August 2008 Archives

Ah, the joys of spending a weekend in San Francisco. Museums, check. Cable cars, check. Fisherman's Wharf, check. And restaurants - oh, so many choices, so little time.

On our recent visit to San Francisco we decided to try something a little different. During our last visit, in January, we had spent the evening at a restaurant that came highly recommended, Zuni. If our experience had just been based on the food, it would have been a resounding success. Unfortunately, the twenty or so extremely drunken firefighters celebrating a retirement or whatever at the two tables next to us caused our experience to be not that much fun.

In any case, since I got appointed official restaurant researcher for the Michael and Mary Waring Memorial Dining Association (MMWMDA, pronounced mmmwmdaaa, somewhat like clearing one's throat), I felt that it would behoove me to do something a little different this time around. After checking out my sources online and such, I thought we'd go for something a bit trendy and something a bit not-trendy.

For the trendy part of the festivities I selected Orson. The reviews were a very mixed bag but the menu sounded interesting and the décor was supposedly a fetching and intimate post-industrial. It's located in a part of town that's not quite a war zone - or, as San Franciscans like to call it, SOMA or South of Market. Orson was started by a pastry chef, Elizabeth Falkner, who is famous for her bakery called Citizen Cake. You might, if you are a movie buff, see a bit of a theme.

The décor was as advertised: minimalist, industrial, with loads of black and exposed concrete. It felt very reminiscent of the last foundry I worked in. They should supply hard hats as a mood setter. We were led to an upstairs loft that I'm pretty sure is referred to by the staff as the Old Geezer Room, far from the fabulous action and trendy pretty young people near the bar. On the other hand I'm not complaining. We were actually able to have a conversation without having to text each other because the music was too loud for human speech.

The menu was supposedly based on the small plate concept, which is usually associated with tapas. We love small plates. We like sharing food and we purposely brought along a friend so there'd be more food to share. (Well, we like her, too, but one has to be honest.) I say supposedly because there was some confusion on the size of the "small plates." Some of the appetizers were really small, just right in my opinion. On the other hand some were quite large, like a salad our friend ordered. It was almost entrée sized. And there were a number of pizzas on the menu, which while fine for sharing, were more entrée sized (or even bigger).

Moving beyond the variability of the portion sizes, the menu was certainly interesting. Charcuterie plates, smoked tempura egg nori, chocolate pizza, parmeggiano pudding - all fascinating sounding dishes. Unfortunately and pretty uniformly, what sounded intriguing on the menu ended up being a little disappointing on the plate. All of the flavors seemed a bit muddy. Nothing we ate really stood out.

With a menu like the one offered at Orson we kind of expect that there will be a few misses. If you don't take chances, you can't hit any out of the park. But in our case we couldn't find anything that we'd look back on later and say, "wow, that was really something exceptional." Or even "hmm, well, that was pretty tasty."

Chez Papa Bistro was our other trial restaurant on this trip. I decided to go with something a little more traditional and romantic on our second night. Yes, occasionally I do romantic. And what's more romantic and traditional then a French bistro?

Chez Papa is in the Mission district, which is still ever so faintly Bohemian and funky. Not much though - don't want to scare away the tourists. Set in a small corner storefront, the place probably seats a maximum of 40 and that's counting the tables set up outside on the sidewalk. Décor is red walls and big distressed mirrors. And zinc table tops, much as you might find in a Parisian café - though in Paris they'd probably put placemats on the tables.

What the décor lacked (and it didn't lack much, because who really goes to a bistro for the décor - it's all ambiance, baby) in post-industrial chic it made up in good solid un-fancy food. French food. And pretty unpretentious French food at that.

I had baby artichokes stuffed with goat cheese and grilled, followed by a lamb daube (braised lamb). Mary had an open-faced mushroom ravioli, and then Sole Meuniere. So traditional, well maybe not the ravioli but you get the point. All of it was honest food in generous but not overwhelming portions. Deceptively simple and oh, so tasty. The wine offerings, as befits a San Francisco venue, were excellent. I finished my meal with a cheese plate that included a triple cream brie that was totally exceptional. Mary had a slightly less exceptional tarte tatin that was nevertheless completely satisfying.

