Additions welcome.
Layoffs at newsrooms are rising. Do you blame:
a) the whole bloody Internet;
b) lousy media unions;
c) too much corporate debt;
or d) operational inefficiencies holding up Dottie and John's expense reports.
The Dottie and John "Tastings" Video Drinking Game:
• Every time they clink their glasses, drink.
• Every time they mention each other or a family member, drink.
• If bored and are drinking when they drink, drink three times and start the video all over again.
The tasting note "Last night: aging OK, hints of melon and spice, weak finish" is by:
a) Dottie;
b) John;
c) Dottie and John;
or d) the hooker they got off Craigslist to hear them blab about wine.
6/18/09
6/5/09
Valley Chef
and another food video:
"Ancho chilies, serrano chilies, habanero chilies and dried New Mexico chilies."
"Ancho chilies, serrano chilies, habanero chilies and dried New Mexico chilies."
5/22/09
Appetizing Aioli
A quick double-whammy today: The MarketWatch Radio Network did a thing on how consumers are cheaping out by not ordering appetizers, including soups and salads when dining out. Sounds like the consultancy is serving up some junk science to get some free press, because of course the pervasive small plates are basically just a bunch of appetizers. Ask me one day about my introduction to quick tapas in Madrid.
I just had an appetizer the other day, along with a drink post-haircut at the Hotel Monaco's Grand Cafe, already one of my favorite San Francisco venues and my go-to in the Union Square environs. I am now even prouder to announce that the Grand Cafe has one of the best happy hours in the city, period.
The bar menu from 4 to 7 is grouped not by offerings, but by price, with bites and beverages paired. I had the salt cod beignets, which were parked in aioli, and a Kronenbourg draft, $4 each. I was tempted to try the boudin blanc, which I was told is duck, with a porter from Marin Brewing Company, $7 each. Homemade chips and Sierra Nevada on tap are $3 apiece. There's also a pissaladerie for $5. Maybe I'm a sucker for the packaging, but I'm bowled over by pairings every time. (I've stopped ordering wines by the glass and instead am asking the server to pick something for my starters and main courses. We talk about the suggestions and sometimes taste something and then talk some more. Wine lists can be too much work, and the staffers have knowledge they're eager to share.)
Incident of note: While I was sitting at the bar, a quintessentially San Francisco thing happened. A wino walked in and sauntered over to the service station. Without raising his voice, the bartender says, "You have to leave." The guy, sort of regular-looking in a jacket and baseball cap, replied in conversational English but I remember it as "Arrrahghgahhhghaahr." The bartender stands firm, no change in expression. "You have to leave."
When the barman turns to phone security, the wino reaches over to the by-the-glass bottles and picks up some red wine, already opened. He looks at it in the light from the window, and sees that it has but a finger left. He puts it back where it was. The bartender calls out from the telephone: "I'm calling." A bouncer, a not too tall fellow, is there in an instant. The bartender says, "Search him." The wino holds open his jacket. He and the bouncer walk out. It probably happens eight times a day.
Maybe at some point in the city such an occurrence would have that old Barbary Coast/Kerouac/Bukowski quality, but even then it'd be a stretch. For more than a few years now it's just been a nuisance issue. Patrons like myself watched and waited for it to be over so we could get back to daydreaming and taking a little break from busyness.
I'll leave you with my simplified aioli recipe, based on Jamie Oliver's. It was great with the giant artichokes the in-laws got in Gilroy on their drive up.
1/2 small clove of garlic, peeled
1 teaspoon salt
1 egg yolk
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
About 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Juice from half a lemon
A bit of mayonnaise to thicken
Freshly ground black pepper
Start by finely chopping the garlic or mashing it in a bowl, adding in the salt. I love mashing garlic. Spoon in the mustard, and separate an egg yolk with your hands and throw it in. Whisk with a whisk or a fork. Slowly pour in the olive oil; keep whisking. Squeeze in the lemon juice, and stir in a little mayo until it's the consistency you want. Crack some pepper there and you're done.
I just had an appetizer the other day, along with a drink post-haircut at the Hotel Monaco's Grand Cafe, already one of my favorite San Francisco venues and my go-to in the Union Square environs. I am now even prouder to announce that the Grand Cafe has one of the best happy hours in the city, period.
The bar menu from 4 to 7 is grouped not by offerings, but by price, with bites and beverages paired. I had the salt cod beignets, which were parked in aioli, and a Kronenbourg draft, $4 each. I was tempted to try the boudin blanc, which I was told is duck, with a porter from Marin Brewing Company, $7 each. Homemade chips and Sierra Nevada on tap are $3 apiece. There's also a pissaladerie for $5. Maybe I'm a sucker for the packaging, but I'm bowled over by pairings every time. (I've stopped ordering wines by the glass and instead am asking the server to pick something for my starters and main courses. We talk about the suggestions and sometimes taste something and then talk some more. Wine lists can be too much work, and the staffers have knowledge they're eager to share.)
Incident of note: While I was sitting at the bar, a quintessentially San Francisco thing happened. A wino walked in and sauntered over to the service station. Without raising his voice, the bartender says, "You have to leave." The guy, sort of regular-looking in a jacket and baseball cap, replied in conversational English but I remember it as "Arrrahghgahhhghaahr." The bartender stands firm, no change in expression. "You have to leave."
When the barman turns to phone security, the wino reaches over to the by-the-glass bottles and picks up some red wine, already opened. He looks at it in the light from the window, and sees that it has but a finger left. He puts it back where it was. The bartender calls out from the telephone: "I'm calling." A bouncer, a not too tall fellow, is there in an instant. The bartender says, "Search him." The wino holds open his jacket. He and the bouncer walk out. It probably happens eight times a day.
Maybe at some point in the city such an occurrence would have that old Barbary Coast/Kerouac/Bukowski quality, but even then it'd be a stretch. For more than a few years now it's just been a nuisance issue. Patrons like myself watched and waited for it to be over so we could get back to daydreaming and taking a little break from busyness.
I'll leave you with my simplified aioli recipe, based on Jamie Oliver's. It was great with the giant artichokes the in-laws got in Gilroy on their drive up.
