I Left My Heart in San Fran-Cheesy; Part 1, Thursday.

Although I am itching to deviate, temporarily – as I do – from the restaurant writings, as there seem to be a few in a row at present, and I know everyone is just waiting with bated breath for my next story about how some very personal chunk of my life relates to one of my recipes, which I then share, I would be remiss if I didn’t discuss my recent trip to San Francisco and some dining out experiences with you.

Was that run on sentence?

Anyway, that being said, you will all have to wait a bit longer for my celery root soup with sunchoke “croutons” recipe.

Ever since food found such a prominent, and dominant, part of my life, I have wanted to go to Chez Panisse. But, as I have been able to travel little in the past seven or so years, it has not been checked off the list. Until very recently, that is.

A month or so ago I decided I was going to bust a move up the coast for one of my culinary adventures. I had fully intended to go at it alone until one night, after blathering on about my plan to Minty, it was decided: we were going to team up and conquer the food and cocktail scene in San Francisco together.

And so, two weeks ago, in my rented Toyota Corolla (my car would never make the journey, nor would anyone want to spend that much time in it), Minty and I hit the road. She, with her weekend bag. Me, with the suitcase I used when I spent two weeks in Europe – full. I am the world’s most horrible packer.

We were all set, cruising up the I-5N, had my iPod playing tunes, us, chatting away. About an hour and a half to two hours in, I look down and notice A. I’m going about 90 miles per hour, B. I have no actual clue what the speed limit is, and C. Regardless of the speed limit it is almost certain that I am speeding. And, D. right at that crucial moment, I also decide to pass the car in front of me. That car was a cop. First speeding ticket ever, check.

The remainder of the drive was glitch free with the exception of coming frighteningly close to running out of gas only moments after the whole ticket affair. Hey, I don’t proclaim to being that awesome of a driver. Just take a look at my car sometime.

The view from Carina's.

Well, rest easy, we made it there alive – and in amazing time! Upon arrival, I wanted coffee. Minty led us to wine. Oh, I suppose I can have a glass of wine. Or two.

You gotta love The Castro.

After settling in at our host, (and Minty’s friend) Carina’s place and having a little time to freshen up, the three of us headed out, on foot, to dinner. It was a beautiful, crisp night and I thoroughly enjoyed every second of soaking in the air and the city during our walk. 

That night we dined at Heirloom Cafe. The girls wanted to go to Frances, but as the wait was a bit, ahem, excessive we continued walking until we arrived at Heirloom. The girls were sweet. They knew my style was along the lines of sustainable, local, simple food – and they wanted to cater to it. Again, very conscientious of the ladies.

Heirloom was right up my alley. It actually reminded me, aesthetically, of a lot of the restaurants/cafes/bistros I grew up eating in back in Richmond. Small, and intimate, with wooden floors, vintage wall-paper, high, tin-stamped ceilings, and an airy, rustic feel. It also felt like Richmond in that we were the only guests under 50 years-old in the house. Interestingly, I discovered later that Heirloom, which opened up in the Mission District less than a year ago, is the brainflower of Matt Straus, former wine director at Wilshire and Grace, right here in sunny Los Angeles.

We were seated at a long, communal farm table that extended along the length of the middle of the room.  The wine list was tremendously impressive and about as big as a Tolstoy novel. After some dialogue with our affable server, we selected a beautiful, warm and rounded 2001 Savennieres, Baumard, which ended up pairing very nicely with everything we had to eat.

I thought the menu was small and precise. I always appreciate a tight, confident menu. We started with the Dungeness crab, endive, brioche croutons, lemon emulsion ($14), and a fresh linguine with shaved black truffles (I don’t recall the price). I was tremendously fond of the fresh, tart, and spritely salad. Those buttery, brioche croutons made me smiley from the inside out.

I am on an extreme pasta kick right now, and this was pretty great. The noodles were delicate and sanguine. And who can argue with a shaved, black truffle, especially in January! I could have had these two dishes all to myself, with that bottle of Savennieres and been fully sated and absolutely happy.

We then each ordered an entrée and sampled one another’s choices. Carina opted for the Maine sea scallops, sweet mashers, frisee, brown butter, currants ($22), Minty went with the fish soup, PEI mussels, manila clams, roasted fennel, saffron broth ($20), and I had the sliced duck breast, farro, carrots, confit cabbage, port sauce ($22). Minty also ordered the roasted yam risotto, chanterelles, crispy shallots, pistou ($15). She just couldn’t resist.

