food cake. We wiped the plate clean, so I can't complain too much.

A note about the wine. By the time we hit the bottom, there was an abundance of sediment, which I suppose is natural but a pretty big turn off. I know that's probably out of their control, but this, combined with the temperature, propelled me to politely mention our displeasure to the manager (something I do on VERY rare occasions!!!). She was completely unsympathetic and made us feel bad for even mentioning it. I am very sincere when I say I told her so she could improve the situation for future customers. While some sort of compensation would have been appreciated, it wasn't my goal. I am usually too shy to speak up, and her demeaning response isn't doing much for my confidence.

The final verdict: you definitely should still go. Dress lightly, BYOB, and order the sea bass.

And, a quick shout out to my mom, whose spinach dip provided the culinary highlight of my Thanksgiving (proof I don't need a Michelin Star to be happy):

"Do I have any spinach in my teeth?!"


Happy Holidays to all and may they be filled with Nancy's spinach dip!

Slanted Door Sucks

When I use the word "sucks" to describe something, it is usually delivered with my arms folded over my chest and in a pouty tone of voice. There is no more perfect way to describe my last visit to Slanted Door. I've been there several times before and, while decent, I've never really understood all the hoopla. This visit transformed my confusion to disgust. Slanted Door missed the Big Three: ambiance, service, and food.

I'll start from the beginning. Two coworkers and I walked in around 1pm on Thanksgiving Eve to find the place completely packed. No surprise here. Okay, so it wasn't completely packed: the cheap, cafeteria style tables behind the bar were completely empty. Sitting in a chair that looked less comfortable than my high school gym's offering was not appealing - and apparently I wasn't the only one as there was a long line of patrons holding out for the main dining room. Yes, I reek of snootiness, but at an establishment with the reputation and prices of Slanted Door, I have no shame admitting my expectations are simply set higher. One of my coworkers also mentioned the furniture, completely independent of my observation. To add insult to injury, the carpet looked dirty and frayed. Huh?

Our presence clearly irritated our bartender/server. No eye contact. A smile? Dream on! Maybe it was our collared shirts or "please's" and "thank you's" that turned her off. But I definitely got interrupted by her index finger in the middle of an order so she could help someone else. The last time I was treated that way was at the DMV.

Two strikes, but the Slanted Door team still had one more at bat. You can see where this is going...

We shared four dishes. The first - crispy imperial rolls - was the only dish without a glaring problem. They were... egg rolls. Nothing too spectacular beyond that. I guess one is supposed to roll all the ingredients together but I found the fried crispiness got lost in the mess of the other ingredients. Next.

The clams actually weren't a disaster, either, but there was just something missing. If you ask me, clams are a lot of work for little return. At least in most restaurants you get a toasted piece of bread to soak up the broth. Not the case here. The sparse bits of pork belly were thick and chewy and but not too flavorful. The clams were like any other clam I've had before (but twice as expensive).

The next two dishes is where things went seriously south. The flat iron steak was fine in itself but the sauce was salty to the point where it was completely inedible. I was chugging water the rest of the afternoon because of the few teaspoons I had. Remove the sauce, and you're left with a... plain steak. Remove the sauce and there's nothing differentiating Slanted Door's steak from one I could get anywhere else.

Slanted Door's main attraction, the cellophane noodles with dungeness crab meat, were painfully dry. I wanted my clam juice back so I could dump it on the noodles (but our clams were long gone as the servers were in some inexplicable hurry). The crab meat must have been the equivalent of one crab leg.

I like dining out because it makes me feel happy. I walked away from lunch in a grumpy mood. I felt robbed.

Hanging with the old folk at Brazenhead

I respect my elders and, after eating at Brazenhead last weekend, now know exactly where to find them. Brazen Head doesn't have a reputation for being particularly hip, but I was still surprised to find myself surrounded by gray hair and AARP members on both sides. I nearly tripped over a walker on my way in (not kidding). The bar area is adorned with old photos and newspaper clippings, and the fella next to me even claimed that one of the yellowed newspaper pictures was of him in his political heyday. Truth be told, I was there at 5:30 on a Sunday afternoon (and this is one of the few establishments open late).

