May I suggest a tag line: "The Taqueria for People Who Don't Like Taquerias."
Alternately: "We Should Have Gone to La Corneta."
The homemade salsa was as good as advertised. Everything else was crap, from the one-tortilla tacos (two per taco is standard to prevent disintegration), to my dull chile verde, to Fanch's grilled chicken plate (dry rice, dry tough chicken, only two tortillas on the side), to the absence of a DIY salsa and chip bar (though there was a help-yourself jar of jalapenos by the register).
Here's the ultimate insult: I wasn't allowed to order two tacos with a different meat in each. Two tacos per order, and only one meat choice. "But I want to try two different meats," I said. "Then you have to order four tacos," was the reply. Complete, utter, unprecedented bullshit.
I should have known. Always be suspicious of a taqueria with no Latinos at the tables. Skinny white girls with $200 jeans who eat taqueria food with a knife and fork do not generally make for knowledgeable patrons. Call me judgmental.
7/30/07
Headline of the Week
"Arroz con Caca," in the SF Weekly. Here's La Rondalla's glowing grade of 49 from the city's Department of Public Health. Yuck.
7/29/07
Recipe: Plum Berry Crisp
This was the hit of our dinner last night. Here's the recipe, but La Chef de la Fanche makes a couple notes:
* Added lemon zest and grated ginger to the fruit mix before putting it in the oven.
* The recipe calls for a little too much butter, which keeps the top of the crisp from getting crisp.
* Serve with vanilla ice cream.
* Added lemon zest and grated ginger to the fruit mix before putting it in the oven.
* The recipe calls for a little too much butter, which keeps the top of the crisp from getting crisp.
* Serve with vanilla ice cream.
Wine: Rabbit Ridge Allure de Robles
I found it at TJ's, its inconspicuous spot on the shelf marked by a celebratory sticker of a silver medal from some contest or another. At $5.99, I figured it was worth a shot. It was indeed. Our oenophiliac dinner guest last night also gave it a thumbs-up, and that was the last third of a bottle that had been opened three days previous. we drank it with a lamb-and-roasted-veggie lasagna.
Note: the bottle did not specify the year, which I believe makes it the "NV" (no vintage?).
Returning to TJ's yesterday, the Allure was awarded its own end-of-aisle display, the type normally reserved for Charles Shaw. Get it while it's hot.
Note: the bottle did not specify the year, which I believe makes it the "NV" (no vintage?).
Returning to TJ's yesterday, the Allure was awarded its own end-of-aisle display, the type normally reserved for Charles Shaw. Get it while it's hot.
7/25/07
Lunch: Café Chez Carla
I admit it: I've been digressing to kinda gross Subway for quick work lunches again, but only once or twice a week, and only because I only want to spend a lousy $3. (I saw some guy substitute fresh spinach for shredded lettuce, and boy, does that make a difference.) So in short order I am disgusted and looking to refresh the options, without waiting for Rupert to send raises.
I've narrowed Wildflower down to Fridays, with the lighter salad a perfect lead-in to the weekend. But now I am sick of it, too. My colleague Jomo, known for the $12 Wildflower salads, has looked to greener pastures as well, and he turned me on to Café Carla, which I've noticed a couple of doors down from Soup Freaks (home of the $7 soup and lame chicken-sandwich combo). Except that it's called Chez Carla. I still think Café Carla is better.
So I walk in and right away I love the piped-in salsa. Taquería María in San Rafael probably tunes into the same satellite-radio stream. I start tentatively -- serving myself very small portions of greens, a little angel hair with veggies and fresh herbs, roasted mushrooms and zucchini, sautéed green beans and a tiny piece of chicken -- bracing myself for the $8 tab. Someone comes out to ring me up, and my jaw drops: $4.26. Unbelievable.
The woman mentions something about a $4.99 minimum, but hands me a frequent-diner card (10th salad free, max. $7) and tells me not to worry about it. Everything looks great and has fresh basil and cilantro, and turns out tastes great and is not over- or undersalted either. (I didn't even touch other hot items than chicken.) It's a delicious and satisfying lunch, though four hours later I snack on an apple and some nuts. But that's the way you should eat anyway.
The chicken, I learn from this podcast I found, is first roasted and then deep-fried. God, I am happy.
I can't wait to go back tomorrow. How many times can you say that about a place? Dispatches and salsa playlists to follow. (Day 1: "Pedro Navaja," Ruben Blades.)
