Oakland: Commis

Perhaps more than any other meal I've had, the amuse bouche put before us at Commis was an effective preview of the stellar meal about to begin.

It's a hard-poached egg, sitting atop onion soup and garnished with steel cut oatmeal and chives. Mixing them all up isn't nearly as pretty, but it lets you enjoy the creamy flavor with a lilt of onion and the comfort and added texture of the oatmeal.

Seth hates eggs and he loved--loved--this.

In fact, our gushing comments throughout the meal seemed more appropriate for a Taylor Lautner fan club meeting than for chef James Syhabout's serene eight-month-old (and rapidly Michelin-starred) restaurant.

Commis is small and spare and we were lucky to sit at the chef's counter, where the team works quietly in a minimal kitchen space. things up dramatically. You select three courses for $59 and wine pairings are an additional $29.

Before the revelatory amuse, we enjoyed this little palate cleanser of hibiscus and jasmine soda. I was expecting a jolt of sweet, but the jasmine added almost a nutty flavor.

True to form, I grilled our very helpful server about which items off the small menu were not to be missed. I never would have selected a duck entree, or a chicory salad without his guidance, but my risk paid off in two memorable dishes.

First, the salad of shredded chicory.

The greens sits atop a layer of goose liver mousse, and the creamy, gamey flavor mellows the bitterness. There is also some extra-sour sourdough bread layered in there, along with some "fowl juices," a term that will always look funny printed on a menu.

Seth chose a plate of sweet young carrots, baked in wood embers for a bit of an ashy flavor. The sweetness was undercut by a sunchoke cream and some tiny radishes in sweet mustard.

I'm still shocked neither of us chose the sweetbreads.

Again, I hardly ever order duck, but the pink-tender roast Muscovy breast was so delicate that a tiny bit of honey in the dish came through clear as a bell.

The duck breast was impressive enough without the 18-hour confit that accompanied it. Sweet holy renderings. A parsnip cream sauce and some dried black cherries added a few layers. The only disappointment was the salad of nettles.

Seth called dibs on the braised beef cheeks with bone marrow vinaigrette, served with black trumpet mushrooms and potatoes roasted in marjoram.


Desserts were just as complex. I ended up with a milk chocolate tile with burnt vanilla gelato, cocoa crumbs.

Seth selected the goat's milk panna cotta with pistachios and a sorbet of blood orange and beets.

Commis is a special meal regardless, but I think that the price tag versus the experience makes it the best value in Bay Area fine dining.

The spare white room and dual focus on ingredients and innovation sent my mind wandering back to Schwa in Chicago. Syhabout and Schwa chef Michael Carlson are both powerfully creative, and they execute their small-scale restaurant visions in very different ways.

The NY Times and Wall Street Journal seem to mention Commis in a dining story just about every week, and I was feeling a bit of hype fatigue before our dinner. Not so any more. It's nice to find a place that is deserving of its buzz. I can't wait to return and try the special counter-only chef's menu they are rolling out this month.

Commis
3859 Piedmont, Oakland
www.commisrestaurant.com

SF: Liberty Cafe

In San Francisco, many establishments that present themselves as neighborhood restaurants have entrees that cost $24 and up. I can think of only a few neighborhoods (mostly atop hills with amazing views and giant houses) where that's the going rate for an on-the-fly restaurant dinner.

In price, and in many other ways, Liberty Cafe is the archetype of a neighborhood restaurant. Michael Bauer has chronicled some struggles at this cozy Bernal Heights spot since the sad passing of founder/owner Cathie Guntli one year ago this week.

However Seth and I were really impressed with our recent lunch there. The food is nothing fancy, to be sure, but the care taken in preparation is evident in so many small ways.

Seth's pulled pork sandwich ($16) came with a bun so puffy it was almost comical.

The pork was sauced perfectly and a carrot slaw atop the meat added crunch. While the fries were technically his, I consumed enough of them to vouch for their crispness and seasoning.

Liberty Cafe offers the city's archetypal chicken pot pie ($14). It's a signature dish that never leaves the menu, and with good reason.

The filling achieves perfect gravy-like consistency, and is surprisingly dark and rich for being made with chicken stock. True perfection, however, lies in the crust. One poke with your fork and the flaky dome starts deflating with a small whoosh.