Overall, of the two restaurants we tried on this trip, I have to say that Chez Papa exceeded expectations. We would and probably will go back next time we find ourselves in Foggy Town with a spare night and a few shekels in our pockets.

On the other hand, Orson is not an experience that we regret whatsoever. I know that's not how the comments I made above sound, but really, we like to try new things as much as the next couple of old fogies. We actually do like seeing chefs try something new and exciting. The truth is that it doesn't always work out. But on the other hand lots of (very young) people seemed to be enjoying themselves the night we were at Orson's, so they must be doing something right.

Would we go back to Orson's? No, not really. We tried it and we're happy we did, but it really isn't our scene, man. And truthfully the food wasn't that good. That could always improve and we'll be happy to hear that it has, but there are lots more places to try and not enough time for all of them.

As a final note, on our last day we found ourselves wandering through the Civic Center district without a lunch destination, as the place we'd planned on checking out, a Salvadorian restaurant, was closed. So we decided to stop at a hole-in-the-wall taquería (Mexican fast food shop) called Taquería Castillo B that I'm pretty sure is not listed in any web site as a "hidden treasure" or "insiders' spot." It was just a little neighborhood place where the food was decent and the prices cheap.

One thing got us laughing, though. Everyone ahead of us ordered a torta (sort of a Mexican sub sandwich), so we figured that it was the specialty de la maison. The menu board said tortas consisted of "any meat", cheese, lettuce, tomato, avocado and other toppings. Mary ordered a beef torta (which is what everyone else had gotten), while I ordered one with a carne asada (grilled steak) filling. As it turned out, my torta had the same somewhat unidentifiable ground meat filling that Mary's did. We figured out at that point that "any meat" meant "any meat the cook decided to use." Still, it was reasonably tasty, so no complaints.

So we did a quick business trip over the weekend to San Francisco and the chance to check out the newest version of the TSA Theme Park Ride was interesting.

Even though it was the second last weekend in August we scheduled the flights so that we'd encounter a minimum of vacationers. Departing at six in the morning on Saturday and returning in the early afternoon on Monday also meant that we'd be flying at less then peak times. We rarely actually do that early morning thing if we can possibly avoid it but Mary had to make a meeting at noon so predawn stumbling around was ordained.

So how was the TSA ride? Not bad at all. Actually, it was a little enlightening. Most times, when we've traveled in the past you get in line behind some one who apparently hasn't flown in one of those fancy aeroplanes since Lindberg did his first hop across the pond in coach. So you have plenty of time to get your shoes off and the laptop out of the bag while Uncle Festus is making his fourth trip through the metal detector, completely sure that the seven pound belt buckle isn't the problem. Not this time however. On both trips through security we were really on the hop. I haven't felt so rushed in quite a while.

One of the issues might have been that because we were just doing a quick two day trip we decided not to check any bags and save ourselves the $15 a bag fee. So we had a little more stuff then normal, since when we fly on longer trips we tend to take the minimum on board. Still, I'd rather be racing through the line instead of standing still for 15 minutes listening to Cletus complain that they're making him get rid of his 64 ounce Big Gulp and he's gonna stand there and finish every last drop first before they take his oversize soda cup from his cold, clammy hands.

The TSA employees were fairly courteous and efficient at both ends of the trip also. It makes things a lot less stressful when people aren't yelling at you. And less stress means things go a lot smoother. Something it seems the TSA is starting to learn. I am pleased.  

United Airlines has decided, according to Bloomberg, to stop serving free meals in coach on some international flights.

Basically all flights to Europe from Dulles airport will now offer BOB (Buy-On-Board) meals in coach. Well, I use the term meal loosely. Not as loosely as United perhaps. Basically it looks like your two options will be a snack box with crackers, cheese, fruit and yogurt or a salad or sandwich. First and Business class will still offer "free" meals but then again you're typically paying anywhere up to ten times the lowest coach fares.

