Yountville: Ad Hoc

I will be the first to say that I hate communal tables. When I'm out to dinner, I don't need to be in other people's space, thankyouverymuch.

But somehow Ad Hoc manages to create that convivial shared-table atmosphere, even when everyone has plenty of personal space. Seth and I drove up Sunday night for our own little Christmas dinner (sponsored by Naree and Andy as a much-appreciated wedding gift) we ended up chatting extensively with diners on both sides of us.

There was the couple from El Cerrito on my right. On our left, the chef-owner of a restaurant in Michigan and her husband.

Maybe part of it is the fact that everyone is eating the exact same meal. It gives you a commonality with everyone else--and makes it somewhat pointless to ogle trays of food as they go past.

While Thomas Keller labors elsewhere on groundbreaking cuisine, Ad Hoc kicks back, preparing a single menu each night of hearty produce-driven fare. It's nothing fancy, but so very wonderful. The prices are a bit friendlier too--$49 per person for dinner, and an optional $39 wine pairing.

Our winter menu began with a simple salad of beets, golden, red and chioggia, with oranges and marcona almonds. A drizzle of almond oil mellowed the citrus vinaigrette, making everything taste fresh and lovely.

Wine pairing: Etude Carneros pinot noir (2008) that was almost summery it was so refreshing.

For our main course, bone-in beef shortribs, with a medley of roasted winter vegetables. The turnips, purple potatoes, radishes and carrots were darling, invoking the spring with their freshness and diminutive size.

And the meat. Oh, the meat. I wouldn't usually order short ribs, but these were tender and hearty, falling away from the sturdy length of bone.

To me, this is quintessential Ad Hoc. No frills, but done in the best way possible.

Wine pairing: A Braida Il Baciale pinot noir/barbara mix from Piedmont, Italy.

For the cheese course, a creamy, bloomy wedge of Hartwell from Vermont's Ploughgate Creamery, with pears and bread from nearby Bouchon Bakery.

No wine pairing for this course, so we followed our server's suggestion of a Hungarian tokaji. A Grof Degerfeld Tokaji Aszu 5 Putts 2000, to be precise.

The tokaji was an honest-to-god revelation. The boozy, honey taste was just what I hoped for the first time I tried mead.

Finally, dessert. You can't get more Ad Hoc than ice cream sandwiches, made from chocolate chip cookies and vanilla ice cream.

Wine pairing: An appropriately dessert-y 2003 Cornet & Cie Banyuls Rimage from France.

There was no need to grill our server about the menu, but he knew the wine list forwards and back. His casual demeanor was apropos, but I had one quibble: when Seth queried him about beers, the guy spoke to us like we were kindergartners.

When Seth asked for a porter to start the meal, he knew enough to suggest swapping it in as a pairing with the ice cream sandwich. But then he went on to recommended a Delirium Tremens, and described it as if it were some little-known treasure of a beer. I wish he would have mentioned the fact that Brooklyn Brewery does a special batch brew just for Ad Hoc. We would have been putty in his hands.

The restaurant's communal atmosphere paid off with the arrival of Hilary Swank, when whispers of recognition went rippling down our row of tables.

Ad Hoc
6476 Washington St., Yountville
www.adhocrestaurant.com

Oakland: Adesso

I have yet to find a legitimate dining establishment that offers a happy hour better than Adesso's.

Given Seth's and my current financial straits, I have no doubt we would be here every evening cadging pate, salad, and slices of crusty bread and cured meat if we lived on this side of the bridge.

But once the spread of free food goes away, it's time to focus on the salumi. The menu features roughly 40 different varieties, about $7 to $9 each, piqued with truffles, cloves, vanilla beans and other enticing additives.

Sitting at the bar before dinner, I asked the guy working a giant side of coppa tenderly through the industrial meat slicer which salumi isn't very popular, but should be.

He pointed us towards the coppa di testa, or gelatinous head cheese with parsley and lemon. Also the peperoni di senise with peppers and red wine, and the velvety smooth culatello.

These days most self-respecting Bay Area restaurants offer up some form of charcuterie, raw bar or fancy cocktail. But to have a neighborhood restaurant like Adesso in your particular neighborhood is to enjoy a steady supply of Italian wines, well-mixed drinks, oysters and some of the best cured meats in the Bay Area at your disposal all the time.

There's also a foosball table, reminding you that despite the jaw-dropping array of salumi, Adesso is meant as a quiet neighborhood hang.

The charcuterie takes up fully half of the menu. The rest is devoted to a well-edited roster of sandwiches, antipasti, cheese, pate and shellfish from the raw bar.

Some highlights of our Monday night dinner with Lauren and Dane included arancini of pork ragu ($8) with the meaty sauce a pleasant surprise inside the ball of fried rice. The piadina is akin to a wrap made with very thin, pliant pizza crust. The bresaola with onion and smoked caciocavallo cheese ($12) was a nice smoky-spicy combination.

Flourless chocolate cake and vanilla bean gelato were simple and straightforward, but won raves around the table.

Adesso's laid back nature is part of what makes it remarkable. However the unstoppable salumi selection makes it worth a trip across the bridge.

Adesso
4395 Piedmont Ave.
www.oaklandwinebars.com

Chicago: Pannenkoeken Cafe

I was looking forward to a catch-up breakfast with Kelly after Thanksgiving, but was somewhat dreading Pannenkoeken's heavy Dutch-style pancake after the gluttony of the holiday.

However my sausage, mushroom and cheese version with havarti ($8) was a pleasant surprise. The pancake itself is papery and light.

Fold this guy up omelet style and you've got a breakfast that's hearty but not gut-bustingly so. Ingredients are a grade above what you find at most diner-style breakfast spots. My pancake was studded with nearly whole mushroom pieces that were a joy to find as I hunted through my pancake.

I was sorely tempted by the chocolate banana version ($9) topped with toasted hazelnuts, whipped cream and Dutch cocoa powder. But considering my recent transgressions with deep fried turkey AND deep fried stuffing, I resisted. The small list includes some interesting options, like apple, raisin and cheese ($8) and raisin and ginger ($8).

The 12 pancakes offered range from sweet to savory and veggie to salami. You can tweak the combinations with your own personal ingredient combos.

Lines get long here, and at Pannekoeken's new Wicker Park branch, but it's an affordable and enjoyable variation from plain old omelets, or swanky, trendy brunch spots. And on a quiet morning your server is happy to let you linger and savor the combination of hearty filling and airy pancake.

Pannekoeken Cafe
4757 N. Western
www.pannenkoekencafe.com

SF: Thanh Long

The crab options are listed on a section of the menu entitled "Kitchen Secrets." But clearly everyone knows about Dungeness crab at Thanh Long.

With Dungeness season in full swing, even a rainy Friday night gets crowded quickly at this Vietnamese outpost just a few blocks from the ocean. Diners are a decidedly multi-ethnic group, but you're hard-pressed to find a table that isn't sporting at least one hefty plate of crab. After comparable cracked crab visits here and PPQ Dungeness Island, Lynn had decreed Thanh Long the winner, and our destination for the night.

Lynn had come straight from work, where she wears her wedding rings on a chain around her neck while assisting in the delivery room. I'm thinking that is also a good strategy any time you're eating crab in public.

We ordered the simple roasted version and a drunken crab, simmered in a boozy mix of chardonnay, sake and brandy and sprinkled with scallions and chives. The roast crab's simple garlic, salt and pepper treatment was far and away the favorite, although we reduced both crustaceans to a pile of shards and crackings by meal's end. The hot hand towels presented at the end of the meal were both welcome and necessary.

Open since 1971, Thanh Long is an Outer Sunset mainstay with a solid menu of seafood-centric Vietnamese fare that would pull me out here any time of the year. The salt and pepper calamari ($11) is some of the best I've had in San Francisco--lots of pepper and salt and fried only lightly.

Garlic noodles are to Seth what squid is to me--a benchmark by which to judge various ethnic dining establishments. Thanh Long's ($10) are suspiciously buttery for a Vietnamese preparation, but not surprisingly, the best version either of us had tasted.

Crabs were about $35 apiece in this year's lean Dungeness season. But eating cracked crab in a homey little spot where you can hear the ocean waves as you step out the door is one of those unique local experiences to cherish.

Thanh Long
4101 Judah
www.anfamily.com

SF: Lacy Malaysian Crepes at Alemany Farmers Market

I've been curious about these mysterious Malaysian crepes, one of the less-frequented food stands at Alemany. Saturday morning Seth and I needed a substantial breakfast to preemptively counteract the day's anticipated wine consumption, and the huaraches and pizza where nowhere in sight.

So we ordered a chicken and mint crepe ($5.50) from the very nice woman at the Malaysian crepe stand, Azalina.

As with any street food, your enjoyment is often directly related to how easily you can eat it without the aids of tables and cutlery. We took our lacy crepe and did what any fan of adventurous, sustainable local cuisine would do--we crouched
down and consumed it on a low brick ledge outside the market's public bathrooms.

The crepe itself is akin to a paper snowflake, but made out of noodles. Two types, green onion and curcuma, similar to ginger or turmeric, are folded into a dish and topped with green onions and a chicken and mint curry with a lingering heat that sent me running for a weeks-old water bottle I remembered was still rolling around in the car.

To be fair, the lady did urge us to come back if the dish was too hot and she would temper the crepe with some milder lentil curry.

The stand also offers banana chai fritters that have some fans on Yelp. It's hard to pass up huaraches if they are available, but curry for breakfast can be way more effective than coffee to jump-start a busy Saturday.

Lacy Malaysian Crepes
Alemany Farmers Market

SF: Ban Xheo at Sunflower

I need to arrange a private meeting with someone of Vietnamese descent to obtain a proper lesson in eating ban xheo.

Try as I might, I can't approach my beloved pancakes wrapped in lettuce with anything approaching finesse.