1/2 small clove of garlic, peeled
1 teaspoon salt
1 egg yolk
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
About 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Juice from half a lemon
A bit of mayonnaise to thicken
Freshly ground black pepper
Start by finely chopping the garlic or mashing it in a bowl, adding in the salt. I love mashing garlic. Spoon in the mustard, and separate an egg yolk with your hands and throw it in. Whisk with a whisk or a fork. Slowly pour in the olive oil; keep whisking. Squeeze in the lemon juice, and stir in a little mayo until it's the consistency you want. Crack some pepper there and you're done.
5/15/09
Goodbye to All This
Now that the one-month leave I took to care for Araceli is about to end, I have a couple of thoughts. Come to think of it, I always have a couple of thoughts now that I have Araceli.
One is that we are a remarkably wealthy country despite the nasty unemployment. Look at the folks out and about all the time. For instance, half the people on my block don't seem to have the usual work commitments; by 10 am at least half the garbage bins have been moved back inside. Then there's the constant traffic on the arterials, along with the usual goings-on at Amoeba on Haight during the middle of the day.
Second thing, how is it that a Mission-style burrito pushing $7 and beyond? Is it because I am pushing 40 and started hitting the taquerias two booms ago, when a trip to El Farolito set you back $2.46? (It's hard to forget those Mexican morsels, coming standard with fresh avocado and a fine pico de gallo.) Zona Rosa rolled a nice spinach-tortilla tube for me, throwing in the chopped onions and cilantro, and while enjoying it I couldn't help doing math. If the average tab is $8, how many customers do they need to make their nut? If I ran such a business, I'd call the landlord and offer him a burrito a day in exchange for lower rent. If he balked, I would counter by charging him extra for chips (they're not that good anyway) and then have him lower the rent.
Recession schmecession, places like the Eos wine bar are still turning tables, catering to customers with happy-hour offerings along with some nice plates a bit north of burrito prices. I met Jomo and his Torontan friend Ed there with half-carafes of South African chenin blanc and Chilean cabernet, plenty of pours for $10 each. The oysters also were $1 apiece, but turns out they were flown in from the East Coast somewhere and while plump weren't Tomales Bay quality. The manager made a point to walk around and check on each table, chatting up Jomo about his last take-out order. With the deals and small plates and the human touch, they're working it to keep everyone happy.
One is that we are a remarkably wealthy country despite the nasty unemployment. Look at the folks out and about all the time. For instance, half the people on my block don't seem to have the usual work commitments; by 10 am at least half the garbage bins have been moved back inside. Then there's the constant traffic on the arterials, along with the usual goings-on at Amoeba on Haight during the middle of the day.
Second thing, how is it that a Mission-style burrito pushing $7 and beyond? Is it because I am pushing 40 and started hitting the taquerias two booms ago, when a trip to El Farolito set you back $2.46? (It's hard to forget those Mexican morsels, coming standard with fresh avocado and a fine pico de gallo.) Zona Rosa rolled a nice spinach-tortilla tube for me, throwing in the chopped onions and cilantro, and while enjoying it I couldn't help doing math. If the average tab is $8, how many customers do they need to make their nut? If I ran such a business, I'd call the landlord and offer him a burrito a day in exchange for lower rent. If he balked, I would counter by charging him extra for chips (they're not that good anyway) and then have him lower the rent.
Recession schmecession, places like the Eos wine bar are still turning tables, catering to customers with happy-hour offerings along with some nice plates a bit north of burrito prices. I met Jomo and his Torontan friend Ed there with half-carafes of South African chenin blanc and Chilean cabernet, plenty of pours for $10 each. The oysters also were $1 apiece, but turns out they were flown in from the East Coast somewhere and while plump weren't Tomales Bay quality. The manager made a point to walk around and check on each table, chatting up Jomo about his last take-out order. With the deals and small plates and the human touch, they're working it to keep everyone happy.
2/22/09
Focaccia Me? No, Focaccia You
Every now and then when I want that braised flavor and some well-cooked veggies I head to Focaccia, which is on that swanky block of Sacramento near Embarcadero and probably near every swanky choad-for-hire firm in the financial district.
The place has lots of good everyday stuff like sandwiches and salads, but I appreciate the good deal that is the stew -- $5.95 for beef, lamb or chicken (although I can’t remember when they had beef or lamb) over rice, with a selection of fresh veggies like zucchini, mushrooms, asparagus and so on. Of course I never take the rice and request the vegetables instead. It’s not service with a smile, but all I come for is the stew and veg.
There are only a couple of problems. One is that I have to jostle the hoity-toity scene at Focaccia, and the other is that I have to deal with the grumpy Focaccia guy.
OK, so the economy is probably pinching this small business, especially one that takes on the overhead to cater to the upscale-professional lunch crowd. So now, apparently, swapping out the rice for the veggies is not OK.
There’s one person ahead of me. Grumps helps him out, then says "next!" without making eye contact, even though it’s just me standing there. As usual, I order the stew without rice and with some veg. He demurs. "There’s a lot of veggies already in there," he says of the stew, and asks me: "Rice?"
"No rice, veggies," I repeat. He makes a face. I stare back. Grumpaster G turns to the pot on the stove and ladles some chicken stew in a take-out container; he grabs a few string beans and asparagus with his tongs and places the order on the glass shelf. I take it.
Let the record show that a few potatoes, chunks of canned tomato and a piece of celery don’t qualify as a lot of veggies, or really as veggies as we’d call them, we who work and grab take-out and also make a point to go to the market and cook. But the last thing I’d do on this earth is quibble with a guy and his "I’m a dick all the time" attitude because he’s stuck shoveling stew to particular people like me.
Anyway, the stew isn’t as good anymore – flavor’s off, probably because they’re just throwing the above ingredients together, putting the pot on simmer and otherwise not giving a crap. Maybe we’re seeing the same funks in financial districts everywhere, among big shots and their supporting businesses. Times may be bad for you, sweethearts, and maybe that's a shame, but the rest of us are done bothering.
The place has lots of good everyday stuff like sandwiches and salads, but I appreciate the good deal that is the stew -- $5.95 for beef, lamb or chicken (although I can’t remember when they had beef or lamb) over rice, with a selection of fresh veggies like zucchini, mushrooms, asparagus and so on. Of course I never take the rice and request the vegetables instead. It’s not service with a smile, but all I come for is the stew and veg.
