Michael Recchiuti's chocolates are not for everyone. Indeed, I find them hard to remember after they're done and often not that amazing while I'm eating them. His s'mores bites, however, are another matter. Homemade marshmallows form a thick tower of surprisingly substantial sweetness, the dark chocolate covering contrasts nicely and there's just the right amount of cookie crunch at the base. You can't really get your mouth around it in one go, but you'll try anyway.
Waiter: Oh my god, it's that blogger.
Chef: How do you know it's the same one?
Waiter: I just heard her telling the old guy not to order something with salmon and asparagus. It's got to be her.
Chef: Why would she be here again, anyway, she doesn't even like us.
Waiter: And she had to be here on a night there's a party of twenty. Look, she's taking an aspirin.
Chef: She doesn't like my food, she can wear it home.
[Waiter brings back plates into the kitchen]
Chef: What happened to the wild boar bolognese?
Waiter: It was there, and now it's not there.
Chef: Amazing. I've done it again. Now close the place before another party of twenty comes in.
The West Portal branch of Roti is in many ways a pleasant surprise. It's a pretty interior, with a menu that doesn't simply mimic every other North Indian restaurant. If all the samosas I'd been served had a distinct filling like theirs and not a mealy mess I wouldn't be so down on the genre. Korma is creamy and sweet as it should be, and the breads are excellent. The only problem was that the paneer that accompanied my palak was not in its first bloom of youth. Although Roti boasts of making its own, homemade paneer should be softer than its store-bought counterpart, not tough and rubbery.
It's not just Roti, however, but Indian restaurants across the bay which are in deep trouble if more locals try the Cowgirl Creamery's latest offering. It's officially called paneer, but its true sobriquet is You Have Never Tasted Anything Like This In Your Life. Another in the Cowgirl's line of spreadable cheeses, it is almost indescribably delicious, with a smooth yet firm start and a pure cream finish. I don't know if it's going to be a perminent offering or something seasonal, but it should make plenty of restauranteurs nervous.
Considered one of the gems of San Francisco dining (perhaps not on the same level as MIchael Mina or the Zuni Cafe), this Vietnamese fusion restaurant is the only fancy sit-down experience in the Ferry Building. If you like intimate settings with unobtrusive staff, you will probably be surprised that it has neither, at least at lunch. Despite an open and airy room on the water which would seem like an oasis, the restaurant is loud and crowded. The staff also has been trained for the robust tourist trade. You are encouraged to run your order by them for judgment on its appropriateness. Although this is somewhat helpful given that all dishes are family style and it's not always easy to judge when you've ordered enough, the wait staff is also supposed to check for 'balance' among the dishes, and that's something that can make the diners feel patronized. Our server was very pleasant apart from following the rules on that score (I know how to order for my dietary restrictions, thank you).
Hot and crispy imperial rolls were a good veggie starter, with a lettuce leaf wrapped around to provide contrast and structural integrity. The Slanted Door serves vegetables as distinct plates and sweet white corn with green onions and diced chanterelles was the highlight of the meal. My father and I found the catfish artfully prepared in a clay pot with hints of ginger, although my mother found the chiles a bit overwhelming and was also surprised that the catfish had been prepared like any other fish, being used to restaurants trying to hide its 'catfishiness.' Watch out for bones in this dish, and watch out also for being pushed to order rice, which is extra. The one entree that rivaled average take-out fare was the chicken stir-fry noodles, which I thought were undercooked and supplemented with chewy chicken and not enough of the other ingredients.
In terms of portion sizes, don't eat a starter on your own (I had almost all the rolls because my parents shared a shrimp-and-pork crepe) before attempting the rest of the meal. None of us had room for dessert, but my father has been waiting eagerly for four years since his last Vietnamese coffee and I convinced him to order it iced. Heaven for sweet bean lovers, as it is filtered right at the table and then poured over sweetened condensed milk (Paddington's favorite, I believe). I kept sneaking the glass away for another sip. The perfect end for a meal that pretty much lived up to expectations. And of course it has the perfect location to tempt you afterward with more culinary treats.
