Hedonia

An elegy for Eloise

(Image courtesy Anita/Married ...with Dinner)

On our way home from Sea Ranch on Sunday we stopped in for lunch at Eloise in Sebastopol. It's become our go-to spot when heading up to the coast, which we do with some frequency. This was perhaps our fourth or fifth visit in scarcely a year, our first being a celebratory dinner during an ersatz honeymoon last October.

Shuna turned us on to the place, and in the months since we'd come to be very fond of it. We loved the charming and aromatic garden, full of lavender and herbs, that flanked the front. We loved the homey simplicity of the interior, the way the light played off the walls and filled the airy space. The service always was casual but not too casual, friendly without being inappropriately chummy. And the food -- simple, well-prepared food -- was a refreshing tonic to high-concept wine country fare. 

When we arrived this time, we had just come off two hours of winding Route 1 curves. I am not prone to motion sickness; the only time I have ever been afflicted was on a deep-sea fishing expedition on choppy waters for eight hours. Still, upon arriving I was feeling the kind of disorientation you do from a carnival ride or, say, a ritual hazing.

I was still shaking off the woozies when we were seated. We were six, at the tail end of the lunch service, and they seated us at the far end. As my senses came back to me, I became increasingly aware all was not right.

Momofuku, too

Oh, the kerfuffle over a couple of high-profile New York chefs dragging out that tiresome trope: Bashing on San Francisco's food scene. Back in October, at the New York Food & Wine Festival, media darling David Chang and media whore Anthony Bourdain had an affable banter, calling bull**** on various aspects of their industry, including themselves. One of Chang's salvos was that, "there's only a handful of restaurants that are manipulating food ... ****ing every restaurant in San Francisco is serving figs on a plate with nothing on it." Later, Bourdain referred to Alice Waters as "Pol Pot in a muumuu," since she evidently killed off a couple million people in her Berkeley kitchen.

First of all, ha ha! Funny! No, really! And any San Francisco foodie types who got their panties in a bunch over this need to grow a sense of humor. But it's funny like pull-my-finger kind of funny. It's a joke we've heard a million times before, from that corny old uncle who still thinks it's as fresh and high-larious as the first time he told it decades ago.

Anyway, the whole point of our cuisine of unmanipulated food is that we have access to some of the best, freshest and most flavorful ingredients available anywhere. Why manipulate perfection?

Contigo

(Photo by Anita of Married ...with Dinner)

We have a new favorite restaurant.

Full disclosure: Chef-owner Brett Emerson is a personal friend and fellow blogger. And his restaurant is two blocks from our home, in an area where there is a relative dearth of good restaurants. So, we have a vested interest in seeing Contigo succeed. But I can say, having grazed our way through the ever-changing menu four times in as many weeks, that we would be enamored of this restaurant under any circumstances. 

Loyal readers and friends know that DPaul and I spent a month in Spain back in 2001. We began our journey in Catalonia, first with a few days in Sitges to cleanse our palates, and then on to five days in the magnificent city of Barcelona. We had little experience with Spanish food, much less Catalan, and happily delved into it expecting it would be much like our trips through Italy.

Ha.

While Spain and Italy may face each other across a vast sea and have shared roots going back millennia, their similarities, certainly on the culinary front, are few. We adapted quickly to this new diet of oily fishes, crispy fried croquetas and, above all else, pork pork porkity pork pork pork. But by the end of our month were desperate to eat anything other than Spanish food.

In our first week home, we indulged in all the pleasures endemic to San Francisco. Burritos! Sushi! We traipsed through our regular haunts, reacquainting ourselves with the food addictions we had established here.

And then, on the fifth day or so, the craving struck. Evening came, and the tapas, they were not there. Has anyone noticed my glass has no sherry in it? Where, for the love of all that is good and beautiful in the world, is my jamòn? We were faced with a void that needed to be filled, and would not be satisfactorily for a long time to come.

Chez Panisse

Despite both DPaul and I having lived in the Bay Area more or less 20 years apiece, and despite being avid diners, neither of us had ever eaten at the world-famous Chez Panisse. This is something we have long wanted to remedy, and have discussed doing so with various folks. At long last, our dear friends Nick and Russ made it happen, and better yet as a very thoughtful wedding gift. After one abortive attempt where we languished on the waitlist, they were finally able to land us a reservation last week, at 6 pm on Friday, February 13. Our excitement mounted as the date drew nearer.

On the big day, I planned to leave my Redwood City office sometime shortly after four, a time that normally allows for easy commuting all around the area. But the best laid plans of mice and men, and all that. I ended up having to give a presentation, which delayed my departure to slightly after 4:30. I had to drop my colleague off back in the city. It was raining and the Friday before a holiday weekend, and traffic was unusually bad for that time of day.

Crawling up the 101, my blood pressure rose as the time slipped inexorably by. By the time of our 6 pm dinner reservation, I was still in downtown San Francisco, stuck in dead-stop traffic waiting to get on the bridge. Veins throbbed in my temples as I screamed expletives at the top of my lungs. I sent DPaul a one-word text message: "Hopeless." I was on the verge of tears. The evening was ruined, and I would not be dining at Chez Panisse that night. The disappointment was crushing.