There are only a couple of problems. One is that I have to jostle the hoity-toity scene at Focaccia, and the other is that I have to deal with the grumpy Focaccia guy.
OK, so the economy is probably pinching this small business, especially one that takes on the overhead to cater to the upscale-professional lunch crowd. So now, apparently, swapping out the rice for the veggies is not OK.
There’s one person ahead of me. Grumps helps him out, then says "next!" without making eye contact, even though it’s just me standing there. As usual, I order the stew without rice and with some veg. He demurs. "There’s a lot of veggies already in there," he says of the stew, and asks me: "Rice?"
"No rice, veggies," I repeat. He makes a face. I stare back. Grumpaster G turns to the pot on the stove and ladles some chicken stew in a take-out container; he grabs a few string beans and asparagus with his tongs and places the order on the glass shelf. I take it.
Let the record show that a few potatoes, chunks of canned tomato and a piece of celery don’t qualify as a lot of veggies, or really as veggies as we’d call them, we who work and grab take-out and also make a point to go to the market and cook. But the last thing I’d do on this earth is quibble with a guy and his "I’m a dick all the time" attitude because he’s stuck shoveling stew to particular people like me.
Anyway, the stew isn’t as good anymore – flavor’s off, probably because they’re just throwing the above ingredients together, putting the pot on simmer and otherwise not giving a crap. Maybe we’re seeing the same funks in financial districts everywhere, among big shots and their supporting businesses. Times may be bad for you, sweethearts, and maybe that's a shame, but the rest of us are done bothering.
2/6/09
Salmon Chowder
It's a chilly, rainy winter night, and we've warmed ourselves up a bit with a hearty salmon chowder. The idea sprang from necessity. End of the week: our fridge is bare, but we have a pound of wild salmon from T.J.s in the freezer ready to be defrosted. That's our dinner, but we want to try something different than the usual broiled fish recipe. It's between fish soup and salmon cakes, and the chowder recipe wins out.
We start with four slices of bacon, cut into inch-long bits, in a big pot, crisped up nice. We remove the bacon, reserve the bacon grease for cooking potatoes, celery and onions until soft. We then add the broth of water, white wine and milk to the vegetables. Throw in the salmon for a few minutes, sprinkle in some fresh dill and you're ready to slurp.
The bowl is filling, creamy and flavorful. I especially like the different textures: firm potatoes, crunchy celery and soft salmon cubes. To top it off, Alex mixes up a spicy little raita of cucumbers to toss in the bowl for an extra kick. In all, an easy, fairly healthy potage de poisson I'd make again.
We start with four slices of bacon, cut into inch-long bits, in a big pot, crisped up nice. We remove the bacon, reserve the bacon grease for cooking potatoes, celery and onions until soft. We then add the broth of water, white wine and milk to the vegetables. Throw in the salmon for a few minutes, sprinkle in some fresh dill and you're ready to slurp.
The bowl is filling, creamy and flavorful. I especially like the different textures: firm potatoes, crunchy celery and soft salmon cubes. To top it off, Alex mixes up a spicy little raita of cucumbers to toss in the bowl for an extra kick. In all, an easy, fairly healthy potage de poisson I'd make again.
1/24/09
In Honor Of...
On the first day of life of Miss Gerencharus, first name undecided as of 10am, I sign into the Bistro and record my meal:
- French-cut bone-in pork chops, dry rubbed with cinammon, nutmeg, salt, pepper, clove, and a few other exotic powders, broiled on the lowest rung for ~8 min. each side.
- Purple cabbage and apple, slow-braised in a Central European style with caraway seeds, apple-cider vinegar, and caramelized onions. Soul food for my tribe.
- Chocolate chip and walnut cookies.
May all her meals be comforting, may she live a life both nutritious and delicious. Congratulations to the lovely parents, and we can't wait to bring you sustenance from the Bistro kitchen.
- French-cut bone-in pork chops, dry rubbed with cinammon, nutmeg, salt, pepper, clove, and a few other exotic powders, broiled on the lowest rung for ~8 min. each side.
- Purple cabbage and apple, slow-braised in a Central European style with caraway seeds, apple-cider vinegar, and caramelized onions. Soul food for my tribe.
- Chocolate chip and walnut cookies.
May all her meals be comforting, may she live a life both nutritious and delicious. Congratulations to the lovely parents, and we can't wait to bring you sustenance from the Bistro kitchen.
1/4/09
El Jefe of the Weiss
To feed the in-laws the other day, I thought of goulash, and not just because there's some Hungarian in that Gerencher family. I wanted to reprise the knockout dish I made for some Canadian friends of Kristen a couple of years ago, a great kitchen success that included the salad of wilted red cabbage, all off recipes from Wallsé, which is a fave of New York musician and gourmand James Roe, whom I met through Paul Festa and is how I'm a few degrees off Kevin Bacon.
Quick highlights before I bump off to bed: It was a little different this time, and it probably was because I added the juice of half a lemon at the end, as directed. (Don't remember adding that the first time around.) Or was it the can of beef stock? Though I'm still thinking about that slight sourness, almost everyone went back for more. Nuking it the second day, I finished it with a small, small corner of butter, and for me that did the trick.
Some impromptu shopping at the New World Market on Geary brought out the perfect pairing for the goulash: a dark wheat beer from Bavarian State Brewery Weihenstephaner. Cloudy, yeasty, caramelly and from the world's oldest brewery to boot. So it says right there on the label, "seit 1040." Maybe I'll get one during tax time.
Quick highlights before I bump off to bed: It was a little different this time, and it probably was because I added the juice of half a lemon at the end, as directed. (Don't remember adding that the first time around.) Or was it the can of beef stock? Though I'm still thinking about that slight sourness, almost everyone went back for more. Nuking it the second day, I finished it with a small, small corner of butter, and for me that did the trick.Some impromptu shopping at the New World Market on Geary brought out the perfect pairing for the goulash: a dark wheat beer from Bavarian State Brewery Weihenstephaner. Cloudy, yeasty, caramelly and from the world's oldest brewery to boot. So it says right there on the label, "seit 1040." Maybe I'll get one during tax time.
