For $30, this is a very, very good establishment. I was fortunate to share the meal with a friend who is great at eating half a plate and switching so for starters, we shared a salmon salad with fennel and sumac. This was very nice and quite summery; a platter of smoked Pine Loch Duart Salmon topped with a shredded fennel salad, studded with sumac and a citrus dressing. The salmon was not overly smoked and of great quality. Cool and refreshing, served with a Rhone white blend, this was the preferred starter. The second was a foie flan, served warm with apples and and a port glaze. While good, it seemed out of place at this time of year. I would have adored it in October or November, but for summer fare, I think it should have been more indicative of its season; cool and enticing instead of warm and comforting.

Our second set of shared courses started with “Crispy Monterey Calamari Sundried Pesto, Parmesan Risotto, Green Sechwan Foam.” I’m not entirely what sechwan (schezwan?) is, but this was very interesting risotto with a bit too many flavors. The calamari themselves were absolutely perfect when they could have been incredibly rubbery. And the risotto, again, was absolutely flawlessly prepared — not too al dente or too soupy. But with such distinguishsed rice and fish, and very good sundried pesto, why add the foam? Or, why add the pesto? Either flavor would have been just fine, but both together seemed too convoluted. My friend ordered and drank all of his Cotes du Rhone with this dish and I only had a quick sip so I have no comment.

The other entrée was “Pulled Lamb, Eggplant, Red Bell Pepper Coulis, Pesto.” This was served on a smaller plate and while a smaller portion, did not pull punches on flavor or quality. Tender and rich, the pulled lamb was piled into a large meatball-sized offering of rich meat with slices of thin eggplant and the two rich sauces; the red pepper coulis and the pesto. In this case, the two sauces worked well with the rich meat but like the foie, would seem a better dish served in the fall. It was very nice and homey, but slightly ill-conceived for the season. I ordered a du Pape with the lamb and with a freshly opened bottle, needed some breathing room to open.

Two desserts came out and we gave the waiter/Maitre’d carte blanche to serve us some dessert wine. The first dessert we finished easily was a “Vanilla panna cotta, Strawberry pepper coulis, candy almond” served with a glass of Sainte-Croix-Du-Mont. A very well-made panna cotta, it was the combination of fruit and cruncy bits that brought the dessert together. Or maybe it was the Sainte-Croix-Du-Mont, a slight botrytris cinera wine with beautiful brightness to juxtapose the fruit and nut. The other dessert was ‘chocolate moelleux, ”Mint creme Anglaise”‘. I’m sorry I didn’t make a note of the cognac-based dessert wine we had; very clear and light, there was just enough spunk to complement the rich, molten chocolate and hint of mint from the Anglaise. I was a little concerned; usually Banyuls or port works well with chocolate, EXCEPT when mint is introduced as a flavor element. All three offerings were just lovely and a great ending.

But we didn’t finish there. As we finished up the meal, we were each brought a half-glass of sparkling rosé, a perfect after dinner aperitif that was unexpected and quite thoughtful. The meal with drinks was in the $125 range before tip. And while the major detractor was that the dishes were served a little off-season, this is a delightful unexpected French bistro that should have been busier than they were.

The post Hyde Street Bistro first appeared on Feast Blog.

The appetizer platter came with a classic raita dipping sauce, baba ghanouj, hummus, and a third eggplant-based spread that was entirely different than the baba ghanouj and just as enticing. Studded with large olives and drizzled with olive oil, the plate was also surrounded with a little decorative slaw that was mostly unnecessary. I found the hummus to be extremely smooth; these are people who are peeling their garbanzo beans.  I wish I had taken notes on the difference between the two eggplant spreads; one green and a bit piquant and the other (assuming to be the baba ghanouj), with a red pepper base and distinctly more garlic. This was served with very freshly made, warm paratha bread.

Amber, my waitress, was very patient as I took copious notes (which I seemed to have lost on the way home!), so I don’t have all the names of the spices that I wanted to remember. I do, however, remember the special Yemen coffee she recommended. Made with the dried husks of the coffee beans and spiced with ginger and cardamom, Qishr is more of a tea than coffee. It is pale and smooth with hints of the added spice, it did not have the strong tannins of an actual tea nor the bitterness of a brewed coffee. I added a touch of sugar and was very intrigued.

