Claudine (aka Clau-dining).

Ever since Claudine opened on Bush street back in November, I have gazed longingly upon it as I passed by each morning on the 1BX - imagining the culinary creations and French treats behind its doors. As I found out last week, there aren't many except for a killer dessert.

"Typically we give up your table ten minutes after your reservation time, so you lucked out that it's still available." This was how the hostess greeted my family as I walked in at 12:12pm for a 12pm reservation last Friday. Nice to see you too!!! This is going to be a blast.

The lunch menu is simple: a few sandwiches, salads, and entree meat and pasta dishes. I selected the lamb shoulder sando (over the lamb belly entree); my mom went for the mushroom sando, and my dad the ... crap, I have no idea. It was some sort of cheesy, baked pasta dish. Note to self: take better notes.

The first thing I noticed when the sandwiches came out was how ridiculously thick the bread was. Each slice had to be an inch thick, while the meat was particularly sparse. Read: proportions way off. The bread was also dripping in oil to the point that a puddle of it remained on my plate. I actually ended up eating the top bread piece solo and the bottom half with the toppings like toast. The optimist in me says I got two meals!

I was underwhelmed at this point so decided to take a chance on desert to turn things around. We ordered a berry bread pudding and a layered s'mores concoction. The berries in the bread pudding were far too tart and chocolate-less for me. The bread was also offensively dense for a pudding. "Comes Through in the Clutch" Award goes to the S'mores dessert which was hot, fudgey, graham crackery, and slightly chewy with the marshmallow layer.

Claudine is a new restaurant and has some kinks to work out. It is one part bar, one part cafe, and one part gift shop (there is a wall of books and treats for purchase). I wouldn't really go back for either of the three. Make that s'mores to-go and we may be onto something....

Something's Mission

The day couldn't have been teed up better: Day off from work, rolled out of bed at 9:30 after some quality TV time, the SF sun shining down, and a lunch date with my Dad. We agreed to step outside our Financial District comfort zone and head to 14th & Guerrero in the Mission, which might as well be in Siberia. Famous for its burger, Mission Beach Cafe has been atop my to do list for months. After putting away the burger, I kept my health kick alive with an interesting ice cream cone from Humphry Slocombe. Both experiences left me feeling more annoyed than satisfied.

Mission Beach Cafe is located at a seemingly isolated corner in the Mission (hipsters, please correct my geography if I'm wrong). The space itself is uninspiring. The restaurant takes the "cafe" title literally with its tightly packed tables (they may as well be community tables), pastry counter, natural sunlight, minimal decor, and a domination of 20-something clientele carrying Apple devices. I was really looking forward to bellying up to the bar as I'm convinced they make burgers taste better, but there isn't one unless you count a street-facing counter.

My dad forgot his glasses so I got to order for the both of us. I ordered my burger rare with bacon (I would have chosen avocado but they were out). I chose "MBC huevos with pulled pork, rancho gordo yellow indian woman beans, salsa rojo, tomatillo pico de gallo, cojita cheese." My dad tends to like dishes that can be classifed as "everything but the kitchen sink" so this seemed to be a safe choice.

My burger came out piled so high that I was concerned how I would be able to consume it. Once I navigated the many layers and took my first bite, my taste buds were immediately struck with a charred, burnt sensation. Upon closer examination of the patty, there were wide, deep grill marks on both sides. I didn't like it. While the inside of the patty was red, the burn marks dominated the flavor of each bite and made it seem dry. Props for the inch-thick, maple bacon slices (the carmelization was so thick it got stuck in my teeth). The bun was soft and well proportioned; the cheese had a mild but impactful flavor. Neither of these accouterments could overcome my issue with the meat. The fries were completely forgettable. Wait, were there fries?

I didn't taste my dad's egg concoction but it looked delicious. I know I would have had a good time dipping the home-made tortilla chips into the pot of egg, sauce, beans, and salsa. MMMMMM.

There also seemed to be an echo in the restaurant. Not thirty second after our waiter greeted us, took our orders, delivered the check, etc - another waiter came to accomplish the same thing. Not a big deal, but one would think they would have coordinated their efforts by the time our meal ended. No, my dad couldn't see anything but he could hear, thanks.