12/16/08
Another Victory for the Humble Earl
While stewing (more like constipating) over my latent blog entry, "The Case Against Food Porn" (let me give you a taste: "I balled Salman Rushdie! Have you heard of him?"), I've done several things worthy of note, including passing on various complimentary wine tastings and consuming escargot. The overnight in the wine country always works out great for K and I, as it did for that couple in the room above, who balled for hours starting very early in the morning. (Now that I've used that expression twice, you won't see me dribble it out again.) "Good on ya!" I say.
I enjoyed the escargot with puff pastry and parsley foam at Santé, which manages to live up to the breathless marketing and reviews. Great prep and execution on the dishes, impeccable service, fine linens. Also a divine room with my kind of music -- swinging hard bop without the vocals. Too bad the cheese course is too rich for my blood these days. (This is what happens when you put a scale in the men's room at the spa.)
If anyone else has had snails, would love to trade notes. Yet the most memorable meal was in nearby Glen Ellen, with its more downscale family atmosphere and a few flies here and there. I had the Sonoman, which is the grilled turkey sandwich on really dark whole-wheat bread with Vella peppers and onions, plated with a hefty mixed-green salad. You know how some places put their dressings in those little plastic cups? Have you ever had dressing out of there that not only held the right proportion of oil and vinegar and spices, but also had the right tartness and peppery bite? I know my sandwiches and salads, and everything on this plate was delicious.
K and I just hung out after eating and read a couple of newspapers. Staff didn't even blink. Hey, Rachael Ray digs it too. Swing by next time you're up there.
I enjoyed the escargot with puff pastry and parsley foam at Santé, which manages to live up to the breathless marketing and reviews. Great prep and execution on the dishes, impeccable service, fine linens. Also a divine room with my kind of music -- swinging hard bop without the vocals. Too bad the cheese course is too rich for my blood these days. (This is what happens when you put a scale in the men's room at the spa.)
If anyone else has had snails, would love to trade notes. Yet the most memorable meal was in nearby Glen Ellen, with its more downscale family atmosphere and a few flies here and there. I had the Sonoman, which is the grilled turkey sandwich on really dark whole-wheat bread with Vella peppers and onions, plated with a hefty mixed-green salad. You know how some places put their dressings in those little plastic cups? Have you ever had dressing out of there that not only held the right proportion of oil and vinegar and spices, but also had the right tartness and peppery bite? I know my sandwiches and salads, and everything on this plate was delicious.
K and I just hung out after eating and read a couple of newspapers. Staff didn't even blink. Hey, Rachael Ray digs it too. Swing by next time you're up there.
12/10/08
Teed Off: A dump that serves osso buco
It's not quite 8pm on Tuesday night, and the bartender is screaming. People are cupping their hands to their ears so that they can hear him screaming. They are screaming back at the bartender. No one can hear anybody talking, because all they can hear is a steady stream of classic and contemporary hip-hop, played at near-club volume. Run-DMC, Warren G, Ludacris, repeat. ("I got ho's in different area codes!") Laz is screaming, Lash is screaming, and I am screaming.
Welcome to the Tee Off Bar & Grill, an inelegant tavern on a forgotten block of the Outer Richmond. A long-shuttered Albertsons stands across the street, where the remains of a disused Safeway crumbled for years. Elsewhere on the block are a sweet cafe with a pleasant backyard, a sushi joint favored by the Lefferts crew but not so much by me, a dry cleaner that prides itself on Internet service, a moderately expensive Middle Eastern place whose doorstep I have never darkened, a hybrid Burmese-Thai place that outshines Burma SuperStar without the wait, and a Chinese restaurant you don't need to hear about. Wait, is there still a bait-and-tackle shop too?
The buzz has grown for the Tee Off out here in the 121, mostly thanks to its impending appearance on the Food Network's Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. ("We're going to be on the Food Network soon," says the bartender, "I think probably next month." The other bartender told me the same thing in September.) Whenever it actually happens, the Tee will qualify for the last of the three titular traits -- ripped barstool covers with fluff coming out, years-old graffiti in the men's room, beer-impregnated carpet, warped pool cues. There's a seven-foot-long table in the back that has only one chair, because they've stored a couple of large television sets underneath it. Inertia rules the day.
And yet, the bartender uses the word "sous-chef" to describe a fellow employee. On this particular night, the wipe-off whiteboard menu features seared pork tenderloin with wild rice, mushroom pizza, ribeye and porterhouse steaks, battered mushrooms, a pulled pork sandwich and osso buco, in addition to burgers, mac & cheese and other traditional bar fare. In a memorable turn, they offered a kangaroo entree a few weeks ago, and risotto regularly turns up too.
We get pints of Poppy Jasper, a malty ale from Morgan Hill's El Toro Brewing Co. that's apparently named for some local rocks. The Tee knows its market: well-selected microbrews, and yellow American lagers with hipster appeal. The tapsman doesn't even bother to wipe down the bar in front of us. It's all right.
My pulled pork sandwich arrives in about 20 minutes. It's huge, served on a sourdough roll with fresh greens, sliced Roma tomatoes, pickles and white onion sitting on the side. Crisp, seasoned shoestring fries are all over the plate. They haven't slathered my sandwich in barbecue sauce, but have helpfully provided a cardboard six-pack holder with hot sauce and other condiment options. It's a little fatty, entirely satisfying, and costs $9. BroGo's burger has deep-fried onion rings piled on top, and looks equally strong, priced at $11. I'll leave it to the others to describe their fungus-topped pizza, since I still avoid that kingdom.
*
As satisfying as my meal was, I had to get out of there. Two hours of punishing beats are a bit much, no matter how finely I'm treating my palate, and at least one of the locals in the back seemed like he was ready for trouble. (In perhaps ten prior visits, spread out over my nine years in the hood, I've seen people get dragged out of there twice.) Also, it was 52 degrees outside, and 58 degrees inside the bar. People were sitting around drinking whiskey in parkas and scarves. When I returned to my frugally-heated 66-degree home, it felt like an oven. Bet the Tee is warm in the kitchen, though -- that's where the action is.
