White tablecloth: Hot Food Porn stirs up the murky slurry that pits defenders of professional restaurant critics against online amateurs. His inspiration? Grub Street New York's "Grub Report," in which a dozen critics of national stature (but Manhattan addresses, most of 'em) discuss the State of the Restaurant. Porn calls it "NY self-felatio [sic] that was partially interesting and partially vomit-inducing," and suggests the world of restaurants is far more grand and sprawl-y than the pinched critics around Grub Street's conference table acknowledge.
Fair enough (especially since not a damn one of 'em mentions S.F. -- maybe Nate was right?). But Porn's real point is that, like NFL quarterbacks, U.S. senators, and gay pornstars, professional restaurant critics are pretty much white and male. Here's Porn:
Do major critics from city to city seem to have the same taste buds as you, or the same taste buds as each other? And if the latter is true, why is there a lack in diversity (a profession obviously Western cuisine biased) in food criticism? If we are dying to see diversity and ethnicity as the next emerging trend, do you trust these critics to give you an [sic] well informed analysis of ethnic cuisine?Way to bring it, Porn.
The DeNegris are seeking legal advice after getting the cold shoulder from Pepsi.
Skenes said the six-course menu won't always be the same over the three nights of a weekend. "Sometimes it will, but what we're gonna do is base it on what is the absolute best," he said. Since launching Saison in July, Skenes said he's been able to get pickier about sourcing, including buying greens and herbs from an urban gardener (guy named Justin) growing in a Mission District backyard. Skenes is also the proprietor of downtown lunch cart Carte415.
Also new-ish at Saison is kitchen table seating, which gets you 12 courses amid a welter of 19th-century French silverware, old cookbooks as props, and other fancy stuff. "Alice Waters sat at the kitchen table last week, maybe the week before," Skenes said. Though the presence of other power chefs never made him sweat, Alice made him a bit nervous. "With her, I think it's like, when you have a turnip -- and you know she's eaten the best turnip on Earth -- there's really no more you can do to that vegetable to make it better."
The regular, six-course dinner at Saison is $70, with an optional $40 wine pairing from Skenes' partner, sommelier Mark Bright. You can reserve a table (and prepay) at the Saison Web site. Dates this month are September 5 and 6; September 18-20; and September 25 and 26.
Adobo Hobo may be famous on Filipino TV, but the Crème Brûlée Cart is a rap icon in the making, apparently. Fatty Boomblatty's "Foodie's Paradise" song and video immortalizes the fiery sugar salesman to the tune of Coolio's "Gangsta's Paradise."
As it turns out, the video was shot as part of Fatty's insanely dedicated entry in the Go Game Street Food Scavenger Hunt for the S.F. Street Food Festival last month. Competitors were asked to film them rapping for the Crème Brûlée Guy, and "Foodie's Paradise" is the one that has continued to propagate as a (micro) viral offering since then.
Three other teams took on that particular challenge as well, though Team Twin TuTu was very liberal in its use of the term rap. And Cincoamigos -- well, they couldn't even keep a beat. Local chocolatiers the Sôcôla Sisters have also posted their own video and song called "Creme Brulee Man," although this one isn't a rap exactly.
Something like a phenomenon? Watch 'em after the jump.
Way to go, Peter.
In honor of this food holiday, will your sandwich be a blend of cheeses, or just one kind? Narrow it down to local (think Cowgirl Creamery) or international -- triple-cream Brie and Gruyère always make for melty goodness. Next decision: whether to add fruit or jam/preserves. (Apricot jam is a personal fave.) Should you decide to make it meaty: salami, hot dog, ham, bacon, and turkey all qualify as interesting add-ons. Finally, garnish options range from sauerkraut and pickles to arugula, spinach, and other greens. Vote for your favorite versions in the comments.
At a recent party at New People in Japantown the other night, we got to try Haamonii Smooth, an ultra-premium shōchū imported from Japan by a husband-and-wife team based in San Francisco. Haamonii has been around for a while, but when we tasted it the other night we were pretty impressed. It comes in two varieties. Unflavored Haamonii Smooth shōchū is very crisp and clean, with no abrasiveness. It has a very clean aroma and feels light on the palate, very nice when sipped on the rocks. Haamonii Smooth Lemon shōchū is just as clean, but with a subtle hint of lemon. It mixed very well with grapefruit juice and oolong tea.
Both are 44 proof -- stronger than sake but with less of a wallop than vodka. We think that makes it a good base for cocktails: it's odorless and tasteless, so it takes on the flavors of whatever it's mixed with, but the lower alcohol content makes it seem less harsh than vodka.
You can check it out at D&M Wine and Fine Spirits (2200 Fillmore at Sacramento) or Cask (17 Third St. at Market). It's also used at 5A5 Steak Lounge (244 Jackson at Battery) and Infusion Lounge (124 Ellis at Powell), among others places. For a full list of local bars where you can taste it, go to Haamonii Smooth's Web site.
This morning, Mistry said that, with 20-20 hindsight, she thinks that doing something other than the pasta salad might have been a good idea. "We had kinda divvied it up," she said. "Ash and Ashley were going to do a dessert, the proteins were taken. We knew we were going to do a vegetable side that might be more of a main course for a vegetarian. Part of that was the ingredients we were given. The Colonel had said that it was an industrial kitchen, but that the airmen were savvy in terms of their palate. What we got was sort of the bottom of the barrel. There was not one fresh herb in the place, not even garlic. We used a little garlic powder and Italian seasoning, we used a lot of lemon zest, red wine vinegar, salt and pepper -- I suppose I wish Laurine and I had made an Alfredo pasta, or roasted broccoli in soy, garlic, and ginger, and done something Asian. I don't remember for sure, but I'm sure there were sesame seeds there."
She said she's still not feeling Jesse and Ron's clam chowder. "The hot chili made sense, but not clam chowder with butter and cream on a 90-degree day, as opposed to making something fresh and light. Maybe there's so many crappy pasta salads out there that it gets a bad rap."
However, at some point, tamale temptation subsides. Something keeps holding you back, and you're not sure exactly what. Maybe you're fixated on the fact the price for each little husk-wrapped slug of masa has risen steeply since you first arrived. Maybe you've started seeing too many Tamale Lady t-shirts around town. Maybe someone made a documentary about her. Suddenly, everyone really loves the Tamale Lady -- so much that she's become a local celebrity on a par with Frank Chu or one of the Counting Crows. You can't hate on her success because her wares are good, but you'd rather champion an underground snack hero than support the tamale establishment. You're over it. Over the years, new food obsessions -- tortas, soup dumplings, bacon-wrapped hot dogs -- come and go, some lingering longer than others. While you still sometimes hear the Tamale Lady's late-night call beckoning down a stretch of barstools, your stomach remains unmoved.
