Destination #36: Better than Liguria

My two biggest fans and supporters of the food list decided to cook me a birthday dinner. I took the ferry north across the bay to Marin where Cousin David and Janey were whipping up something magnificent at Jane's parent's house.

It was my first escape from the city in months since being committed to a restaurant's kitchen. Yet David and Jane surprised me by bringing a little piece of San Francisco to Marin... number sixty-eight on my list.

I had ventured to Liguria Bakery in North Beach a couple months earlier to pick up a loaf of foccacia, and even at four oclock in the pm, they were closed. Liguria sells their foccacia until they run out, and considering the focaccia is the only thing they sell, they run out quickly then close down shop for the rest of the day.

The bakery is by no means the cutesy italian deli one might expect in North Beach. It is slightly run down, and their menu is written on one of those tacky ice skating rink boards where one can switch out individual letters to create words. The menu, as aforementioned, is only comprised of different types of focaccia... plain, olive, rosemary, garlic, onion, and a few others.

Some people go to eateries and stores for the ambiance and not the quality of food. Liguria Bakery could only survive if their food were knee slapping good. And it is.

To put it simply, their focaccia is better than any focaccia I ate while in Liguria Italy this November (sorry my dear Italians). David and Jane bought a plain loaf, and it was by no means plane. The focaccia comes in thin square loaves and is light as a feather with a crisp and salty outer edge. It leaves behind the finest olive oil lip gloss.

The rest of my birthday dinner was fantastic. David seared tuna steaks while Jane cooked couscous and a spicy Basque roasted red pepper dish. They also made Jane's mom's world famous three-hour roasted tomatoes. It is comprised of canned plum tomatoes roasted for three hours until the sugars have become concentrated and the tomatoes take on a sweet toasty quality. Bursting with flavor, Jane and David topped slices of the focaccia with these tomatoes. Thank you, David and Jane, for your efforts of cooking tomatoes for three hours but the focaccia really doesn't need any accompaniment. It is just that tasty.

Destination #35: Eating the Ocean

I had done myself wrong in this city… I hadn’t eaten at a true seafood restaurant. Sure I’ve had fish dishes here and sushi there, but nothing to write home about. It was time to change all that. For Dad’s last day in SF before heading back up north, we went to Tadich Grill for lunch, one of the more famous seafood restaurants, and what is known to be the oldest restaurant in the city.

And it felt old. Everything from the décor to the tables and bar to the equipment to the employee uniforms made me feel as if I had stepped into a Humphrey Bogart mystery. Everything has been there since this location opened in the 1960s after Tadich Grill was established in 1849. There are only a few tables available by the windows right near the entrance. Otherwise all of the seating is at the long wooden bar leading to the copper bedecked kitchen.

Dad and I sat at the bar and ordered the mixed seafood plate and number sixty-four on my list, the sand dabs. I had no idea what sand dabs were. I had never seen them on a menu before, and our waitress thought I was crazy when I told her this. It is a Pacific coast fish that Tadich Grill had received fresh from the ocean that day. It is a thin slightly flaky fish similar to flounder, yet a bit oilier like halibut. Tadich Grill served three filets breaded and fried with a side of sautéed long Chinese green beans. The fish was the perfect combination between white flaky fish and oily steak, an important discovery for my food education.

Our mixed seafood plate was really the winner of the day. If I had gone swimming in the deep ocean with my mouth wide open, I probably would have eaten much the same meal. Smoked salmon, oysters, squid, smoked trout, mackerel, shrimp with cocktail sauce… you name it, it was probably there. All served on a bed of lettuce and tomatoes with fresh California avocado slices. Tadich Grill could probably do just fine with a one-item menu, that one item being their mixed seafood plate. It tasted like the ocean.

Whether ordering the mixed seafood plate, Sand Dabs, or their famous chowder, Tadich Grill is truly a San Francisco seafood spot, and remains a place in the city's history.

Destinations #33 and 34: Food as History

Zare at Fly Trap is one of the only restaurants on my list of one hundred that no one has heard of. It opened in 2008, making it one of my more newly opened destinations, but there is no reason that it shouldn’t have a bigger name. I would call it historical Mediterranean food, each dish with a story and a place in the past.

Dad and I ventured downtown to the swankier “Fidi” (financial district) and ducked into a hidden patio blooming with ivy and spider plants. The dimly lit and quiet dining room echoed the serenity of the patio entrance. Every dish on the menu had unique twists and interesting sounding flavors, so Dad and I decided to stick with just appetizers so that we could try more.