Liberty Cafe's bakery side clearly enhances a lot of its menu offerings. Our server was brand new and totally uninformed on the menu, but she was enthusiastic and happy to go back to kitchen for answers to my random questions.

Nothing on the menu is fancy--some pizzas, fried chicken, a pork chop and another favorite, the juicy lucy burger. The space is small, with wood floors, curtains and simple tables more residential than restaurant. We barely got a table on a random Thursday, so I'm guessing weekend nights can be crowded.

If you live nearby, Liberty is a no-brainer. And if you don't, the newly opened Sandbox Bakery just down the street gives you an added incentive to head over from your part of town.

The Liberty Cafe
410 Cortland Ave.
www.thelibertycafe.com

SF: Lers Ros

My review of Lers Ros on SF Station posted Friday. Check it out here.

Given San Francisco's ethnic riches, I'm surprised there aren't more non-Americanized Thai spots in the city. Lers Ros is a great find, if you're willing to trek to the Tenderloin for your catfish salad.

Lers Ros
730 Larkin
www.lersros.com

SF: Katana-Ya

Finally on Sunday night I was able to cross this spot of my San Francisco list. There's not a lot of food around Union Square I find all that tempting, but Katana-Ya's no-frills bowl of ramen is exactly the thing to vanquish cold, sickness, hangovers or just straight-up hunger.

Fortunately Evan, Seth and I sampled three different bowls, and all three of Katana-Ya's broth options. Admittedly, my formative ramen years were spent boiling cubes of freeze-dried noodles in my dorm room hot pot. I know some ramenophiles aren't crazy about Katana-Ya's offerings, but I consider it a spectacular use of $10. The noodles have just enough give and pull, and the choice of components, as well as flavor and strength of your broth makes for major customization options.

I opted for the salt ramen with fried chicken

I actually didn't need the fried dark chicken meat, since there was enough other stuff going in on my bowl. No surprise, the salt broth is my preferred ramen base from here on out.

Seth's ramen with green onions and miso broth.

He asked our waitress for her recommendation. The green onion is actually not a bad way to go, considering how unappetizing the meat can be in Asian noodle soups. It also helps to have a wife to share her fried chicken with you.

Evan got the pork ramen with spicy broth and a request for additional spiciness.

One tiny sample of his broth practically made my eyes water, but Evan liked his ramen enough to come back later in the week.

Before digging in to our bowls, we split a spicy tuna roll ($6) that was actually better than average.

My only conundrum is that when you are in need of a bowl of Katana-ya ramen, chances are either the weather or your immune system is in shitty shape and you won't feel like standing around outside on Geary street for an hour waiting for a table.

Katana-Ya
430 Geary

SF: Burma Superstar

"I just toss salads all night long," was the offhand remark of our fresh-faced young server when he brought out our first courses at Burma Superstar. He was a sweet little guy who had to run and grab another staff member when we asked for drink recommendations because he wasn't yet 21.

So perhaps he was oblivious to the unintentional hilarity of his statement. But looking around the restaurant I realized the guy was right: every table in the place was topped with at least one, and usually several salads.

And with good reason. The tea leaf salad ($10) makes regular appearances on various SF top taste lists. I know you can order it for takeout, but part of the pleasure comes from watching it be tossed before your eyes. A seemingly unassuming blend of peanuts, romaine, tomatoes, yellow peas, dried shrimp powder, fried garlic and, of course, the pasty tea transcends their individual parts, taking on a memorable tang and texture.

It's a likely contributor to Burma Superstar's standard two-hour wait times and is perhaps the only salad I actively crave on a weekly basis. Except perhaps the rainbow salad ($10), which arrives similarly displayed, but includes 22 ingredients and a memorable tamarind dressing.

I wish I had something scorchingly original to say about Burma Superstar, but I'll simply have to count myself among the legions of Bay Ara folk who know it, love it, and never show up expecting immediate seating. At least they take your cell and let you wander freely.

The menu is fairly large but I confess, I haven't yet got enough of the gateway menu items, the things everyone orders on their first visit because they read all the same reviews and recommendations. And dammit, those things are good.