Even though I was very full, chatting with Amber had me intrigued at the national dish of Yemen, salteh, served in a clay pot. This arrives still boiling; the top is a combination of fenugreek and hulba, a spice that has been hand-frothed until very light and fluffy. It is stirred in when the pot arrives. The dish is a rich concoction of vegetables, lamb, and egg in a lamb broth. The hulba is the Yemen version of salsa and it can apparently be very, very hot. I think I was lucky that it was a bit more on the mild side. The vegetables I uncovered included zucchini and peas and there was a thickness brought about from potatoes. This was served with a different flat bread. Ali, the owner came out to see if I was enjoying myself and told me that this square flatbread was made by a Moroccan woman he knows and is lightly grilled in butter. The richness of the butter helped cut through the spiciness of the dish.

Water is served with sliced cucumbers, the service is exemplary and helpful, and when Ali, the owner, came out to serve the salteh himself (he probably wanted to see the lone, fat white woman who was asking so many questions), I inquired about the potential of fried dough… His eyes lit up and he assumed I knew already what the dish was (since there was nothing like it on the menu). He kissed my hand and told me that he would be happy to prepare any classic Yemen dish for me, whether or not it was on the menu. I am so looking forward to returning. A word on the prices; the current menu prices were exceedingly cheap. Amanda acknowledged that the menus are being re-printed. Currently, appetizers are listed between $1.75 and $3.95 with entrées listed between $5.95 and $9.95. Way too inexpensive if they want to stay in business. My two dishes and coffee with bread came to just over $21.00 and the salteh came home with me for dinner (and probably breakfast). I need to go back with lots of friends to order lots and lots of dishes. One last note: This is a wholly Muslim restaurant and no wine is served.

(415) 441-8832

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Traditional olives with Piquillo peppers. Served in a can, these were to tease us for what was to come, the MG’d liquefied version. Traditional and piquant, a perfect amuse.

Liquified olives. The liquefied olives were the Molecular Gastronomic version of the traditional olive. Served in a mason jar, a waiter deftly and carefully served them in utensils similar to Japanese soup spoons so they could be consumed in one bite, letting the vinegared goodness squirt gleefully in our mouths. Bright, enticing, and very adventurous.

Caprese salad. How does one make a simple caprese salad better? For starters, making the globular bites of cheese and cherry tomatoes exactly the same size. Second, peel the perfectly ripe tomatoes. Third, use the very best olive oil, freshest basil, and enhance with blanched garlic. This offering was quite simply, the very best caprese salad I have ever experienced, with each ingredient speaking its own language, yet complementing its partner.

Guacamole with jicama and fritos and cilantro. In this dish, the jicama was sliced paper thin to act like an Asian wonton wrapper, encasing the guacamole. This was one of the first dishes to be served which, while perfectly fine, seemed out of place with the other Spanish flavors. In fact, being a California native who has eaten various versions of guacamole my whole life, I found the filling rather pedestrian, although the packaging was certainly unique. It looked pretty, but did not inspire me or send me through the rapturous ceiling as the previous courses had done.

Paddlefish caviar cone. So simple and again, so very, very good. The tuille cone – which so often can be made so thick as to overwhelm that which it contains – was paper thin and showcased the ample caviar. Just enough crème fraîche and chives to balance out the saltiness of the caviar. 

Conservas – raspberry and vinaigrette with King Crab. Another tin-served course, there is a refined palate at work that knows how to marry two seemingly disparate delicacies such as raspberries and crab. Here, succulent crab with a hint of vinaigrette and edible pansies provided a cool repass from the salty caviar. This was a favorite of mine and I was very lucky to have such good friends let me eat the bulk of this course.