Since our waiter didn't even attempt to entice us with one of the many dessert options up front, my Dad and I decided to check out one of the several ice cream shops in the Mission. I am a Ben & Jerry's fan through and through, and after my Humphry Slocombe experience, I have a renewed appreciation for their creations. Of the 20 or so flavors available, I could only fathom trying one (chocolate and sea salt). I like to believe I'm as adventurous as they come, but Roasted Beet, Brown Sugar & Fennel, Peanut Butter Curry, and Salt & Pepper honestly make my stomach turn. My scoop was so soupy I had to race to finish it before it dripped down my arm. It was nothing special - honestly reminded me of a 99 cent soft serve at McDonalds. My dad was downright annoyed by it all (actually pretty funny watching him trying to eat an ice cream cone as fast as he could).

Ya gotta give us credit for trying new things.

Two for Two

After a several week hiatus, my parents and I resumed our Friday lunch routine with a bang. Last week we hit the well-renowned Perbacco; this week we checked out new comer La Fusion. Perbacco's Italian fare couldn't be more different than La Fusion's Latin, but they were both winners.

Perbacco





I've now been to Perbacco four or five times, and it's more consistent than Cal Ripken Jr. This visit I ordered the "Langaroli – Pasta filled with brasato of short ribs and porcini mushrooms / red wine butter" which is just a long winded way to say short rib ravioli. My "beef" with ravioli is the pasta always over powers the filling, sometimes to the point where I'm not sure what the filling is. Not the case at Perbacco; the hand-made pasta wins the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor because it's delicate texture and mild taste allows the savory goodness of the short ribs shine through. This is a short rib dish through and through. That being said, the pasta pieces are clearly hand-made and a work of art themselves.

My mom had some sort of pasta-less short rib dish also and she claims it was one of the best we've had in our four years Friday lunch (four years?!). I was privy to a bite and the accompanying bed of lentils and greens were as delectable as the meat itself.

A note about the service. I was on a tight schedule in between work meetings and politely informed the waitress. She brought out our dishes in lighting speed. We appreciated her consideration. We also appreciated the bottomless focaccia bread basket :)

La Fusion





Flash forward a week. I walked into La Fusion not feeling particularly hungry. Not thirty seconds later inside the tiny restaurant, and my stomach was growling for whatever was coming from the kitchen. The menu tested my ability to prioritize, with many tempting ceviche, beef, lamb, and fried side options. Per our charming server's suggestion, we went family style: 1/2 roast chicken (served over a warm bread salad and served with one side), prawn ceviche, and empanada (one beef, one seafood).

Out first were the empanadas and you really can't go wrong with meat stuffed into a fried, flaky crust. I appreciated the accompanying dipping sauces, but the empanadas really didn't need them. We're off to a good start.

I was most impressed with the ceviche. Ceviche to me often means a tiny piece of fish with a bit of diced tomatoes. There must have been 15 large prawns comprising the tower, all atop a fresh chunk of avocado. They didn't skimp on the savory red sauce and softened onions, either. The crispy crostini chips made the perfect bite possible. At $12, this was worth every penny.

La Fusion seem to promote the roast chicken, which you can buy whole, half, or quartered atop a warm bread salad. Our side choice - yuka frita - were crispier than your normal french fry but very similar in size and taste. The chicken itself didn't blow me away; it was a tad on the dry side and a little bland. But with the assortment of sauces and warm bread (think along the lines of Thanksgiving stuffing), one can fix the bland problem quite easily. Or, if you're seeking a healthier option, I think most dietitians would approve (calories don't count on Fridays though).

Feeling we had the wind at our backs, we closed with a flourless chocolate cake. This wasn't the richest I've ever had, but it had the gooey and dense factor going for it. Looking for a casual, low key lunch break spot? It doesn't get better than La Fusion.

Worth Every Minute

Having waited more than a year to go Aziza, I suppose it was only fitting that the particularly slow service delayed my first bite even longer. However, the trek (Outer Richmond) and delays were absolutely worth it. I'd go back in a heartbeat but I'll sit at the bar (shocking, I know).