SF: A16

Back in a more innocent time, Nate Appleman held court at A16, turning out award-winning Cambrian cuisine that made him a darling of the SF food world and a James Beard rising chef.

It was a heady time, before Appleman's departure for New York, and ensuant bagging on San Francisco diners' affinity for all things simple/sustainable. It was also a time when the city was not home to quite as many top-grade pizza destinations.

In his absence, chef Liza Shaw is keeping the menu true to its southern Italian heritage. The problem is, so many other places have taken on pizza and pasta this past year. Somehow I came to A16 expecting something special and instead found a meal constantly comparable to Flour + Water.

However the food's still tasty, the price is still friendly and if you don't mind close quarters, it's a pleasant dining experience. Seth and my mom and I stopped in on Halloween, and the servers were all sporting some sort of 1980s athlete-type costume. So you can't accuse A16 of being pretentious. Here is a brief rundown of the meal.

I started with calamari and butter beans with fennel, marjoram and grilled bread ($12).

The soft white beans was a nice backdrop to chewy calamari, served in a thin tomato broth.

Seth, no surprise, went for mozzarella burrata with olive oil, sea salt and crostini($11).

It's tough to go wrong with burrata. A16's is just salty enough.

Always a mom, my mother ordered the other appetizer I was considering so I could taste it: tuna conserva with dried favas, roasted peppers and house-made croccantini ($12).

Not quite as good as the F+W version, but a bold flavor with nice accompaniments.

The maccaronara with a neapolitan ragu and house-made ricotta salata ($9/$16) is another entry on that damn 7x7 list. Tasty, yes. But it won't haunt my memory like, say, salted caramel ice cream.

Mom's nod to the holiday was an impulse addition of pumpkin and ricotta gnocchi ($10/$18). When they arrived, they looked like chunks of salmon.

Somehow I couldn't get past the visual. Also, these were super-sweet.

I was debating my options and our server talked me into the pizza Romana ($12) with tomato, oregano, garlic, anchovies, black olives, Calabrian chiles and olive oil.

Many of A16's pizzas are cheese-free. No complaint from me, but the anchovies were a bit too overwhelming. I don't know if it was the quantity or the preparation, but they made for some unpleasant blasts of fishiness amidst bites of pizza. And I say this as someone who loves anchovies.

Seth ordered the salsiccia, with fennel sausage, rapini, red onions, mozzarella, garlic chiles and olive oil ($16).

We both agreed our pies tasted better the next day, when the paper-thin crust held together a bit more.

Mom's roasted Sonoma duck meatballs ($23).

These were super dark and gamy. There's no halfway on this dish: anyone who tastes this dish will either love it or despise it.

The restaurant is named for the highway that runs out of Naples. A16 has received consistent acclaim since opening in 2004. I don't think it's going anywhere and I'm glad to see the approach hasn't wavered since Appleman's departure. I can happily cross this restaurant off my new-to-SF to-do list and continue on my way to bigger, better and cheesier and better pizzas.

A16
2355 Chestnut St.
www.a16sf.com

Big Sur: Nepenthe

In its classic definition, nepenthe is a medicine for sorrow, a substance you consume to chase away sadness.

I certainly can't imagine why a place bearing that name would appeal to the crunchy folk who hang out around Big Sur.

For Seth and me, a sunset dinner at Nepenthe was an excellent way to chase away the tension wrought by a few solid hours of coastal twists and turns on Highway 1. This blufftop spot violates that most basic restaurant maxim: if you're there for the view, the food is probably an afterthought.

Our view was truly stunning.

And the burger? Just about as good.

We both ordered the ambrosiaburger ($17), a juicy feat of coarse-ground beef with a flawless bun-to-burger ratio. The steak roll is something we'll have to keep in mind for future at-home burger sessions.

We hadn't eaten all day, so an order of Laura Chenel goat cheese and slow-roasted Gilroy garlic ($12) helped us survive until the burgers arrived.


The restaurant's haphazard treehouse feel and the killer views attract a solid stream of hippies (not hipsters), but the restaurant itself is rather high-end. Steaks are nearly $40 and the wine list boasts an impressive array of area bottles. The patio yields the best views, but the dining room gives much of the same experience at about 15 degrees warmer.

Enjoying such a view and a meal concurrently is a feat not possible in most parts of the country. And hell, it was nearly Thanksgiving and neither of us wore jackets.

It's easy to miss the pulloff to Nepenthe's parking lot as you zip around the highway curves, but I have a feeling this will be one of our go-to spots whenever Seth and I are day-tripping (or road-tripping) down south.

And in honor of Mr. Hazel, my high school English teacher who made me memorize Poe's epic poem that first introduced me to this most excellent word, let me just say:

"Wretch," I cried, thy God hath lent thee, by the angels, he has sent thee,
Respite, respite, and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget the lost Lenore.
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

Nepenthe
48510 Highway 1
Big Sur
www.nepenthebigsur.com

Santa Barbara: La Super Rica

La Super Rica's major claim to fame is its status as purveyor of Julia Child's favorite Mexican food during her later years in Santa Barbara. It's not surprising that the butter-loving Mrs. Child would be charmed by this place, especially in an era when cooking, not dining, was a popular pastime.

Despite having Mexican the night before, Newmangela were gracious enough to accompany Seth and me, waiting outside at 11 a.m. for the doors to open at this unpretentious little shack.

Apparently if you come a bit later the line gets pretty long.

In spirit, La Super Rica is a laid-back California kin to Chicago's Hot Doug's: both offer no-frills settings that crank out thoughtfully prepared versions of your favorite casual comfort food.

The menu is written up on a board and you place your order at a takeout window that would look more at home at an aging Dairy Queen. You pick up your food at a side window, where you can glimpse a woman hard at work cranking out those hand-made corn tortillas.

The, um, decor is formica tables, plastic chairs and an authentic early 1980s vibe.

I opted for one super-basic item and a daily special, to get a sense of what La Super Rica could do.

The taco de bistec was just that--two kickass fresh tortillas and a pile of grilled steak. But the tender meat and a hit of pico de gallo from the serve-yourself salsa bar turned it into something more.



The tacos de hongo, mushrooms sauteed in cream sauce, were decidedly more decadent.

Now that would be right in Julia's wheelhouse. Actually mixing some mushrooms with the bistec yielded a perfectly balanced taco.

Seth and I shared a tamal de Verduras, with chayote, corn, zucchini, potatoes, chile strips and cheese, topped with a crema sauce.

There was a lot going on in here amidst the silky smooth masa.

Seth doubled up on pork. First the taco de adobado, with strips of marinated pork:


Then the tried and true chorizo.


If the lore of La Super Rica has set your expectations too high, I can see being disappointed by such straightforward fare. But most tacos cost between $2 and $5, and every component is fresh and able to stand alone.

These days we are starting to take this level of care for granted, but even a few short years ago, America was still enthralled with more artificial and elaborate tastes. Julia, count me as a fan.


La Super Rica
622 Milpas St.
Santa Barbara

SF: Woodhouse Fish Co.

Lauren fiends for lobster rolls the way I crave triple-cream brie and salt and pepper squid. As a Boston native who has spent a lot of time in Maine, I consider her a more than ample benchmark for the quality of any west coast incarnations of this New England staple.

I suggested we check out Woodhouse Fish Co.'s second location, up near my house, and was relieved when she pronounced the $26 large version worthy of her hankerings.

In our part of the world, lobster rolls are often ludicrously expensive or served in tiny hors d'oeuvre portions more akin to a child's tea party than my dinner. I was immensely pleased with Woodhouse's version, which featured a split-top buttered roll and a heaping portion of lobster meat with not too much mayo and a perfect sprinkling of celery that didn't compete with the main event.

So meaty was this roll that I had to make a few go-rounds with my fork before I could wrangle the sandwich into a manageable bite. The fries were crisp and slender, just as fries should be.

Anything less than a slam dunk lobster roll would be a disappointment at Woodhouse, which bills itself as an east coast-style fish house with a menu full of Ipswich clams, chowder and such. They also offer local oysters, Dungeness crab and cioppino, if you prefer your seafood from westerly origins.

Both Woodhouse locations are family-owned, and have a relaxed neighborhood vibe. The Tuesday night $1 oyster happy hour may be my destination once I get around to fulfilling my New Year's resolution of seeing how many oysters I can pack away in a single sitting.

However Lauren's tales of eating $3 lobster rolls in Maine brimming with fresh meat is enough to make me contemplate checking out the lesser Portland one of these days.

Woodhouse Fish Co.
1914 Fillmore St.
(also 2073 Market)
www.woodhousefish.com

Sacramento: Breakfast at Dad's

Eating at the home of my protein-obsessed, cuisine-averse father is always an adventure. Behold, breakfast...





-- Posted from my iPhone

Berkeley: Bette's Oceanview Diner

You know, when you factor out the throngs of screaming children and interminable waits, Bette's Oceanview Diner actually serves some very good breakfast food. I had never made it to this 4th street stalwart in Berkeley, but a gift certificate and a free Thursday morning conspired to give me some of the best pancakes ($5.50 for three) I've tasted in my life.

I say this as someone who doesn't order pancakes when something involving hash, Hollandaise or salmon is on the menu. Most incarnations are starchy and boring, but Bette's buttermilk version actually lives up to its laudatory Yelp postings. It almost seems like an affront to adorn something so spongy and buttery with syrup or fruit. And you certainly don't need butter.

Bette's is tricked out in full diner mode, with rows of shiny stools and a black and white checked floor. While they do a lunch menu, the breakfast is what draws the crowds. Nothing on the menu is particularly adventurous, just an assortment of basic scrambles, omelets and pancakes, with some fruit-topped souffle pancakes and corned beef hash thrown in for good measure. But the simplicity works because so many elements are made in-house and with care.

