The semiotics of yum: We once had an editor who enforced a ban on hated words: crispy, veggie, hipster, and foodie, a tag that necessarily shows up often on a site called SFoodie. At Bay Area Bites today, SFoodie contributor Andrew Simmons muses on foodie's connotations: an essential handle for a way of life, or buggy buzzword?
Alice Waters famously hates foodie -- we figure she realizes its power to diminish, recognizes its suggestion of vapid consumerism, flimsy as truffle shavings. Identifying as a foodie is like tagging yourself Hollister or H&M, Apple or PC, a shortcut to self-identity via stuff, whether laptop or lobster roll, gourmet without the cocked pinkie. Yeah, foodie sucks, but guess what? We're stuck with it. For our old editor, we subbed gastronome, locavore, even the horrible food aficionado. All, in our opinion, equally shitty. So foodie - and SFoodie - it is. Just don't expect to see us at Williams-Sonoma, filling our basket with the latest foodie must-haves. We count ourselves foodies in a sense that predates the word itself: Call us plain old greedy.
Badlands 4121 18th St. (at Castro), 626-9320
There are ways you can help, either by contributing to a PayPal fund to help the farm recover, or by mailing donations directly to Soul Food Farm, 6046 Pleasants Valley Road, Vacaville, CA 95688. A benefit dinner put on by 18 Reasons is also in the works. SFoodie will post more updates as they come in.
The place offers downstairs and upstairs dining rooms (upstairs boasts better views), an open kitchen by a long downstairs bar with prime seating overlooking the dock and the lake, and a cozy upstairs bar with a fireplace. The décor makes the place feel like an upscale corporate hotel. We sat upstairs, next to the windows -- which actually open to let in a breeze -- but had to change tables after a hostess told us the section she'd placed us in was too full.
Alas, the warm hummus and crispy pita appetizer ($8.50) was unavailable. We switched to a fresh-tasting English pea and ham hock soup ($7.50), garnished with crispy fried Brussels sprouts leaves and a bit of crème fraiche. But spicy chicken wings ($10.95), mired in blue cheese dressing (with the "celery hearts" of the menu description appearing only as four tiny decorative leaves), failed to excite, while a fat tuna burger with peppers ($13.95) was a bit bland, despite a touch of basil aïoli.
Poc-Chuc 2886 16th St. (at S. Van Ness), 558-1583
Guthmiller reckoned that 80 to 85 percent of participants showed up with a dish to share at communal tables set up in Civic Center Plaza. "There was plenty of food, plenty of stuff from Eatwell Farm, Frog Hollow. Let's Be Frank brought some of their hot dogs, and a lot of people did bring large-portion items." Guthmiller's own contribution? Broiled tomatoes with goat cheese and chives. (Watch our slide show -- including luscious food photos -- here.)
State Senator Mark Leno (D-San Francisco/San Rafael) spoke at the Civic Center event. So did local nutritionist Daphne Miller, author of The Jungle Effect. Smaller Eat-Ins happened at Crissy Field, Dolores Park, Brooks Park in Ingleside, and the 18th and Rhode Island Community Garden on Potrero Hill, and in other Bay Area cities.
When this year's food obit is filed (something tells us we'll be the ones writing it), expect some ponderous post-mort on 2009 having been the Year of the Sandwich. Foams and 12-course degustations may seems as quaint as cotillions in this first year of the Great Recession, but stuff bracketed between bread is charged with as much unlikely sex appeal as a neckbeard and a pair of dirty Vans. Turns out S.F. diners are seriously craving food with a certain rusky earnestness, whether that means pushcart Indian at a park in the Mission or a bag of shortbread perfumed with lard. It's a condition that makes the Outer Sunset's Outerlands (4001 Judah at 45th Ave.) as irresistible as some expensively hyped Michael Mina flagship might've been in times more flush. The driftwood walls, the glory-shy anonymous chef (he's punched the clock at Range and Serpentine), the house-baked lévain: It's all as real as hell, emanating a delicately ruddy aura.
This week, SF Weekly restaurant critic Meredith Brody mingles with surfers and the genuinely nice at Outerlands, drooling over heirloom tomato soups and some quintessential expression of pork and beans. Read the details at SFWeekly.com. Meantime, glimpse the realness via this excerpt (after the jump).