When the food, ambiance, and service is as good as it is at Brazen Head, I don't really care who's sitting next to me. As my friend Jac pointed out, we felt like we walked into an episode of Cheers: The bartender is super friendly and accommodating (and you get the feeling he's been there for a few decades). The decor - bookshelves, hung newspaper clippings, etc - make you feel right at home. The food is comforting too.

Jac had the burger and the one bite I had was quite favorable. Thick meat and excellent bun (although we did scrape off the pool of mayo on the bun). There's nothing game-changing about it, but I'd happily order one again the future. My crab cakes were heavy on the crab (a rarity) and light on the fried part. The aioli dipping sauce was the perfect dip and our server quickly brought a second helping when I wiped out the first helping (seriously, do they think that little tablespoon is going to cut it for two big cakes??!). The free garlic bread was the perfect touch to tie me over from my rigorous day of ... nothing.

Lastly, as any follower of this blog knows, I can't turn down bread pudding when it's on the menu. Brazenhead's version is quite good, in spite of its chocolate-less-ness. It comes out piping hot and the vanilla ice cream melts into all nooks and crannies, resulting in a moist delight. The firm consistency isn't usually my preference, but like the chocolate issue, this version taught me to be more open-minded.

One caveat: there is no deep fryer on premise. That's right: no fries to go with that burger. So for all you out there who order a side salad instead - this is your place! In my two visits, I'd give the food a B+ and the ambiance an A.

On a Mission (Chinese Food)

My parents apparently had a better offer for Friday lunch, so I rounded up a few food-minded coworkers to try one of SF's latest It restaurants, Mission Chinese Food. Recently profiled in the New York Times and hailed by the SF Chronicle, the chef has taken his four-star restaurant skills and opened a "dive" Chinese spot. It should come as no surprise that chef Danny Bowien's focus is on organic, top notch ingredients.

After I passed around the menu to my four coworkers for their choices, I ordered the five dishes I wanted ("gee, I have NO idea what happened to your boring chicken order!!!" Suckers.). We/I ordered five dishes total, which was more than enough for four males and a female with a male's appetite. We capitalized on their free delivery policy and had the goods dropped to our office.

The consensus was that the Broccoli Beef Cheek and the Sizzling Lamb Cumin (both $13 each) were the return-worthy dishes. In each, the meat falls apart by the touch of a plastic fork. And in all the dishes, the main attraction is accompanied by unsuspecting ingredients (the beef had huge chunks of oysters while our "Thrice cooked Bacon" had thick chunks of tofu skin and rice cakes).

Mission Chinese Food allows you to get adventurous. I ordered the Red Braised Pig Ear Terrine and I swear, the only reason people won't try it is because of the word "ear" (but will happily dive into a cheek or belly...). I ordered the ears because of the transitive property I learned in junior high: it comes from a pig, and a pig is good, so the ears must be good. I envisioned crispy and salty; I got chilled and slimy. The ears had the texture and consistency of ahi grade tuna and lacked the animal's trademark saltiness. I wouldn't order it again but glad I tried it.

The dish I thought I'd enjoy most - thrice cooked bacon - was good but the bacon was so chewy I almost couldn't swallow it. The bacon tasted more like ham to me, which, if I wanted ham - I would have ordered ham. Like the ears, not a miss, but just not what I was expecting. Lastly, the Mongolian long beans (our "healthy" choice) were very, very spicy - and more of a vehicle for grease and garlic than anything else.

Mission Chinese Food is a conundrum. On the one hand, it is in every way like stereotypical Chinese food: cheap, large portioned, greasy, free delivery, and has you running to the bathroom and reaching for the Gas-X for hours. But there were those few bites of meat - namely, the beef and lamb - that I know I wouldn't find anywhere else. This, and the ingenuity of combinations hinted at something more high-class, which I suppose is the influence of the chef's fine dining background. This leads to me a more philosophical issue: should any aspect of Chinese food resemble fine dining? Nah. There is a time and a place for that - and Chinese Food isn't one of them.

Two Days. Four Burgers.