I've narrowed Wildflower down to Fridays, with the lighter salad a perfect lead-in to the weekend. But now I am sick of it, too. My colleague Jomo, known for the $12 Wildflower salads, has looked to greener pastures as well, and he turned me on to Café Carla, which I've noticed a couple of doors down from Soup Freaks (home of the $7 soup and lame chicken-sandwich combo). Except that it's called Chez Carla. I still think Café Carla is better.
So I walk in and right away I love the piped-in salsa. Taquería María in San Rafael probably tunes into the same satellite-radio stream. I start tentatively -- serving myself very small portions of greens, a little angel hair with veggies and fresh herbs, roasted mushrooms and zucchini, sautéed green beans and a tiny piece of chicken -- bracing myself for the $8 tab. Someone comes out to ring me up, and my jaw drops: $4.26. Unbelievable.
The woman mentions something about a $4.99 minimum, but hands me a frequent-diner card (10th salad free, max. $7) and tells me not to worry about it. Everything looks great and has fresh basil and cilantro, and turns out tastes great and is not over- or undersalted either. (I didn't even touch other hot items than chicken.) It's a delicious and satisfying lunch, though four hours later I snack on an apple and some nuts. But that's the way you should eat anyway.
The chicken, I learn from this podcast I found, is first roasted and then deep-fried. God, I am happy.
I can't wait to go back tomorrow. How many times can you say that about a place? Dispatches and salsa playlists to follow. (Day 1: "Pedro Navaja," Ruben Blades.)
7/23/07
Fish, Your Wish V
Meanwhile, the saga of the tamago vs. the sashimi and whatnot continues. Turns out that the wealthy big shots wolfing down as much fish flesh as their expense accounts can cover are skewing the demographics for mercury poisoning. Sheesh.
Fish, Your Wish IV
Simply going with wild-caught fish won't let you off the hook. The last two weeks we've bought the wild-caught red snapper at TJ's, but I just looked it up on the Monterey Bay Aquarium's Seafood Watch guide: depending on where the red snapper is caught, it might be best to avoid it. I've added the guide to our link list on the right.
A few other fish commonly found at TJs or other outlets:
* Tilapia. Make sure it's farm-raised in the U.S.
* Salmon: Wild-caught good, farmed bad.
* Mahi-mahi: I was surprised -- it's generally OK to eat, sustainability-wise.
A few other fish commonly found at TJs or other outlets:
* Tilapia. Make sure it's farm-raised in the U.S.
* Salmon: Wild-caught good, farmed bad.
* Mahi-mahi: I was surprised -- it's generally OK to eat, sustainability-wise.
7/18/07
Fish, Your Wish III
So glad the word's gotten out. Here’s the story on the front page of today’s WSJ (subscription required):
> African waters are losing fish stock rapidly, with ramifications both to the economies of Africa's coastal nations and to the world's ocean ecology. Over the past three decades, the amount of fish in West African waters has declined by up to 50%, according to Daniel Pauly, a researcher at the University of British Columbia.
The Mauritanian locals can’t compete with the big trawlers, which have depleted the stocks in their home regions.
If you can’t read the story, let me know in a polite comment and I’ll email it to you.
> African waters are losing fish stock rapidly, with ramifications both to the economies of Africa's coastal nations and to the world's ocean ecology. Over the past three decades, the amount of fish in West African waters has declined by up to 50%, according to Daniel Pauly, a researcher at the University of British Columbia.
The Mauritanian locals can’t compete with the big trawlers, which have depleted the stocks in their home regions.
If you can’t read the story, let me know in a polite comment and I’ll email it to you.
7/17/07
¡Fuñeta! Qué Tacos!
Y’all may recall that I’ve been visiting the taco truck that parks next to the old Standard brick building on Pacific near Sansome. I’d be happy to supply a new review, but time and other constraints are impinging -- like the fact that they raised their taco prices 33% just yesterday.
Yes, I was one of those price-sensitive affluents (a mind-blowing marketing term that explains why there are BMWs in Wal-Mart parking lots) that loaded up on three kinds of tacos for $4.50, with some pickled jalapeños and fresh radishes and cut lime to boot. The quality is still pretty excellent; my grilled chicken was toothsome without being way too dry, and the spice is right. But now these puppies are $2 each. (Burrito prices stayed the same. How izzat?)
Is it rising corn and produce prices? Gas, cooking fuel or tolls? Doth I complain too much? For now, I’m lumping it.
Yes, I was one of those price-sensitive affluents (a mind-blowing marketing term that explains why there are BMWs in Wal-Mart parking lots) that loaded up on three kinds of tacos for $4.50, with some pickled jalapeños and fresh radishes and cut lime to boot. The quality is still pretty excellent; my grilled chicken was toothsome without being way too dry, and the spice is right. But now these puppies are $2 each. (Burrito prices stayed the same. How izzat?)