In addition, United is also planning on dropping free food in business class on domestic flights except for transcon flights between San Francisco and LA to New York. First class will still get the culinary extravaganzas offered by Sky Chefs, or the equivalent industrial food purveyor United actually uses.

Personally, if I have to flight to Europe on United in coach (and I pray to the Elder Gods of H. P. Lovecraft that this never happens), I will arrange to get some decent food to take along with me rather than pay for the overpriced cardboard that offered on board. Or just take some fruit and cheese because even at worst it's only around eight hours across the water. A big meal before getting to the airport for an overnight flight and I think I'd be good. But my preference is still to fly someone I actually enjoy traveling with like Virgin Atlantic.

On to the second of the three cookbooks recently delivered into my hands. This one is the Wild Game Cookbook. Published in 1968 as a Remington Sportsman's Library Book, this volume consists of recipes submitted by the public to a panel of culinary experts, who chose the best of the submissions for inclusion in the book.

Now, we do like wild game. We've enjoyed some very nice elk and venison that neighbors of ours have been kind enough to give us. And there are several restaurants we like that have menus featuring wild game. I'd probably be tempted myself to go a-huntin' to fill the family pot, except that my wife feels there is a better than even chance that I'd blow my own foot (or some other appendage) off instead. Still, this cookbook does tickle my funny bone a bit because of the breadth of the offerings.

The Wild Game Cookbook is divided into four sections  - Upland Game Birds, Waterfowl, Small Game, and of course Big Game. The first two sections are pretty conventional. You have your grouse and pheasant, duck and goose, quail and partridges in a pear tree, pigeons and doves. Pretty much everything but the four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie. None of the recipes really excite much interest, though Grouse with Caramel Sauce is definitely not something you'll find on an Applebee's menu.

Most of the more interesting recipes (and I mean interesting in the Chinese sense of the word) are in the small game section. Now, I'm as adventurous as the next guy when it comes to eating small critters. I've actually tried possum before, a little in the interests of science, but mostly because I was young and impressionable at the time and could be persuaded to put almost anything in my mouth. The exquisite gaminess of the meat was only enhanced by its incredible greasiness. Granted, the individual who was my culinary guide was cooking the meat in foil, in a furnace normally used for making truck axles, but I feel he was almost the equal of Bobby Flay when it comes to cooking small forest animals. If Bobby Flay were to cook woodland creatures in an industrial furnace, that is.

Anyway, even for the adventurous palate, there are some odd recipes in this cookbook. Interestingly enough there aren't any real stand out recipes for possum, but raccoon and muskrat are another story. Recipes like Beaver-Tail Soup, Woodchuck in Sauce, Raccoon Pie, and the (one would hope justifiably famous) Raccoon Feed for a Crowd. Some of the recipes raise questions, such as Creamed Squirrel on Rice, for instance. Would one serve this at a potluck, or is it suitable for a Ladies Club meeting?

Oh, there's more. I like to think that all the kids will jump up and down in excitement when Mom declares that tonight they're having Squirrel Cakes! Finally there's my all time favorite recipe, suitable, I'm sure, for hot weather dining: Molded Raccoon Salad, which is basically raccoon in a delicate aspic, or as it is more commonly known, raccoon flavored Jello. As my own personal version of the Anti-Christ, Rachel Ray, would say...Yummo!

The larger game recipes are somewhat disappointing, as inventiveness seems to have been left behind. No elk cakes here, or molded venison salad. Bear Mulligan elicits a bit of interest, but nothing to compare to the glory of Muskrat Catawba.

All in all, I enjoy the Wild Game Cookbook almost as much as the Big Boy Barbeque book, though for different reasons. While the latter book is a step back in time to a more innocent and less complicated time, the Game cookbook is a paean to Man's inventiveness. Never let it be said that there's any creature on land or sea we can't find some way of fricasseeing or deep frying.