The last few weeks have been marked by an unusually high level of pizza consumption and I think my precious baby, the burger, started to feel left out (there, there ... mommy is here). Regardless of the excuse I conjure up for myself for this, I did indeed order four burgers between noon on Friday and Saturday night around 10pm. The feedback runs the gamut from "I want my money back" to "I have to come back as soon as possible" (a follow up visit at Gamine has already occurred).




Friday, 11/4, 12pm: My parents and I ventured beyond our normal Financial District boundaries to Bluestem Brasserie on Yerba Buena lane at Market & 4th. The restaurant is new and early reviews have been mixed. I wasn't any more encouraged when I walked in at noon to find the vast space completely empty. The menu had many tempting items (mushroom tartine, burger, pulled pork sando) and I ended up going with the Lamb Burger. It was excellent. Actually, it was excellent with a small caveat: if I had this before my trip to Greece, I would have been totally blown away; but alas, Greek lamb has totally ruined me. Bluestem's lamb is juicy and flavorful, but it doesn't have the special spice factor that the Greeks exposed me to. That being said, the light touch of goat cheese, sauteed peppers, and the bun were all top notch.

The fries joined the esteemed ranks of Spruce and Fog City Diner. Thick and crispy on the outside, hot and creamy on the inside: the perfect fry dimension. Service was polite and perfectly paced; noise level pleasant. This place is a solid (and unexpected) A.



Friday, 11/4 6pm: Still coming down from my Bluestem high, I headed over to Gamine in the Marina for dinner. Gamine (French for a mischievous young woman) is a small, charming French bistro that you might miss if not looking for it. When one walks in and meets the French host, you feel as though you've left San Francisco and entered a Parisian cafe. The atmosphere couldn't be any more different than at lunch, and the burger is even more impressive. It's in the running for Best Burger of the Year.

I am typically weary of the non-traditional hamburger bun (don't try to re-invent the wheel), but Gamine's chewy ciabatta roll is light enough so it doesn't push the meat out the back side. The beef is thick, spiced superbly, and cooked to a perfect rare. My toppings (bacon and brie cheese) complimented the wonderful beef patty without obscuring it. There are many moving parts to a burger and Gamine nailed each and every one. I revisited the following week with a big group and confirmed this place is no fluke.



Saturday, 6pm: La Folie is very much a special occasion spot, but I had always been curious to check out their more casual lounge. Be warned, the folks over at La Folie have a liberal interpretation of "casual" as three small sliders are $18 and a bowl of popcorn is $6. Portions are small, prices are high. Perhaps not surprisingly, the $18 sliders were the worst of the weekend. The meat was so tasteless I asked myself if it was a Gardenburger. The patty was cold. The bun has a crossaint-like look, but it's no treat. I never jumped on the slider bandwagon and La Folie's take did nothing to inspire me. Sadly, I've downgraded the main dining room



Saturday 10pm: Yes, at the point, another burger was totally unnecessary, but Nopa is on my 2011 To Do List and as Jac warned me, I'm running out of time. Nopa's rendition isn't shockingly bad like La Folie's, but there wasn't one thing about it that ingrained itself to my memory. Were there toppings? Probably. Maybe? Was the meat cooked well? Couldn't tell ya. It was a pretty standard, "nice restaurant" burger but I fail to see why its earned a reputation as one of the best in SF. That is to be found at Gamine and Don Pistos.

Now, can I get a freaking salad?

"Ristobar" - (no catchy title comes to mind)

The criteria for Wednesday night: low key and somewhere neither of us had been. So after each nominating five places, exchanging lists, narrowing the candidates, and finally reaching an agreement (standard operating procedure when two well-researched foodies are involved), Brooke and I found ourselves at Ristobar in the Marina. As the title suggests, nothing stands out about this place but it in no way deserves a lashing.

The space itself is decidedly un-Marina. The vast interior reminds me of high-end places like Quince, Kokkari, Danko, and One Market. Unfortunately for Ristobar, the similarities - specifically the Michelin stars, ha! - end there. The dark brown and mahogany color scheme create a regal feel (and optimal lighting). The bar spans and curves the entire length of the restaurant; it has to be one of the longest bars I've seen in the city. Reservationless, Brooke and I had no problem finding two open spots at the bar.