Next time I go, I promise I will try the moh hinga catfish chowder ($10), but the vegetarian samusa soup ($11) is such an easy pleasure, softly curried with chunks of fried doughy samusas.

And sweet Jesus, the coconut chicken curry noodles ($10), (aka nan pia dok). It's creamy, spicy and entirely comforting.

Burma's cuisine is a bastardous blend of Chinese, Indian and Thai influences, as well as seafood, lots of vegetarian items and just about all of your basic meats. It's hard to pinpoint what makes Burma Superstar such a blockbuster success compared with Mandalay, Larkin Express Burmese Kitchen, Pagan and other unassuming spots. I've had some less successful dishes there, but I really think it's that core of cult favorites that keep the dining room packed. Now it's time for me to move on and investigate other items on the menu.

That is if I can ever deal with the wait again. The secret appears to be dining at the same time as your grandparents. Seth and I stopped in at 5:15 for dinner and were seated right away. Otherwise, Grub Street SF has a tip for putting your name on the list before you arrive. Another option: eating in Oakland. I hear their new 510 outpost usually has seating.

Also, wouldn't Myanmar Superstar be an outstanding name?

Burma Superstar
309 Clement
www.burmasuperstar.com

Berkeley: Bistro Liaison

Both my pants and my arteries felt a little constricted after dinner at Bistro Liaison. Seth and I received some exciting resto gift certificates for Christmas (Quince! Commis!) but I reminded him that we had some wedding gift dining left to do at this comfortable French spot.

Bistro Liaison does one of the best weekday prix fixes I've seen of late. For $28 you receive a modest starter platter, choice of soup or salad, a meaty main dish (chef's choice, not yours), dessert and a glass of wine. And everyone at the table doesn't have to opt for this special meal--just one example of how accommodating the service was during our Monday night dinner.

I had a feeling I would like this place as soon as we sat down. Those of you who are aware of my affinity for rubber stamps can understand why I found their aperitif list fairly charming.

Later in the meal, servers come by and stamp the dessert menu on the paper tablecloth as well. I guess that discourages frequent menu rotation but whatever. So cute.

I was enjoying what I thought was a complimentary little salumi and olive plate until Seth reminded me it was the first portion of this prix fixe menu. Whoops...sorry honey.

Before our soup and salad, we splurged on a dozen Bluepoint oysters, really fresh and dressed with a splash of mignonette.

My meal began with a salade lyonnaise--about as French bistro as you can possibly get. The lardons or, should I say, astoundingly large cubes of crunchy bacon, were by far the most memorable element.

Seth went for the soup of the day, a hearty but elegant curry-apple-squash.

His entree was a roasted leg of lamb with olives.

Not a bad plate of food given the $28 price point, but I think Seth was a little sad he didn't go with the steak frites instead.

According to our waiter, I had the dubious honor of ordering the most fattening item on the menu--sole farcie.

Petrale sole is filled with Dungenness crab and baked in a shrimp and cognac cream sauce. This is the sort of dish that combines both technique and obscene amounts of butter.

The crab and cream sauce were especially excellent, but half the entree left me feeling like I had chugged a bottle of Crisco.

Not that this stopped us from upgrading Seth's prix fixe dessert to a rich chocolate cake.

I was going in and out of a butter coma at this point, so my memories are hazy.

What I do remember was waiting outside the restroom and observing one of the kitchen staff retrieve an item from the freezer located, curiously, right across from the bathroom door. I chatted with the guy while eying a drum of cream sauce the size of a water cooler. He had seen my giant camera and asked if I was an avid Yelper.

I told him I don't really Yelp because so many people are douches and the guy high-fived me. That was fun.

French bistros and their Americanized counterparts come in so many variations that I'm not really qualified to say how authentic Liaison might be. But as Seth noted, our waiter, while informative and accommodating, was a bit snotty and opinionated, which felt classically French.

Liaison is a casual, comfortable place that I would call a neighborhood restaurant, were it located in a more normal neighborhood. People with more eating control than I likely walk out of there not feeling all sick and buttery. I am saving the remainder of our gift certificate for a future rendezvous with those Bluepoints and a glass or two of wine at the bar. And the Monday-Thursday prix fixe is a damn good bargain, even in this age of omnipresent recession specials.

