Feast Blog

My hairdresser, his boyfriend, and I stopped by Uva Enoteca after a haircut one Monday evening. This is of note as my hairdresser is in Lower Haight and there are only a few restaurants open on Mondays in that neighborhood (we usually go to RNM). The atmosphere in Uva is dark and subtle, warm and inviting. There is a bit of an oddity with the Zeppelin music in the background, but I kinda liked it. As it was my hairdresser’s birthday, I brought a homemade cake and the waitstaff were more than gracious in holding the cake for us as well as cutting and serving it after our meal. When we sat, we were given a small bowl of green olives. They were gone so quickly and thankfully, the waitstaff offered more. What *are* those giant, bright green olives?

The three of us started with three cocktails;
~ Prosecco Cocktail with peach bitters and a bit of sugar.
~ Miele Frizzante – Carpano antique, orange, peach bitters, and Heidrun buckwheat blossom mead. VERY odd cocktail; the mead made it seem like a light, fruity hefeweizen. Interesting, but not something I think I’d order again.
~ In Bocca Al Lupo – Lillet blanc, chilies, basil, prosecco and coconut salt. Too much chilies for me; spicy.

They have a very extensive wine list and we let the owner(?) offer a suggestion. He came up with a Barbera d’Alba, “Gisep,” Massolino from Piemont.

Loving the nosh, we again put ourselves in the hands of the capable staff; bring on a bunch of meat, a bunch of cheese, and some appropriate side dishes.

We started with the crudo of the day; on that day, tuna with olive oil and salt. As my hairdresser’s BF is a professional fish-monger, he confirmed my compliment that it was a great quality fish.

Next the meats and cheeses arrived. They offer various assorted sized plates and offerings and so five of each seemed a good compromise; Prosciutto di Parma, Bresaola from Bernina Montevideo, Coppa di Testa from Boccalone, orange and fennel from Boccalone, and a hot Soppressata from the Bronx. Sorry I can’t remember the five cheeses, but I can remember the accompaniments with the cheeses; truffled honey, a lemon/pepper condiment, and Marcona almonds.

Also served was chunks of fresh bread, eggplant caponata (a bit on the spicy side for me but still enjoyable), roasted asparagus with lemon aioli and Parmigiano (very fresh and nicely crunchy with person aioli), and fresh beans with pancetta and onions (I ate most of these, but I am obviously the veggie eater in the group). We should have stopped, but we were intrigued with the Semolina gnocchi with speck. Of all the dishes we ordered, the gnocchi was the least successful. Perhaps I’m spoiled with Sean O’Brien’s gnocchi but these were on the gummy side and with the speck and no sauce, way too dry. It needs SOMETHING moist on the plate and there was nothing.

I have to admit that there were a number of desserts which looked intriguing and I wished I could have tried the pumpkin cake with vanilla gelato, apples, saba, and pinenut brittle, but we had this cake I made instead. Again, the waitstaff was amazing and I would go back in a heartbeat.

My last evening in the L.A. area was blessed with a surprise visit by O.C. friend, Joan. She showed up as I was tearing down my booth at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium and after a very long day of peddling my wares, I was anxious to get some fresh air and just stretch my legs. We walked the Santa Monica Promenade which I had not been down in almost a decade. Not really surprised but slightly saddened to realize that all the independent shops had all been replaced with large, corporate chains. Even chain restaurants. There was a brief debate about dining at a Houston’s just because the wafting smell of grilled animal flesh was so enticing — but the wait was not and so we kept wandering. I was thrilled to see my favorite local British pub, Ye Olde King’s Head, was still alive and surviving and as we wandered close to consider it for dinner, we spied a small restaurant directly across the street, Bar Pintxo at 109 Santa Monica Boulevard.

We were incredibly lucky to snag a spot on the bar as minutes later, waiting diners were lining up behind us, waiting for a coveted seat at the very small, intimate establishment. I asked the waiter to bring me a glass of his favorite red wine. “Light or meaty?” he asked. Oh, definitely big… I was served a lovely ’06 San Roman-Prima Toro. Perusing the menu, I wanted to make sure I ordered enough veggie items to share and probably ordered one too many as Joan had to leave right as the food started arriving, leaving me to battle the onslaught of food to arrive. We were automatically given a bowl of really exceptional olives which certainly whetted the appetite. Spinach was a given as I adore sautéed spinach with garlic and this version also included pinenuts, apples, and raisins. This was on the more vinegary side, but still very fresh and bright.

I liked that a number of small plates were available, including the simple bites of tronchon with membrillo at $2, “parfait” of foie with caramelized onions and apples for $9, and dates wrapped in bacon with cabrales cheese for $5. The dates were amazing; just caramelized to that point of enticing sweetness juxtaposed with the saltiness of bacon. A neighbor on the bar had something I had to ask about and then order; a pumpkin salad with pomegranate seeds. Served with wilted greens and thinly sliced cheese, this was a delightful concoction indicative of fall flavors. The pumpkin must have been steamed for it was obviously not raw but still had a lively crunch to it. The last special I couldn’t resist was a selection of baby octopus served with fingerling potatoes and fresh garbazo beans. So often the heads of the baby octopus are removed and here they were still part of the presentation. So tender and rich, it killed me that I wasn’t at the restaurant with four people as I certainly wanted to taste more of the impressive menu, but was far too full to continue by myself.