We started with the burrata salad. I can't quite pinpoint what it was, but there was something slightly "off" about the taste. It almost had a pastey, chemical-like after taste. The hard, gummy texture was too firm for my liking (it's got to be slightly spreadable). I didn't hate it, but sitting within eye-shot of the best burrata I've ever had (at A16 across the street) compounded its shortcomings.

The "Valencia" Pizza (ricotta, goat cheese, asiago, pear, watercress) was again good, but I've had better. The crust is paper thin. The toppings read like a dream, but in reality, didn't have much punch to them. But at $11 for 8 generous pieces, I can't complain too much.

I have been to countless places where the FREE bread either saves the night or emerges as the most memorable piece of the meal. Ristobar was no exception here with its soft, chewy onion foccaccia bread. Baked in house, it was a no brainer to polish the bread and brown bag the pizza for later. With such an expansive bar and great wine selection, I think next time I'll enjoy a beverage and some delicious free bread.

The Brighter Side

I assume that my 5-10 readers here know I spend my post-work evenings running. That activity, six out of seven days each week, gets in the way of spontaneity, and, consequently, I imagine, some good meals. So as disappointing as my recent ankle fracture diagnosis was, I funneled my extra time into eating (don't tell my college coach). So, at least one good thing came out my gimpness: a trip to Regazza.

Tuesday afternoon found me with a bum ankle and nothing to do after work. A few texts later, I scored myself an invite to Regazza with my pal Sarah, her boyfriend Ryan, his cousin, and his gf. Sarah and I killed time at previously reviewed Girabaldi's (this place is truly your best option for a quiet Happy Hour Special) before heading over to Regazza, San Francisco's latest pizza rage.

The crust here is good; the crust is very good; to the point where you'll come back regardless of what's actually on the pie - give me a bowl of olive oil and I'd be quite totally satisfied. The toppings on each pie I tried (bacon and brussel sprouts; buttnernut squash and ricotta, respectfully) didn't have me yearning for more, but the crust sure did - do not under-estimate the power of a good crust. The other menu options - fresh salads, interesting appetizers - provide a little something for everyone. Our dessert - a crust with Nutella slathered on top - was unique and delightful. My company, I might add, added to my enjoyment.

What's the verdict, you cry (all five of you)? My diagnosis is this: San Francisco's pizza scene is extremely competitive right now. Delfina, Flour + Water, Zero Zero, and A16, Regazza, etc are just a few competing for the top prize. In my opinion, they are all exceptional, but none is significantly better than the other. My best slice this year was way out in Point Reyes (at Osteria Stellina), which I still assert to be noticeably better than the local options - but quite a trek/investment to get to. Bottom line, I am spoiled. Regazza is awesome and you should go.

Is There Meat In That?

"Everything. I am too distraught to discuss now. I have some words for tomorrow."

I texted the above response to explain what was wrong with Umami's burgers to an avid fan who encouraged me to prioritize a visit to the newly opened Union Street outpost. For those unfamiliar, Umami Burger (not to be confused with Umami which is located a few blocks east) is the latest burger phenomenon to hit San Francisco. The chain was born in Los Angeles and opened its first Bay Area location this month.

Frankly, the place has "chain" written all over it. The lighting is unflattering, the interior design unoriginal, and the buns have a tramp stamp "U" on the bun (check out my pic if you don't believe me). When I was told of a 30 minute wait, I asked if I could get a drink in the bar area and chill; the hostess looked at me like I had two noses (bar seats are reserved like any table seat). I could handle all this if the burger was good. But the burgers are a lesson in how to NOT build a burger.

The bun/patty relationship is much like a bridesmaid/bride relationship. The bun, like a good bridesmaid, is critical to the overall experience, but should never overwhelm the meat/bride - only enhance. The meat is the reason everyone comes to the show. Going to Umami is like going to a wedding without a bride. The 6oz patty is literally lost under the weight of the thick bun. Umami either needs to serve a thicker patty to even out the proportions or find a new bun altogether. The toppings were forgettable. If you're still with me, we tried the Umami Burger and the Truffle Burger.