Bistro Liaison
1849 Shattuck Ave., Berkeley
www.liaisonbistro.com

SF: 54 Mint

Saturday night's dinner reservation at 54 Mint started on a confusing note. Seth had booked a table for 8 pm, but was told that the only party of three on the books for that time was for someone named Feth.

Perhaps that's our reservation, and there was simply a spelling misunderstanding during the initial booking?

No, no, the man insisted. This is for someone named Feth. After a few minutes of discussion, thus enshrining Seth's awesome new nickname, we got seated.

Depending on your viewpoint, service at 54 Mint is either haphazard, or highly authentic. Food comes eventually, but menus and checks only after flagging someone down repeatedly. Your needs are largely tended to by a trio of charming middle-aged Italian men, all dressed as if they spent the afternoon cleaning out their garages, and all owner/partners of 54 Mint, including Alberto Avalle formerly of NYC's Il Buco.

The customer isn't always right, but the food sure as hell is. Avalle apparently decided to relocate his family to California and open a place that retreats from the trendiness and scene inherent in many New York hotspots.

Hence 54 Mint offers the simplest Sicilian-Italian food. But dammit if the place has become a bit of a scene anyway. Both the tables and the marble-topped bar were full of surprisingly flashy looking folk.

We began the meal with the salumi, some simple pecorino, and the best arrancini I've had in my life. In reading all these year-end wrap ups of the best dishes, meals, trends, etc. of 2009, I realized that I remember dining experiences more than specific dishes. Well screw that--the arancina al nero di seppia ($14) has already earned a spot on my list of best dishes of 2010.

Squid ink layers an oceany flavor inside of this fried risotto square, as does the shrimp filling in the center.

The salumeria plate ($16) was a straightforward mix that included some chorizo and lomo from Spain.

In an interview, Avalle said his mantra for 54 Mint is simple food that "your stomach doesn't need a fucking computer to decipher it." You can't get much simpler than these triangles of pecorino alle mele cotogne, aged two years and served with just some quince jam as accompaniment.

The menu is more a list of dishes printed on both sides of regular white printer paper. There's no demarcation between courses, but you get your bearings when the dishes turn to pasta.

Evan had the carbonara, a bit saucier than Italy's real deal.

Feth's spaghetti alla amatriciana ($14) involves pork cheeks and more pecorino, tossed in tomato sauce.

I confess, I ordered the linguine alla pescatora ($18) only because the gents had selected my first and second pasta choices. But I keep reflecting on my pasta dish and the depth of my enjoyment given the dish's simplicity.

Obviously there was a lot of seafood in the mix, all extremely fresh. I tackled the whole shrimp last, leaving the head on my plate as I paused for wine. I looked up and saw Avalle heading my way, ready to scold me for leaving the best part of the shrimp unattended.

Dessert was a very custardy pear tart ($10).

54 Mint also has a wine bar component, offering about 40 Italian and European wines, many at fairly modest price points. Our bottle was listed on the menu at $50 and showed up on our bill as $70, but we had a feeling pointing out the discrepancy would be somewhat futile.

After his experiences in New York, Avalle has said he wants no awards, no acclaim and very little notice as he plies his trade in Mint Plaza. Unfortunately for him, 54 Mint has already garnered national attention in the form of GQ's list of the 10 best new restaurants of 2009 (along with Ping).

Perhaps the man emits pheromones that attract sceney people. One woman was wearing a sequined dress with a skirt so short that even the owners couldn't keep themselves from nudging one another. One of her tablemates had a dog in her purse that was approximately the size of a basset hound.

Elaborate words of praise seem outhanded for food so simple. The chaotic atmosphere isn't for everyone, but somehow the truly European approach to dining makes going out for pasta feel like an adventure.


54 Mint
16 Mint Plaza
www.54mint.com

SF: Epic Roasthouse

Brunch at a steakhouse? Maybe only at Epic Roasthouse. Although I have yet to visit for an actual steak, Epic is a place I keep in my restaurant suggestion arsenal for lunches, Embarcadero-area cocktails and now, most definitely, weekend waffles and hash.