When I wasn't snatching bites of Seth's pancake stack, I was demolishing about 25 percent of my enormous potato pancakes with sour cream ($10). If someone put this plate in front of me at age 10, it would have seemed like a dream come true. A whole pancake? Made out of essentially shredded hash browns?

Bette's adds egg to fuse the whole thing together. It's not a complex dish, and flavor-wise there isn't much there besides crisp potato, salt and butter. I was yearning to throw some lox on top alongside the sour cream, but even in its unadorned state, my plate was comforting and decadently basic.

Seth also enjoyed his side of house-made chorizo ($3.50).

Bette's does in-house scrapple too, for any Pennsylvania natives out there.

A final highlight of Seth's breakfast--a cafe mocha so milky and chocolatey that it belongs at the end of our meal pics, even though it was served up before our food arrived.

My breakfast made me more than forgive Bette's 1950s diner schmaltz. I could never go on a weekend--I am morally opposed to waiting so damn long for a meal. But Bette's is now officially one more guilty pleasure for me on that stretch of 4th Street, conveniently located about halfway between Anthropologie and the paper store.

Bette's Oceanview Diner
1807 4th Street
Berkeley

SF: Mission Burger

In the front corner of Duc Loi supermarket in the Mission, Anthony Myint has created a new wrinkle in the ongoing craze for street food. Every weekday, except Thursday, Myint stands behind an empty meat counter, serving up hulking beef burgers and, for a time, vegan counterparts that have sparked their own loyal following.

Service starts at noon each day and ends when the food runs out. Myint, and cohort Danny Bowien, throw in a few creative flourishes on various days, as time and inspiration allow. The lemonade poured into a heaping handful of crushed mint ($2) tasted surprisingly exotic, given the combination of two such simple items.

Seth and I ordered up our $8 burgers, each a third of a pound combo of brisket, short rib and chuck. This baby is seared in beef fat and topped with monterey jack, caramelized onions and a caper aioli. The bun is Acme, naturally.

We took ours home, since Duc Loi offers little more than a wooden bench for in-house eating. You can go over to Lung Shan, a divey Chinese restaurant better known as the home of Myint's famed Mission Street Food dinners, and eat your burger there as long as you order a drink.

After I hopped into the passenger seat, Seth tucked our box of burger into my arms with the sort of tender care generally reserved for newborns making their way home from the hospital.

The entire way we fought the urge to eat Myint's crispy, amazing fries ($2).

Alas, the burger itself was a colossal disappointment. The meat was overcooked and the whole thing was disastrously salty. I chewed through about four bites and was forced to concede that the meat coma I had planned for the afternoon was not happening.

I'm disenchanted, but not down for the count. I'm willing to try again.

Ordering the vegan burger never crossed my mind, in fact, they were out the day we stopped in. Now he has discontinued it over a fryer flap, and because it's apparently extremely time-consuming. And now the maitake-shiitake-kale-edamama-chickpea-and more patty enjoys a bit of a cult following among vegans and carnivores alike. If you're really inclined, you can apparently obtain the recipe.

Mission Burger
Duc Loi Supermarket
2200 Mission (at 18th)
Details here

SF: El Huarache Loco

Since I didn't work this Saturday, I nudged Seth out of bed early and headed to Alemany. I haven't been able to go since warmer days, and El Huarache Loco's stand was back from its tour of various summer street food festivals.

The BLT huarache isn't on the menu, but you can still order it up and start off the day with a griddled masa cake topped with a sublime hybrid of diner sandwich and Mexican street food.

Hello, breakfast.

I was initially put off by the $7 price, but I recanted my ire when they delivered me a plate brimming with lettuce, beans, bacon, queso fresco and, oh yes, a truckload of bacon. There was a bit of tomato overload, but this transgression is easier to forgive when the vegetable (yes, I know, really a fruit) in question is fresh and locally grown. A spicy crema pulled everything together nicely.

The stand was apparently out of avocado, but adding another flavor to this array may have blown my mind--or my arteries.

El Huarache Loco
Alemany Farmer's Market

SF: Roli Roti

When I met Dara at the Ferry Building's Thursday street food market, we employed our best critical thinking skills and decided to get RoliRoti for the simple fact that the line was longer than any other stand.

I mean, people wouldn't wait like that if they weren't dishing out something good, right?

So we waited, watching the chickens and pork undulating on the mobile rotisserie and taking furtive glances at people's orders to figure out the big draw of this place.

After some minor dithering, I went with the $6 combo--a quarter of a spit-roasted chicken and a side of potatoes. Watching those potatoes slowly roast at the bottom of the rotisserie, absorbing the chicken and pork drippings was positively pornographic.

Salty and meaty, the potatoes lived up to their visual promise. The chicken was some good chicken, juicy and tender. However once you got past the crisp, seasoned skin, even the best, most seasonal hormone-free chicken gets a little bland.

But God, those potatoes.

I had a bit of order envy as I watched the guy slice wafers of pink roast beef for Dara's sandwich, making sure to soak up some of the meat juices with the bread. And a formidable sandwich it was.

However the parsley-based sauce on there was horrifically salty, forcing her to scrounge around for scraps of meat not sullied with salt.

A decent lunch in all, but nothing worth the 30-minute wait times. But as we headed back towards Embarcadero, D ran into two colleagues waiting in the same line. They were highly enthused about their impending orders of the porchetta sandwich. Apparently that's the item driving the crazy line. Next time, Gadget.

RoliRoti
At the Thursday Market at the Ferry Building
www.roliroti.com

SF: Fraiche

The day is so warm and sunny that I abandoned my work briefly and wandered down to Fillmore. The original plan was a visit to Out the Door, but Seth is out of town and I felt guilty eating there without him.

Hence, I finally hopped on the yogurt bandwagon with a sweet-tart dish of natural frozen yogurt at Fraiche.



Since I don't love fruit toppings, I gave mine a quasi-s'more treatment of freshly-shaved chocolate and graham cracker.

This is an offshoot of a popular Palo Alto location, where Fraiche also produces its three flavors: natural, soy and chocolate.

I didn't bother with the soy, but the chocolate was rich and surprisingly classic, given the tangy Greek yogurt flavor of the natural.

Every ingredient in my $4.65 small cup stood out, but the yogurt's flavor made the whole affair taste very adult.

I have somehow managed to avoid the whole Pinkberry-type trend, so I'm likely missing something. While I loved my yogurt, I think your palate has to be fairly developed to enjoy this. Seven-year-old Allecia would have been disgusted, as would anyone who equates frozen yogurt with TCBY and M&M toppings.

But this city is big on natural, organic and high-quality concepts. On this sunny afternoon, stroller mom and groups of women filled the tables, and I heard more than one enraptures exclamation about the yogurt.

I may not come back regularly, but it's nice to have Fraiche in the neighborhood.

Fraiche Yogurt
1910 Fillmore
www.fraicheyogurt.com

SF: Joe's Cable Car

The giant poster of Guy Fieri at the front door should have been enough to scare me away. But driving back from Sacramento recently, I figured I would check out the supposedly amazing burger at Joe's Cable Car.

Joe's has been around since 1965, on a quiet stretch in the Excelsior neighborhood. The building looks as if it began life as a walk-up counter, then sustained a few decades worth of cable car-shaped additions.

The restaurant is renowned for grinding its own chuck each day, a distinction commemorated by a large mural on a wall out in the parking lot. The menu offers 16 burger styles, including chili-topped, teriyaki and pizza-style versions.

Burgers come in 4, 6 and 8-oz. sizes. I opted for the small #2, which includes diced Bermuda onions in the meat. Lest you forget, multiple signs remind you that the beef is ground daily.

I don't mean to bag on the burger--it was juicy, well-proportioned and the onions packed some good flavor. But I just couldn't get past Joe's nakedly tourist-trap nature.

For one thing, the prices. Cheese is an extra $0.85. Throw in a small fries and my total was $17. Yikes. Also, the servers kept wanting to seat me at a table for one, seeming rather flummoxed that I might want to place a takeout order. I felt rather uncomfortable and out of place.

While I waited for my order, I had a chance to peruse the list of souvenirs, like ashtrays and hurricane glasses, available either with cash or hard-earned Joe's points.

I'm guessing Joe's started out as a modest counter slinging surprisingly good burgers. I probably would have enjoyed the Joe's of yesteryear more than this franken-monster destination for tourists or suburban food network devotees.

Joe's Cable Car
4320 Mission St.
www.joescablecarrestaurant.om



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SF: SF Street Food Festival

Yes, the San Francisco Street Food Festival was every bit as crowded and frustrating as other attendees/bloggers have claimed. However I just can't get annoyed because La Cocina is such a great organization, and I have a feeling next year they will be prepared for the crowds.

I'm going to be uncharacteristically optimistic and note that I did not go home as uncomfortably stuffed as I anticipated. We arrived just as the event was starting, and lines quickly reached ridiculous proportions.

The wait times made the festival an exercise in priorities. I knew I wanted to do Aziza. I have yet to eat there, and have a hard time reconciling my (very limited) concept of Moroccan food with all the rave reviews for chef Mourad Lalou.

My 30-minute wait was rewarded with the day's favorite $3 bite--Aziza's squid salad with mint, cilantro and cabbage.


The day's other favorite: Poleng Lounge's barbecued oysters, Vietnamese style, with bacon-scallion oil and lemon-pepper sauce.

At $8 for 4, it was also a rather hearty helping.

I think I sampled a total of six items, including Seth's food and the excellent corn nut brittle Kate got from Absinthe.

The beer garden was another highlight, especially the cocktails from Cantina. Kate, Dara and I passed a few pleasant hours with canned microbrews and grapefruit-tequila drinks.

Here's to a larger, less crowded SF Street Festival 2010.

www.sfstreetfoodfest.org

SF: Flour + Water

Flour + Water seems to be capitalizing on all of San Francisco's current food trends--pizza, market-driven ingredients, in-house butchery and even some offal here and there. What, no artisanal cocktails?

