The hard questions: Took us a couple of days, but we finally digested Hot Food Porn's thoughts about a four-way we had on Twitter: Porn, Chez Pim, SFoodie, and -- showing up for the money tweets -- Daniel Patterson. Just like, you know, a non-Twitter four-way, SFoodie peaked kinda early and fell asleep, but here's the gist: Is it wrong, subtly racist even, to complain about "ethnic" restaurants being pricey? The restaurant in question: Yank Sing, where dim sum for two without totally going unbutton-the-Dockers crazy can easily cost upwards of $60. As usual, Porn is thoughtful and nuanced. Among his questions:
Is there a ridiculous expectation that ethnic food has to be cheap to be good?
Should it mean that when ethnic food is expensive, there should be an expectation that it is better?
Is it ethnic food that is underpriced or is it non-ethnic food that is overpriced? Who or what defines a proper price?
You should read it. Really. Choice tips on where to score dim sum, too.
We are all but slaves of food and Bourdain
Digesting away between interludes
Without food and Bourdain the mind is wholly screwed
We are all but slaves of food
There is food for romance
There is food for the fools
Enjoy, eat fast, food never lasts, rewind and preview
Can't wait to be rescued by watching no reservations with you
Very classy, Charlie. See you Monday night for the airing of the local No Reservations episode.
The standard collection of always-on-the-menu favorites (farmed salmon and shrimp, eel, hamachi, and above all bluefin tuna, every one of them dodgy from an environmental perspective) is giving way to less conventional choices. At the same time, young chefs (most not of Japanese heritage) are taking sushi back to its historic roots in early-19th century Tokyo, when fish for sushi was lightly cured with salts, vinegar, and seaweed. We're foscusing on four West Coast spots in the forefront of new sushi.
Tiny, nondescript Tataki in San Francisco is credited with launching the sustainable revolution -- it's the first sushi bar in America to serve only seafood from sustainable sources. Chef-owners Kin Lui and Raymond Ho even employ a full-time sustainability consultant. They've banished unagi, but how about faux-nagi? Fatty black cod seared with a blowtorch to resemble glazed eel. Cool idea.
Portland's Bamboo Sushi calls itself the world's first certified sustainable sushi restaurant (it's received a big thumbs up from the Marine Stewardship Council). Owner Kristofor Lofgren brings a kind of New American sensibility to sushi. Consider the Salmon Nation rolls, ivory salmon smoked in house with wild salmon and salmon-skin salsa, or the Highway 35, with its red crab and sake-poached pears.
Joining costs $26, which entitles you to one bottle of wine from your group's vintage, Crush Camps for sorting grapes and learning about winemaking, updates on your wine's progress, a barrel tasting midway through the aging process, and a spot at the release party. Members can purchase up to a dozen bottles of wine at the $26 price.
Wondering if the Castro vintage will turn out to be muscular, the Haight's smoky, SOMA's rough and oily? Crushpad's Noah Dorrance told SFoodie that last year's wines were indeed very diverse. Three groups made Pinot Noir, the rest Syrah. "Each group did two barrels -- one new, which tends to be more oaky, and one used barrel that's more neutral," Dorrance said. "Also, the grapes all came from different vineyards, and came in at different times -- some at the beginning of September, and others from vineyards only a couple of miles away over 30 days later. The groups had meetings where they could taste all each others' wines, and figure out the different influences and styles."
There's a Harvest kickoff party on Tuesday, August 18th, in Crushpad's warehouse (2573 Third St. at 23rd St.), from 6 to 8 p.m. Sign up for it online. There'll be Pinot for sale from last year's Marina, Potrero Hill, and Super Group. Salty, bright, scores 99 out of 100? Your tastebuds will tell you.
6 p.m. Arrived at Tony Nik's (1534 Stockton at Columbus) and sipped a perfectly gelid jumbo martini. The gin: Hendrick's, an irresistible confluence of cucumbers, rose petals, and god knows what.
7:15 p.m. Anchor Steam and a game of stick under the swingin' swagger of Frank Sinatra's portrait at Gino and Carlo (548 Green at Columbus). Carbed up with gooey slabs of takeaway pepperoni pizza from Golden Boy next door.
We asked rabid Anthony Bourdain fans to rip their souls open for us in mini essays. This one's from Marcie Chin, who, we're guessing, took a couple of sociology classes in college and likes to snuggle up with premium cable. Thanks, Marcie!
I love Anthony Bourdain because he uses food as a vehicle NOT for "learning
about other cultures" but for acknowledging the inherent diversity of the places he visits. Unlike other food shows, it doesn't exotify people's ordinary lives, but gives voice to communities that are often (even intentionally) overlooked. I also love that his favorite show is The Wire!
At Chenery Park (683 Chenery at Diamond), which will celebrate its ninth anniversary in October, pastry chef Chet Wryly told SFoodie the root beer float ($5) has been on the menu since the place opened. Wryly uses Thomas Kemper root beer and Café Classico gelato. "We offer vanilla or chocolate," he said. Most diners want vanilla.
Magnolia Pub & Brewery (1398 Haight at Masonic) makes its own root beer three times a month, in 35-gallon batches. "We use extract for the base, with unwashed turbinado sugar and good vanilla," said brewmaster Ben Spencer. The restaurant has cycled a root beer float on and off the dessert menu for the past 11 years. Alas, this is one of those times it's off -- but you could always get a foamy glass to go ($3), and combine it with your own ice cream at home.
Chef Charlie Kleinman, late of Fish & Farm and Fifth Floor, creates both the savory and sweet dishes at Wexler's (568 Sacramento at Montgomery), the haute barbecue place in the FiDi. He told us his Inside-Out Root Beer Float ($6) is something he's been thinking about for a long time. In a reversal of the usual formula, Kleinman pours vanilla soda over root beer ice cream. "I think that classic flavors work really well, but I like to have fun with them," he said. "Humphry Slocombe makes a root beer ice cream specifically for us -- they use root beer syrup, but add botanicals and ginger to amp up the flavor so it doesn't get lost in the soda. We make the vanilla soda ourselves, with Bourbon vanilla. And we top it with house-made whipped cream and brandied cherries."