The duck, sadly, was a little disappointing in that it was under-seasoned. It was, however, cooked to perfection and its accoutrements were delightful. I loved the farro and port. Minty’s fish soup had a bold, beautiful broth and was chock full of fruits of the sea. I love fennel. I love saffron. I love seafood. I don’t normally opt for Bouillabaisse-like dishes (you never know what might float to the top), but I enjoyed my tastes of this dish. The risotto was outstanding. It was perfectly toothsome, slightly sweet, earthy and incorporated a perfect ceremony of color, taste and texture. I enjoyed Carina’s scallop dish as well. The scallops were spot on, but while I appreciated the brown butter, I was not necessarily a fan of the currants and sweet mash as plate partners. I realize I am a bit of a nut with the fruity stuff and my sweet and savory getting too muddled, but I honestly was just unsure about this dish conceptually, as a whole. I will add that I was alone with this opinion.

And this brings us to dessert – not something I normally indulge in, but what the hell - it was vacation. We got the apple and pear butter cake and a play on the Oreo, a cake-like concoction called o Ree Oh Or ee oHH cake. I loved the actual cake part of the pear and butter cake. The chocolate-y o Ree Oh Or ee oHH cake was fun, but by this time I needed a wheelbarrow to roll me out. Stick a fork in me, I’m done – you know?

Good stuff, Heirloom. If and when I return to San Francisco, I will return to you.

After dinner we met up with Donovan, a friend of Carina and Minty’s, and headed to a couple of bars where we bellied up and finished out the night. I recall a cute bartender at our second stop. I recall a cab ride home. I recall a sound night of sleep after a long drive and our first night of our adventure. I recall a couple of girls with tiny (ahem) hangovers the next morning.

More exciting San Francisco culinary adventures coming tout suite – including the eagerly anticipated Chez Panisse story, so stay tuned…

SugarFISH: Would Still Be A Deal at Twice the Price.

My dad was in town visiting a couple of weeks ago so I packed our schedule with all things food. I also scheduled October’s Dinner at Eight to coincide with his visit. So maybe I was showing off a little bit.

A few days prior to his arrival I received an email from the peeps at SugarFISH, inviting me and a guest for a meal. They were having a soft opening at their new location in a prime spot downtown, a stone’s throw from Bottega Louie. They officially opened on October 28.

I have been loving Nozawa’s sushi for the better part of a decade. Heather took me and my ex to Sushi Nozawa before we even moved out here and I have returned many times hence. I had not, however, ever been to any of his SugarFISHeseses – or, for that matter, heard a whole lot about them.

Oh, something to mention: my dad doesn’t like sushi. Or so he says. Yet, only the night before, I witnessed him happily devour a healthy slab of uni – an item that even many sushi lovers are wary of. So I figured, if I show Dad the freshest, most wonderful stuff I can think of and he still “doesn’t like sushi”, then that’s fair.

And so we begin.

Based on the website images of the other locations, I was expecting a big, open, si moderne sort of atmosphere (which is just not my cup of tea). Designed by Glen Bell of DEX Studio, to reflect the neighborhood which it inhabits, this SugarFISH is actually a fairly small space. And while it is design-y and conceptual, it maintains a certain intimacy. I dug it. The sleek combination of metal, wood and concrete, along with a smattering of clear, glass, pendant lamps suspended at different lengths from the ceiling actually give the effect of being at the bottom of the ocean with air bubbles rising to the top.

Oh, and while there is a bar, there is no sushi bar at this sushi bar. The chefs are back in a proper kitchen.

Immediately upon walking in we were greeted with a warm smile by one of the founders, Lele Massimi, who actually joined us for our meal. As we dined Massimi explained to us the driving force behind the SugarFISHeseses.

I mentioned Nozawa above. What I have not yet mentioned is that which is Sushi Nozawa. Number one, it’s exceptional. The quality of the fish is almost unparalleled. It can also be prohibitively expensive, especially to go on the regular. And then there is Kazunori Nozawa himself. At times referred to as the “Sushi Nazi”, Nozawa has become both lauded and feared for his omakase-style “Trust Me” menu and his extreme disdain for requests for California Rolls, cell phone usage in his establishment and any soul expecting special treatment (insert any number of A-list celebrities here).

And so the birth of SugarFISH: a streamlined menu hinging around three fixed price options with the same quality of fish without the same price tag. Nozawa still handpicks all of the sushi as the first in line at the fish market each morning (5am!). And while Nozawa himself is not preparing your meal, his son, Tom, is manning the kitchen. Additionally all players back in that kitchen have been directly trained by Nozawa.