Welcome to the Tee Off Bar & Grill, an inelegant tavern on a forgotten block of the Outer Richmond. A long-shuttered Albertsons stands across the street, where the remains of a disused Safeway crumbled for years. Elsewhere on the block are a sweet cafe with a pleasant backyard, a sushi joint favored by the Lefferts crew but not so much by me, a dry cleaner that prides itself on Internet service, a moderately expensive Middle Eastern place whose doorstep I have never darkened, a hybrid Burmese-Thai place that outshines Burma SuperStar without the wait, and a Chinese restaurant you don't need to hear about. Wait, is there still a bait-and-tackle shop too?
The buzz has grown for the Tee Off out here in the 121, mostly thanks to its impending appearance on the Food Network's Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. ("We're going to be on the Food Network soon," says the bartender, "I think probably next month." The other bartender told me the same thing in September.) Whenever it actually happens, the Tee will qualify for the last of the three titular traits -- ripped barstool covers with fluff coming out, years-old graffiti in the men's room, beer-impregnated carpet, warped pool cues. There's a seven-foot-long table in the back that has only one chair, because they've stored a couple of large television sets underneath it. Inertia rules the day.
And yet, the bartender uses the word "sous-chef" to describe a fellow employee. On this particular night, the wipe-off whiteboard menu features seared pork tenderloin with wild rice, mushroom pizza, ribeye and porterhouse steaks, battered mushrooms, a pulled pork sandwich and osso buco, in addition to burgers, mac & cheese and other traditional bar fare. In a memorable turn, they offered a kangaroo entree a few weeks ago, and risotto regularly turns up too.
We get pints of Poppy Jasper, a malty ale from Morgan Hill's El Toro Brewing Co. that's apparently named for some local rocks. The Tee knows its market: well-selected microbrews, and yellow American lagers with hipster appeal. The tapsman doesn't even bother to wipe down the bar in front of us. It's all right.
My pulled pork sandwich arrives in about 20 minutes. It's huge, served on a sourdough roll with fresh greens, sliced Roma tomatoes, pickles and white onion sitting on the side. Crisp, seasoned shoestring fries are all over the plate. They haven't slathered my sandwich in barbecue sauce, but have helpfully provided a cardboard six-pack holder with hot sauce and other condiment options. It's a little fatty, entirely satisfying, and costs $9. BroGo's burger has deep-fried onion rings piled on top, and looks equally strong, priced at $11. I'll leave it to the others to describe their fungus-topped pizza, since I still avoid that kingdom.
*
As satisfying as my meal was, I had to get out of there. Two hours of punishing beats are a bit much, no matter how finely I'm treating my palate, and at least one of the locals in the back seemed like he was ready for trouble. (In perhaps ten prior visits, spread out over my nine years in the hood, I've seen people get dragged out of there twice.) Also, it was 52 degrees outside, and 58 degrees inside the bar. People were sitting around drinking whiskey in parkas and scarves. When I returned to my frugally-heated 66-degree home, it felt like an oven. Bet the Tee is warm in the kitchen, though -- that's where the action is.
11/27/08
For the Contentment of Coffey
A colleague and guest Bistrovian has been bugging me for a miniburger/slider recipe, as if I've even come close to getting it right. Don't you know by now that I've been a late bloomer my whole life? Anywhere, here's the download:
You want to get some meat. I've done two experiments, one with two kinds of ground sirloin (half the regular stuff, the other half grass-fed), and the other with half chuck (yes, the fatty kind, cheaper) and half sirloin (grass-fed, more spendy). It varied the second time because the butcher refused to accept that a flavorful burger could be done without some fat. Now that I've tried them both, I can't say which I like more. Give me a couple more years.
Where was I? Oh yes, you get a good pound or two of quality beef together. Season it with some salt (if you're ready to cook), fresh ground pepper, a few squirts of soy sauce, a dollop of teriyaki, a dash of cumin, a couple cloves of finely chopped garlic. What else? Worcesteshire sauce. Why the hodgepodge? Well, because you want lots of flavor in a small package. Knead.
Make little meatballs in the palms of your hands, a bunch of them, and put them on a cutting board or broad dish. Then, and this is key, you want to press down on the meatball and flatten it. Trial and error will help you see whether your meatball should be smaller or larger, and whether your minipatties should be thinner or thicker.
Cook 'em as you'd cook any burger, in a pan right on the stove. I'm sure they would brown nicely in a George Foreman; I have a panini press, but I haven't tried them in there. Set them aside until you're ready to assemble, because now you want to make a little sauce.
In the same pan you've made the burgers, turn the heat back on and pour in some red wine. Then add a bit of butter and, if you have them, chopped shallots. Scrape a few browned bits from the bottom and let the booze reduce. When you have a consistency you like (a little runny is good), transfer your sauce into a small bowl.
For the buns, I recommend brioche from the Bay Boulangerie. They're a little much, but they're so delicious and just the right size. (Whole Foods and such stock them, but sometimes not the tiny ones.) Cut them in half (keep track of the pairs) and toast them a bit.
Assembly: Line a few buns up on a counter or working surface. If you like mayo, start by spreading some on the bottom of the top caps. Take the cooked minipatties and place them on the lower half of the brioche. With a spoon, ladle a little wine sauce on the meat. Add a slice of Roma tomato, and you're done. I'm open to suggestions on presentation.
You want to get some meat. I've done two experiments, one with two kinds of ground sirloin (half the regular stuff, the other half grass-fed), and the other with half chuck (yes, the fatty kind, cheaper) and half sirloin (grass-fed, more spendy). It varied the second time because the butcher refused to accept that a flavorful burger could be done without some fat. Now that I've tried them both, I can't say which I like more. Give me a couple more years.
Where was I? Oh yes, you get a good pound or two of quality beef together. Season it with some salt (if you're ready to cook), fresh ground pepper, a few squirts of soy sauce, a dollop of teriyaki, a dash of cumin, a couple cloves of finely chopped garlic. What else? Worcesteshire sauce. Why the hodgepodge? Well, because you want lots of flavor in a small package. Knead.
Make little meatballs in the palms of your hands, a bunch of them, and put them on a cutting board or broad dish. Then, and this is key, you want to press down on the meatball and flatten it. Trial and error will help you see whether your meatball should be smaller or larger, and whether your minipatties should be thinner or thicker.