I admit, I'm not usually a brunch drinker. I like a mimosa or bloody mary as well as the next girl, but day drinking puts me to sleep. Plus I usually have to actually get stuff done in the afternoon. But a cocktail bearing the moniker "bacon and eggs"--this I must try.

This pisco-based drink was surprisingly light, and the maple powder and speck offered only hints of sweet and smoky. It's an egg white-based drink, so somehow perfect for breakfast.

Fair warning, however: Epic's bloody marys are scaldingly spicy.

Epic shows a deft touch for the little details that make a meal an actual dining out experience. The banana muffins they brought out before our meal with butter and marmalade were a fabulous freebie--I would actually pay to purchase these separately.

The brunch menu does a nice job of spanning breakfast items, lunchy things like salads and sandwiches, and a few meaty items for the steakhouse devotees. They also offer oysters, naturally, and a $40 prix fixe breakfast menu if you're feeling fancy.

Rita had the roast beef hash ($12)with a kicky horseradish cream (not quite as kicky as the bloodys, thank God). The only quibble with the crispy potatoes and hearty beef was a pair of poached eggs with decidedly solid yolks.

Alas, the eggs atop my dungenness crab cake benedict ($16) suffered the same overcooked fate. But again, it was the only negative element of an otherwise excellent dish. The crabcakes were heavy on crab, light on filler, and the heavy hollandaise was balanced by just a few greens.

And while some might complain, I liked that the portion sizes were on the small side. When you are eating eggs drenched in hollandaise, or a big-time hash, you don't need a helping the size of a football.

You can now disregard my previous statement and behold Seth's order--Epic's burger.

I've had the burger here twice now, and I never fail to be charmed by the accompanying lineup of wee little condiments that let you add mushrooms, corn salsa or housemade ketchup to your exact specifications.

The thick disks of pickle and eye-popping slab of tomato are another appreciable detail. Seth actually salted and peppered his tomato slice and ate it on the side. No timid grocery store veggies here.

The formidable dinnertime prices is probably the main reason I haven't had an actual steak at this steakhouse yet. Brunch is certainly a more affordable way to swing by and take in Epic's stunning Bay Bridge views. Most restaurants in San Francisco with this class of view sell overpriced fried foods, or stodgy special occasion fare. Plus Epic takes reservations.

Epic Roasthouse
369 The Embarcadero
www.epicroasthousesf.com

Portland: Ping

Not surprisingly, Ping has been slammed since making it into GQ's list of the 10 best new restaurants in the nation for 2009. So perhaps the relaxed, quiet lunch Seth and I shared there was a pre-Christmas anomaly.

Nonetheless, I would happily wait for a table (at least for a little while) for food like this. Ping, partly owned by Pok Pok mastermind Andy Ricker, is equal parts izakaya, noodle shop and tasty Southeast Asian mishmash.

It's definitely a bright spot in Chinatown, as well as the historic, and awesomely named Hung Far Low building.

The menu is designed to accommodate both actual meals and anyone wanting to catch up over drinks and snacks. Diners in either category should start with a skewer or two from the hefty list, which includes quail egg, satay, gulf prawns, potato and chicken heart, butt and liver.

My skewers of finely formed baby octopus ($7 for two) were marinated in a searing concoction of lime, chiles, garlic, fish sauce and cilantro.

The lack of sear on the house-made pork meatball skewer ($5 for two) was a little disconcerting, but the meat was well-spiced with Thai flavors and spiced up with a sweet chile sauce.

Ping has a list of drinking vinegars similar to the ones at Pok Pok. I, however, couldn't resist the artichoke drink.

Our server told me it was a decent drink, but a little sweet and people don't usually finish it. Now that is some helpful candor. And yet, I had to order it anyway.

Drinking liquefied artichoke really discombobulates the senses. Especially when the liquid itself is light and clear. The drink really does taste of artichoke--right down to the bitter finish.

My other menu misstep was a side of deep-fried tiny fish ($2). I admit, I didn't expect them to be quite this tiny.



There was nothing wrong with these little guys, except they were too small to impart much flavor beyond grease and fishiness. I requested a teensy take-out container and delivered an early Christmas present to Isabelle the family cat.