Is it rising corn and produce prices? Gas, cooking fuel or tolls? Doth I complain too much? For now, I’m lumping it.
Whatevertini
Call me hypocritical, call me contrarian -- call me a cab! Especially when the topic comes to martinis. With all my grousing about philistines who ask if I want my martini on the rocks, and my loathing for apple-, mango-, and chocotinis, I'll admit that I've started straying from the righteous path. I put a lemon twist in my martinis. Sometimes the bitter medicine of the gin and the long-marinating brine of the olives need a little pick-me-up, something sunny at the end of a foggy summer day. Is that so wrong?
7/15/07
Fish, Your Wish II
There seems to be a boomlet in writing about sushi going on. In addition to the Slate piece Anthony blogged about a few days ago, the New York Times today had not one, not two, but — count them — three op-ed pieces about sushi.
The Sushi for Two piece, which advocates that Americans rediscover both the culinary and social meanings of sushi, reminds me of the Sushi Eating How-To — recommended reading for both beginning and more advanced practitioners.
The Sushi for Two piece, which advocates that Americans rediscover both the culinary and social meanings of sushi, reminds me of the Sushi Eating How-To — recommended reading for both beginning and more advanced practitioners.
7/13/07
Look Who's Back
Our old Pizzetta friend Tamar has resurfaced, according to this Chron column. Was she cheesemaking in Vermont this whole time? We must go visit and ask. She's executive chef of Socha a new cafe in the Mission/Bernal Heights area, near the Safeway. Note: the article calls Pizzetta a "cult favorite."
7/10/07
Fish, Your Wish
Surfed over to a great piece on sushi today, and it's the proverbial food for thought.
Note how the people interviewed describe the cold-storage supply chain and how tuna belly is basically a luxury item -- you know, like gasoline.
Aquaculture could stave off the inevitable fin di la frutta di mare, letting the ocean's stocks recover, but I know I'm not alone in wondering whether wild salmon and snapper and whatnot are going to be gone in a generation or two. So what to do?
Maybe put our morals where our mouths are and save sushi for a special occasion once or twice a year. The marketplace has got to get the message somehow.
Note how the people interviewed describe the cold-storage supply chain and how tuna belly is basically a luxury item -- you know, like gasoline.
Aquaculture could stave off the inevitable fin di la frutta di mare, letting the ocean's stocks recover, but I know I'm not alone in wondering whether wild salmon and snapper and whatnot are going to be gone in a generation or two. So what to do?
Maybe put our morals where our mouths are and save sushi for a special occasion once or twice a year. The marketplace has got to get the message somehow.
7/9/07
7/3/07
Review: Oliveto
Like Chez Panisse, Oliveto has two floors, two menus and two price ranges, the social stratification made visceral by a staircase. Is this what John Edwards is talking about? While a privileged few in America are upstairs eating stuffed Jones Ranch rabbit, the rest of us are downstairs scraping by on pizza con pancetta, fennel and dandelion? No justice, no peace!
We opted for the lower realm, mainly because we didn't have a reservation but also because of our sneaker-ish footwear, which the hostess assessed with an obvious glance as we stepped inside.
Let's get this out of the way first: it still wasn't cheap. Nearly $90 for two people, and it teetered on the edge of "worth it." Here's why:
I started with a negroni to slake my summertime thirst. It was too sweet, and the waitress spilled a few splashes as she set it down. At $10 a cocktail, that's no small loss.
We ordered three apps, two of which were spectacular, a summer squash carpaccio and a wild-greens soup. The salumi plate was uninspiring, with two of the salumis very similar in taste and texture (what's the point of doing a sampler?) and the third, a pate on crostini, basically pure fat and salt. Which isn't the worst thing in the world, but it was far from sublime. So 2-for-3, and high hopes for the entrees...
The Fanch had lamb shoulder daube, I had the grilled squid piled on a large crostino and drizzled with aioli. Both were flavorful; both were salty. Again, salty's not necessarily bad, but when you're paying $15 for mini-entrees in a house of excellent repute, you hope for a bit more subtlety, a few more well-played notes. With a bit of the grill's char riffing off the deep-sea brine, my squid worked better toward that goal than Fanch's lamb.
We skipped dessert.
Sometimes I sound like a broken record. It's just not worth it. I won't go quite that far this time; in fact, the upstairs menu, which changes frequently, was adventuresome enough to lure me back for a big splurge, but it would have to be a very special occasion.
