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.