Aziza has a Michelin star, but judging by the decor and casual atmosphere, you'd never know it (the food explains the star). There's nothing refined nor particularly romantic about this place. Don't get me wrong - it's miles away from being a dump - but I felt like I was at a dark Mexican restaurant (I later learned it had, in fact, been a Mexican joint before Aziza moved in). This goes against the grain of the half dozen or so Michelin star spots I've been to. I personally found it to be a very comfortable environment and a mark in the "Plus" column.

Our table wasn't ready for our 7pm reservation, so we ordered a drink at the bar while we waited. The cocktail menu is original and I was very impressed to A) order a kiwi cocktail and B) watch the bartender hand mash the fresh kiwi. As I stated earlier, my next meal at Aziza will be bar-side.

Our 7pm reservation wasn't ready until about 7:20 and we weren't greeted by anyone for at least ten minutes or so after that. I tried to remain calm and not be in such a freaking hurry but I couldn't help but wonder why someone hadn't even brought us a glass of water. When our server did finally appear, he seemed distracted and rushed off to another table before we asked all our questions. Luckily, we managed to order a hummus and "spread" dip before he ran off.

The three spreads (chickpea, yogurt-dill, and piquillo-almond) were thick and divine with the grilled'n'oily flatbread. The chickpea tasted like your typical hummus while the yogurt-dill and almond each had a unique taste and an unusual thickness to them. It was also fun to compare the different tastes with Adrienne and Jac. This is a great plate to share and I highly recommend you order it as a starter.

Long after we finished the spreads, we placed our entree order. Adrienne and I opted to go halfsies on the branzino (a white fish for you uneducated folk like me) and scallop-green farro while Jac opted for the beef. I still can't decide what I liked more between the branzino and the scallop. The filet had that perfect combination of a perfectly crispy skin and a juicy, but not-too-fishy-tasting interior. It really could not have been prepared better. Small pieces of kumquat added for an unexpected citrus punch (unfortunately my pic turned out fuzzy so I omitted it). On the other side of the ring for the Battle of the Fish was the scallop dish. Unlike the branzino, the scallop was more of a supporting player to the creamy-but-slightly-crunchy bed of green farro beneath it. The scallop is chopped into small pieces and is actually hard to pick out underneath the layer of shaved truffle. The dish's warmth and truffle flavor made it a true comfort meal. I had to stop and put my fork down as I didn't want to rush through the joy.

I didn't try Jac's beef but I fantasized about having a bite as she cut through it. She didn't need to pick up a knife to cut through any of it. She claims it's the best beef she's ever had, so there ya go (she clearly didn't pick up on my hints that I'd like to try a bite: "how's that beef?" "what does it taste like?" "wow, I really love beef that falls off the bone" "my iron levels are getting low, I hear beef is a good source of iron" "I've had a lot of fish tonight, beef sounds like an interesting change of pace.")

Throwing caution to the wind (by caution, I mean my bedtime), we stuck it out for dessert. Again, this tacked another 30 minutes on our night but worth it. We ordered the chocolate mousse with pumpkin ganache, kumquat, hazelnut dacquoise. There are so many flavors and textures at play here, and they just WORK. I can't really explain it. You just have to go and try it.

I have to admit, the service marred what could have been a perfect meal. I wasn't even in a rush, but I (and my guests agree) felt ignored. I am not sure what one's expectations should be when she enters a Michelin restaurant; mine are high. If you want a superior meal but care less about the "experience" - you have met your match.

2011: The good, the bad, and the yummy

I look forward all year to writing this post. It's an opportunity to reflect on all the amazing food adventures I was privileged enough to experience over the last 365 days. The inner "categorizer" in me gets to come out and play, too.

Let's get the bad news out of the way first. Unlike last year, I had NO problem coming up with several Worsts. But, the inner optimist in me realizes the bad meals make the good ones all the more glorious.

1. Wayfare Tavern: The cold, soggy, overpriced fried chicken was an insult. I am still reeling. At least they have a cool bar so I can fathom going back.

2. Umami Burger: I still do not understand the buzz about this place; and it's still raging out of control. The bun-to-patty proportions were so off the mark that what was placed in front of me barely resembled a burger. The pretentious ketchup serving spoons just annoy me. Can you just bring me the bottle?


