I went, I drank, I conquered.

Although the reservation and password hoop-jumping smacks of exclusivity and a certain snobbishness, when you see the neighborhood you see why it might be practical. Right on the corner of O'Farrell and Jones, Bourbon & Branch is firmly in the Tenderloin. I haven't exactly been taking advantage of restaurants, bars, shops, and cafes that are apparently turning this neighborhood into the Trendyloin, and now I know why. Maybe it's my Twin Cities upbringing, but I don't exactly relish walking down blocks that smell of urine and having local denizens spit at me and growl crazily as I try to look like I know where I'm going. Given that sort of thing, I understand why Bourbon & Branch might not want to have their unmarked door thrown wide to the general public.

Davina and I stood under the Anti-Saloon League sign while I grappled for the buzzer and croaked my password. The door swung open to reveal a smiling face and we were welcomed and ushered to our table. Inside, Bourbon & Branch is dark and darling. Spiky frosted glass chandeliers swing and toss their gentle cotton balls of light against mottled mirrors and the hammered copper ceiling. The cute little wooden booths have cute little wooden tables that are just wide enough to hold your drinks and just narrow enough remind you that this is not a restaurant.

After many trips to Absinthe, I have finally drunk myself to a point where I had effectively sampled all the cocktails that interested me and could leave the rest. Faced with Bourbon & Branch's massive cocktail menu, I was back at square one. I'd light on a cocktail that I was definitely going to order and I'd be all, "Check it out, this one has THYME in it!" and then a few pages and a dozen cocktail descriptions later and I'd totally forget what that original cocktail was because, "Ooh, hang on -- THIS one has pimento dram in it. Wait, what's pimento dram? I'm getting that one. No, but hang on..." and so on and so forth. I'll tell you what, I really could have used those shameless shopping stickies Lucky Magazine is so proud of.

For some reason I was expecting all the cocktails to be upwards of fifteen dollars, but there were far more ten-dollar cocktails than anything else, and since that shruggingly seems to be the average price of cocktails in the Bay Area, I wasn't bothered. The drinks are pure and clean and inventive. After the delightful Prosecco-based amuse bouche cocktail they offered us -- a cocktail amuse bouche? I'm loving this idea! -- I started out with a delicious and refreshing Cracked Thumb (gin, lemon oil, elderflower syrup, mint). Given that I'm a gin girl and elderflower really crushes my ice, it was sort of a safe bet for me. What wasn't a safe bet was my order of an Aperol Spritz. Davina, who likes Campari, encouraged me, who does not like Campari, to give it a whirl. I did and I liked. Maybe it's the gentian and rhubarb, but I found the Aperol to be a kinder, gentler version of its bitter, angry spinster aunt.

My one complaint is that when Davina asked our server if the bartender could concoct something using gin and falernum, the server was clearly rattled. Bartenders do this all the time -- hello? It's pretty much their job description -- so this shouldn't have been a big deal. It's not like Davina asked for something bizarre like hot chocolate, benedictine, and Cynar. I don't blame the bartender, who did pour out something delicious, I just don't think the server should have acted as though it was a weird or inconvenient request.

Some out there are already sneering that B&B "ripped off" Milk and Honey's concept. Well, but see, Milk and Honey is in New York, and I'm in San Francisco and B&B is in San Francisco, so I say rip away! I mean really, isn't the country large enough for several of these speakeasies? I would certainly hope so.

Those expecting a brawl got more of a lovefest when Whole Foods CEO John Mackey met with Michael Pollan author of The Omnivore's Dilemma at UC Berkeley last night. The feud, if you can call it that, goes to back to a time shortly after the publication of the book when Mackey took issue with the quality of Pollan's research, his criticism of Whole Foods and what he called "industrial organic". Over the months that passed a series of letters were made public in which each seemed to take the other to task. Those letters can be found here:

Letter 1: Mackey to Pollan
Letter 1 Response: Pollan to Mackey
Letter 2: Mackey to Pollan
Letter 2 Response: Pollan to Mackey

Mackey complained that he wasn't contacted by Pollan before the book was published and tried to argue that all "industrial organic" is not bad. Pollan challenged Mackey on the authenticity of the storytelling present in the store, and on how much produce was truly "local".

The problem is and was, that Pollan and Mackey agree more than they disagree. While Mackey got his chance to explain his philosophy and to announce several new praiseworthy initiatives that deal with fair trade, animal welfare, support for local "food artisans" and loans for farmers and food producers, he admitted that criticism was good, and that it spurred a reexamination of their practices and a rethinking of their approach. Pollan in turn praised Mackey for the new initiatives and for being willing to so thoroughly engage his critics, something few CEO's are willing to do.

It was surprising how unpolished and passionate Mackey was compared to the almost slick and sometimes snide Pollan. Mackey even went so far as to say the backlash against his company and the concept of organic has actually been good in some ways. Still Mackey doesn't like being compared with Wal-Mart, and his philosophy of a more enlightened capitalism and movement towards a post industrial age he calls the "ecological era" puts him on the forefront of progressive businesses.

For his part, Pollan kept the conversation to a discussion more about the future than the present or the past in the discussion part of the program which was entitled "The Past, The Present, The Future of Food". Pollan even envisioned a kiosk in a grocery store that would allow shoppers to scan items and see what was happening back on the farm for a kind of nanny-cam meets corporate transparency, a vision that Mackey seemed to embrace. Perhaps both Mackey and Pollan are ready to put down the gloves and make peace with the past and present (in addition to each other) and to make more room for a focus on the future.