All I've heard since its opening is raves, lines and waits. It's hard not to be skeptical of all the hype, but our Saturday night dinner with Lisa and Tony absolutely delivered on a mix of well-done basics and more adventurous, yet still flawless items.

It's tough to pinpoint what makes this place transcend other splashy pizza and Italian restaurants. I actually think Flour + Water's pasta is more of a strength than its lavishly praised pizza. All this popularity does translate to long wait times. Even with our 7:30 booking for a four-top (made a month in advance, mind you) we waited outside for 20 minutes before our table.

Our server nearly burst out in delighted applause when Seth ordered the crispy pig trotter appetizer ($12) with fig, prune, watercress and pickled chantrelle mushrooms. Apparently it's a staff favorite.

I can see why. The meat is rich and tender, condensed into breaded patties. The mushrooms add a kick of brightness that makes an excellent dish really stellar.

Lisa's heirloom tomato and corn salad with ricotta-stuffed squash blossoms ($9) was about as summery as you could get, even as the fog crept in and temperatures plummeted after a warm Saturday.


Who came up with the idea that every person has to order something different? Neither Tony nor I were willing to give up the tuna conserva appetizer ($10) with white beans, celery heart and kicky fried peppers.

Fresh tuna is poached in olive oil, then stored in a jar to become richer and more dense. All the light, crunchy accompaniments balance the fat, flaky tuna perfectly.

At this point in this city, it goes without saying that the cheese, produce, eggs and other ingredients are all top-notch. Hence Seth's pomodoro pizza ($16) was a standard combo of tomatoes (heirloom) mozz (fior di latte), basil, garlic and arugula was fairly basic, but wonderful.

Even more wonderful--this cappelletti pasta with corn, bitter honey and a soft rindless Italian cow's milk cheese called crescenza.

Lisa's bianca pizza ($16) with prosciutto, fior di latte mozz, black pepper and olives.

Another big winner of the night: Tony's lamb mixed roast selection ($22) from the three-item secondi list.

Flour + Water does all its butchering in-house, which also explains the warm potato and lamb's tongue salad ($11) on the antipasti menu. I'll get you next time, lamb's tongue. Neexxxxtttt tiiiiiimmme. I was channeling Dr. Claw from Inspector Gadget, in case my typing doesn't do justice to his rasp.

The wine list, printed on the back of our casual paper menus, was surprisingly inexpensive and, of course, largely Italian. Our server was actually excited to help us navigate th elist, and suggested a faublously reasonable $26 bottle.

Despite the small menu, I had trouble narrowing down my selections at Flour + Water. Crowd-pleasing pizzas and pastas aren't exactly a stunning technical feat, but in this city, the acclaim pouring from all sides indicates that Flour + Water really is something special. And in San Francisco, special usually costs more than $16 per entree.

Flour + Water
2401 Harrison
www.flourandwater.com

SF: Sunflower (Potrero Hill location)

Whenever Seth and I move, I want to live somewhere with a Vietnamese restaurant close by. A place like Sunflower would do nicely.

I met Virginia for lunch and finally got to try the popular Vietnamese mini-chain. Theirs is not a menu filled with pungent, risky food, but Sunflower allows diners to venture beyond, but not too far beyond, spring rolls, pho and curry. And everything I've had there is well-prepared, satisfying and not greasy at all.

Somehow it never occurs to me to eat garlic noodles, but Virginia's recommendation rewarded me with an enormous platter of thick, chewy noodles.

Sunflower's version avoids the fake-garlic fate of so many takeout joints. With each bite you taste actual garlic, the kind that comes in cloves, rather than flakes.

We ordered the veggie version ($9 for a heaping serving) and my only complaint was the satisfyingly crisp broccoli and pepper pieces were enormous and unwieldy. C'est la vie--I have no qualms about reaching for a fork when the chopsticks don't cut it.

The seafood curry rice plate ($7.50) was filled with sauteed prawns, calamari, krab meat, fish cake and veggies. The curry gave everything a light flavor, more sweet than pungent, but with just enough coconut kick.

Virginia and I avoided the post-lunch food coma, courtesy of a pair of Vietnamese coffees. All this, plus a hefty carton of takeout for V's dinner, set us back about $14 apiece.

Sunflower recently took over the old Baraka space, expanding in addition to its popular Mission location. I don't think they did a great deal of interior remodeling before moving in.

Chinese takeout is too greasy, sushi gets expensive and I can make tacos at home. Seriously, what better cuisine to have near your house than Vietnamese? Sunflower is exactly the type of spot I want down the street. And in the mean time, I am happy to take advantage of the ample street parking and make inexpensive lunch and dinner plans here as often as possible.

St. Louis: A Taste of 30

I spent birthday #29 last year watching movers dismantle my life in Chicago. This year I rang in my 30th on multiple plane flights en route to St. Louis for Dave's wedding.

I didn't document my airport McDonalds order for posterity, but I did manage a few enjoyable birthday meals over a 24-hour period.

I was fairly crestfallen that Niche was closed for the week, but found solace in some goat cheese agnolotti and flourless chocolate cake at Atlas Restaurant in the Central West End.

No visit to Missouri is complete without a caloric Frisco Melt orgy at Steak-N-Shake. A last-minute brunch with Kelly at Rooster was an added bonus.

Living in San Francisco has definitely affected me. The Rooster menu featured a GBLT crepe, filled with goat cheese, bacon, lettuce and tomato. Of course when I read the listing, my first thought was "gay, bisexual, lesbian and transgender." Not sure what would be in that type of crepe.

SF: Pizza Inferno

Sometimes (ok, most of the time) I want neapolitan pizza with flawless ingredient and a thin crust that's blistered on the bottom, yet still chewy.

Still, there is a place in this world for comfort pizza.

Most people have their own fundamental combination of preferred toppings. Seth's and mine are fairly close. We agree on the pepperoni and mushrooms, but I like black olives, while he prefers peppers. So on a recent mega-budget date night to see Time Traveler's Wife (read the book instead) I was happy to order my own individual pizza, complete with black olives. Man, I do love the salty twist they bring to all the cheese and meat.

We checked out Pizza Inferno, just down the street from the theater on Fillmore. It's a fairly straightforward pizza parlor, with the addition of some graffiti-style swirly art covering the ceiling and walls.

The place was woefully understaffed, and since it was Friday we missed what looks to be a solid recurring happy hour Monday through Thursday. We ate pre-movie so it was too early for much of a crowd. But the seating area is large enough to suggest minimal wait times, if any.

Pizza Inferno offers calzones, basic salads and larger pies, but they seem to do a brisk business on the individuals. There are more, um, adventurous options like a Thai chicken pizza with cilantro and peanuts, as well as some vegetable-driven pies topped with broccoli and such. But to me the joy is in selecting your own preferred ingredients.

This is not something I would do up the street at Pizzeria Delfina.

Pies vary in price according to fanciness of ingredients; ours were $11 bucks apiece. The crust was actually pretty decent, not the chewy doughy variety of a Round Table-type establishment.

They have a small but solid collection of beers on tap as well.

Delfina's spring onion and guanciale pizza continues to pop up in my dreams. But when I want those black olives, I'm happy to stop in down the street at Pizza Inferno.

Pizza Inferno
1800 Fillmore

SF: Gourmet Wood-Fired Pizza at Alemany

Saturday night featured an awesome dinner at Flour + Water that I will chronicle shortly, but I have to say, the best pizza I ate that day came 11 hours earlier at the Alemany farmers market.

We were hankering for the BLT huarache, but alas El Huarache Loco was over in Oakland setting up for Eat Real. We ended up down at the wood-fired pizza stand. The market special of the day was written on a paper plate and tacked up to the side of their awning--creamy-sweet mascarpone with figs and salty prosciutto.

If a perfect breakfast pizza truly exists, outside of the minds of the marketing team at Domino's and CPK, this is the place.

The toppings were an ideal sweet-salty combo, but it was the crust that truly wowed. It was thin without straying into cracker crust territory, crisp and blistered on the bottom but still chewy. Anyone who can make this happen in a wood-fired oven on wheels, at 8 a.m. no less, has my unfettered admiration.

And if that weren't impressive enough, the pizzaiolo told us the crust was wheat! Well, I never.

I also really appreciate being able to order a half-pizza. A partial pie for breakfast (hours before a major pizza dinner) is one thing, but an entire pizza just seems excessive.

I'm guessing the market option toppings will be different next week, but Seth and I will certainly be back for whatever is on offer.

Alemany Farmers Market
100 Alemany Boulevard
Saturdays
www.sfgov.org/alemany

SF: Humphry Slocombe's lard shortbread

These lard shortbread cookies are part of San Francisco's current bacon mafia, and the love child of two foodie fetishes here--Humphry Slocombe's renegade ice creamery, and the cured meat savants at Boccalone.

You see, Humphry Slocombe bakes the cookies with Boccalone's lard. The result ($3.50 for four petite cookies) doesn't have a distinctly bacon taste, but if you pay attention, the flavor gives you a hint that there's more than butter going on here.

The sweet taste lingers just a bit longer than normal, and the cookie is somehow amplified, and richer than you might expect. Also, a mild herbal overtone?

The damn things are crumbly though. I took my first bite and lost half the cookie on the ground in the Ferry Building.

Oh pig fat, what can't you do?

Available at Boccalone, 1 Ferry Building Plaza
& Humphry Slocombe, 2790 Harrison in the Mission

Oakland: Pizzaiolo

I must say, the pizza at Pizzaiolo is worth the hype, worth the hours-long wait and worth going back soon.