We immediately ordered the pistachio meatballs, Chef Zare’s signature dish and the item on my list. With a tart pomegranate glaze and crunchy pistachios, these meatballs were certainly tasty (although I thought the meat was a tad overcooked).

The dishes to follow, however, showed a certain inventiveness and authenticity that I always hope to find. The bone marrow with toast, black sea salt and quince jam made both Dad and I smile. The eggplant with rehydrated yogurt made Dad question why they bothered dehydrating than rehydrating when the chef could’ve just kept the yogurt hydrated in the first place. But like I said, Zare keeps the dishes authentic with a story in mind. If that’s how the Persians did it, that’s how Zare will do it, and it certainly pays off in the flavors of the food.

After our educational and delicious meal, the items on the dessert menu made my mouth water, even after stuffing my face with oozing, dripping bone marrow. But Dad and I decided to pull ourselves away from Fidi and grabbed a cab headed down south to Mitchell’s Ice Cream to knock another one off my list.

Mitchell’s smelled like the Carvel I used to go to growing up, but their flavors are more daring. They have a section in the ice cream display case particularly for their stranger flavors, most of which contain rare tropical fruits from the Philippines, one of which is called Ube… a purple yam. That’s the flavor I was to order.

It was another mildly flavored and slightly boring ice cream cone. I kept licking and licking hoping to eventually taste something, but all I could really decipher was purple wax.

If for some reason you happen to be milling about way down south in Noe Valley and get a serious hankering for ice cream, then give Mitchell’s a visit for their homemade ice cream and friendly atmosphere. Otherwise, I would advise to stay out of the projects and treat yourself to Bi Rite. Next time, I will stay at Zare at Fly Trap for another course. I can only imagine what their desserts could do to the palate.

Destination #32: Afternoon Delight

Since my discovery of beer, I have also discovered that even better than a cold beer is a cold beer in the afternoon. It is unexpected, like a matinee, or salt on chocolate, or sex in the morning.

Monk’s Kettle has both good food and beer, so Dad and I decided to go for lunch. I asked my waitress for a recommendation of an “obscure Belgian beer,” number 50 on my list. The waitress scoffed at this question, as most of the beers on the menu at Monk’s Kettle are obscure, or not easily found. Looking over the thirty-page beer menu, she picked out a few that I might like. After trying samples of each of her recommendations, I chose one and enjoyed sipping my twelve-dollar afternoon beer.

Yes… that’s right, twelve-dollars for twelve ounces of fizzy alcohol. The price of the beer at Monk’s Kettle is almost more impressive than the breadth of the menu. I would highly recommend a trip to Monk’s Kettle for the relaxed atmosphere and the incredible selection of rare beer, but I would advise against going for the purpose of a drunken Friday night. This would not only rob you of your spending allowance, but of your entire bank account. I can easily imagine drinking a little too much and thinking that buying a forty-dollar beer made by Belgian Trappist monks is a fantastic idea.

But for an afternoon or evening beer, Monk's Kettle is a wonderful place. And no matter how many times one visits, there will always be a new beer to try.

Destination #31: Larb... Tastes Better Than It Sounds

Back to the Tenderloin... or the TL, as we like to call it, for another attempt at Thai food. After my boring Sai Jai Tai experience, I was hoping to make amends at Lers Ros with their duck larb, number 45 on the list.

Why it's called larb is beyond me. The presentation and flavor of the dish doesn't represent the word "larb" at all. Sitting down in this funky, slightly swankier thai joint, Liz, Jen and I received our plate of duck larb. My first thought was, "Finally! A salad!" The duck is minced in small pieces and tossed with fresh cilantro, basil, lettuce leaves, and a very tangy sauce of lime juice, fish sauce, sugar and chili peppers. The dish was light and refreshing, a welcome change to the previous dishes I had tried on my list (see ma po tofu). The salad was a flavor explosion, and enough to lift the spirits of anybody passing through the crackhead infested TL.

Before Lers Ros, I had never even seen larb on a menu. So I have now been further educated, thanks to 7x7 magazine. And I would gladly go back for more.

Destination #30: The Price of Living in SF

A friend was visiting San Francisco from Vermont and wanted to meet for breakfast and coffee. When “San Francisco” and “coffee” are put in the same sentence, the mathematical answer is Blue Bottle. In the early 2000s, an artist and coffee lunatic opened his own small roaster to produce coffee for snobs like himself. Today, Blue Bottle supplies the best restaurants in the city with their beans, and trains the restaurants to brew their coffee in the “correct” Blue Bottle fashion.

The result is a very San Franciscan drink, a dark roasted coffee, that which my coffee-freak father considers burnt tasting. Therefore, according to my father, Blue Bottle sells the most overpriced coffee in the world. Sorry Blue Bottle.