Cook 'em as you'd cook any burger, in a pan right on the stove. I'm sure they would brown nicely in a George Foreman; I have a panini press, but I haven't tried them in there. Set them aside until you're ready to assemble, because now you want to make a little sauce.
In the same pan you've made the burgers, turn the heat back on and pour in some red wine. Then add a bit of butter and, if you have them, chopped shallots. Scrape a few browned bits from the bottom and let the booze reduce. When you have a consistency you like (a little runny is good), transfer your sauce into a small bowl.
For the buns, I recommend brioche from the Bay Boulangerie. They're a little much, but they're so delicious and just the right size. (Whole Foods and such stock them, but sometimes not the tiny ones.) Cut them in half (keep track of the pairs) and toast them a bit.
Assembly: Line a few buns up on a counter or working surface. If you like mayo, start by spreading some on the bottom of the top caps. Take the cooked minipatties and place them on the lower half of the brioche. With a spoon, ladle a little wine sauce on the meat. Add a slice of Roma tomato, and you're done. I'm open to suggestions on presentation.
11/8/08
So Little Pimm's, So Little Time
The lovely lady's getting her hairs done, which means that after braving the rain for the dry cleaner and then the markets (stuffed peppers a la Diva due for dinner), it was time to put on some records (My Morning Jacket, Jonathan Richman, Ray Barretto, Bruce Cockburn, Charlie Parker & Miles Davis), reflect a bit about the early episodes of "Mad Men," make a drink, watch the puddles.
Summer is not here and it's interesting that peering into the liquor cabinet, first thinking Manhattan, I wondered whether there was something I could do with the couple fingers of Pimm's I had in there courtesy of BrO and his spring cleaning years ago. The bottle cap still has the price from Astor Wine & Spirits, $10.39. The powers of the Internets were then summoned, with more than a dozen recipes coming up.
After texting Jomo I had a drink idea: make two! It's a good opportunity to use some of the barware, glassware and a clipboard. Here I have each recipe and tasting:
Pimm's Turbo
1 oz. gin (I used Plymouth)
1 oz. Pimm's
4 oz. Limonata by San Pellegrino
Put ice cubes in a red-wine glass or goblet, and add ingredients. Garnish with a lemon twist. (Use a channel knife.)
Melanie Pimm's
2/3 oz. Scotch (I used TJ's blended)
1-1/2 oz. Pimm's
1/3 oz. lemon juice
5 oz. Limonata by San Pellegrino
Put ice in a highball or Collins glass, and add ingredients. Garnish with a thin lemon wedge.
Now the comparison: The Turbo is all swinging London, smooth sipping and easy living, perhaps the very essence of cocktail time. In a way, one could say, it bears any burden, meets any hardship to assure the survival and success of liberty, at any price. But the Melanie, with its darker shade as well as greater body and complexity given the blended Scotch and extra citrus, captures more of the "Here's That Rainy Day" mood. Off to the puddles.
Summer is not here and it's interesting that peering into the liquor cabinet, first thinking Manhattan, I wondered whether there was something I could do with the couple fingers of Pimm's I had in there courtesy of BrO and his spring cleaning years ago. The bottle cap still has the price from Astor Wine & Spirits, $10.39. The powers of the Internets were then summoned, with more than a dozen recipes coming up. After texting Jomo I had a drink idea: make two! It's a good opportunity to use some of the barware, glassware and a clipboard. Here I have each recipe and tasting:
Pimm's Turbo
1 oz. gin (I used Plymouth)
1 oz. Pimm's
4 oz. Limonata by San Pellegrino
Put ice cubes in a red-wine glass or goblet, and add ingredients. Garnish with a lemon twist. (Use a channel knife.)
Melanie Pimm's
2/3 oz. Scotch (I used TJ's blended)
1-1/2 oz. Pimm's
1/3 oz. lemon juice
5 oz. Limonata by San Pellegrino
Put ice in a highball or Collins glass, and add ingredients. Garnish with a thin lemon wedge.
Now the comparison: The Turbo is all swinging London, smooth sipping and easy living, perhaps the very essence of cocktail time. In a way, one could say, it bears any burden, meets any hardship to assure the survival and success of liberty, at any price. But the Melanie, with its darker shade as well as greater body and complexity given the blended Scotch and extra citrus, captures more of the "Here's That Rainy Day" mood. Off to the puddles.
10/23/08
Don't Drink Long Island Iced Teas, Even If You Have To
El Gran Ron weighs in on a fussily ordered he had, yes, at our Perbacco:
> As Luis Bunuel (and I) would respond, it is crucial to use only uncrushed, whole ice cubes in making martinis and to place them and the gin only into a shaker, not some beaker. Stirred martinis -- often and wrongly stirred in a beaker so as not to "bruise" the gin -- are for ignorant and often pretentious pussies. Gin does no bruise, but it does improve in lip-smacking "dryness" when served very, very cold and as undiluted as possible by (yech) water from (ugh) crushed ice. Martinis are serious business, not slushies. Moreover, the shaker should be agitated (without beating the ice to death and cracking it) for some several minutes. at which point the martini should be poured into an already chilled martini glass. We'll leave the choice and application of types of vermouth and olives, onions or other delicacies to be served within the martini for another time.
I hope you don't take offense, Antonio Luis, but that slick bartender at Perbacco, who you seemed to know by name [this would be Scott -AL] and vice-versa, did not make a good, not even a decent, martini, I am sad to tell you, despite the fact that he tried twice. If he focused less on his fancy hand-job routines in making drinks and various other showoff flim-flam behind bar and more time reading and studying and understanding what a good martini is and how to make one, he might be salvageable; though frankly he seems to too vain and hubristic to me to ever be a good bartender, whose major attributes have to be a total absence of needless flash and filagree and a basic, openly expressed sense of humility and compassion.
So, in the slightly altered advice of Abe Polonsky, I would encourage you not to give up and come to a false understanding before you have to. If you ever get any crushed ice in your martini, the putz behind the bar has flim-flammed you with fency hand jobs into believing that he knows what he's doing. The only defense is to know more and better than he does.