Papas with bacon (Canary Islands); potatoes cooked with salt water served with mojo of parsley, cilantro, and cumin. I admit it; I am not a cilantro fan and was fairly sure I wouldn’t enjoy these potatoes as they were meant to be eaten, with the mojo. And I was incredibly wrong. Somehow the pervasive soapiness that I get from cilantro was absent here and instead, I got to experience delightfully tender morsels of salted potatoes, dipped in the enticing sauce. While dusted with a fine layer of salt, these were not too salty at all.

Avocado with tuna, rolled with cornnuts and micro cilantro. Like the guacamole purses, this was a course that failed slightly for me. And I like avocados! The creamy texture of the obviously great tasting avocado was too similar in mushiness to the interior tuna concoction. It was only the addition of the house-made corn-nuts that provided some much-needed crunch, but it was not enough. I’m sorry to say that I don’t recall the sauce. All I recall was a mouth full of mush.

Nitrogen Capairinha. To hearken away from our wine, we opted for the extra charge ($30) to try the molecular gastronomic capairinha. Prepared tableside, the ingredients are combined and then nitrogen is added to create the most decadent, alcoholic slushy imaginable. Made with a premium cachaça, Sagatiba, the shared indulgence cleansed our palate and excited us for what was to come. Expensive yes. And worth every penny.

Some bread. Bread is not automatically served at Bazaar as it is in most restaurants. We had asked for it early on as there were many courses from which we wanted to sop up sauces. Having the bread arrive so late in our meal, we realized why there was a delay: They were baked to order. Brushed with and served with some of the quality olive oil, it would have been quite easy to cancel the rest of the meal and simply feast upon the crusty, delightful loaves of goodness.

Hangar steak with Piquillo peppers. Surprisingly, here is where I began to falter and Lisa stepped up to the plate. I’m normally more of a carnivore and this hunk of meat was truly astonishing, so it was surprising to me how much she went after it. Don’t get me wrong – I had my fair share – but knew there was still more to come and happy with just a few bites.

Pollo croquettes. Simple fried chicken goodness. Not too heavily breaded and not overly complicated. Simple goodness. Tender and rich. Nothing special and not very memorable, but savory and satisfying.

Piquillo peppers with goat cheese and grape reduction. Another classic dish, classically prepared. No MG bells and whistles or unusual ingredients to detract from the wholesome goodness of the bright pepper and rich, creamy goat cheese. The grape reduction added a touch of richness.

Cauliflower couscous with harissa broth. While we were not impressed with the two ventures outside the Spanish flavors towards the Mexican, but this endeavor into Moroccan flavors was considerably more successful. The tiny bits of cauliflower mimicked the classic texture and sensation of rolled couscous. The harissa broth was rich and enticing, with a delicate spice that engaged instead of overwhelmed.  With some micro-greens and raisins, I adored this dish and its delicacy and trompe l’oeil innovation.

Lamb loin, truffle gelée, forest mushrooms, and potatoes. Again, it was Lisa who is not as big of a carnivore as myself who cherished this dish. I was slightly put off by the gelée – it was a thick, gelatinous layer which had to be worked through the find the other ingredients. Once discovered, the lamb was tender and rich and worked to be a great complement to the mushrooms. The potatoes were not overwhelming in flavor and the truffle essence – which so often can permeate a dish – was balanced, but the soft creamy texture was too incongruous with the hunk-o-jello and rich meat.

Mushroom risotto, Idizabal cheese. Of all the dishes of the evening, this was the one which faltered the most. Surprisingly both soupy AND pasty, this uninspired dish showed no predominant mushroom flavor in the rice despite the lovely whole mushrooms, nor was there the necessary creaminess indicative of a great risotto. It was more of a soup and rice soup and went mostly uneaten.

Sangria. Not really a course, but we were talking with the Maître ‘D about how much we were enjoying the wine and the capairinha and he offered to give us a miniature version of their much-lauded sangria. Made with white wine, I would happily return just to sit on the veranda (okay, I don’t think they have a veranda), so sip these…

Foie “popsicle.” This was not part of the chef’s choice on the tasting but there was no way we were going to leave without tasting this famous dish (well, I had had it before, but Lisa and Rick never had). Here, a perfect cube of cold foie gras terrine is encased in spun sugar and dusted with hazelnut bits. Best consumed all at once, the mouth is rewarded with creamy, decadent foie, a hint of sugar which disappears quickly once consumed, and the crunchy nut bits. 