The sides (which one pays extra for - another strike - hasn't Umami heard the phrase "burger & fries"?) don't do much to redeem the experience. The secret, "off the menu" tater tots that the waiter enthusiastically tells everyone about are mediocre (and really no secret as every table I saw had them). The "special" cheesy interior creates more of a mashed potato interior with a soft, non-crispy exterior. Go to Bullitt if you want real tots. If the chefs were aiming for game-changing sweet potato fries, they missed the mark by adding a cup of brown sugar over the top.

Lastly, the cookie ice cream sandwich confirmed this place is a miss. The salt-n-pepper ice cream was too strange for my taste and the peanut butter cookies were pulled out of a freezer.

The burgers range from $11-15 so they're neither a bargain nor a rip off. But in a city where there are too many outstanding burgers and not enough time, this place won't be a return visit of mine anytime soon.

SF's best kept secret

Ever since I visited Terzo on New Year's Eve last year, I find myself recommending it to everyone. Partly because it seems to be fairly unknown but mainly because it's perfect for any scenario: girls' night, first date, 15555th date, anniversary, parents-in-town, even a low key New Year's Eve night. It has that "special occasion" feel without being pretentious or overly expensive. And the food leaves you wanting more.

Adrienne and I showed up reservation-less on a Saturday night and the hostess was able to maneuver a few tables to find a spot for us (with a smile). The interior of the restaurant makes me feel warm inside: the front bar is buttressed by a bookcase and fireplace while the lighting is low and the colors neutral. You can show up in jeans or a cocktail dress. Like Bix and a few others, I simply enjoy being there. The bar is inviting and a great option for a more casual meal.

"Small-plates"-that-are-in-reality-quite-generously-portioned is one of my favorite food trends. I recommend visiting Terzo and ordering one or two items off the appetizer list, one or two mains, and a dessert. The menu changes daily. Reminiscent to one of my all-time favorite spots, Picco, the menu at first glance doesn't appear particularly innovative or unique - but the execution takes it from ordinary to exceptional. For example, every other restaurant in San Francisco is offering hummus and pita as an appetizer these days. Terzo does too, but its seasoned pita bread, drizzle of olive oil, and creamy homemade hummus makes you forget about the others. Moreover, burrata - something I've been seeing more and more on menus recently (or just eating more and more of recently...) - is also taken to a new level at Terzo. The beautiful colors of the heirloom tomatoes provide a aesthetic pleasure while the scoop of olive tapenade gives the otherwise mild cheese an interesting punch.

Adrienne and I shared two pasta dishes. Terzo perfects the art of combining homemade pasta noodles with juicy, heart-attack-inducing cuts of meat. Put down your knives, because the pieces of pork and chunks of sausage fall apart at the touch. The fact that the pastas come out piping hot is not lost on me, either.

To be fair, I have had better desserts than the fruit crisp I had at Terzo. Perhaps the bar is just set too high by the main courses, but I found the crisp to be tasty but not something I'd order again. All the more reason to come back and work my way through the dessert list.

So, if you're thinking "where should I eat this weekend?" - and I don't care what the occasion is - my vote is Terzo. Thank me later.

I came, I saw, I ate.

Paris

Bone Marrow

Mushroom Ravs in Foie Gras Cream Sauce

Chocolate Lava Cake

Greece

Meatballs

Griller of the balls

Shaving the spit

In front of Nico's; meat sticks make good pointers


Jennifer with our baby



I can be so silly sometimes! Shortly before I left for my two-week trip to Europe, I informed my friend Jac: “I’m going to try not to eat my way through this trip.” Jac snorted at my comment, and rightfully so. I don’t know why I thought this would be an achievable or even desirable goal when my travels included stops in Paris and Greece. As anyone could have predicted, the goal was shot to hell after about two bites. I have never stuffed myself as much as I did the past few weeks and damn, it felt good.