Last Christmas we got a gift subscription to Gourmet magazine, something I don't think I've read since I moved away to college some two or three geological eras ago. Mom used to get it and I'd peruse it on occasion to see what serious adults thought about food. Plus there were cool articles on cocktails in exotic bars, and motoring through the countryside in France looking for the perfect duck confit. I didn't actually know what a duck confit was but it sounded like something I would find sophisticated and hopefully, tasty.

So it was interesting to revisit the magazine some (many) years later. In my memories of course, the magazine seemed to concentrate mostly on New York, the West Coast, or Europe and it seemed so very haute cuisine. Nowadays the magazine doesn't seem much like my memories but it's still been interesting reading. The September edition is devoted entirely to Paris. There's eating, of course, but also visiting favorite bars for favorite cocktails (though the passion fruit martini is just so not me), hotels - both big and imposing, and small and intimate. Walks along the boulevards and the side streets, visits to the more outlying arrondissements, markets, and canals. And restaurants. Lots and lots of restaurants.

I find myself pondering cracking the piggy bank and setting back the retirement account a few years for a quick jaunt to Paris. Alas, the exchange rate just doesn't favor any spontaneity at the moment. Still Gourmet is probably the best advertising for the City of Lights I've been exposed to for some time. There's always next year.

Next year.

One of our favorite hotel chains is running a promotion for the period between September 1 and December 19, 2008 called Three for Free.

The deal includes a free night (based upon a minimum length of stay), a room upgrade, and free breakfast for two every day. American Express cardholders also get late check out and an amenity upon check-in.

The deal is only applicable for eighteen resorts but they're pretty nice resorts. The locations include Hawaii, Key West, Colorado, Santa Fe, Arizona, and California among others. Perfect for a long weekend I'm thinking. 

In all probability if you're a male then sometime in the next couple of months you'll probably do something irretrievably stupid and will need to make amends with one's beloved. Or beliked as the case may be (if one can be beloved - why not beliked?). Thus the romantic getaway or as we guys like to refer to it - the penance.

As a matter of fact, since I am male, I expect I'll probably do something I'll need to do some ritual abasement for, so I might as well go ahead and make a reservation now. It'll be a win-win deal. If I somehow manage to go the next few months without doing something stupid then I'll get credit for being spontaneous and romantic. If, on the other hand, I just happen to buy that second hand motorcycle from Carl up the street without consulting the wife beforehand ...we'll let's just say that I won't be able to keep said motorcycle but I also won't have to sleep on the sofa till Christmas.

Hmm, Key West ought to be nice in November.

On a recent visit a friend of ours (well, she's Mary's college chum, but I've wormed my way in on the buddy list, or so I've been led to believe - perhaps they're humoring me) brought me several "cookbooks" that she had found while cleaning out her mother's house. I use quotes around the word cookbook as it is pretentious and I like pretension and because the term is fairly loose when applied to these relics of a bygone era.

These books might actually be the most awesome things I've ever received as a gift. And it wasn't even my birthday. How cool is that? It's hard to describe how massively frosty these tomes are, but I'm going to try.

First off is the Big Boy Barbeque Book. My edition is from 1963, though the original copyright is from 1956, and the subtitle on the cover says it is America's most popular barbeque book, which may have been possible at the time, since it was in its eighth printing.

At least this is what I assume we'll see someday as the airlines continue to layer on fees for almost everything. The latest is JetBlue that is charging $7 for a pillow and blanket set.

From the title one would assume that I'm against what some might construe as predatory pricing. In this case they'd be wrong. The truth is I haven't used a pillow or blanket on a domestic flight in a long time. Decades as a matter of fact. Having to snuggle up to a pillow that someone was coughing into a few flights back for some reason never really appealed to me. If and when I ever want a pillow on a flight in this country I'd be more than happy to pay for a nice fresh one. And you get to keep it too! What a great gifts for your nieces and nephews when you visit!

