Whole Foods turned Tom Philpott's peanut butter to shit. The Grist food editor ― hippie-like ― usually grinds his own at the kind of nut mulchers Rainbow has. Dump in goobers, and the shiny paste wiggles out the bottom and into the crock you brought from home. But, says Philpott, the odd sale gets him to buy the pre-ground, so-called natural stuff, the kind with and inch of peanut oil on the top that's impossible to mix without making it sluice down the sides of the jar.
Recently though, Philpott bought a jar of the Whole Foods house brand, 365, only to find it whipped and homogenized and sweetened like a tub of Jif. The offending additives: palm oil, salt, and sugar, albeit pure-cane organic. Cue the outraged WTF:
We're intrigued, but wonder if a truly dedicated and frugal glutton might eschew good taste and just go with baggy sweats or those super-stretchy polyester short-shorts our old basketball coaches wore.
When you get that cheese steak or burger on 24th Street, does it have foie gras, Port Salut, or bourbon-brown sugar bacon on it? A just-opened spot is serving up gourmet burgers meant to be consumed with a glass of some distinctive and little-known wine. B³ ― aka B-Cubed ― had nearly every table full at last night's public debut. Earlier this week, owners Johnny Gato and chef Kevin Ahajanian (both of Bouchon), plus Ron Elder, rolled out two nights of practice runs for the Bold Italic's Moveable Feast promos.
Conceptualized as a "winemakers' speakeasy," B³ stands for bottles, burgers, and bites.
In honor of the event last week, de Guzman, who's known for her ensaymadas, bacon pecan tarts, cookies, and a Chinese-Filipino mashup she calls the sio-bao, offered something new: sisig cones. Temaki were the inspiration: a nori cone filled sushi rice, vinegar slaw, and a sisig recipe she calls classic (pork ears, shoulder, and cheeks). And while Zimmern said he'd eaten sisig he'd never before assembled a temaki version ― go figure. "I showed him how to roll it," de Guzman says. "He didn't do a very good job."
In response to a reader's query about where to find some good Mexican food, Bauer leads with a bold quote ("I've always said if I was going to open a restaurant in San Francisco it would be Mexican because the cuisine is underserved"), but fails to convince us he's done enough research. Inside Scoop reader, if you're out there? Here's our advice:
Saturday at Tres Agaves, Liquor.com has put together a tasting of 16 different tequilas including El Tesoro, Tequila Ocho, Partida, Fortaleza, Siete Lenguas, and more. If the tastings don't warm you up, then the tequila cocktails, Mexican food, and DJ should temporarily clear the fog from your brain.
Sunday's Ministry of Rum Festival at Miss Pearl's Jam House promises to convert the uninitiated with its gospel of cane spirits.
Over 50 different brands will be on hand to taste, along with cocktails from Smuggler's Cove and Cantina, and cheesemonger Barrie Lynn (surprise source of awesomeness at last year's event), who will be pairing cheese with the rums.
San Francisco restaurant scene.
Inside Scoop's Paolo L. drops the news (seconded and thirded by Eater's Carolyn A. and Grub Street's Jay B.) that there's about to be a spike in LDL levels in San Francisco, after a heavy player launches a steak house in an iconic location. Michael Mina™ will forge a fifth link in the Bourbon Steak chain (others are in Arizona, D.C., Miami, and Detroit ― Detroit?) in his soon to be ex-eponymous eatery at the Westin St. Francis. Mark your calendars for October.
Paolo L. also sheds a tear for a deuce of closures: Norton's Vault (500 Sacramento) and SNOB Wine Bar (1327 Polk). Then again, notes PL, SNOB has already been replaced by the beer-forward Pour House. So dry your tears.
artisan and the novelty.
Alligator
Source: Panaderia La Mexicana, 2804 24th St. (at Bryant), 648-2633.
Price: $5
Toast-appropriateness: Don't you dare.
Oaxaca, Mexico City, and Merida might hog all the attention these days as foodie touchstones, but the highland city Puebla can make just as plausible a claim to culinary greatness.
On 24th Street, La Torta Gorda calls itself "la casa de la autentica cocina poblana," the house of authentic Puebla cooking. You have to look closely to see the Puebla connection, past the house of Gorda's American breakfasts and small-town diner bones. Maybe since most of us wouldn't know the word if it bit us, Gorda calls its behemoth sandwiches "tortas," not by the Puebla name "cemitas."
But one thing that can transport you straight to the heart of autentica: Torta Gorda's flor de calabaza quezadilla, squash blossom quesadilla.