As for downstairs, which is more along the lines of a trattoria with pastas and pizzas and salads, I would do it again, especially if it were a choice between that and the Pasta Pomodoro down the block.
We opted for the lower realm, mainly because we didn't have a reservation but also because of our sneaker-ish footwear, which the hostess assessed with an obvious glance as we stepped inside.
Let's get this out of the way first: it still wasn't cheap. Nearly $90 for two people, and it teetered on the edge of "worth it." Here's why:
I started with a negroni to slake my summertime thirst. It was too sweet, and the waitress spilled a few splashes as she set it down. At $10 a cocktail, that's no small loss.
We ordered three apps, two of which were spectacular, a summer squash carpaccio and a wild-greens soup. The salumi plate was uninspiring, with two of the salumis very similar in taste and texture (what's the point of doing a sampler?) and the third, a pate on crostini, basically pure fat and salt. Which isn't the worst thing in the world, but it was far from sublime. So 2-for-3, and high hopes for the entrees...
The Fanch had lamb shoulder daube, I had the grilled squid piled on a large crostino and drizzled with aioli. Both were flavorful; both were salty. Again, salty's not necessarily bad, but when you're paying $15 for mini-entrees in a house of excellent repute, you hope for a bit more subtlety, a few more well-played notes. With a bit of the grill's char riffing off the deep-sea brine, my squid worked better toward that goal than Fanch's lamb.
We skipped dessert.
Sometimes I sound like a broken record. It's just not worth it. I won't go quite that far this time; in fact, the upstairs menu, which changes frequently, was adventuresome enough to lure me back for a big splurge, but it would have to be a very special occasion.
As for downstairs, which is more along the lines of a trattoria with pastas and pizzas and salads, I would do it again, especially if it were a choice between that and the Pasta Pomodoro down the block.
7/1/07
Recipe: Tortilla Casserole
After a few weeks of too much of good things that are wonderful, I am downsizing a bit. It's sometimes easier on weekends to space out two meals where there would ordinarily be three, with the shift in schedules, busy work such as errands and countless snacking opportunities (such as grabbing dim sum while doing errands).
Consider the early supper of last night, which I've memorized out of the Moosewood cookbook. (Which begs the question, is there still life for Moosewood in this post-Alice Waters, Batali-Boulud-Bourdain period? You could even remake the Billy Joel song these days: "Charlie Parker, Rachael Ray, Emeril and Bobby Flay, watch Iron Chef." Something like that. Elbo?)
Start with a sauté of fine-chopped onions and garlic in a cast-iron skillet, and add a handful of diced peppers; spicy ones are fine. Season with salt, pepper, oregano and some chili powder if you like. Then throw in two or three chopped tomatoes of any color and let them soften up. Kill the heat and stir in some tortilla strips -- basically 10 corn tortillas cut into half-inch lengths -- and pour in half a pint of half and half. (The recipe calls for heavy cream, but I balk at the heavy cream.) Top it with some Parmesan or any dry cheese you can grate, and pop the whole thing into a 375-degree oven for 30 minutes.
After a half-hour, retop with a little shredded jack or cheddar and let that melt for four or five minutes more. Then pull it out and let it sit a bit while you warm the plates. Cut quarter pieces out with a metal spatula (no bending), and garnish with salsa. Enjoy.
Consider the early supper of last night, which I've memorized out of the Moosewood cookbook. (Which begs the question, is there still life for Moosewood in this post-Alice Waters, Batali-Boulud-Bourdain period? You could even remake the Billy Joel song these days: "Charlie Parker, Rachael Ray, Emeril and Bobby Flay, watch Iron Chef." Something like that. Elbo?)
Start with a sauté of fine-chopped onions and garlic in a cast-iron skillet, and add a handful of diced peppers; spicy ones are fine. Season with salt, pepper, oregano and some chili powder if you like. Then throw in two or three chopped tomatoes of any color and let them soften up. Kill the heat and stir in some tortilla strips -- basically 10 corn tortillas cut into half-inch lengths -- and pour in half a pint of half and half. (The recipe calls for heavy cream, but I balk at the heavy cream.) Top it with some Parmesan or any dry cheese you can grate, and pop the whole thing into a 375-degree oven for 30 minutes.
After a half-hour, retop with a little shredded jack or cheddar and let that melt for four or five minutes more. Then pull it out and let it sit a bit while you warm the plates. Cut quarter pieces out with a metal spatula (no bending), and garnish with salsa. Enjoy.
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