As ever,
El Gran Ron
> As Luis Bunuel (and I) would respond, it is crucial to use only uncrushed, whole ice cubes in making martinis and to place them and the gin only into a shaker, not some beaker. Stirred martinis -- often and wrongly stirred in a beaker so as not to "bruise" the gin -- are for ignorant and often pretentious pussies. Gin does no bruise, but it does improve in lip-smacking "dryness" when served very, very cold and as undiluted as possible by (yech) water from (ugh) crushed ice. Martinis are serious business, not slushies. Moreover, the shaker should be agitated (without beating the ice to death and cracking it) for some several minutes. at which point the martini should be poured into an already chilled martini glass. We'll leave the choice and application of types of vermouth and olives, onions or other delicacies to be served within the martini for another time.
I hope you don't take offense, Antonio Luis, but that slick bartender at Perbacco, who you seemed to know by name [this would be Scott -AL] and vice-versa, did not make a good, not even a decent, martini, I am sad to tell you, despite the fact that he tried twice. If he focused less on his fancy hand-job routines in making drinks and various other showoff flim-flam behind bar and more time reading and studying and understanding what a good martini is and how to make one, he might be salvageable; though frankly he seems to too vain and hubristic to me to ever be a good bartender, whose major attributes have to be a total absence of needless flash and filagree and a basic, openly expressed sense of humility and compassion.
So, in the slightly altered advice of Abe Polonsky, I would encourage you not to give up and come to a false understanding before you have to. If you ever get any crushed ice in your martini, the putz behind the bar has flim-flammed you with fency hand jobs into believing that he knows what he's doing. The only defense is to know more and better than he does.
As ever,
El Gran Ron
10/13/08
Lucky Star
No matter how hard I try, I can't stop eating. K has learned to schedule activities around a meal. "We're meeting so-and-so at 11 and then we can walk to the lunch spot. OK?" I nod and begin daydreaming.
This time our walk brought us to B Star, which I believe is an outgrowth of the still hugely popular Burma Superstar a block over. Haven't been there in a decade, and I'm sure it's still quite good.
But the mojo I think is now at B Star. I couldn't quite figure out what to get, which is something that happens, like, never. Should I have a soft-shell po' boy or the mango salsa tacos? Can one eat too much soft-shell crab, or too many tacos? (I still drool at the memory of the crab I had on our honeymoon in Maryland, pulled out of the water 15 feet from my table the minute I ordered it. Then there was the taco stand, rather a taco lot, at Santa Monica and Vermont in L.A., which had the handwritten sign in Spanish that said, and I'm paraphrasing, "Please bear with us. We are working to comply with the city health department." Everything there was $1.)
K had the French toast with Nutella and strawberries.
I had the pork belly with white beans and bok choy.
I asked for a bit of Sriracha. Not even a grain of jasmine rice was left over.
Lunch or brunch or what have you, we won't be doing Q. We're not ready to splurge on Philippe's Clementine. The B is our shiny new thing.
This time our walk brought us to B Star, which I believe is an outgrowth of the still hugely popular Burma Superstar a block over. Haven't been there in a decade, and I'm sure it's still quite good.
But the mojo I think is now at B Star. I couldn't quite figure out what to get, which is something that happens, like, never. Should I have a soft-shell po' boy or the mango salsa tacos? Can one eat too much soft-shell crab, or too many tacos? (I still drool at the memory of the crab I had on our honeymoon in Maryland, pulled out of the water 15 feet from my table the minute I ordered it. Then there was the taco stand, rather a taco lot, at Santa Monica and Vermont in L.A., which had the handwritten sign in Spanish that said, and I'm paraphrasing, "Please bear with us. We are working to comply with the city health department." Everything there was $1.)
K had the French toast with Nutella and strawberries.
I had the pork belly with white beans and bok choy.
I asked for a bit of Sriracha. Not even a grain of jasmine rice was left over.
Lunch or brunch or what have you, we won't be doing Q. We're not ready to splurge on Philippe's Clementine. The B is our shiny new thing.
10/7/08
Around the Neighborhood with 80 Bucks
While I scrounge around to remember what the lovely, saucy, superknowledgeable ladies brought me at Beretta (like the charred radicchio with ... ), I give you my tab from Kabuto. Yes, I was warned about Kabuto, stuck sort of nowhere a few blocks off Park Presidio. But do I ever listen?
1849 Oysters, 2 pieces (oyster, uni, quail egg, tobiko): $10
Abalone, 2 pieces: $10
Akamutsu (snapper?), 2 pieces: $10
CeViChe (flash-fried seaweed, halibut, salsa), 2 pieces: $5
Escolar, 2 pieces: $6
Shima Aji (like butter), 2 pieces: $7
Osumimono (clear soup): $4
Wakame (seaweed and greens salad): $5
Asahi, black: $5
Hojicha (green tea, free refills): $2
That adds up to $64, and tax is about $5, and I tipped too (imagine) so there you go. It's perhaps my most expensive single meal, and have to say one of the best. See you there during the next boom.
1849 Oysters, 2 pieces (oyster, uni, quail egg, tobiko): $10
Abalone, 2 pieces: $10
Akamutsu (snapper?), 2 pieces: $10
CeViChe (flash-fried seaweed, halibut, salsa), 2 pieces: $5
Escolar, 2 pieces: $6
Shima Aji (like butter), 2 pieces: $7
Osumimono (clear soup): $4
Wakame (seaweed and greens salad): $5
Asahi, black: $5
Hojicha (green tea, free refills): $2
That adds up to $64, and tax is about $5, and I tipped too (imagine) so there you go. It's perhaps my most expensive single meal, and have to say one of the best. See you there during the next boom.
9/19/08
Recipe: John McCain’s Alphabet Soup
The fawning food press and popular books like "The United States of Arugula" love name-checking the big shots like Daniel Boulud and Jean-Georges Vongerichten. Not name-checked are those like Ivan Arias, who basically are cheated out of the equivalent of a tab for two at the swanky eateries where they work as much as 60 hours a week. This smacks of grotesque since these chef-owners often give away free dinners to their BFFs as a matter of doing business.
http://tinyurl.com/4rro5q
Here’s how we know what’s going on: The lawyer for the restaurateurs picks up campaign talking points and blames the patchwork of antiquated rules and regulations. Also the trial lawyers.
Tip of the hat to my Latin brothers.
http://tinyurl.com/4rro5q
Here’s how we know what’s going on: The lawyer for the restaurateurs picks up campaign talking points and blames the patchwork of antiquated rules and regulations. Also the trial lawyers.