We had been sitting in the dining room for some time and it was at this point we were directed towards the lounge/shop area for dessert. It is very difficult to not become overwhelmed with the bounty in both the retail establishment and the glass-covered patisserie offerings. From the menu, we went with the waiter’s suggestion of Panna Cotta, Flan, Crème Caramel along with some coffee and tea. Regrettably, while the desserts all had a decent enough flavor, we were again confounded with such a remarkably similar texture to be rather bored. Too many soft, gooey things, although I definitely enjoyed the heavy rich caramel poured atop the flan. But looking at all of the sweets in the shop, I can’t help but think we would have been better served choosing a selection of delicacies from the store. Lisa did order a small serving of the Chocolate Pop-Rocks, which proved quite fun and confirmed our belief; better stuff a la carte…

Even taking several months to getting around to writing this, it has proven to be one of the most memorable meals of 2009. The quality is exceptional, the service is never stuffy and we were completely charmed by waiters, bus servers, and quite pleased when the chef agreed to step out and answer some questions. I had grown weary of some of the MG attempts in Northern California (with the exception of those by Jeremy Fox at Ubuntu), but here there is enough variety and juxtaposition to make the scientific aspects of the meal more than just a novelty. It was truly a joy to behold.

The post The Bazaar by Jose Andres first appeared on Feast Blog.

Besides trying to look at as much art as possible, I went to Harrods every, every day. Quite simply, their food court is a thing of beauty. A jaunt to Harrods started my days, partly because they are less crowded right when they open at 10:00 a.m., but also because the food court is so diverse in its offerings. I had oysters on the half-shell with Muscadet for breakfast. One morning it was the cylindrical meat pies (venison with Stilton and orange, thank you!). How can you not love a place that has FOUR different providers of Goose Fat? Or a fish market that offers varieties which can be brought home — or they will cook it for you there (fry, broil, etc.?) The butcher has Scottish-raised beef and Danish-raised lamb. And it isn’t just the First Floor food court that makes Harrods special; they have restaurants and bistros on every floor, including a specialized chocolate bar (I know, I should have at least tried a hot chocolate from there and I didn’t!)

I also wandered into a local corner market and beheld a bounty of foreign treats for sale. It was delightful that it was not a specialty market; not an Indian market per se, or a Middle Eastern market. It was just a corner market with insta-curries and canned Moroccan lamb soup. I chuckled at the “Pot Noodle” offerings of Bombay Bad Boy, Lamb Hotpot, and more. I loved that an Apple and Elderflower drink is available. And that shelves which hold the instant custards and pre-made plum puddings lie above the shelf of bags of lentils, peas, and beans and below the shelf of instant Sindhi Biryani and Chatt Pakora mixes.

Another revelation occurred at the Borough Market. I….. Had….. No….. Idea….. This is where the Cheese Gods live. The heavenly angelic choir sings forth giant wads of coagulated milk and I exalt in the joy that is cheese. I hearken back to Clotaire Rapaille’s analysis of the American cheese market and how one such as I have been brought up with a knowledge of cheese:

I know that in America the cheese is dead, which means is pasteurized, which means legally dead and scientifically dead, and we don’t want any cheese that is alive, then I have to put that up front. I have to say this cheese is safe, is pasteurized, is wrapped up in plastic. I know that plastic is a body bag. You can put it in the fridge. I know the fridge is a morgue; that’s where you put dead bodies. And so once you know that, this is the way you market cheese in America.

At the Borough Market, for the first time in my life, I saw cheese specimens sitting out in the open; no plastic wrap, no refrigerator, and no one wearing surgical gloves when handling the cheese. The smell was pungent in the air and it was glorious. The green vegetables seemed greener. Mushrooms where strewn in a giant platter for the customer to pick at will. I also had a bit of a Dickensian/Pepysian moment in buying a cup of mulled wine from a vendor; warm and spicy and oh, so satisfying.

