jazzfest reminiscing ...

ah, uglesich's.
worth any amount of wait, no matter the severity of one's hangover.

did you know that scottastic can't eat with a hangover?

that's ok. more food for the rest of us.

who needs sleep when there are firecracker shrimp to be had?

...and these fried oysters with bleu cheese dressing, ground zero of the fried oyster obsession that continues, unabated, to this very day ...

...and shrimp and fried grits with cream sauce ...

... and the crown jewel of new orleans: bbq shrimp and oysters ... beyond luscious.

it is one of life's greater tragedies that this place no longer exists. then again, it is one of life's greater blessings that i was able to eat this mind-blowing food, even if it was only once. (these pictures are from 2005. i'm sorry; i know it's cruel to show unavailable food.) and it was a close thing -- we only just barely made it for breakfast before uggie's closed at 2:00. had we even slept?

probably not.

the cheese board's pizza collective

the cheese board collective is a worker-owned experiment in delicious community, located (of course) in berkeley, and consisting of (1) a cheese shop and (2) a rockin' pizza joint. crossing the threshhold into this magic land, one merges into a smooth current of scent: loam, walnut leaves, and the unmistakeable tang that reassures a body that one is in the presence of cheese. lots of cheese. enough for everyone.

a scene from the collective: two grizzled whitebeards stand at an impasse of politeness -- one outside, one inside the doorway -- until finally one gives way and goes through first. as the loser strolls through into paradise, the victor claps him on the shoulder and reveals the source of his profound respect: "you had the bigger beard." o, berkeley, how i miss thee.

fresh corn, onion, pasilla peppers, mozzarella and feta cheeses, garlic, cilantro, and key lime. it might be the cruelest thing to do to a person, to make him wait outside.

cam huong's banh mi

bread = crumbly-soft.
mayo = sweet, silky. very friendly with the vegetables.
meat = grilled pork (charcoaly, tender) + pate (unctuous).
vegetables = crisp! cilantro, pickled daikon & carrot, cucumber.

illegally good. justifiably famous.

the a-cup fried chicken sandwich at cafe 15

this is supposed to be a post about a fried chicken sandwich. "but," you say, "then why are you showing me a picture of fries and bread?" exactly.
some tout cafe 15's fried chicken sando as the nadal to bakesale betty's federer. i've eaten betty's sandwich, and it is a treat, bursting with slaw and sauce and chicken breast(s) piled so high i need to unlock my jaw a little bit, like a snake, or else devour it open-faced. cafe 15 shows more restraint. (except with the fries. which are truffled, and pretty decent, but nothing special.) do you see the chicken? that little breast -- very lightly breaded and fried to a dark caramel -- is peeping out modestly from behind a curtain of lemon-mayo-slathered baguette. it is like a tiny gorgeous starlet. next time, i will order it double-breasted.

*update: at my next visit, a larger starlet made an appearance. so perhaps the first one was just a fluke?

cafe rio

on a sunny east bay weekday, cafe rio's setting is perfect: preservation park, surrounded by trees and fountains and 19th-century homes converted into nonprofits.

and the feijoada matches perfectly. dark, mysteriously delicious bean stew, with at least four different types of porky sausage floating about -- my favorite was the black blood sausage -- collard greens with cracklins, and a veritable beach of toasted farofa. eat with coffee: this is a literal knockout for lunchtime, and makes me look forward to the siesta days in my future.

el metate

we have driven by el metate about a thousand times. most times, one or the other of us says: "we should try that place." at last, action marries intention.

pequod's pizza

it feels like a little bit of a betrayal to say that, when i visit chicago now, pequod's is my first pizza priority, followed only later by chicago's. frankly, in the beginning, pequod's was mostly a novelty. i had first heard about it about a week after i arrived in chicago from a friendly sue devitt makeup stylist, who dubbed it "the best pizza in chicago." (she was the roommate of john and chip, the nebraska transplant boys who singlehandedly saved me from starvation by getting me a weekend job at the chicago air & water show that involved free food plus $80/day, so i was inclined to listen to her.) i tried it, and liked it, and continued eating it as a general matter, but there was no vital spark of recognition. no, back then, chicago's was the name of the game: the pepperoni pizza gleefully ordered from a cab -- with extra sauce -- sometime between 3:30 and 4:30 a.m. on fridays and/or saturdays. (and/or thursdays. and sometimes during the day on sundays.) but, right around the summer of 2005, something started to change. pequod's crunchy caramelized crust of burnt cheese became less of a gimmick and more of a necessity to my tastebuds. i decided that pepperoni is tastier on top of a pizza, where it can crispen. i learned to love that robust and buttery bottom crust. and the sauce, delightfully tangy, had always been a favorite. thankfully, as the picture above can testify, nothing has changed at pequod's in the intervening years. sigh.

don't get me wrong, i still love chicago's. in fact, i had one just last sunday, at about 5:00 a.m.

publican

san diego: (1) glorious and (2) disappointing

in chronological order.