Chez Panisse alum Charlie Hallowell has created a super-casual haven of fresh cocktails and pizzas with a similarly obsessive focus on quality produce. Oakland has responded in kind. It's not uncommon to wait two hours or more for a table here--and the dining room is fairly spacious.

Pizzaiolo's menu gets tweaked daily, depending on which ingredients are available and looking good. There is a handful of meat courses, but you might guess from the name that pizza is the focus here.

That's not to say you should pass on the pasta offerings. The risottos, farro and hand-made pastas make an excellent appetizer.

sweet corn, Parmesan-like grana cheese, and gorgonzola pack sweet and savory flavors into a basic polenta ($5).

The starch dishes are delicious but heavy, so great to share as an appetizer. However, it's hard to get past the allure of the antipasti menu.

A solid, simple burrata has become a go-to menu item when I visit Bay Area pizzerias. This version ($12) was served with some unnecessary romano beans and salty, excellent prosciutto di Parma.

We honestly didn't need the potato gnocchi with lamb ragu ($15). It was a last-minute add on, but the house-made pasta is in line with Pizzaiolo's high pizza standards.

I eagerly anticipated our potato, pancetta, fontina and rosemary pizza ($17) and it delivered on my high expectations, despite potatoes' reputation for quickly overwhelming a pizza. This pie certainly wasn't light, but I think using fresh new potatoes kept everything in balance. You tasted the pancetta's tang and the rosemary's herbal kick, alongside lots of melty cheese.

The house-made sausage was the highlight of the rapini pizza ($17)

"Pizzaiolo" is the Italian term for a highly respected pizza craftstman. Pizza geeks, and I think such a thing now officially exists, will approve of the thin but chewy crust Hallowell pulls from the wood-fired oven.

Crowds were already clustering outside when Seth and I arrived at 6. We waded into the bar to order two of the ever-changing cocktails, heavy on fresh lime juice and house-made components.

Once we were seated, service is as well-honed as the pizzas. Our server, appropriately pierced and tatted for Oakland's Temescal neighborhood, dropped by frequently. When she inquired about wine, I told her what pizzas we planned to order, and she truly thought about which wines would complement our choices, and why. This was a pleasant contrast to the lame response I got to that query at Tony's in North Beach.

The weathered brick and classic brass fixtures in the dining room belie the fact that Pizzaiolo has only been open since June. However Oakland and its environs have embraced this new neighborhood gem and I have a feeling--thank God--that it's hear to stay.

Pizzaiolo
5008 Telegraph Ave., Oakland
www.pizzaiolooakland.com

SF: Boccalone's Nduja

A half-eaten 8-ounce "chub" of Boccalone's Nduja currently sits in our refrigerator. The Ferry Building meat maestros debuted this spicy, spreadable salumi earlier this year and now that it's in our fridge, the damn thing calls to me all the time.

I want to eat it as a sandwich for lunch, and spread on some good sourdough as a pre-dinner bite. When I wake up in the morning, the idea of spicy cured meat sounds more and more natural.

Boccalone recommends using chunks of nduja in pastas, or atop pizzas, but we're still getting past how damn good it tastes on a slice of sourdough. Pronounced "en-do-ya," it looks like your typical Boccalone product, but its soft enough to be redirected with a butter knife, rather than an industrial grade meat slicer.

The meat itself has a sharp kick from Calabrian chiles. According to Boccalone, this sort of soft salumi is particular to Italy's Calabrese region. Yet another tasty salted pig part from a salumi standby.

The nduja must be refrigerated, but Boccalone does ship orders overnight, encased in God knows what type of chemical coolants. If Seth and I like you, you may be receiving this in your mailbox come Christmas.

Boccalone
1 Ferry Building Plaza
www.boccalone.com

SF: Street Food

I've noticed the past two Thursday street food lineups haven't been as crazy packed as they used to be. Are San Francisco's downtown workers already on to Cane Rosso, or other new food options?

I confess, the lineup of food stands isn't huge, but the places that do stake their stands, mobile pizza ovens and portable grills every Thursday do crank out some wonderful offerings in a primitive environment.

Arriving before the high noon lunch hour saves diners about 20 minutes of waiting in line. Here is a roundup of the recent offerings from Outer Richmond Korean spot NAMU, Marina tapas destination Laiola's Tacolicious stand, Ryan Farr's 4505 meats and more.

People wait in line for Namu's "real" Korean tacos, but there's something about seaweed as a taco shell I don't buy. Each week they offer a special, like this totally unmanageable chicken sandwich with barbecue sauce and an egg ($11).

This sandwich was like an edible whack-a-mole game. Every time you try to take a bite, the fillings slip out elsewhere in the sandwich. The flavors didn't justify the struggle.

I vastly preferred the bibimbap--crunching with fresh ingredients and topped with another vivid orange egg...and a boatload of Namu's special hot sauce.


Seth's 4505 cheeseburger ($7) was about one-third the size, and three times better. It's a simple, perfectly executed grilled cheeseburger. The handful of Farr's famous chicarrones didn't hurt matters either.


Tacolicoius is a product of Laiola's Joe Hargrave and Sara Desaran of 7x7, which still puzzles me. Their ancho-lime grilled corn ($3)that makes a perfect side dish--albeit one you'll be picking out of your teeth all day.

Tacolicious also has, um, tacos, in chorizo-potato and carnitas incarnations, along with ever-changing specials like fish and short ribs.

The watermelon agua fresca here is insane and, in my opinion, Tacolicious has the friendliest service of any of the half-dozen stands.

I always feel guilty walking by the Cap'n Mike's Holy Smoke booth. Every other stand has lines and mad crushes of people, but nobody is queuing up for lox and smoked fish sandwiches.

CUESA Thursday Market
Ferry Building plaza
www.cuesa.org

Oakland: Pican

Sitting beneath the lofty ceilings in Pican's industrial-meets-bayou dining room, it's easy to imagine Oakland in its Jazz Age glory days. Diners are well-dressed and decidedly multi-cultural, enjoying fairly pricey southern fare with California influences in Oakland's Uptown neighborhood.

If Oakland is experiencing a renaissance of sorts, surely Pican is evidence of this shift. The dining room attracts culinary adventurers from San Francisco, like Seth and me, but our midday meal there suggested that Pican is the place for locals to power lunch.

Alas, the fried chicken, brined for three days, was not on the lunch menu. I agonized over the low country shrimp and grits ($15) and the chicken and dumplings ($14). Ultimately I went for the dumplings, given the Bay Area workup with free range chicken, local spinach and truffled parmesan dumplings.

If only the chicken packed remotely as much flavor as the stellar chicken gravy. I really enjoyed the dumplings, forcing myself to take a bite or two of chicken between each one to prolong the enjoyment.

The pork in Seth's Carolina chopped barbecue sandwich ($10) was smoked over pecan and hickory wood, topped with coleslaw and doused with molasses barbecue sauce.

We tried, but we couldn't pass up the crispy golden fries ($4 for a small), served in a faux paper cone with house-made ketchup and barbecue mayonnaise.

The restaurant is the first for owner Michael LeBlanc. He also owns Brothers Brewing Company, which has a beer on tap. The sleek cocktail lounge also features lots of bourbon and would be a great place for a Saturday night drink.

Pican isn't inexpensive, nor should it be given the quality of the food. Sitting among the earnest business lunchers, enjoying California-infused southern food in these glittering surroundings gives one a sense of Oakland's pre-WWII glory days, and what could perhaps be once again.

Pican
2295 Broadway, Oakland
www.picanrestaurant.com

SF: Wexler's

Wexler's is the ultimate barbecue spot for a city that likes its food a bit daintier than your average plate of ribs. The decor is minimal and sleek, plates are elegant but don't worry--the tastes are pure meat.

Actually smoke, rather than meat, is the overarching theme in the small FiDi dining room. The menu contains more high-level ocean fare than your average rib joint, but each dish has at least a hint of smokey, meaty flavor. Even the ceiling boasts a rippling, grey art installation that symbolizes either smoke or fog, depending on who you ask.

The menu item that perhaps best represents this contrary combination is the BBQ scotch eggs ($11 for two), arguably becoming the restaurant's signature dish.

Eggs are soft-boiled and coated in breadcrumbs and the burnt crumbles left over from the ends of the short rib entree. The entire affair is then plunged in the deep fryer, producing a gourmet roadhouse incarnation of the classic Scottish bar snack.

A salad of market-fresh heirloom tomato salads is another uncommon barbecue offering, but it's high season and Seth's salad special hit a welcome light note in a string of hearty dishes.

Sure, chef Charlie Kleinman offers a cheeky, bastardized version of barbecue, but why slather everything in barbecue sauce when you have proximity to amazing locally grown fare? I ordered an appetizer as my entree, thinking the stew of Tomales Bay oysters ($11) sounded hearty enough for my main meal.

I was incorrect on that one. The small bowl contained a meager archipelago of oysters, albeit plump and meaty ones. The hush puppies on the top added a nice starchy counterpoint.

Fortunately the dish is so rich and creamy that a diminutive portion was just fine. And yes, I definitely detected that whisper of smoke.

It took us a minute to identify the Macomber turnips that topped Seth's smoked short rib plate ($19) with mashed potatoes. The turnips were sweet and soft enough to be squash or even sweet potatoes.

Evan's plate plate of pork ($19), that changes at the whim of both chef and seasons.


For dessert, chocolate fudge pie ($6) with toffee and salty pretzels, and a slice of sour cream Japanese pear pie ($6) with sweet spices and Winchester aged Gouda.

Unfortunately the fruit and chocolate flavors bowled over the more subtle salt and sour flavors. The chocolate was my favorite, though I'm itching to try the inside-out root beer float next time. They use a house-made vanilla soda and Humphry Slocombe root beer ice cream.