My itinerary began with a few days in London, followed by one night in Paris, and concluded with eight nights in Greece. My inner swine didn’t truly shine through until I arrived in Paris, but I did manage to throw a few solid calories back in the UK. What follows are the highlights and a few low-lights from two weeks my taste-buds will never forget:

1. Belgian Waffle (London) – Aside from Indian fare, the Brits really aren't known for their grub so I purposely stuck to cheaper, simpler choices in preparation for the Greek gluttony I knew was coming. While I did enjoy some outstanding Indian take-out with the Sullivans, it was the crispy-yet-chewy Belgian waffle that left me speechless. I've had many a waffle in my day, but this was unlike any I've had. It had a crispy, almost toffee-like exterior with a chewy and warm interior (I hope this description differentiates it from run-of-the-mill waffles, because it is). I am big on dips, dressings, sauces, etc - especially when it comes to traditional breakfast food - but this waffle's texture and flavor required nothing else. Thank you, Jeannie, for insisting I try one. (Sorry no pic)

2. Chez Fernand (Paris): Jennifer and I ate here in 2010 and I dare say I officially have a Paris spot! More than a year after my first visit, I could still recall each course like I ate them yesterday. So, when I had just one dinner opportunity in the City of Lights, a return visit to Chez Fernand was a no-brainer. I now pledge to eat there any time I am in the city again: it is that good. The bone marrow starter was more decadent and wonderful than I remember it. I could have finished there and skipped out of the restaurant a happy girl, but my pasta dish stole the show. I ordered the mushroom ravioli in a foie gras cream sauce (off the starter menu, no less) and each bite was truly a gift from heaven. Soft, flavorful chunks of mushroom infused pasta drenched in the thick, salty cream sauce: there are no words. A sliver of foie gras worked its way into every couple of bites. Keeping with the decadence, Jennifer and I split the chocolate lava cake. In each of these dishes, I wanted to lick the plate. Trifeta perfecta!

3. Meatballs (Spili, Crete): I was fortunate to visit Greece with fellow foodies. We shared every dish at every meal, so I always got to try multiple dishes. I am particularly thankful for the our sharing policy because I wouldn't have been inclined to order meatballs at our lunch spot in the small Greek town of Spili, but luckily Mary Jo did. Shortly after ordering, we saw our server walk the raw meat out to an outside grill and do her thang. The end result was a thick, hamburger-patty sized ball of lamb goodness. I don't know how it's done, but the patty had a slightly burnt and crispy exterior yet a rare, moist interior. Furthermore, I have never tasted seasoning like this before; I honestly don't know what they used because I've never tasted before - or at least in this combination. It was mild and slightly sweet and simply enhanced the natural flavors of the lamb. It was addictive in the way that a chocolate cake keeps you coming back for more long after you're full.

4. Gyro, Nico's (Rethymno, Crete): Talk about saving the best for last. Believe it or not, finding an authentic Greek gyro was a difficult task (as was hummus - never saw a lick of the stuff). With just one hour until our taxi to the airport was scheduled to pick us up, Jennifer and I finally got our hands on one - or four. The initial plan was to split one. The moment we laid eyes on the juicy meat on the spit, the fluffy fresh pita bread, and homemade tzatziki, we decided we'd be better off with one each. When our Greek guy asked for us four Euro - TOTAL - we agreed it would only be polite to get a third for Jennifer's Mom. And, can we get some of that juicy meat on a stick? Kabob style? Yes, within five minutes, our quest for one gyro turned into two lamb gyros, a meatball gyro, and a lamb kabob. Par for the course.

So, did we regret our splurge? The only regret I have is not purchasing another suitcase, frozen as many as they would make in an hour, and shipping them home. The lamb meat (which, as you can see in the photo) is literally shaved off a spit and quickly heated on a grill, and drizzled with fresh lemon juice. Like the meatballs in Spili, the meat had some magical but unidentifiable spices to differentiate it from anything I've tasted in the States. Savory, lemony, crispy but chewy. The meat absolutely carries the wrap, but the fresh tzatziki (a yogurt and cucumber sauce), warm pita, and a few french fries stuffed inside are all critical pieces of the puzzle.

And yes, the fact that it was the single cheapest meal I had (just 2 Euro a pop!) added to the glory of it all. TWO EURO!