Tip of the hat to my Latin brothers.
9/11/08
Recipe: Pork Chile Verde
What the hell? K and I are now past the halfway point in her pregnancy and I can't find my keys or remember anything anymore. No, I'm not going to get an iPhone and make it all better. I'll run down some of the treats I still have notes on from Fat City:
• Oysters, wild mushroom salad and golden-beet ravioli with Hahn Estates pinot, at Bin 36.
• Oyster shooters with quail egg, and the "hye roller," at Meiji. Earlier I got attitude at the wine bar two doors down. Too bad for them.
8-12 fresh Anaheim peppers
2-3 pounds trimmed boneless pork shoulder, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1 big onion
4-6 cloves of garlic
1 can El Pato jalapeño sauce
Start by firing the peppers. In batches, put two or three peppers directly on the stove burners, turned on full blast, with tongs. As you blacken them up, shift them into a ziplock bag to cool. (Do them in batches so you don't end up with lots of soiled bags.) Peel them by hand, without fretting over each speck of black. Set them on cutting boards to seed and chop finely.
In a big, heavy braising pot, heat up some oil. Brown the pork well, letting some of the juices evaporate. Scoop everything out to make your sofrito. Sauté the onion, then add the chilies and seasonings like salt, pepper, chili powder, a little oregano and cumin. Throw in the garlic for a minute until it's aromatic. Then add El Pato and stir to reduce a bit.
Add the pork and 4 cups of water. Turn the heat to medium and cover to bring to a boil. Once it's hot and bubbly, take the cover off and simmer for 3 hours until the meat's fork-tender. Serve with rice or just with chopped red onion and cilantro. Serves all your friends by the time you and everyone else is well into Negronis.
Bonus tip: Get the same amount of tomatillos as peppers. Take the papery skin off and pop them in boiling water for 10 minutes. Pulse them in a blender or that little pulse thing and add them to the sofrito with the chopped chilies.
• Oysters, wild mushroom salad and golden-beet ravioli with Hahn Estates pinot, at Bin 36.
• Oyster shooters with quail egg, and the "hye roller," at Meiji. Earlier I got attitude at the wine bar two doors down. Too bad for them.
8-12 fresh Anaheim peppers
2-3 pounds trimmed boneless pork shoulder, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1 big onion
4-6 cloves of garlic
1 can El Pato jalapeño sauce
Start by firing the peppers. In batches, put two or three peppers directly on the stove burners, turned on full blast, with tongs. As you blacken them up, shift them into a ziplock bag to cool. (Do them in batches so you don't end up with lots of soiled bags.) Peel them by hand, without fretting over each speck of black. Set them on cutting boards to seed and chop finely.
In a big, heavy braising pot, heat up some oil. Brown the pork well, letting some of the juices evaporate. Scoop everything out to make your sofrito. Sauté the onion, then add the chilies and seasonings like salt, pepper, chili powder, a little oregano and cumin. Throw in the garlic for a minute until it's aromatic. Then add El Pato and stir to reduce a bit.
Add the pork and 4 cups of water. Turn the heat to medium and cover to bring to a boil. Once it's hot and bubbly, take the cover off and simmer for 3 hours until the meat's fork-tender. Serve with rice or just with chopped red onion and cilantro. Serves all your friends by the time you and everyone else is well into Negronis.
Bonus tip: Get the same amount of tomatillos as peppers. Take the papery skin off and pop them in boiling water for 10 minutes. Pulse them in a blender or that little pulse thing and add them to the sofrito with the chopped chilies.
8/11/08
Coffey from Cabo
My colleague and freelance Bistro blogger Michelle sends this pic, from Mariscos Mazatlán in downtown Cabo San Lucas. It's the seafood platter for two, or should I say at least two.
8/3/08
Fat City, II
We had a Tuesday night devoted for destination dining followed by improv theater, but the dinner was far more stimulating than the stagework, even though the hype and expectations were higher about the eatery. I suppose some purists avoid the rooms overseen by A-list chefs, as if they are somehow tainted. ("Nobody goes there, it's too crowded" is kinda the idea.) There's also the pitfall of not getting seated and getting attitude for not being so-and-so. Let me report that Rick Bayless and his Frontera Grill aren't bothering with shortcuts in the kitchen or short shrift at the front of the house. The place is mobbed, even at 6 on a Tuesday, but we arrived without a reservation and were greeted and seated in minutes. Maybe it's the Chicago nice.
Bayless has even thought through the aperitifs, including one based on hibiscus that also takes soda and bitters. For starters he's letting people go at all the shellfish and ceviche they can stomach, as well as making some Mexican mainstays small and scrumptious. We shared the sopes, which are English muffins of corn masa made tiny, tiny and topped with braised beef and roasted tomatoes.
My main course was the birria, or shredded goat meat, along with some fixins for tacos, just like if you were at a barbecue or outdoor party. K had mesquite-grillled chicken for her tacos. ("It was like the whole village was in there," she recalls. "I could taste the whole freaking village.")
My sister-in-law says that she's been eating rice and beans her whole life, and that she doesn't need them wrapped up in a tortilla. With high-quality ingredients, seasoning and preparation, you also don't need to drown everything in refried beans and melted cheese. On behalf of the whole freaking village, a big thank you to everyone at Frontera.
Bayless has even thought through the aperitifs, including one based on hibiscus that also takes soda and bitters. For starters he's letting people go at all the shellfish and ceviche they can stomach, as well as making some Mexican mainstays small and scrumptious. We shared the sopes, which are English muffins of corn masa made tiny, tiny and topped with braised beef and roasted tomatoes.
My main course was the birria, or shredded goat meat, along with some fixins for tacos, just like if you were at a barbecue or outdoor party. K had mesquite-grillled chicken for her tacos. ("It was like the whole village was in there," she recalls. "I could taste the whole freaking village.")
My sister-in-law says that she's been eating rice and beans her whole life, and that she doesn't need them wrapped up in a tortilla. With high-quality ingredients, seasoning and preparation, you also don't need to drown everything in refried beans and melted cheese. On behalf of the whole freaking village, a big thank you to everyone at Frontera.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)