California-splashed barbecue makes for a notable dinner, but the service really made the night. I'm not a huge service snob, but this woman had my number. She was casual and friendly, leaning over our table on her elbows to discuss the menu, but really knew her stuff and wasn't shy with recommendations. When we craned our necks to ogle dishes other servers brought by our table, she would materialize to tell us, sotto voce, which dishes we were ogling.

Seth enjoyed his Rocking Chair bourbon-based cocktail and asked for a list of ingredients. A few minutes later, our server was back with the entire recipe, written out by owner Matt Wexler. Wexler, I might add, was assisting the bartender while wearing a Spike Mendelsohn-esque hat.

Having married a man who loves meat, I must say Wexler's represents a happy compromise in our mutual dining styles. I look forward to the next trip.

Wexler's
568 Sacramento St.
www.wexlerssf.com

My mom is the cutest

Extra-sour sourdough English muffins and mom-made jam is fast becoming my favorite way to begin a long workday.

SF: Il Cane Rosso

Outside the Ferry Building on Thursday afternoon the crowds were gathering around the street food booths, but the airy counter at Cane Rosso was surprisingly quiet.

I myself was there to check out the Laiola tacos and Namu okonomiyaki on offer outside. But I had to make a stop for a carton of bacon caramel corn.

Cane Rosso is the brainchild of Coi genius Daniel Patterson and Lauren Kiino, formerly of Delfina. The menu is simple, Italian, and different every day. However I hope to God the bacon caramel corn is a recurring feature.

I know, I know, bacon has officially jumped the shark, but I'll give accolades when bacon-related praise is due. The contents of this little carton taste like someone snuck 100 pounds of bacon into a cracker jack factory. The bacon pieces are large enough to retain their meaty flavor, and the whole glorious result is so rich that you have to stop after two or three bites.

I'm guessing this stuff is the way to most any man's heart, and a fair amount of women too. Cane Rosso is open for breakfast and lunch and I can't wait to enjoy some antipasti and wine on their patio. But I know for sure I'll stop in next Thursday for more of the bacon caramel corn.

Il Cane Rosso
Ferry Building
www.canerossosf.com

SF: Tony's Pizzeria Napoletana

In dining, few things are more annoying than a server with no opinions. Our server Saturday night at Tony's Pizzeria Napoletana was super-attentive and eager, but she couldn't tell us what wines she preferred, which cocktail she would recommend with the award-winning pizza margherita, or how we should go about tackling our prosciutto and burrata appetizer.

The plate arrived with pillowy mounds of cheese, and salty prosciutto, surrounded by artful squiggles of balsamic and olive oil. The corner of the plate held a small pile of salt.

Clearly I can figure out how to combine these all together, but I'm guessing whoever designed this plate had a specific plan in mind. So I asked our server.

"Oh, it will be delicious," was her response.

Um, yes. I'm sure it will. Thanks for the helpful input.

A wealth of high-level pizza options have landed in the city as of late. While the buzz seems mainly focused on Flour + Water, Tony's has some major credibility in the form of certified pizzaiolo Tony Gemignani's nine World Pizza Champion awards.

The menu at Tony's is surprisingly large. It's also laminated and designed in a manner more appropriate for your neighborhood Round Table than a den of serious pizza. Despite its pedigree, Tony's is not a fussy high-end place. However they are professionals when it comes to the pizza.

Apparently the restaurant can pull off neapolitan, Italian, American and rectangular so-called Sicilan pizza styles by running four different ovens: wood-fired; domed brick; flat-topped brick and an Italian-style brick oven.

You can watch Tony and crew do their thing from the second dining room. He also is helming the newly opened San Francisco outpost of the International School of Pizza on-site during the day.

when a man wins this many awards for his margherita pizza, that's what you order. However I was sad to pass up the $38 truffle pizza. Tony's only does 73 margheritas a day, for numerology-related reasons that seem like PR dreck, but we opted for the margherita extra ($18), which has cherry tomatoes, sea salt and a few other upgrades added in.

I have to say, the crust was terrific and each bite was bursting with sweet tomatoes and simple, not-too-salty cheese. You'd be hard-pressed to find a simpler, more elegant pie.

The crust was thin as an index card and had the lightest of scorches on the bottom, but still perfectly chewy.

We enjoyed it immensely, and regretted not being able to justify a second pie for the two of us.

This is not a place for froofy butternut squash pizza, and you won't find today's seasonal farmers market finds topping a special pie. The crusts are the focus, executed flawlessly and topped with the highest possible quality of classic ingredients. Hopefully the service will catch up with the pizza shortly.

Tony's also surprised us with a thoughtful and inventive cocktail list, although our server didn't think to mention it. Come early to beat the crowds, and if anyone orders the square pizza, let me know what in God's name possessed you to do such a thing.

Tony's Pizzeria Napoletana
1570 Stockton (at Union)

SF: Outerlands

As its name implies, Outerlands is perched at the city's far western edge, blocks away from the ocean in the Outer Sunset. The spot has a lonesome feel, magnified by the passing rattle of the N Judah streetcar, and the fog tumbling in from the Pacific.

But inside this cozy wannabe surfer shack, the Outerlands kitchen is cranking away.

The walls are weathered wood, the bar is built of swirled stones I remember from beach houses on the Oregon coast. You order at the counter, from the day's menu printed on half a torn-apart sheet of printer paper. Then you grab your own silverware and paper napkin on the way to your seat.

The owners pass their little baby back and forth as they assemble and serve hearty fare in dainty portions, but still shockingly low prices. Oh yeah, and it's all sustainable and organic, of course.

We ordered four dishes, expecting to take some leftover mac and cheese home. But four small plates turned out to be an ideal dinner. We threw in in a few beers from a solid bottle list (they have wine too) and dinner cost $39, including tip.

To start, an heirloom tomato salad with capers, basil, aged balsamic and Maldon salt ($8.50)

I confess, I don't know if I've had a tomato salad without cheese. But the capers added a nice salty zing, as did the actual salt.

Next up, a nice, solid macaroni and cheese ($6), still bubbling in its dish. Cheddar, emmenthaler and a few other cheeses melt together into a sauce so smooth and creamy you'd swear they snuck some Velveeta in there.

My mushroom farro soup with truffle oil and breadcrumbs ($7) was the night's one lamentable spot. That was one salty bowl of soup.

A bit of cream would have cut the salt, and solved my other big problem. The bowl came with two toasted pieces of hearty brown bread that were perfect for dipping. Unfortunately the broth was too thin for any really enjoyable dipping.

Seth, on the other hand, was thrilled with his white corn grits (Anson mills, of course), beef brisket (Prather Ranch, of course), roasted corn and pepper salas ($8).

It was a diminutive dish, but when the contents are so heavy, a small amount feels just right.

I must mention the music, because I was seriously digging the Magnetic Fields and Elliott Smith the cooks were jamming to in the open kitchen. The lively, yet melancholy tunes struck just the right ambiance.

Summer in San Francisco is a peculiar thing. Hearty soups and heavy grits and brisket isn't typical fare for this time of year. But coming in from the gloom, that sort of food feels just right on a cold July night.


Outerlands
4001 Judah
www.outerlandssf.com

SF: Showdogs

As Seth and I sat, eating our hot dogs at Showdogs this evening, my lovely husband was incapable of holding a conversation, or even maintaining eye contact. Apparently the waves of, um, colorful street folk passing by the oversized windows of the new much-anticipated Tenderloin hot dog shop are hard to tune out.

The wedge-shaped corner space at Sixth and Market is spare and beautiful, but if Showdogs survives, it will be in spite of its surroundings.

The new hot dog powerhouse from Foreign Cinema chef/owners John Clark and Gayle Pirie offers lovely artisanal hot dogs, killer onion rings and a nice selection of draft beer. If this joint was in the 94115, we would be there constantly. Unfortunately the street corner overrun with pigeons, old newspapers, bums and, according to Seth, a couple with a baby carriage passing a joint, isn't exactly a destination.

The menu offers nearly a dozen hot dog choices, from Louisiana-style hot links to a boudin noir blood sausage, a Let's Be Frank and even a plain ole corn dog. But coating these babies in batter and frying them would do a disservice to the quality of what's inside the casing.

Seth ordered a 4505 dog, named for its creator, meat guru Ryan Farr. The mix of beef, chicken and pork yields a surprisingly light flavor, dolled up with fresh tomato and a giant pile of chopped onions.

My husband grew up in Chicago and is no stranger to ridiculous and unwieldy hot dogs. But he proclaimed he has not met a dog more difficult to maneuver than this one. He also did not have any difficulty polishing it off within minutes of its arrival.

I opted for the chickens sausage with lemon, topped with a strong mustard and a pile of arugula. The greens gave it a very un-hot dog air. Tasting the lemon alongside the greens' crisp freshness made me feel almost as if I were eating a salad. With a giant hot dog inside of it.

And while I generally prefer fries over onion rings (I can never bite through the suckers, and always end up with a limp onion dangling from my mouth) the rings at Showdogs are unparalleled.

I don't even want to think of the amount of frying that must take place to get a coating that crispy.

The beers on tap include Speakeasy, Anderson Valley and Rogue. I love the ability to order a brew in a 4-ounce glass. Showdogs location makes it a prime after-work spot, and sometimes I crave the taste of beer, but still need to be productive after I get home, you know?

Our frankfurter duo, onion rings and Seth's large Rogue set us back $25. Hot dogs run about $6 to $9. In the current tsunami of hip Bay Area hot dogs, Showdogs may be a contender for actual longevity...odd location aside.

Showdogs
1020 Market Street
www.showdogssf.com

SF: Bi-Rite Creamery & Bakeshop

This morning I put on my gym clothes, then ended up at Bi-Rite creamery, missing that critical in-between step of actually exercising before ingesting two scoops of absolutely kickass ice cream.

