Seth and I had been saving Rich Park's Coi gift certificate to use for our anniversary. Unfortunately Coi (pronounced "kwah", which I still think is ridiculous) was closing for two weeks to renovate the kitchen, starting June 28.
So on the eve of this closing, we arrived at their door, in a seedy spot on the fringe of the Financial District. Seth noted the strip club located next door would be a convenient way to carry on the anniversary revelry. Or not.
Some Yelper described Chef Daniel Patterson as a love child of Alice Waters and Wylie Dufresne. While the image is humorous, Patterson shouldn't be lumped into either camp. He embraces California's bounty of ingredients, but once penned a piece for the New York Times entitled "
To the Moon, Alice" that warned chefs against relying contentedly on the quality of ingredients in place of actual innovation.
Patterson is a tireless champion of culinary invention, although he's not exactly a liquid nitrogen-wielding molecular type. The ingredients remain at the core of his experimentation. Patterson seems to take delight in sourcing unusual ingredients. He writes regularly for San Francisco magazine, highlighting the wonders of purslane, douglas fir and other offbeat flavors. Our menu devoted one page to the actual dishes, and the other to explanations of some of the less-common ingredients we would be inhaling/ingesting that night.
I have to say, our 12-course tasting seemed designed just for me. Patterson's not big into heavy flavors, in part because of the season but our server assured me it's a year-round sensibility. Plus when you are putting away 12 courses, making half of them center on a big piece of protein is a cruel thing to do to my digestive system.
Some plates were more successful than others, but overall I loved this parade of intricate dishes, wielding sauces, spices and butter in ways that felt fresh and refined, rather than heavy.
The dining room reminded me of a ship's berth--low ceilings, earth tones and no windows to the outside. Coi is a quiet, tranquil place (except for the loud, drunken d-bags behind us). Our servers were similarly serene and mellow, although one guy did snicker quietly when he overheard Seth ragging on the aforementioned loud d-bags.
So here we go. To prevent this from morphing into a New Yorker-sized piece of writing, I'm just going to list our courses and a few thoughts on each. An unfortunate camera miscalculation the next morning resulted in my dessert pictures being erased. Baked Alaska and milkshake pics are Flickr, courtesey of asitevolves.
AmuseOur amuse was a spoonful of "milk and honey," imparting the flavor of honey, but with a much much lighter, milkier texture.
A crisp grapefruit sorbet and mousse, also spiked with ginger, black pepper and tarragon cooled us down and cleared the way for the parade of subsequent courses.
The dish is served alongside a drop of fragrant oil, containing the same flavor elements that were in the bowl. Our server encouraged us to dab it on our wrists so that we could inhale the fragrance as we tasted the flavors, therefore heightening our appreciation of the dish.
It certainly emphasized all the flavors. But I felt a bit ridiculous.

Next up was "earth & sea": New potatoes with cucumber, borage, coastal grasses and flowers. Borage is a Mediterranean herb.I love the idea of a surf-n-turf that contains neither beef nor fish. The inky sauce brings the fresh baby potatoes under water, as do the funky seaside plants.
Chilled yellow squash soup with vadouvan Indian spices, nasturtium and lime.This was Seth's favorite dish, cool but still bright with spices. The flowers and other fresh bits in the bowl make this thick, cold soup seem fresh and seasonal.
Vegetable tart with black olives, preserved lemon, Za'atar Middle Eastern herbs and nepitella herbs. This was by no means a buttery dough-driven tart. Each bite crackled with fresh, earthy flavors.
Fried chicken consomme with artichokes, fava beans, radishes and green garlic.This dish seems impossibly dainty for the comforting flavors it projects. Often I think edible flowers are unwelcome interlopers in a dish, stuck in for looks and the novelty factor. But these, along with nearly microscopic slices of garden-fresh beans and radishes, really lightened everything up.
Sauteed Monterey Bay abalone with escarole and a caper berry-sea lettuce vinaigrette.Granted, Seth was extremely under the weather at dinner. But it's safe to say he places abalone in the same "avoid at all costs" category as squid. I'm disappointed my husband doesn't rock the chewy seafood, but I was more than happy to take over his portion of delicately tart marine gastropod.
Morels with burnt rice, ash, smoke and pineI don't know if there was a foraging joke implied in the way you had to hunt for the morels smothered within the dish. Each bite amplified the mushrooms' smoky flavors, almost to the point where it was too much. But with just enough restraint that you still enjoyed the hell out of it.

The famous Coi slow-cooked farm egg.I requested they swap this baby in to our menu, since everyone from Dara to that
damn 7x7 list raves about it. As with most tasting menus, my only regret was that it came later in the meal when I was already so full. The egg is cooked sous vide and dressed with a sauce of Parmesan and brown butter. The sauce is light and foamy, tasting like a rich breakfast, but yet clean and light.

Bellwether Farms sheeps' milk ricotta, rhubarb and fino basil.Alas, no picture here. This dish didn't come with any fireworks, but a spoonful of top-quality sheepy ricotta, well flavored. It was a great transition from savory to dessert.
Baked Alaska, reconsidered, with apricot, bitter almond and coriander
Chocolate/cherry with yogurt, garam masala and mintI enjoyed this fruit-on-bottom cup, even though I'm not a big cherry fan. By this time Seth and I had also worked our way through a bottle of gruner veltlinger. When our server arrived to claim our half-eaten courses, we were overly emphatic that the lack of clean plates was our own fault, not the dessert.
Milk and honey reduxThe meal ended as it began--with honey and milk. The honey milkshake, to be precise.

The tasting runs $125, with optional wine pairings for $95. The sleek burled wood lounge, which you walk through on your way to the inner sanctum dining room, has a nice list of less-expensive plates, including udon noodles, olive oil shortcake and a grilled gruyere sandwich that run about $10 to $18. We'll be back to try that at some point.
After dinner our server handed me a copy of the menu and made sure the car was waiting outside. Seth was too stuffed and tired to even jokingly suggest the strip club next door. With these tasting menus, the parade of stellar dishes can get overwhelming and it's difficult to savor each one as you should. Thanks to the menu and what remains of my pics, I've been thinking about our meal quite a bit over the past week, each day heightening my appreciation for the meal that we had.
Coi has been open since 2006 and this year added a second Michelin star. Our dinner felt more fresh and exciting than any hot new restaurant opening. I guess in that sense it was an appropriate anniversary choice as well.
Coi
373 Broadway
www.coirestaurant.com