Surprisingly, this year Blue Bottle’s coffee did not make it onto 7x7’s list. Instead, it was their Belgian Waffle, and it made it to number forty-eight. I am lucky enough to have a fabulous new roommate who works for Blue Bottle, so he gave me the inside scoop on the Belgian Waffle: The Blue Bottle kiosk at the Ferry Building makes a small, dense, super sweet waffle for people on the go. The Blue Bottle café at the Mint Plaza makes your real deal Belgian Waffle with maple syrup, butter… the whole shooting match. That’s where I had to go.

With coffee in one hand and waffle in the other, my friend and I found stools at the window with the dim, rainy light shining in… a perfect breakfast ambiance. A quarter of the way through my waffle, I began eyeing my friend’s poached eggs on toast with a craving for protein. I began feeling recurring symptoms of my Bob’s apple fritter experience… the sugar shakes I like to call it. I’m sure this would be an enjoyable Belgian Waffle for those who enjoy fried doughy things more than I do. I was still looking for a crispier edge and saltier butter. So, worth the price? I'll have to agree with Dad.

Destination #29: Meatless Ragu

For girls night out, I met three friends at the swanky, San Francisco hot spot, A16. Walking through the front of a dark wooden facade into a dimly lit rustic interior from the Marina sunshine made me feel as though I were walking into a Hollis clothing store from a florescent mall.

We were lucky enough to snag a table with a view of the wood fired pizza stove and the railroad style kitchen, which matches the long-hallway feel of the restaurant itself. We started with a bottle of prosecco, and ordered many dishes to share over the next three hours, one of which was number fifty-one on my list, the maccaronara with ragu Nepoletana and ricotta salata.

This dish sounded super sexy when reading it. The maccaronara would inevitably be handmade, and what would ragu Nepoletana be? Some sort of thick meaty tomato sauce, probably. A Nepoletana pizza always has anchovy. Would there be anchovy??? And ricotta salata... a creamy fresh ricotta, pressed until firm and salted. I was intrigued.

It was a nice pasta dish with chunky red sauce and shaved cheese... whoopty freakin' doo. The noodle was long like spaghetti and round like the thick Vietnamese noodle, bún. The sauce was... tomato sauce. The ricotta salata shaved right on top. I did learn later that the sauce is cooked with a prosciutto rind for flavoring, but I did not pick up the prosciutto flavor (perhaps it was that one glass of prosecco that put me over the edge).

The rest of the food was... okay as well. The pizza was very underwhelming... doughy and cheesy. No italian would be proud of this pizza.

Working in the restaurant industry, I hear a lot of gossip about restaurants around the city. I now cook in a kitchen with a former A16 chef who gave me the full scoop. He left A16 when the kitchen began transitioning from a staff of passionate chefs whose goal it is to feed people the best food possible, to a staff with the sole purpose of making money and going home. This is a constant struggle in the current restaurant world… should one hire a fast, hard working, and cheap employee or a more detail oriented, foodie, who happens to cost more money.

Well, from my experience, the change in quality of food becomes obvious when you go from one genre of line cook to another. This is not to say that A16 doesn't care. I'm sure they do. Perhaps restaurants need to keep a close check on their values so that we truly do not turn into a fast food nation.

Destination #28: TGIF!

I finally got a Friday night off from the restaurant, so my dinner option was obvious. San Jalisco only serves their pozole on Fridays. This would be my one opportunity to try number sixty-three on my list.

San Jalisco is a restaurant located in the mission with the tackiest Mexican décor and the most extensive menu. It is the perfect atmosphere for eating authentic Mexican food amongst the Latino families of San Francisco.

I first deflated from the stress of work with a Michelada, a beer served over ice with lime juice, Worctestershire sauce, Tabasco sauce, and a salted rim… a Mexican beer cocktail, if you will.

When my waiter brought my bowl of pozole stew, I was a bit taken aback by the size of my bowl, but reminded myself that this would probably feed me five more meals.

The pozole was smoky with a sweet corniness and the broth was red with a chili pepper spice. The chunks of pork were fatty and hearty, and the fresh cabbage and radish on the side were enough to cool the palate. I would say my favorite part about the soup was finding a giant chunk of pig bone lying at the depths of my stew, infusing my meal with the most porky flavors.

After our meal, Jane, David and I walked through the Mission (me with my gigantic to-go container) and passed about five bacon-wrapped-hotdog stands. I was a little buzzed after my Michelada and considered for a second conquering another food on my list, but I was not drunk enough to consume more pig products that night.