As my dad and I looked between the “Trust Me” ($28.50), the “Trust Me / Lite” ($19.50) and the “Nozawa” ($35-$38), Lele decided to take matters in his own hands and told our sever that we were all getting the “Nozawa” (and then some).

And so, with my small bottle of Nozawa Super Dry sake ($9), and Dad with his Sapporo Light ($5), our gracious host, and dining companion, Lele, we dove into the food…

We opened with small plates of cold, organic edamame, which was light, lovely and crisp. This was followed by big eye tuna sashimi, which was drizzled with a delicate house-made ponzu and topped with thinly sliced bright-green scallions: diaphanous. 

Our next plate had a trio of sushi items: albacore, salmon and yellowtail. These were all supple and rich with Nozawa’s signature warm, vinegary rice (which I adore). I believe these were followed by an order of halibut sushi and an order of large scallop sushi. The scallops were plump with a beautifully sweet brine.

Next up was the toro hand roll followed by the crab hand roll. Sigh. So amazing. And we were informed by Lele to EAT IMMEDIATELY! Or the smartly crisped nori would no longer be smartly crisp. Noted. Always a favorite at Sushi Nozawa, and these did not disappoint tonight.

The item following the rolls was a surprise even to me: halibut fin sashimi. This is something I have never had before. The fin was firm and toothsome and swimming in that lovely ponzu. This was followed by salmon eggs, which were like big salty, oceanic bursty bubbles.

Oy. As you may well imagine, we were getting pretty full at this point. I was anticipating my usual ‘dessert’, uni. And so Lele had a couple of orders brought to the table. I often tend to judge a sushi restaurant by their uni and this did not disappoint. The Catalina sea urchin was creamy, briny and decadently delicious. Fortunately for me, Dad was getting so full that he could only eat one of his uni. More for moi!

We capped off our culinary adventure with the more traditional sushi “dessert”, unagi. There’s was just right: sweet, savory, warm and crunchy. Ooh, la la.

And so there you have it. SugarFISH has achieved their goal. They are serving up quality fish at a deal and a half. And guess what? Dad’s a convert! He loved it!

 All food and drinks were hosted.

Photos courtesy of SugarFISH.

Shiso Special

Last week I finally made it to Sushi Park for dinner. It was fantastic, fresh and inspired. The only drawback for me is its price tag is a bit prohibitive to be a place I could frequent.

One of my all-time favorite items when I'm in sushi-land is the scallop with a shiso leaf. It is usually garnished with a bit of coarse salt and a droplet of mirin. It is not to be dipped in soy sauce. This little gem of delight is impossibly delicate, subtle and perfectly rounded in both texture and flavor. The shiso adds an earthy, yet minty accent to the rich and sumptuous scallop bite – which makes sense as it is from the mint and basil family.

As I was waxing rhapsodic about the wonder and delight of the shiso leaf, our chef – who couldn’t help but overhear – generously handed me two small bundles of the little lovelies. I was already on cloud nine with the meal (with the exception of their sweet shrimp – not so hot), but this was just the shiniest, specialest thing ever!

So, the next two days my mind swirled with ideas of what I could do with my bounty of these prickly, pungent leaves. I found that Heidi, at 101 Cookbooks, had a lovely looking recipe for Edamame Salad with Shiso and Meyer Lemon Vinaigrette. But I was still trying to find a way to incorporate it into a dish that had no Japanese influence or ingredients. I actually made a pasta salad with roasted red peppers, artichoke hearts, roasted garlic, chives, and – in lieu of basil – I opted for shiso leaves, chiffonade. I dressed the whole thing with some oil, a little mirin and a scant dash of soy sauce, salt and pepper. It turned out nicely: fresh, sprited and surprising, if perhaps a bit busy.
 

That night, for dinner I had planned on preparing a steak using my awesome “perfect steak” recipe. Then it struck me, the steak could topped with a shiso leaf butter! That lovely, crisp and fresh accent to the steak would be a superb idea. I hoped.
 
Well it really worked out beautifully. This would be great item sharing a plate with a crisp salad and some sweet corn. All so fresh and Summery, colorful and creative.

Shiso Leaf Butter

14 medium shiso leaves, coarsely chopped (about 2/3 cup)
1 stick (4 ounces) unsalted butter, softened
½ tsp kosher salt
¼ tsp freshly cracked black pepper

Place all ingredients in food processor and blend until smooth. Smooth butter into a container and refrigerate. 

Place a generous dollop on top of your steak!

What's this? A seahorse-seashell party?