There's also the fact that the purchaser of said slumber time gear also gets a $5 off coupon from Bed, Bath, and Beyond. So in one sense one really only pays a total of two dollars for that minty fresh and single use only pillow. On the other hand, you have to go to Bed, Bath, and Beyond and that store always scares me. For good reason, I'm convinced that they have the inventory in there piled so high that I'm sure to be crushed when a thirty foot high display of guava scented candles collapses on me.

So to the airlines, if you want to charge for something that was once free, I'm all for it as long as the resulting product is better than what I would have received in the past.

So as you might have figured out from skimming over the blog, Mary and I love to travel. And while traveling we like to sightsee, check out the museums, go to concerts and plays, and eat. Boy, do we like to eat. One of the things, though, that we don't much care for is shopping. We've just never been all that interested in buying souvenirs, knick knacks, or velvet paintings of Elvis, no matter how cool they look under the blacklight. We also don't consider travel a primary means of finding bargains on local products. I suppose one could get a really fine deal on something like coconut shell bikini tops in the South Seas, but really, how many times a year are you really going to be in a position to wear something like that? Once, maybe twice tops.

When there is something we like, we find it's easier and often cheaper to buy it online. And buying online cuts down on the chance of getting fake or overpriced goods. Unless one is using eBay that is.

Along with shopping, another common tourist activity I haven't quite got the hang of is tourist photography. I've just never seen the point in taking a poorly framed and usually out-of-focus picture of yet another cathedral that a year later I will not be able to identify. Once in a while we'll get someone to take a picture of us in front of some historical landmark so later on we can point to it and say, 'see, we've been there!'

It also helps to establish an alibi when the British Crown Jewels go missing. We can pull out the pictures and establish that we couldn't have been involved with any jewelry heist, as we were all the way over on the other side of London at the time admiring the Old Operating Theatre Museum (because who doesn't want to spend an afternoon checking out the grim surgical implements from a time before anesthesia?) Sure, you laugh and think, how often does something like that happen? But it only takes once and then you're finding out what happens to those who displease the British Royal Family. <shudder>

Anyway, so where is this all leading? Why, to something I like to call the Travel Wall (patent pending).

The Travel Wall is our link to our travels. The concept is simple, really, because I myself am pretty simple. Rather than buying souvenirs or taking pictures of every place we go, we search for local artists that are selling scenic photos or watercolors of the place in question. We buy one piece of art for each major location we visit and when we get home we frame them and place them on the Travel Wall.

Like so:

 

 

 

It actually is a pretty elegant method (or at least I like to think so) of keeping something from each place we go, while not cluttering up the house with a bunch of knick knacks that we don't care much about. Now at every major destination we visit, we make time to go and check out the local art galleries or street markets where the itinerant artists hang, and we get us some Art.

There are also a few benefits to our current practice. Packing or shipping home prints or paintings is a lot easier and cheaper than say, a 175 pound mahogany water buffalo carving. And our total outlay has never exceeded $70 for even an original watercolor. That's more money available for sampling the local comestibles. Finally, since it's in the main hallway in the house, visitors are always stopping and making the mistake of asking where such an interesting picture was from, that frequently evolves into a several hour long explication that has the added benefit of either making said visitor sorry he or she ever asked, or in special cases results in a sooner than expected departure.

So apparently Delta Airlines tests on Wi Fi in aircraft have been successful and they're now planning on rolling it out for all of their domestic aircraft. Interestingly enough, there are no plans for international flights as the system would have to depend on satellite traffic and the data transmission rates seem to be too low for viability at this time.

One interesting observation in the article I read (Wall Street Journal) was that in a survey among professional business travelers, they overwhelmingly favored having the ability to keep connected and do work (what a strange concept) over chilling, reading a book, or watching a movie. I'm not sure what this says about us as a culture or whatever, but I am guessing it's probably not something healthy. At least the prohibition on cell phones in aircraft still stands.