Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Given our blog’s yet unfinished status (Jon and I are still hashing out a proper title and template) and subsequently low readership numbers…I guess writing a discussion-type entry would be risky. Nonetheless, here goes…
In my mind, there is a clear dichotomy in one’s perception of cuisine. There is gastronomique/fine dining, and then there’s comfort food. Even as I can experience transcendental, mind-blowing flavors in fine dining…sometimes that buttered lobster simply can’t “do it” for me like a hot bowl of shi fan (rice porridge) or grandma’s hand made zhongzhi. (sticky rice in tea leaves) Sometimes, mom’s cooking is…simply put…untouchable. This is the food I grew up with, the food that warms my stomach and my soul alike. This is the food that makes me sigh and think about when mom would let me help her hand-make dumplings. Or when she would take me to the market to watch the fish swimming in their tanks, to play with the live crabs, and smell the roasted ducks hanging in the window. This is the power of comfort food, and the inherent meaning it has for each of us. That’s what this entry is about.
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Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Cioppino is one of those city/region specific dishes, intricately tied into the history and culture of a city and its people. Just like Chicago’s deep-dish pizza, New England’s clam chowder, and Texas barbeque, cioppino is uniquely a San Franciscan dish. It’s origins come from the early 1900’s when Italian fishermen, working on the wharf, would ask their colleagues for scraps of fish and whatever else for a family stew to be shared among all. While doing so, they would shout, “Chip in!” which, laden with a heavy Italian accent, became “Chip-een-o!” Hence, cioppino, a hearty seafood stew with a myriad of crab, fish, herbs, and whatever else was lying around, was born. (No, I’m not some kind of food historian, this was taken from the site.) Moving to present day, Cioppino’s, located near Fisherman’s Wharf, continues serving up the same San Franciscan classic, along with various seafood inspired Italian-American staples.
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Saturday, September 22, 2007
When you go to school in San Diego, and you procrastinate as much as I do, you get to know the late-night taco stand pretty well. When you’re up at God-forsaken hours pouring over text you should’ve read three (or six) weeks ago, few things can satisfy those 3:00 AM hunger pangs like a carne asada burrito from the local Roberto’s or Cotixans, simply because they’re the only ones open around then. Indeed, the 24-hour taco stand is something of a mecca for San Diego college students, providing greasy respite for the culinarily and/or chronologically challenged. But honestly, after 2 years of gorging myself on late-night burrito runs, I found myself tiring of California burritos and pollo asado fries. More Mexican-American than truly Mexican food, every burrito began tasting the same, while leaving me feeling…well…nasty. And so, I absolved myself from the late-night taqueria, waiting for the day that I would find more authentic, better tasting Mexican food that would revive my jaded taste buds. Luckily for me, that day finally came when I discovered Mama Testa.
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Thursday, September 20, 2007
Finding delicious treasures is fun. Especially ones in the middle of tall, dusty warehouses. Slow Club sits on the edge of the Mission and SOMA, far from the hustle and bustle of the taquerias and fruit markets. Across the street from grimy MUNI buses and carved inside of a cold slab of stone, you can find a dark cave that holds a bunch of treasure, namely lots of loud, hip folks sharing some pretty good comfort food. (Continued)
Friday, September 14, 2007
There are some days where I just get that insatiable craving for a whopping, greasy, succulent patty of meat covered with oozing cheese. Top it with some grilled onions, lettuce for texture, and a nice full bun with a mound of crispy fries, and I’m having a good friggin’ day. Truly, there are few other foods as universally pleasing and unabashedly heart-stopping as the American burger. And symbolically speaking, few other foods are so intimately tied to the identity of a nation, both as an item of nostalgia, and as a cultural ambassador. (ex. McDonald’s in China and…well…everywhere else) More recently, the evolution of the “gourmet burger,” has revamped the image of the hamburger from greasy fast-food staple to high quality, gastronomic fare. Chef Hubert Keller, of Fleur de Lys, continues that trend, with Burger Bar, serving kicked-up Americana with some of Keller’s French culinary roots thrown in.
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Sunday, September 9, 2007
(Note: This review was unfortunately written several months after we visited the restaurant)
I’m not a foodie. Let me just say that and get the hard part out of the way. And as a writer who isn’t foodie, I’ll honestly say I have no idea how to write about food. So what’s a non-foodie like me doing writing a review of a well known, pan-asian fusion restaurant* called The Slanted Door? Who knows. But quite frankly, judging by the size of the crowd on a any given evening, this restaurant just might be review proof. Still with me?
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Tuesday, September 4, 2007
In recent years, Las Vegas has quickly earned the reputation of America’s culinary Gomorrah. Gone are the days of two buck buffets, as more and more tourists come not only to play, but indeed, to eat. Starting with Wolfgang Puck’s opening of a Spago at Caesar’s Palace, big name chefs have begun marketing on the Strip, rolling out copies of their restaurants from across the world. To name a few, Guy Savoy, Daniel Boulud, Eric Ripert, Bradley Ogden, Hubert Keller, Joel Robuchon, Tom Colicchio, Charlie Palmer, Mario Batali, Bobby Flay, and of course, the venerable Thomas Keller of French Laundry fame. So, as committed, responsible foodies, we ventured into this culinary wonderland with great hopes, empty stomachs and soon-to-be empty wallets. First stop, Thomas Keller’s Bouchon.
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Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Well, this is easily one of the all-time greats in my book. As a Cal alum, eating a slice of pizza here on the median of Shattuck was and always will be one of my fondest memories as a student. Born out of the Alice Waters’ food revolution, Cheeseboard Pizza encompasses the distinct magic of Berkeley so well, preaching a perfect mixture of flavors and a love of all things delicious and fresh to the students and families of the area. From the flowing sounds of the jazz to the tantalizing smell of garlic in the air, Cheeseboard Pizza represents all that is good in the city of hippies and radicalism with a slice of simplicity and a spirit of both hard work and passion for life. (Continued)
Ah, another ramen shop. I’ve always had a soft spot for the local store that peddles their own version of the classic comfort food. As someone with Japanese blood, nothing hits the spot than a perfect bowl of ramen. Delicious noodles, sinfully rich broth, melt-in-your mouth pork. Put them all together and you have a dish that will dazzle the tastebuds. Maybe even dehydrate you a bit. Well in any case, Maruichi has all the ingredients for success, but can’t quite put it together. (Continued)
Man, when I think of Noe Valley, all I see is a little hood chock full of those yuppies, working 9-5 for the man downtown. Yet swirling in that mist of yuppiness, stands a little tasty food treasure named Firefly. It sure does a great job serving up some great American cuisine with a feel that is both hipster and homey without all that pretentiousness. Simply a great place to enjoy a savory meal with good company. While all the Gary Dankos and Michael Minas may stand at the top of the SF food chain, Firefly captures the bright soul of the city in a small unassuming place… and I loved it. (Continued)