Bi-Rite, and its eponymous food market, is a Mission stalwart, dispensing a mix of traditional and more artisanally flavored ice creams that set the benchmark for such things in San Francisco. It's a gorgeous Sunday, and Bi-Rite is located catty-corner to Dolores Park, so there was a bit of a line stretching out the door onto 18th Street.

I was tempted by the toasted coconut and mint chip, among other things. But on my inaugural visit, there was no question what I was ordering.

Bi-Rite dishes out its scoops in cones or appropriately biodegradable paper cups. Single scoops are labeled as child servings, while singles come with one to two scoops.

I passed on the double and a variety of sundae-type specialties and asked for two scoops: salted caramel and honey lavender. It's been a while since I've been to Baskin-Robbins, so I'm not sure what the going rate is for standard-issue ice cream scoops these days. My single at Bi-Rite was $3.25 and left me full, but not to the point of feeling disgusting.

There are a variety of high-end food words I could use to describe each scoop, but the words that first popped into my consciousness were "so fucking good."

The salted caramel may be Bi-Rite's signature flavor (yes, it's on that damn list). It's an attention-grabbing collision of flavors and sensations that don't normally go together: salty, sweet and ice cold. I think a light sprinkle of sea salt on the top would have made my leg start thumping like that rabbit in Bambi.

I arrived anticipating the salted caramel, but the honey lavender scoop may have been my favorite. It's certainly a flavor that lingers after you have tossed your empty biodegradable cup in the compost bin. On a side note, the person who invents a disposable wooden spoon that is convex, rather than paddle-shaped, will make millions.

The honey lavender was like summer in my mouth. If I had a friend named Summer, I would absolutely insert a dirty joke here, but that friend would have to be male for it to make sense.

Lavender is a strong, herbal flavor, and it overpowered the first few bites. Then the cold kicked in and numbed my taste buds a bit, allowing the honey to make an appearance and balance it out. You could almost believe it was sorbet, since the flavors were so light and clean on the palate.

Bi-Rite's interior is just large enough for an ice cream counter. A top--if you're stopping in for a pre-packed pint, you don't have to wait in line. They also do a brisk business in popsicles (hello, blackberry-lime), ice cream sandwiches, ice cream cakes and pies and a smattering of cookies and baked goods. If Seth does not procure one of their mint chip ice cream cakes for my upcoming 30th birthday, I assure you, there will be consequences.

Bi-Rite Creamery & Bakeshop
3692 18th St. (@ Dolores)
www.biritecreamery.com

Seattle: Weekend highlights

I've long held a skepticism about Seattle that's endemic to many Portland natives. It's a push-pull similar to the prickly relationship between Chicago and St. Louis: Seattle and Portland share many traits, but since the city to the north is bigger, they get most of the recognition.

I must admit, however, that Seth and I had a wonderful weekend in the Emerald City, courtesy of Chris and Jill. Here are a few highlights:



Seattle has gained much ground in recent years as a dining destination although like Portland, the natives have long appreciated the local bounty. We did a quick dash through Pike Place Market so Seth could see all the fish-throwing and piles of shellfish. Later we threw back beers both local and Belgian, along with some gastropubby small plates at Quinn's in Capitol Hill. Seth was keen for the wild boar sloppy joe, but I loved the crispy fries heaped with melty fontina and meaty brown demi-glace.

On Sunday we brunched at Volterra in Ballard, where Chris tackled the savory bread pudding pictured above. Well, "pictured" may be a stretch, considering the two eggs and pool of smoked Gouda cream all but obscure the bread pudding underneath. This dish does unspeakable things to your arteries, and of course we loved every bite.

But the weekend's culinary highlight came from the unassuming yet awe-inspiring Top Pot Doughnuts. I brought athletic gear for the weekend, which I donned twice, for the sole exertion of walking to and from the doughnut shop down the street from Chris and Jill's house.

The cake doughnut was a well-executed classic, but Seth and I got hooked on the Ovaltine lattes. As Chris explained, it's a brilliant compromise between a tart latte and an overly sugary mocha. Export these to San Francisco, please.

Quinn's
101 E. Pike St.
www.quinnspubseattle.com

Volterra
5411 Ballard Ave. NW
www.volterrarestaurant.com

Top Pot Hand-Forged Doughnuts
Locations around Seattle
www.toppotdoughnuts.com

SF: Let's Be Frank

Nothing marks a year of marriage quite like an all-beef frank.

After a stellar anniversary dinner at Coi the night before, Seth and I spent the actual day wandering around in the Marina and soaking up a rare day of uncompromised sun.

The tiny storefront on Steiner is a bricks-and-mortar outpost of the popular Crissy Field hot dog cart. On Sunday afternoon it was all but deserted, but I'm guessing throngs of drunken Marina-ites crowd the brightly lit counter come Saturday night. Let's Be Frank is now open until 2am on weekends, and the girl at the counter said they really need to stay open until 3.

The menu has five dogs total, including turkey and vegetarian versions. I ordered the basic frank dog, topped with locally sourced chili and pastured cheese. Our server, clearly a hot dog enabler, asked, "Do you want grilled onions on that?" while nodding her head emphatically to alert me that it wasn't really a question at all.

To show up here wasted at 1:50 a.m. seems almost insulting to the high quality of food on offer at this most San Francisco-appropriate hot dog stand. Beef is grass-fed from cows raised in a pasture. Buns are baked locally and even the wrappers and plastic cups are biodegradable.

Sustainability notwithstanding, Let's Be Frank cranks out a top-notch basic hot dog. Franks are longer and not overly thick. The casings crackle and give when you bite down on them, and the beef inside is perfectly seasoned.

If you're into spicy food, Seth's "hot" dog (their punny name, not mine) packs a wallop.

The menu assured us the pork is family farmed. Even the bread and butter pickles are made in-house.

LBF also has a tartly spicy condiment known as Devil Sauce you can buy by the jar on-site. Seth was tempted by the refrigerated packages of LBF dogs and brats you can take home for your own grilling pleasure.

The menu of sides is limited to chili, potato chips and coleslaw. This is fine if you're stumbling in post-bars, but we left still a bit hungry. We also stood like idiots, clutching our wrappers and looking around for a garbage can until the girl at the counter assured us they could go in the compost bin. Aren't we a couple of Illinois rubes?

For $5.50 apiece--plus extra for chili or cheese--Let's Be Frank is a great late-night stop. But do it a favor and go in the daytime so all their efforts won't go to waste. Hot Doug's it ain't, but it's refreshing to see someone show some respect for the hot dog in this part of the world.

Let's Be Frank
3318 Steiner (between Lombard and Chestnut)
www.letsbefrankdogs.com

SF: Coi

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.

Amuse

Our 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 pine

I 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 mint

I 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 redux
The 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

San Jose: Foster's Freeze

I left a press conference in Morgan Hill hot, hungry and battling a rare craving a milkshake. Alas, no Steak N Shakes here and I wasn't feeling the McDonald's chemical shake.

There is, however, a Foster's Freeze down on 4th Street that I drive by regularly at work. I wasn't familiar with the chain; it was founded in southern California two years before In-N-Out and focuses largely on soft serve, milkshakes, floats and the like.

Shakes come in a handful of flavors, including peanut butter, chocolate, etc. I opted for the chocolate-peanut butter mix. The restaurant is essentially a walk-up counter and a handful of plastic tables under a large overhang. The stickers and crap in the windows all but obscure the plastic menu board hanging inside.

And?

The peanut butter was a little overpowering, but my shake was thick, satisfying and less than $3. It was an ideal break in the workday. The thickness meant I had to take my time sucking this baby down, which made me enjoy it all the more.

I'm curious to try the food. The little sloped-roof building is straight outta the 1950s. It's shabby and dilapidated, but I can't tell if it's the charming type, or downright grody.

Foster's Freeze
698 N. 4th Street, San Jose
Other locations around California
www.fostersfreeze.com

SF: Heaven's Dog

For a place that generated so much buzz prior to its opening, I waited to visit Heaven's Dog because it took a while to hear any specifics on Charles Phan's new venture.

Sure, we knew the space in the SOMA Grand was offering casual buns and noodles, along with a list of Thad Vogler-designed cocktails. But for a while there were reports of crowds and not much info on the food.

Mani and I finally made it for lunch. I must say, I was not expecting to find the best salt and pepper squid I've encountered thus far in San Francisco.

The Heaven's Dog version ($13) is light on the battering, and features just the right balance of S&P, plus some red peppers for added punch. Outstanding.

The menu is small, but each dish we tried was superb and eminently shareable. After getting a few steep bills over at Slanted Door, it's nice to see Phan keeping his Chinese-inspired menu more affordable without compromising on ingredients. Most lunchtime plates run from $8 to $15. Dinner's not much more.

Dining with Mani is a nice change of pace, because we don't have to focus on the beef so much. However she was fascinated by the beef curry puffs ($7) listed on the menu, so we gave them a whirl.

To me, "puff" implies something lighter than a deep-fried dough triangle, but lightened up with the mint sauce, it was pretty tasty.

I'm getting more into tofu dishes, either that or they're just more available out here. The kung pao tofu ($13) came brimming with toasted cashews and nicely seared cubes of my new soy fixation.


Finally the cauliflower ($9), a vegetable that should see far more action in Chinese restaurants. Heaven's Dog grills it up and adds wee little mushrooms and chiles for spice.

The flavors are a great match with the cauliflower's crunch.

As you may have noticed, Mani and I ordered way more than two girls could put away in one sitting. And yet there were still menu items I'm longing to try--pretty impressive considering the list of dishes is rather small.

I did note that the meal was fairly salty. I didn't mind one bit--hey, it is Chinese-inspired food. But it might not be for everyone. The spice factor, on the other hand, was fairly restrained. I'm a wuss about spicy food and found even our spiciest items totally manageable.