I spent the day by the ocean on Sunday. I live closer to an ocean now than I ever have in the past, yet I probably see it less than ever before. It’s probably because I’d rather not spend that much time in the car, in traffic. Or, perhaps because I know I have no interest in getting into the ocean. Or maybe because I have so few whole days free to meander. 

But every time I get out there there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

The salty, fresh smell in the air, the sandy breeze, the seagulls chirping and swirling around above, the laid back vibe, the cocktails… 

I don’t need to get over my irrational fear of jellyfish and get in the ocean, yet. I can appreciate it just fine from a wonky, old bar at the end of a pier with a mai tai in my hand and the sun melting into the ocean on the horizon. Watching the swells.

When I was finishing up high school and about to head off to college my dad, knowing I was interested in cooking, taught me a few basic recipes that were fairly simple, cheap and “guaranteed to wow anyone”. He taught me how to make a fabulous blanched green bean dish with only good salt, great olive oil and a squeeze of lemon (which I still make all the time, and have passed onto Heather who does the same). He taught me how to make the most decadent twice-baked potatoes with a super crispety outside and smoothest, richest insides, using 27,653 pounds of butter. He taught me building blocks, like how to make a roux for soup bases or a delicious cheese sauce to be poured over steamed broccoli. I learned to emulate his burgundy mushroom sauce served over a perfect medium-rare steak. 

And he taught me the recipe for a meal that can be made in the time that it takes for water to boil and pasta to cook. The dish’s broad strokes involve scallops and/or shrimp, white wine, garlic, a shallot and feta cheese. It’s inexpensive, fast, and everyone I have prepared it for has been tremendously impressed. And it is so easy.

My dad always told me “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach”. I suppose he did have a lot of (ahem) successful dates as a result of his own prowess in the kitchen. He also gave me a cookbook once in which he inscribed, “Feed someone a meal and they have a full stomach. Give someone a cookbook and they have a full stomach for life.” Ain’t he cute?

So off to college I went. And after my first year of losing 15 pounds as a result of the cafeteria’s food, my friends and I formed a food co-op. I would have been so excited to win my boyfriend’s heart through his stomach and cook all the wonderful meals I had learned, but the dude was a vegan. And so was his best friend, also in our food co-op. And his girlfriend. I believe there were about 2 or 3 vegetarians in there as well.

I honestly don’t recall any fun dishes I made during the entire 3 years of our food co-op. But I still always one-upped Frampy, who often brought a loaf of bread and pre-sliced pretend cheese (no dairy) for us to make our own sandwiches on his night to feed our gang.

Well, anyways that was ages (and ages) ago, and I have cooked for boyfriends and friends and, really, anyone who will eat my food. I don’t often teach people how to cook or even let anyone help me in the kitchen, for that matter. I like the food to magically appear before them, ready to be devoured. This dish, however, I do like to explain to my guests. The reason for this is that it is so astoundingly simple. And while I don’t often have dinners prepared for me (except in restaurants), I think everyone, especially people who claim to be unable to “boil water”, should be able to successfully execute this little gem. 

When I awoke yesterday morning my thoughts went immediately to my afternoon by the beach. I lamented not staying after the sunset to eat something beachy, yanked from the ocean. I think I was nervous that I was so unfamiliar with any of the restaurants there and didn’t want such a beautiful evening to be capped off with bad food.

So yesterday, as I filtered through the recipe box in my mind, searching for what I wished I had eaten for dinner after my day by the sea, it struck me: Dad’s Scallops & Shrimp over Linguine with Baked Feta!

So, I invited a friend over to try my dish last night. And I shared with him this recipe and technique. Perhaps he will be able to flex and make it for a date and wow her. He is, in fact, one of those people who never cooks (at least, not that I have seen) but does claim to make a mean enchilada…

Lighthouses rule.

Scallops & Shrimp over Linguine with Baked Feta

½ lb sea scallops

½ lb large shrimp, peeled and cleaned

½ cup chicken or vegetable stock

½ cup of dry white wine

3 tbsp olive oil

2 cloves coarsely chopped garlic

1 shallot, thinly sliced

1 Meyer lemon

1 tbsp chopped cilantro

1 tbsp chopped Italian parsley

8 oz linguine

salt and pepper to taste

¾ cup crumbled feta

In skillet, sauté shallots and garlic in oil over medium heat. Add stock, wine, lemon juice, parsley, and cilantro. Bring to boil, add scallops first, then shrimp a couple of minutes later. Sauté until pink: about 3-5 minutes. Be careful not to overcook. Salt & pepper to taste.

Pour seafood sauce over linguine in a casserole dish. Crumble feta over the dish and place in oven on broil for about 5 minutes or until feta is just browned.