Down and out in Manilatown: The Bold Italic's Drew Himmelstein puts his ear to the pavement on Kearny to hear the ghosts of Manilatown, the obliterated S.F. neighborhood that seems destined to evade revival. After a grease-slicked meal at New Filipinas on Mission, Himmelstein seeks out AdoboHobo's Jason Rotairo in Precita Park.
For five dollars, I got a paper taco tray filled with rice, adobo sauce and two chicken drumsticks. As I sat on a wall eating my dinner (delicious, and it went down much more easily than New Filipinas), I could not have been presented with a more idyllic scene in front of me: the sun was setting over the park, dogs and their owners ran up and down the grass, and a Spanish tortilla vendor and vegan baker were setting up their wares next to the AdoboHobo cart. I fended off the advances of dogs of all sizes interested in my meal, and thought about how, even though the setting couldn't have been more different, what I was eating was probably pretty similar to what the manongs of Manilatown got. I asked Jason Rotairo, AdoboHobo owner, if he'd ever heard of the missing neighborhood.We'll let Himmelstein deliver his own punchline. It's worth the click.
The fact that Clock Bar staff will be dressed like flappers and G-men might make you want to stay away (guests are free to show up all Gatsby, too). But given that this is a place where happy hour specials just don't exist, the chance to get a discount just might be worth a little fringe-dress indignity. Clock Bar's open from 4 p.m. to 2 a.m.
[W]hile both are terrific eaten as is when ripe, they have very different culinary uses. Hachiyas are luscious in baked goods, with their sweet, jelly-like pulp. Fuyus have an apple-like crunch and are great in salads or atop desserts.
Not to get all Paula Deen on you, but we're a little proud of a persimmon-y amuse-bouche we devised early Thanksgiving morning. As we gulped down the first of the day's many cold beers, we crisped small, uneven slices of country ham in a skillet, blanched some kale torn up into squares, and then used a mandoline to sheer off very thin circles of Fuyu perismmon, which we subsequently cut into quarters. We made short stacks, alternating kale squares with persimmon triangles, ham pieces book-ending each, so the little parcels could be easily picked up and popped into gaping mouths. We added black pepper and restrained droplets of a stellar balsamic. They were quite fine with champagne and watermelon radishes with coarse sea salt.
Persimmons are winners -- and not just because of the name's strong resemblance to that of certain blogger. They might even be good fried, we think.
Overall, November was a mild month for San Francisco restaurant closures. And just as with Sozai, good news often eclipsed the bad.
Take the Marina branch of pasta shop Fuzio. Over the weekend, the Chestnut Street space was reborn as Delarosa, a beer and pizza concept from Beretta Inc. FiDi dessert café Chill blinked its eyes, clicked its heel together and became the salad and sandwich joint Urban Picnic, without ever changing owners. And Mission Street's Café Arguello laid its tapas concept to eternal rest; the space will soon house a spinoff of quirky sausage-and-burger phenom Rosamunde.
The swank-ish small plates bistro Two put itself out of its nightly misery Nov. 20 -- private events play out through December. (In January, French Laundry alum Corey Lee takes possession of the keys; he'll launch Benu.) AT&T Park anchor Acme Chophouse announced it won't see 2010, but will regroup as a more casual, presumably less steak-y concept. B's BBQ, which quietly slipped away in September for a little, uh, vacation, is clearly not coming back. And the Inner Richmond's Sushi Boom went, well, bust. Scan the full list of the fallen after the jump.
That story traveled the local media circuit a while ago, but in addition to giving deserved press to a wonderful local operation, the Times piece extended the good service in highlighting a key issue popular small farmers and artisanal producers have long faced, especially in the Bay Area, where food and politics are inseparable.
Slow Food skeptics, contrarians, and general cheapskates might scoff at $8 egg cartons. In truth, real food is expensive, and farms like Soul Food -- celebrated as they might be in discrete circles -- aren't rich just because they try to make an honest profit selling to folks with fat bankrolls.