3. Hecho: I can prepare salmon better than Hecho can and I know I'm no Julia Child. If you want to be charged $18 for a piece of fish that's been purchased at Costco, dropped on a grill, flipped, and put on your plate - then, this is your place (by the way, I have noticed all the initial buzz about this place has totally disappeared).

4. Slanted Door: Of the six or so dishes I had here, not all were awful (only five). This was disheartening in itself, but when the bill was placed in front of me, I felt like I was socked in the stomach. As you'll see in my "Best of" list, expensive is okay, but the value MUST be there.

This is the tough part. 2011 was full of so many good meals for so many different reasons. However, specifics about the five listed below stand out in my memory weeks, months, and probably years later.

1. Gary Danko: I distinctly remember telling someone after my meal at Gary Danko that it was an amazing experience but not something I'd want to do again. It was too expensive, too loud, too MUCH. What I didn't anticipate was, eight months later, to still think about that meal every day. It still makes me smile. I can still recall every bite of all five of the courses. I still call up Adrienne and recall specific moments or bites. That is priceless.

If you asked a server to break off a few toilet paper squares, I'm pretty sure he would.

2. Picco (Larkspur): Simple food done brilliantly well. Risottos, tartares, bruschetta: we see these options everywhere. But nobody can execute as well Bruce Hill does as Picco. That avocado bruschetta stands out as one of the best single dishes all year:


3. Osteria Stellina (Point Reyes): It's worth the haul to taste this pizza. The crust, the innovative toppings, and fresh cheese come together better than any other combo I had all year.

4. Gamine: Burger, burger, burger. After much reflection, I have to say this was the best burger of the year. Close second: Don Pistos and Parallel 37. Traditional, this burger is not; but if it feels this good to be wrong, I don't want to be right.

5. Quince. Fat Angel. Quince was a lovely meal, but now that I have to describe it, I can't come up with a single specific (and I think I had five courses!). Truly great meals ingrain themselves to memory to the point where I can recall each bite. So, in its place is Fat Angel, a neighborhood spot that was undoubtedly my most frequented spot this year. Alone, on a date, with a group: this place fits the bill. The wine is on tap, the small snacks (including a butter platter) double as an afternoon tide-me-over or a light dinner, and the bread pudding is killer. In a year where dessert didn't do much to impress me, this bread pudding stands as the best dessert of the year. And it's two blocks away.

And for those who don't fall into the above two buckets:

1. Road Trip Worthy (especially on a sunny day): Marshall Store in tiny Marshall, CA. If you're driving too fast, you may miss this shack on the side of the road. The oysters, which are plucked same-day, are four times as big as any oyster I've ever seen. They're also dressed brilliantly: bacon and Worcestershire, cheese and spinach. Grab a beer, sit outside on the picnic tables, and take in the beautful waterfront views.

2. The Happiest Hour: Garibaldi's: No, this is not the hippest crowd (most need hip replacements). But, the Happy Hour menu is out of this world. Small bites, large bites, wine, beer, and specialty cocktails are all half off from 5 to 6:30 - SEVEN DAYS A WEEK!

3. Didn't See That One Coming: Bluestem Brasserie. The early reviews of this place were mediocre and the empty dining room didn't add to my confidence. But my lamb burger and french fries completely dispelled my skepticism. It's still fairly new so I can only hope it continues to get better.

4. Best Come From Behind Victory: I was so furious after my first visit to Mamacita that it took me three years to go back. I didn't have a chance to review it individually, but I went about two weeks ago and thoroughly enjoyed my meal. Yes, it's high end Mexican (which I still think is an oxymoron) but the portions seemed bigger and the quality is quite good. The fish tacos were fried perfectly, the chips and guac couldn't have been done better, and the brussel sprouts were covered in enough "stuff" that I forgot I was eating a vegetable. Pics below.

I say it every year: I am not sure how this year can exceed the last, but I know it will. By the way, if you're headed to Mission Beach Cafe, Namu, Red Door Cafe, Bar Terra, Refuge, Heirloom Cafe, Pacific Cafe or Park Tavern: call me.

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!