Cyrus

All right, people. I have heard your desperate pleas for my opinion on Cyrus. I have to confess, I almost decided not to post it after such a delay, but I feel better knowing that at least one other blogger out there is still catching up from President's Day. And anyway, I did manage to scribble down my impressions on the bleary morning after, so why waste the effort?

My other hesitation in posting is that, despite or perhaps because of the amount of fawning praise I've read about it, I just wasn't over-the-moon about the place. I mean, don't get me wrong; it was good. Very good even. There were some things I really adored. But the whole was felt a little less than the sum of its parts. I think that had we not done this so relatively close on the heels of a life-changing meal like Alinea, I might have felt differently.

Nearly every thing they did well was mildly blemished, sort of a wabi-sabi approach, as if perfection would be an affront to the fine dining gods. As with another recent diner, they were very accommodating of dietary restriction, in this case DPaul's wheat problem ... with one little oopsie (read on). The service was professional yet warm and affable, but we ended up with a less than stellar table (why my reservation was inferior to others, I'm still not clear) with a lot of traffic, causing the back of my head to be brushed with every passing server.

Now the bar, that's another matter. We specifically arrived early to have the opportunity to sit at the bar and sample one of mixologist Scott Beattie's world-famous concoctions, and we were not disappointed. DPaul predictably went right for the bourbon with the Frankfort Manhattan, featuring vanilla- and citrus-infused Buffalo Trace bourbon, which has since become our house bourbon. I, in turn, tried the Pelo del Perro, a palate-tickling affair of Charbay Ruby Red Grapefruit vodka, Chinaco Silver tequila, grapefruit juice, lime juice, agave nectar, grapefruit foam and a red-salt rim. The garnish were three minuscule rosemary blossoms floating on top, each a tiny explosion of woodsy bouquet. Perfect.

Though we both partook of the 7-course chef's tasting menu, DPaul's was obviously  occasionally different due to the absence of wheat. Also, we opted for different wine pairings to mix things up; I took the standard pairing, and DPaul selected the Grand Tasting pairing, customized to highlight the chef's tastng menu ... at approximately twice the price. Worth the differential? Sometimes.

We both agreed that it would be delightful to return and enjoy a meal in the bar area with some excellent cocktails. So, a happy ending by and by.

After the jump, the blow-by-blow description of our meal.

Tasting 2007

The end of the year is a natural point of reflection. Lately I've been thinking back on some of the more delicious memories of 2007, new and interesting experiences all. I'll present them here, in no particular order:

• Grilled squid at Pescheria: Served in a charming little enamelized crock, these tender, smoky squid rocked my world.
• Shaved raw artichoke salad at Incanto: I would never have thought to use raw artichoke, but tender baby chokes shaved to almost paper thinness added a pleasantly grassy note and crunch to a spring salad.
• Cherimoya: Creamy, sweet and exotic, these became my new favorite fruit. 
• Jane's (sorta) homemade pickles: By starting with store-bought dills, these quick-pickled sweets retain their crispiness.
• Michelada: The lime makes humdrum beer extra refreshing, and a dash of Tabasco and Worcestershire gives it a grown-up edge. The perfect summer quaff.
• Mutton barbecue from Moonlite: No more ho-hum pulled pork; gamey mutton gave barbecue a unique twist this year.
• Hangar One chipotle vodka: The second in Hangar One's artisan series gave "firewater" new meaning. Perfect for Bloody Marys, but we concocted a few custom cocktails of our own. *
  
• Sai oa: Spicy and super flavorful, this Thai sausage was simply scrumptious, barely edging out three other delectable handmade sausages during a day-long grind-and-stuff session chez Married ... with Dinner. *
• Alinea: 'Nuff said.
• Proper mint julep at Alembic: Cool, refreshing mint and condensation sweating down the sides of a pewter cup were pure tonic on a sweltering summer's day. *
  
• McQuade's Celtic Chutneys: Bright, tart, sweet and complex chutneys that make an excellent complement to meats and cheeses. *
• Grit cake with wild mushrooms at Cafe Majestic: It's not every day that a vegetarian entree catches my eye anymore, but this dish was a hands-down winner at our table. *
  
• Fregula, butternut squash, kale and pomegranate seeds at Olea: It's even rarer that I eye a vegan entree, but this dish was at once playful, textural, flavorful and just flat-out fun. *
• Concord grape sorbet with warm ginger tapioca at Firefly: Perhaps it's cliche to refer to something as a study in contrasts, but this dessert was an elegant dance of counterpoints: Cold and warm, sweet and tart, rich and sharp, crystalline and puddingy.
• Oh, Henry!: My new favorite cocktail, made specially by my own personal bartender at my birthday party. I particularly prefer the spicy kick of Blenheim ginger ale for this application. *
  
• Hoshigake from We Love Jam: The Kobe beef of persimmons! Hachiya persimmons are massaged while drying, coaxing a fine, sugary coating to the surface. The resulting dried fruit is subtly sweet, with a date-like texture.

* Indicates items that I experienced while in the company of other Bay Area food bloggers.