Pizza Diavola, a blog after my own heart, has produced this excellent post in which the blogger interrogates the conclusions of a recent panel on gender in professional cooking. I would actually suggest she contact Ed Levine directly if she has concerns about his summation of the events, because I've found him to be extremely sympathetic. If he responded positively to my critique of his way of writing about Chicago-style pizza, he would surely be attentive to a critique of more serious issues.
The Lower Haight is known for restaurants sans pretension. Kate's takes this mission seriously, with a down-home feel and friendly staff. Like our party, you will probably be charmed initially by a reproduction map of the United States that dominates most of the left wall. It looks to be WPA-era, and illustrates various states with drawings of notable culture or principal crop. Much of California is heavily covered by forest. But draw your eyes south and you come upon the lovely heritage of racial caricature: the deep Southern states are represented by typical Happy Darkie imagery: two black folk, one dancing and one playing an instrument; a chunk of Georgia is identified solely by puffs of cotton. Canadians will be mildly unhappy with their depiction as a mountie-dominated wilderness, but that's not much compared to the blatant minstrelsy in Alabama and Mississipi. There are a couple of reasons that the owners of this place would choose to ignore some of the iconography in their main piece of art: "It's from a long time ago!" To which I reply, not all art from a long time ago is racist, and you are not an art museum. You have no requirement to hang stuff regardless of its objectionable content. Another is that they simply didn't notice or acknowledge the racism, despite the fact that Indians aren't treated that well in the piece either. Or they hoped that patrons would think the thing was kitschy and cute (which parts of it are) and not think too seriously about what it actually depicts. Or they're black and it didn't bother them so why should it bother anyone else? But even if no one has ever complained since they don't want to be accused of being too sensitive/obsessed by race/whatever the silencing criticism is today, it's still a questionable choice to deliberately reproduce something that contains pernicious racial imagery.
But what about the food, FL? I am always cautious in writing about a place at which I don't try the house specialties, which at Kate's are the hush puppies and the French toast. But I couldn't pass up another place in town, the third by my count, which serves veggie biscuits and gravy. Learn of my surprise when what arrived at first sniff seemed to be cream of mushroom soup. Although the prevailing mood has been to replace the sausage in the gravy with parsley and green onion, Kate's has chosen instead to replace them with mushrooms. The gravy doesn't have the consistency of mushroom soup, thank god, but it was fairly thick and seemed better suited to something served at dinner. The biscuits were larger than normal and provided a good value for the dollar, but undistinguished. Also, unlike most other places in the Western world, Kate's doesn't provide a B&G special that includes sides, so you are pretty well stuck unless you share some of your fellows' food. I got to do that because my mother was unimpressed with her breakfast sandwich. It's not their fault that she doesn't like Kaiser rolls, but she also found it bland. I thought it was decent plain fare and meat eaters would probably enjoy it with the house-made sausage. Home fries had big pieces of potato but again could be described as 'just sort of there.' My father loved his omelette, and we all thought well of the service.
Bottom line: if I lived in the neighborhood, Kate's would be a good place to have an everyday, reasonably-priced breakfast. As far as I can tell it's not a destination meal.
There are now three distinct upscale yogurt places in Palo Alto alone. And we're not talking about TCBY here, which means it's expensive as all get-out and tastes like yogurt: thick, a little sour, not exactly what I want in my dessert options. Can anyone explain this phenomenon, other than as yet another misplaced health-related fad?
Perhaps sooner than you think!
-The Louie parents visit Frog's Leap Winery and the Applewood Inn
-I finally get to The Slanted Door
-New chocolates and cheeses, including a local mozzarella and a Berkeley chocolate bar company
Happy summer eating,
-FL
I had intended to keep posting here through my parents' visit and dissertation chapter due date and class prep...but you see the problem. I may post intermittently, but no promises until the end of the month. Apologies.
-FL