God, Britain, I love you so…

Harrods:

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Meeting new friends T and S for dinner this evening, the general camaraderie and lusty, culinary conversation could not belie the fact that our
California Icon is becoming a pale reflection of itself. I would like to believe that I am simply so jaded in being able to receive the finest of California’s abundant produce and ingredients, that knowing I am walking into a temple of what should be arguably the finest ingredients available, would entitle me to one of the finest meals available. Sadly, this simply was not to be. However, starting our first heavily-vegetabled course, we ordered a half-bottle of Spanish Albarino do Ferreiro which was perfectly light and clean; almost Sauvignon Blanc-like without the astringency.

After a bowl of Lucques Olives and Acme Bread, we were served our first course of grilled leeks with mustard vinaigrette, beets, and house-cured pancetta. Not listed in the ingredients but obviously an integral part which was included was hard-boiled egg. I am an intense leek aficionado but was initially concerned that the sultry leek flavor that I love so much was masked by the montage of other flavors which were far from cohesive. It was not that any one component was over-powering the rest, but the lifeless, limp leeks, in their stringy and chew state, did nothing to elevate the smallish chunks of yellow beet and occasional crouton. The bastion of fresh ingredients was beginning to falter

For our next course, we ordered a full bottle of Vina Caneiro, Ribeira Sacra which was adequate, but far too young to show any depth or integration.

The main course of the evening was described as Daube d’agneau aux herbes; Cattail creek lamb shoulder with herb-scented soufflé, fall greens, and carrots Vichy-style. Being the showcase protein, the first bite I took was of the lamb. While tender, I was immediately overwhelmed with the saltiness of the sauce. After that, I was underwhelmed with the overall flavor of the lamb; it simply did not provide that unctuous lamb flavor one grows to expect from the Panisse experience. The herb soufflé proved to be the highlight of the evening but was farm from groundbreaking. It was quite simply a very well-prepared, miniature herb soufflé; light, accessible, and with a perfectly-portioned amount of herbs where too many could have been its detriment. The “fall greens” as far as I could tell were simple braised Swiss chard (which I enjoyed) but the “Vichy-style” carrots were limp and mushy to a point just shy of that which one would find in a can. Here was an opportunity to demonstrate the freshness of an ingredient, and instead they were overcooked to become lifeless, flaccid members.

We were given the option of a cheese course before our dessert. From St. Helena, Haiku, a goat’s milk cheese, from Wisconsin came Marissa, a sheep’s milk cheese, and another locally produced icon, Red Hawk from Cow Girl Creamery. The cheese was served with an accompanying bowl of chopped persimmons and three dates as well as a platter of thinly sliced nut bread. I still never bother with any flavored breads as a vehicle for cheeses, the dates themselves were the highlight of this course. The cheeses themselves, while not overtly bad in any regard, were simply too similar in their lack of depth as to distinguish themselves.

The formal dessert course was listed as a poached pear tart with muscat sabayon. I only needed two or three bites of this to know there could be no salvation for the evening’s catastrophe. The pears — like the carrots — were so far beyond their state of freshness as to invoke concepts of can-dom. To inspire and imply a fruit or vegetable is fresh, I believe a level of “toothiness” is required, akin to a great pasta being a dente. These pears exhibited the same insincere mushiness as our carrots. The crust was soggy and flavorless, and the muscat sabayon lacked any tang or sweetness as to even suggest any other ingredient than dairy. It was all so desperately sad.

We
discussed and debated our meal during its transgression. The service — far from being warm and inviting, was perfunctory and cold. Where was the spark that was missing? I had dined at Chez Panisse several times before and thought that perhaps my palate is simply becoming jaded, however my dining companions seemed as unimpressed as I; has this simply become a destination restaurant for the occasional diner and the tourist, the way travelers to Paris feel they must visit the Louvre? Like those who feel compelled to worship at any other venerated cathedral without the introspection of the implied worship, I believe the religion that is Chez Panisse has lived beyond its time and is a mythological anthem that no longer exists except in the reverence and adoration of its devotees. It is a religion of yesteryear.

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