6. Misses: There were a few moments where I was reminded that I am spoiled in San Francisco, especially around the produce. In particular, a shrimp & avocado salad confirmed that California avocados are second-to-none. The Greek avocado was grainy, not smooth and buttery like they are at home. I also had a few Greek salads where the tomatoes were good, but I'd take a local heirloom tomato any day.

The day before my triumphant gyro discovery, I ordered one at a waterfront restaurant (read: touristy). It came out as a platter in which we were expected to build the gyro ourselves. The pork was tasteless. The pita was triangle shaped and the size of a large tortilla chip. It was 9 Euros. Needless to say, it made the next day all the sweeter.

Since I've been back, several people have asked me about the trip's highlights. Without question, it was the food. Not only did I experience new tastes and flavors, but the dining experience really united the people I was with.

Michael Mina Revisted

I blogged about my Michael Mina visit back in June so I'll keep my revisit review short other than to say it was fantastic, fabulous, mouth-watering, drop-what-you're-doing-and-go good. I didn't want to leave. Please, Michael, bring a 7th course, just this once!

My main complaint last time was the service. Not the case this time. This may have had something to do with the completely empty bar, but regardless, the food and service nailed it. From the time we entered the bar area at 11:45am until when we left more than an hour later, we were the ONLY diners. Seriously, why isn't this place packed? Puzzling.

At $39 a head, the six-courser is actually quite a good value. Each of the six courses is a mini-meal in itself. My dad each and I each had a course of pork & shrimp spring rolls, tuna tartare (not pictured), lobster pop tart, halibut, steak & eggs, and a dessert (me: chocolate delice, dad: butterscotch custard). I waddled back to the office.

“I’m going to rip Wayfare Tavern a new one on my blog”

Those were the words spoken upon exiting Wayfare Tavern this afternoon. Yikes.

The Setup: It was a special occasion as Adrienne joined Friday lunch to meet my parents (or the “future in-laws” as we joke). I chose Wayfare Tavern because it’s one of the nicest most expensive restaurants in downtown San Francisco. More than a year after its opening, it still has significant buzz as Tyler Florence of Food Network fame is the head chef. I had a positive bar-side burger experience there last summer and remember liking the ambiance a lot. I also distinctly remember the free popovers, and I believed that in itself can save an even mediocre meal. I may have been wrong.

The Letdown: After going back and forth between the burger and the chicken, I opted to split the fried bird with my mom. As it was served to the table next to us, our server touted it as the house specialty and something about the ingenious recipe. The generous portion (five pieces) was also a selling point. Now here is where I am confused. I am not a regular fried chicken expert, and maybe too many childhood trips to KFC have ruined me, but shouldn’t the skin be thick, oily, and heart-attack inducing? To me, this was more like the healthy, “baked fried” chicken they advertise on www.cookinglight.com. The skin was thin and gently fried. There is a time and place to be healthy, but fried chicken is not one of them. To add insult to injury, the pieces were COLD. And the meat was dry; didn’t have to wipe my fingers on my napkin even once! And there was no dipping sauce (I had to ask for BBQ sauce, which was brought as I swallowed my last bite). There are no sides. Simply put, it was a bad meal. I have no tolerance for this when the price tag is $22 (plus $8 if you splurge for a side - which I probably should have done).

Colonel Sanders: 1. Tyler Florence: 0

Looking on the Bright Side: The atmosphere cannot be beat. The restaurant has a great, long bar to the left as you walk in. Behind it are a few booths and four-tops. Upstairs, you’ll find another, smaller bar and a large dining room. The busy wallpaper and chandeliers create a festive feeling; I felt like I stepped into another time era for an hour. Despite a full dining room, the noise level stays at a pleasant level so we could have a pleasant conversation in our indoor voices.

The Verdict: The free popovers are still pretty incredible (especially when they bring a second one sans prompting) but they can’t carry a meal. Wayfare Tavern has moved into “watering hole” status to me. I’ll take the drinks and the ambiance but skip out on the food.

*The first picture is pulled from the San Francisco's Chronicle review. My chicken did NOT look like that. Obviously, my picture quality is much poorer, but I think you can see how the crispy skin is nonexistent.