The restaurant *is* small and rather loud. The service can lag a bit but I didn’t mind; it is obvious they are busy and they certainly are not slacking in their attempt to serve quickly. There were only two servers and while an extra pair of hands might have made things a bit faster, it also would have made the small space that much more crowded. I say go early and be patient. I would also suggest a party of three or four to get that many more tastes. They were slicing jambon I would have loved to have tasted and I watched them grilling some stunning large shrimp which smelled amazing. Very fresh ingredients and extremely well-prepared — moreso than any tapas restaurant I have been to in recent memory.

I am getting awfully jaded; every time I visit Ubuntu restaurant, with the exception of the signature cauliflower cast iron pot and the lavender almonds, I am served a varied assortment of new and breathtaking dishes. This weekend’s adventure took place with two girlfriends, both of whom thought we were stopping at a vegetarian restaurant “for a light salad.” I love blowing people’s minds…

We started with all of the “bites:” Castelvetrano olives marinated in mizuna pesto, chickpea fries with herbs and piquillo romesco, and marcona almonds with lavender sugar and sea salt. The chickpea fries were delicate and light – crisp and crunchy on the exterior and light and fluffy on the inside and the pesto concoction on the massive olives reeked of bright freshness.

Thus began the onslaught of delight from Chef Jeremy Fox’s kitchen… First up was a salad of fingerling potatoes, lightly
smoked sauce gribiche, ficoide glaciale, black garlic, capers. The last potato salad I had at Ubuntu was almost a year ago and was made with purple potatoes and the progression of Chef Fox’s skill depicted in a simple potato salad is impressive. I’m not sure if a year ago, their garden was producing the exciting offerings which now show up in the dishes like the bright and crunchy Ficoide Glaciale that is in this potato dish.

Our next offering was a “soup” of winter squash and courgettes served with tomato consommeé (poured after the photo was taken) with avocado cream, miniature tomato “raisins”, squash, and a few dots of concentrated balsamic. This was an elegant combination of so many flavors that melded together so serenely and expressively.

I love the kitchen’s offering of “Today’s Leaves and Things (amaranth, figs, apples, plums, tomatillos, pansies) dressed lightly with regina olive oil, mustard and sea salt. This dish is the perfect example of opulent freshness; served on a paper-thin crisp of brik, the combination of fruits and vegetables juxtaposes the richness of the soup we just consumed by the raw experience of pure freshness.

I don’t have an exact description of the next offering other than it was a melange of carrots to astound the taste-buds… With a hint of vadouvan spices, there were a cluster of large, braised chunks of carrots, quenelles of carrot mousse, delicate spears of fresh carrots from the garden, a bit of carrot foam, and a sprinkling of flower petals. Stylistically, the colors and composition made this one of the most beautiful, Van Gogh-like displays of food I have ever seen. Flavor-wise, one cannot imagine that so many different taste components could be provided by a single ingredient. It was hard for me not to lick the stone tile it was presented on.

The ubiquitous cauliflower in a cast iron pot arrived next and my friends were in a true state at this point. Both had tried to dismiss me ordering this dish as they claimed to “not care for cauliflower,” but impressed as everyone else has ever been with this unctuous, creamy offering.

What came next was beyond revolutionary and revelatory. One of my guests for this lunch was beloved friend, Leisl, whose Scottish heritage has her instilled with a deep and abiding love of lamb and potatoes and blood sausage. Health concerns have brought her to vegetarianism which was why I was so happy to share with her my favorite restaurant. What arrived next was Chef Jeremy’s version of Boudin Noir and there are few words to describe the synchronicity of this particular dish being offered on this day when Leisl was visiting, nor the actual tears of joy she experienced in tasting a vegetarian version of something she had so desperate missed. In a cast iron skillet was a layered confit of root vegetables and onions on top of which sat the “boudin noir” of rice, apples, root vegetables, vinegar and black pepper. As opposed to fake meat masquerading as a sausage, here there was simply a combination of flavors prepared in such a way to give a transcendent offering which when tasted, if one closed their eyes, would not know it was NOT a true blood sausage. Garnished with a quenelle of mashed potato and a poached egg, Leisl had to actually stop the lunch and begged our indulgence while she called her husband to share in the joy. We were all blown away.

Our next offering was a dish that my other guest, Kat, had specifically requested, local polenta finished with corn pudding, padrons, okra, green tomato relish, and amaranth. Creamy and rich, the polenta was studded with kernels of fresh corn and was brightened with the fresh roasted peppers and okra.

Thinking the polenta was rich, we had no comprehension of just how decadent and rich could be until the homemade macaroni and silver mountain white cheddar cheese arrived. Creamy and rich, the pungency of the cheese juxtaposed the creamy goodness on the tongue.

We were going to have them cancel our last course as we were getting beyond full, only to learn it was already fired and on its way; the homemade pizza with sauerkraut, emmenthal, purple mustard, with apples, garlic confit, and caraway all served with a poached egg in the middle. I have never had a sauerkraut pizza before and would never have thought it possible that something so seemingly innocuous could be such a mind-blowing experience. The addition of the poached egg provided a bright sauce to the deep, rich flavors of the kraut.

For the first time, I really had to insist that we couldn’t order dessert. As sad as I was to not have a smidgen of Deenie’s scrumptious offerings, there was quite simply no room left. I have to say that the innovations and offerings coming out of Fox’s kitchen are beyond comprehension to me. Every time I ask if there is a thought of a cookbook and then I wonder how he could possibly have the time; the menu seemingly changes so often that there must be several thousand of dishes in his arsenal now and how he could narrow down to a few hundred for a book would be quite an unenviable task. But, oh, am I ever hoping for one…

Ah, Chez Panisse… what happened?

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.