(1) glorious: these cliffs are truly the best place for 'ritas and 'nitas. also, bonus points to adam for his mixologist skills -- the 'ritas were balanced and lovely.

(2) disappointing: why, hodad's, why? dry overcooked burger, unforgivably inept service (i.e., they forgot my bacon). do not believe the hype.

happy donuts banh mi

kitchenette!

nice packaging! nice buzz, too -- this place is fully buried amidst the warehouses, and there were all kinds of yuppies and yipsters and their stylish childrenz and babyz standing in line for a sanderson. i guess i was there too, so i shouldn't judge.


here is the kale, fromage blanc and fried peppers baguette. flavors = great. i loved the use of tart, creamy fromage blanc with juicy, savory kale and the prick of the spicy peppers. texture = comme ci, comme ca. yeah, a baguette sounds cool on the menu. but for me, i prefer a more friendly bread in the sandwich context. i mean, i can get whiplash trying to rip a bite off the baguette mothership.


ok, confession: i loved chicharrones as a little angelena, back when they were known less-sexily as pork skins. i am so excited that they are hip to eat now and that artisty people are making kick-ass pork skins from happy, well-loved pigs! these are totally good. (maybe a tad overflavored? no, i'm just being overpicky -- they are totally good.) i am uncomfortably aware that they are available at some bars in san francisco (e.g., elixir) where i might have a hard time showing restraint.

i wouldn't normally bother with the cookie, but i do love ginger cookies and the texture of this one was really lovely: about a quarter-inch of crisp, buttery edge, then soft -- but still thin -- on the inside. not too aggressive on the ginger, either.

fried oyster benedict

this fried oyster benedict from serpentine is exactly as delicious as you want it to be. the cornmeal-battered oysters -- perfectly fried -- provide kind of a clifflike cradle for the eggs -- perfectly poached -- to flop all over.

a few years ago, i saw a tv special about a guy who went all over the u.s., photographing nude folks. one woman he photographed in (i think it was) new york -- across the river from the city, with a bridge in the background. she was posed on these really jagged black rocks, and because she was so lushly, beautifully overweight, all her luminous white skin was sort of softly resting against the rocks, and folding over them, but in a joyous way that didn't look uncomfortable. that contrast was what made the picture so beautiful to me. i wouldn't necessarily elevate this benedict to the order of Art, but do i get a little hint of the same excellent contrast from the egg/fried oyster relationship.

again, i recommend substituting biscuit for the cornbread that the menu offers.

maverick brunch

maverick takes brunch reservations!my doughnut ball was lightly crisp outside and coated with a layer of cinnamon-sugar textured like the earth's crust; then churro-soft and steamy and sweet on the inside. i wish this whole plate had been for me. but it was easter, and i was filled with a kind and benevolent spirit, and i was at brunch with three other people, all of whom i like.
here we have the andouille sausage benedict with crawfish & jalapeno hollandaise. (and homefries, as you can see, but so far the only homefries in sf worth noticing are the ones at mission beach cafe.) note that a biscuit is a far more appropriate sauce-delivery vehicle than the muffin listed on the menu.

dim sum

our friends from japan took us to old shanghai for the first time, and now it's the go-to spot, especially when folks come into town. go with as many hungry people as possible, to ensure variety and a lazy susan. and definitely get:

(1) tan tan noodle soup (noodles with meat in a spicy, peanuty soup)


(2) shanghai soup dumplings with pork


(3) green onion pancake


(4) pan-fried pork buns


(5) veggie dumplings (if you must). actually, despite my primary devotion to all things pork, these mushrooms-and-greens-filled dumplings are pretty tasty.

pizzetta 211

dear other pizzas of sf,
i apologize to all of you. i love many of you -- some of you, deeply -- but my greatest love is reserved for the pizzettas of 211. i mean, good lord. just look at them!
exhibit a: exhibit b: exhibit c:(sorry, other pizzas. was that insensitive?)

humphry slocombe

another ice cream shop enters the fray. humphrey slocome specializes in the weird and wonderful: malted dulce de leche (coats-the-mouth creamy, toothache-sweet and delicious), mcevoy olive oil (tastes like it should, and reminds me of otto in nyc, but would be better with actual olive oil drizzled over the top, and some crispy sea salt as punctuation), salt & peppa, balsamic caramel, coconut sherbet, blue bottle vietnamese coffee, milk chocolate passionfruit, secret breakfast (bourbon and cornflakes, from what i can tell) ... yum. plus it's right near philz.

katy's smokehouse

ok, let me set the scene:










trinidad is about 300 miles north of san francisco, where the redwoods meet the pacific. it's gorgeous.

it's also, according to the proprietors of the unbelievably awesome katy's smokehouse, where about 80% of California's luscious dungeness crab are caught. the ones we get in san francisco, they explained, are overrated, particularly those cooked, then rewarmed specimens at fishermen's wharf. (i did not admit to them that i've always loved sucking down a hot buttered crab at the wharf.) so, we got four crabs, cracked 'em, and ate them with lemon butter.
i practically fainted with joy.