The noodles, however, get to the heart of what Ping is about. My laksa nonya ($12), an overtly Singaporean coconut curry soup, was full of tofu, chicken, prawns, bean sprouts, even a spongy house made fish cake. A boiled egg and shredded cucumber topped it all off and added some extra textures. The noodles, I am told, come from an enterprising little old lady who stays up all night making them at her house, then delivers them to various restaurants in Portland.

This is a soup you want to hunker down with. Ditto for Seth's cloyingly named spicy mama ramen($8).


No little old lady noodle enterprises here; these babies are straight up Thai instant ramen from the grocery store. However the magic is in the broth, which is both insanely flavorful and made in-house from pork bones, tamarind, fish sauce and chiles. Seth poked around in his giant bowl and was rewarded with pork balls, prawns and floaty bits of poached egg.

As you can see, each bowl came with a disturbingly large spoon to meet our noodle and broth-apportioning needs. Our server also brought us two little bowls and regular Chinese-style spoons so Seth and I could fix each other mini-bowls of our soups. Ingenious.

At dinner, the rice, noodle and snack list expands to include meatier dishes, like a deep fried quail marinated in soy, sugar and spices, a whole pork knuckle and a strips of pork ear stewed in five spices, then deep fried. Yes, there is chicken too. The whole Singaporean chile crab on the specials menu is reason enough for me to come back and fight for a nighttime table.

Ping's menu of sides and snacks is also notable. I was especially interested in the kopitiam toast, a thick slice of pan bread grilled and spread with a coconut-egg jam called kaya, for a mere $2.

Pan-Asian can be a disastrous idea in the wrong hands, but Ping shows equal care in its Chinese, Thai and Vietnamese-influenced dishes. Its also a rare and welcome sight to see Singaporean dishes pop up on menus.

I should expect nothing less from a guy who grew Pok Pok from a haphazard takeout window to a national destination for fish sauce wings. Ping's casual neighborhood vibe is a good fit for Portland, and yet it's clear this place is something special.

Ping
102 NW 4th Ave., Portland
www.pingpdx.com

SF: The Republic

At first glance, The Republic screams "run of the mill Marina sports bar," and hence a place I probably wouldn't visit of my own volition. But this new venture by the Bin 38 guys boasts a hefty beer list, mostly bottles, and allegedly superior bar food.

One of the owners is a Northwestern alum (and holds a grad degree from Medill). Hence I feel bad reporting that Republic's menu held a lot of promise, but a handful of niggling little problems got in the way.

Seth was enticed by the idea of sous vide chicken wings ($9 or $16). They certainly looked appealing, but he was almost physically disturbed by the meat's soft texture.

Most of the appeal of bar wings lies in the crispy, horrible-for-you skin. The wings may have received a warmer reception if they were billed simply as grilled chicken.

Laura and I shared the Republic burger, ($14) with white cheddar and some excellent crispy French fries--a must for any bar.

As you can see, they did a really thoughtful job with our split order. However the housemade truffle pickle relish aioli condiment tasted like ketchup gone awry.

The grilled olive oil cake ($6) was undoubtedly the highlight of the meal.

In fact the entire dessert menu sounded appealing--root beer floats, chocolate banana bread pudding and warm donut bites.

There are 60-ish beers on offer, with 20 on draft. You can sample any four drafts for $10. Most of the list will be familiar to beer-savvy diners, but some of the California brews were totally new to me. I was surprised to learn that Sierra Nevada does a Trippel, and it was terrific.

We dined on a Monday night, amidst tables of football-watchers. However as soon as the game ended, staff started scurrying around to cover the flat screens with giant framed poster prints, thus morphing Republic from upscale sports bar to legitimate dining venue.

But the menu, like the concept, wavers between the two. Pulled pork sandwiches and fish tacos appeal to the football crowd, while ricotta gnocchi and nicoise salad suggest actual sit-down dinners.

That's a tough line to straddle, but I'm guessing sports fans in SF can be a bit more discerning with their cuisine. I'm envisioning flocks of well-groomed Marina lads, still in their slim-cut suits after a day in the FiDi, gathering up to watch football and eat whipped cod brandade and pear salads.

I wouldn't race back for the food, but if I'm forced into some sort of sports bar outing, Republic would top my list.

The Republic
3213 Scott St.
www.republicsf.com

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



.

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