-----Original Message-----
From: Laz
Sent: Wednesday, April 30, 2008 12:05 AM
To: Lash
Subject: South Park Cafe
For the second or maybe third time in memory, El Lefty again graciously invited your blogger, El Gran Laz, to the House of Mays (now sans Bonds, and depending on the rotation, no Blowout Zito), and after the requisite rendezvous at Perbacco we were perched at the counter of South Park Cafe for another excellent series of degustations -- and so influential was this last seating that I brought the wife back the very next night to sample the plates.
Now I'm struck with this idea that chef Ward Little at South Park has been doing his thing for some time now; I remember first seeing it 10 years ago, after the neighborhood was well on its way to transformation. (Apparently the area used to be a good place to ditch a stolen car or score some dope.) But like good sex with your steady, something about dining there seems invigorating every time. What and how is this? Lash and I will pass some comments by email, which I'll pop up here.
Let me start with some general thoughts: First, the scale of South Park Cafe may very well be perfect. With 10 to 15 tables, the staff doesn't have to travel very far to make their rounds. You're just as comfy at the counter or on the banquette. The lights hang from the ceiling, but not too low yet not too high. As for the back of the house, there seems to be enough room around the stove and grill for a couple of cooks, although I haven't seen what's called the cold station, much less the prep.
Second, don't mess with the best. If you can sell a top-notch steak and frites, the freshest salads with select bits of pig and dynamite desserts along with an eclectic set of wines and other beverages in a laid-back room, why gussy up with gimmicks and attitude? Your regulars probably keep coming because there's a dearth, to be blunt, of the bullshit they deal with elsewhere.
Last point: Maybe it's the bits of pig. The appetizing terrine (which sounds delicious even if you don't remember what it is, like profiterole) had some, as did the lentils and cabbage in my roast duck entree.
ELM, how does this sit with you?
Original Message:
-----------------
From: Lash
Sent: Wed, 30 Apr 2008 15:21:30
To: Laz
The South Park always sits well with me. I'm there several times a year during baseball season. Sitting at the bar for a martini, a glass of red and a light shared dinner is my favorite pregame ritual, and I've never had a bad meal. Never. I don't think I've ever had a bad dish, not even one that was well intentioned but went wrong.
Think about that. How is it possible to get it right, every single time? Am I just extraordinarily lucky? Perhaps, but the old saw about making your own luck holds sway here. You've hit upon some of the reasons: the room, its scale and its warm lack of pretension set the mood; one tends to be more forgiving when completely in one's element. (Though I've never had to be forgiving.)
The menu is rock-solid and simple, although many of the dishes are deceptively simple. Take the red-rice salad we ordered: rice and grilled vegetables. How often do you spend $16 or whatever it was on a large ramekin-sized mound of rice and a modest helping of grilled veggies, wipe the plate clean and feel like an honored guest? Ward's trick with the rice: just enough ground coriander seed.
Side note: Have you ever bitten into a coriander seed? It's overwhelming and nauseating. It's not just spice; it's a glimpse into the pure essence of spice, and it's far too much for a human being to handle. To bring that down to acceptable levels yet keep it so obviously, strongly coriander, is a magician's trick, in my book.
What did you have when you returned with your Lovely and Talented?
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