Monday’s adventure was (finally) experiencing Zare’s Monday Meatball Madness with the Divine Miss Spieler. We got to experience a variety of tastes before the meatball arrived, including several appetizers;

Smoked trout on cucumber “linguini’ with dilled creme fraiche. This was an early favorite, both Miss S and I adoring the coolness of the dressing with the smoked fish and lovely cucumber strips (we are both cucumber fans).

The “pistachio meatball” is a small appetizer but with a huge taste; a harrisa/honey/pomegranate glaze which is just divine in its sticky sweet-spiceness.

The cinnamon-braised lamb’s tongue with apple chutney and chestnuts. God, I love this dish…. Perfectly tender tongue and the flavors of fruit and spice juxtaposes what becomes umami in the chestnuts. Lovely.

Spice-roasted marrow bones served with bergamot preserves, Persian baby pickles, fresh greens and toast. You know, Bix’s marrow bones used to be my favorite, but these have surpassed that. The spice is very subtle and the bergamot preserves, which could be sickly sweet is just a great, clean taste that helps cleanse the palate to the Persian pickle which has quite a bite.

One entrée we shared was the Moroccan-spiced Salmon with toasted fregola, seasonal vegetables, and cucumber raita. Again, the brightness of cucumber and dill complemented the ras al hanout compote with some of the best Salmon I’ve had in ages. I admit to saving a rather large portion of this to have for breakfast the next day and was not disappointed.

Then there was The Meatball. Six- or eight-inches in diameter, ours was stuffed with two small lamb chops. Barely swimming in a light broth, the meatball was surrounded with a few slices of oven-roasted tomatoes and wild mushrooms. The Meatball had pinenuts, spices, and was so tender and flavorful. There was obviously going to be leftovers and the neighboring table advised eating it cold, on a sandwich. They were right.

Two desserts were shared; a goat-cheese cheesecake and ….. wait for it ….. Fried Dough! Hoorah! Sing praises to the heavens…. What are called “fried milk torrijas” these long, rectangle delights might be the second best hunk of fried dough I’ve found in the city (Piperade’s is a nudge higher on my Fried Dough Scale of ecstasy, but not by much).

What a grand night — and what encouragement for me to get there more often.

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One of my biggest challenges living in one of America’s most expensive cities has been to discover tasty, affordable eateries. As much as I enjoy dining out, there is no doubt that even those earning six-figures and above still enjoy a bargain. And my criteria for a bargain is the discovery of the $10 lunch; a lunch so ample as to provide left-overs for dinner or one so substantial as to make a later meal irrelevant. Café Zitouna is such a place for me. Located on the corner of Sutter and Polk, This is a little corner place with table seats for about 20 and counter seats for another six or eight. And on a Wednesday afternoon for lunch, it was packed with people waiting to get in — for very good reason.

My companion and I started with Breek (Tunisian crepe), listed as “Tissue-thin malsouka filled with potatoes, parsley, onions, egg, tuna and capers, fried in vegetable oil. Served with lemon.” For $3.95, it was a fabulous starter and I thought it a bit charming that the waiter looked at me with concern, indicating that the egg inside was raw and that I might not eat it. No problem, I assured him. Perfectly golden and plump, the malsouka is house-made and perfectly thin.

I instructed the chef to bring me whatever he thought I should eat and I was served the Vegetable Couscous, enough for two of us to share a separate platter of couscous is topped with a few roasted peppers with a side bowl of earthy, chunky vegetables in a seasoned broth. My companion ordered the Chakchouka Bil Merguez, sautéed fresh tomatoes, bell peppers, onions in olive oil with house-made merguez, eggs, and Tunisian sausages. For $7.95, this dish was a winner as I got a few bites from that dish and am looking forward to returning for a platter of it for my own. I saw a neighboring table get the $9.95 B’stilla which — while thick — looked a bit small (about 6″ round) for the price. But considering how great the rest of the food was tasting, I’m sure I will plunk down a sawbuck at some point in the future.

Dining alone, I will be sticking to the under $10 dishes or ordering a couple of appetizer or salad dishes (most priced in the $4.95 range), but we went a little above my ascribed budget with the inclusion of the Moroccan mint tea — a single 20oz at $1.95 and the large pot that we shared for $4.50.  The menu also includes a handful of Shawarma, Kebab, and Merguez sandwiches in the $6.50 range, to which one can add fries for $1.95.

We brought desserts homes; a moist pistachio-topped spice cake that had been soaked with orange blossom water and a second dessert, ladyfingers also soaked with orange blossom water, topped with a rich custard and ground pistachios. The bottom line is that Café Zitouna is all about taste and authenticity. The flavors are rich and aromatic, well-integrated, and enticing. The menu is extensive enough that I can easily see myself returning on a weekly basis to eat through the menu, always knowing I’ll be taking home left-overs. And I am quite happy knowing that when I get a tagine craving, I don’t have to do all the work myself for a solo diner.

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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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