Like the food, the drink list is small but vastly appealing. I had a hard time passing up the fresh cocktails, but wine seemed more appropriate for lunchtime drinking. The drink list pairs well with Chinese food, featuring lots of ginger, citrus, egg whites and honey. I opted for a glass of gruner veltlinger, but the scant beer list looked fabulous as well.

The atmosphere is appropriately sleek. I yearned to be one of those cool workers tapping away on their laptops while lunching on dan dan mein in the retro-cool bar area up front. I can see this getting a little scene-y at night.

One big regret: No Shanghai dumplings during our visit. I've been seeking my perfect Chinese food destination that can fill both squid and xiao long bao cravings. I always imagined this destiny would be fulfilled in some divey hole in the Outer Richmond, but you never know.

Heaven's Dog
1148 Mission (in the SOMA Grand)
www.heavensdog.com

Scotland: Adventures in haggis

Prior to visiting Scotland, my culinary impressions were limited to deep fried pizza (and Mars Bars and lots of other stuff) and, of course, haggis.

Scotland is in the throes of a minor culinary rebirth, but haggis is very much in effect. During a gray and rainy visit to the Forth Bridge, I sampled a slightly modernized version.

Minus the sheep's stomach casing, haggis is fairly non-threatening. It's also absolutely delicious.

The mystery combo of sheeps' naughty bits is an example of how brilliant a simple salt and pepper seasoning can be. The presentation is a little chic for haggis, but the accompanying "neeps and tatties" (that's potatoes and turnips) are straight-up traditional.

The mystery meat seem to be from the dark, juicy and savory parts of the animal. Minced onion and oatmeal adds texture, rescuing the haggis from being an unappealing brown lump. The oat cakes were helpful in scraping up the bland white gravy that seems to cover many regional dishes.

I was impressed our tour guide was familiar with the term "nose-to-tail dining." I guess in Scotland it's more of a lifestyle than a trend. But as this continues to take the US by storm, I'm wondering if haggis will start popping up on restaurant menus back home? We've all heard enough Groundskeeper Willie jokes to give the dish a novelty appeal. It certainly is cheap to make, and as Americans increasingly appreciate offal, the contents don't seem so scary.

Dublin: Airport oysters

Ireland is one of the few places where you can order oysters at the airport and they are actually fresh and enjoyable.

SF: Tipsy Pig

There is so much to like at the Tipsy Pig--solid, comforting bar food, a rare and spacious patio, great beers and a surprisingly fresh cocktail list.

Alas, I don't know if we'll make it back over there again. It's as if every striped shirt-wearing ex-frat bro and overly tan unnatural blonde in the Marina decided to meet up at the bar that night.

Reservations have been hard to come by since this new gastropub (they say "gastrotavern") opened its doors in mid-May. While the g-word is a bit tired in other cities, a bar that revels in being a bar is a rare thing in San Francisco, and people still get really excited.

Seth and I were able to get a 6pm reservation, in a pleasant little area behind the bar, tricked out to look like a library.

The problem was, you had to pass through Marina mating season at the bar to get to our table. There was also a fair amount of high-heeled traffic going past our area to the patio out back.

So if you can tune out all the drunken annoying people, or when some other place opens and they gather there instead, the food is creamy, comforting and prepared with care.

You'd have to work hard to produce a bad mac and cheese, but this bowl laden with smoked bacon still deserves praise.

The cheese sauce was almost velvety, reminiscent of how much I loved Velveeta mac and cheese--until I reached the age of 20 and discovered that Velveeta is actually pretty gross.

Seth's burger had the perfect amount of rare in the meat, a flawless burger-to-bun ratio, and didn't skimp on the bacon.

The only disappointment, aside from our inability to eat dessert, was my chicken pot pie. I was excited for some buttery crust and creamy sauce action, but why fill a pot pie with root vegetables in May? Especially in San Francisco, where the rest of the food scene is celebrating baby peas and other cuddly produce better suited to a pot pie.

Also the sauce was so thin and liquid that using a fork was almost a joke. Perhaps they should market this as cream of chicken soup that happens to have a (really great) flaky crust on top.

I did dig the little pig they bake onto the crust though.

I came primed to drink beer, and ended up sipping a pinkish drink called a strawberry fields. Our server sang its vodka, strawberry, fresh lime and simple syrup praises, and promised me it didn't look as girly as it sounded.

The cocktail was great, although not quite in keeping with the whole English gastropub theme. I guess in California, pubs come with large patios, lots of natural light and fruity drinks served in glass jars.

Most entrees are in the $15 to $17 range. Drinks are $9 to $10 and draft beers come in three different sizes, with the 10-ounce "piglet" ringing in at $4 in many cases. The affordability may be why the crowd huddled around us in the dining room included an elderly couple, a family and two gay guys with a marked age difference. Grrr.

With all the eye-catching cocktails and Belgian/UK beers on offer, it's a shame the dirnking space is wasted on Chad, Trixie and their ilk. I don't wish bad business on such a pleasant spot, but I would come back way more if it calmed down a bit.

The Tipsy Pig
2231 Chestnut Street
www.thetipsypigsf.com

SF: Tartine

Visitors from the Midwest get up terribly early. During Andrew's stay, Seth caught up on a bit of sleep while Andrew and I made a box full of impulse buys at Tartine.

Tartine (and Bar Tartine) have been on my list for ages, but it takes an out-of-town visitor to get me up and on the streets by 7:30 on a Saturday morning.

We arrived early enough to beat the crowd that can sometime stretch out the door. I can see why people go crazy about this small, light-filled space on the corner of 18th and Guerrero. The wooden table tops bear the scars of many meals and the glass counter is a no-nonsense array of tarts,frangipane croissants, diminutive bread puddings and pain au chocolats.

I can think of four bakeries between my house and the Mission. So why make the schlep and wait in the line? Owners Elisabeth Prueitt and Chad Robertson picked up a James Beard Award last year for outstanding pastry chef. Many people think that honor was long overdue.

But I admit, the ambiance plays a huge role as well. We got our order to go so we could share it with a somewhat sleepy Seth. But watching Tartine's other patrons gave me a twinge of envy to have this place just down the street. It's got a European vibe that makes you yearn for a newspaper, a giant bowl-style mug of milky coffee, and about three hours to sit and savor.

On the way home I stopped for coffee. When I opened the car door, a wave of butter aroma accosted me from the white cardboard box Andrew was holding.

Some of the highlights:

The morning bun on the left is on the 7x7 list. It resembles a curled-up croissant, sticky with sugar and possessing an overpowering dose of orange zest. Not my thing, although I can see how some more citrus-loving people could go crazy for it.

For me, the gougere (center) and ham and cheese croissant were worth sneaking back for slice after furtive slice. Rare is the pastry that can fill your car with the aroma of butter, but still taste so light and airy.

The afternoon brings sandwiches, served on Tartine's organic breads. Most feature some kind of goat or sheeps-milk cheese, so I'm thinking this needs to be a lunch destination on a future workday.

Thank goodness for Bar Tartine, just blocks away. Without the standalone restaurant to lure some people away with the siren song of reservations, the wait here would be even more intense.

Tartine Bakery & Cafe
600 Guerrero
www.tartinebakery.com

Chicago: Dim Sum at Primehouse

By the time our server changed out our flatware, I had dredged my knife through omelet strudel, hollandaise, salmon pastrami, pancakes and potatoes with spinach. My fork and spoon saw even more action, thanks to the oatmeal creme brulee and granola-yogurt parfait.

That was the first of several flatware changes and we still had two-thirds of the menu to go.

During our weekend in Chicago, Choi offered to treat me to the Sundays-only dim sum brunch at Primehouse. I wasn't totally familiar with the concept, which started after I moved. But by the time we staggered out of the front door, each and every one of these things had gone into my stomach.


For $35 per person, the dim sum brunch is one of the best high-end values I've ever seen. It's also a totally absurd amount of food. You almost want to laugh each time a new parade of dishes arrives--but your stomach is way too full for that type of movement.

The set price gets you 28 diminutive courses, from breakfast classics to Asian-inspired plates, steakhouse standards and of course a hefty array of desserts. Servers bring the items in the order they are listed on the menu. If you want extra portions of any course, all you have to do is ask.

We did not ask, although Choi did notify our server when the sundae cart passed us by. When it arrived she proclaimed herself too stuffed for ice cream, but instructed me to have one instead.

Any time you stuff dozens of courses into your mouth in one sitting, some will be better than others. All the breakfast offerings were dynamite, but what I remember most were the buttermilk pancakes. I was brought up on Krusteaz batter mix so I've never been a huge pancake fan. Apparently I spent the past 29 years missing out on the real deal. These little guys taste like actual buttermilk.

The Asian menu items were a bit greasy, but the fried short rib on a lollipop stick was a pleasant and juicy surprise. Speaking of lollipop sticks, I was glad the famed cheesecake lollipops made an appearance on the dessert tray.

We definitely gave short shrift to the heavier "southern bites" category. It's hard to get properly excited about fried chicken, mac and cheese with ham hocks, and miniature burgers topped with tiny fried hot dogs when they arrive 16 courses into a meal.

Also, the oysters with mignonette were pretty sad compared with what's on offer in San Francisco. No wonder I didn't crave oysters until we moved.

Foolishly, we opted for the $10 unlimited mimosas and bloody marys to go with our glutton-fest. The mimosas didn't scrimp on the champagne, and the bloodys were perfectly spicy. I didn't even go near the hunks of steak garnishing the bloody marys.

I know it's blasphemy to anoint a New York chain as my favorite Chicago steakhouse, but I think Primehouse does a nice job of balancing classic steakhouse fare with some innovation and variety.

The dim sum is a food event in every sense of the word--it's tasty, it's memorable and it takes a very long time. Go with someone with whom you enjoy conversing. And don't eat dinner the night before.

If you want a full tour of our gourmandise, the menu is available here.

David Burke's Primehouse
616 N. Rush Street
www.davidburke.com