Today's food-scape is a rich tapestry woven from a multitude of little ideas and small stories: tradition, history, science, art, and human ingenuity colliding on plates at the intersection of major political and social issues. The individual strands of this loom-y metaphor are people. They aren't always clearly visible until you look closely. People need food to survive, and in ancient times, communities were endlessly preoccupied with finding things to eat and figuring out how to cook them. Civilizations would form and thrive around the domestication of a single species of animal. Proud eating traditions have sprung from time-honed preparation techniques born of necessity. Great celebrations still honor the harvest and hunt. For evidence, look no further than Thanksgiving and the Gilroy Garlic Festival. There's a gulf between pounding poi in Polynesia and nudging a grocery cart through Whole Foods, but the parallels persist even amid changing times and circumstance: we have always been defined by how we eat -- as individuals, families, neighborhoods, cities, states, and countries. Food used to be seen as fuel; now, it's a mirror, and everything we stuff down our face-holes shows us more about ourselves and the way we live.

The view of Guerrero from inside 18 Reasons

18 Reasons, the Bi Rite-affiliated gallery space on Guerrero near 18th Street, has made such conscious, well-examined consumption its mission, offering exhibitions, lectures, tastings, and classes to draw clear bright lines between food, people, and place, existing essentially as the embodiment of its intention, as a local meeting spot for people who love food and want to talk about it, share what they know, and learn from others. The gallery has received some local press love but this summer's offerings deserve special mention.

Morgan Maki starting on the lamb

Last week, I attended the second part of a Lamb Butchery and Sausage Making class taught by Bi Rite butcher Morgan Maki, the same guy who schooled folks in Stock Theory and Knife Skills a few months ago. The first session saw a 5-foot-long 45 pound lamb broken down and whittled into chops, roasts, and other cuts for cookery. I missed that one due to illness but the pictures tell enough of the story for you to get the basic idea. It came in whole and left in chunks. Maki dropped some anatomy knowledge. Everyone ate cheese and drank wine. When I arrived at the second session, the students were chopping the trimmings from that depleted carcass, sleeves rolled up, ties tucked, and jewelry removed. It was a Tuesday night, and most had clearly come straight from work and were dutifully taxing the bottles of merlot making the rounds. The gallery's clean white walls were bare, awaiting the summer show (Julie Duffoo's semi-gristly Meatpaper photographs of local butchers). The only exhibit on display was the whirl of activity, something like a party happening around the sturdy wooden table in the center of the room: sausage as social sculpture.

Gathering around the grinder

As Maki spoke, some of the attendees frantically scribbled on yellow legal pads. A few people hung back against the walls, silent, literally watching others watch and talk. Most crowded around the table for a shot at slicing, or volunteered to help grind once the ingredients were assembled. "This is probably used in extreme interrogation techniques," quipped one dude as he eyed the sausage stuffing apparatus.

The sausage, ground

People capable of paying 60 dollars to learn how Bi Rite butchers make sausages using $2000 grinders can afford to buy sausage at Bi Rite any time they want. They don't need to learn how to make sausage at home in order to save money or make their lives easier. Prussian statesman Otto Von Bismarck (an abundantly mustached practitioner of Realpolitik who probably put away many many sausages in his day) famously compared the crafting of laws to the processing of sausages. There was once the idea that people wouldn't want to eat sausage if they saw how it was made. Now, people want to know where they can find fresh pork blood and a good deal on a professional grinder.

Those who show up at 18 Reasons for something like this aren't just amassing knowledge for themselves. They're making a personal investment in an enduring artisanal tradition and, by extension, a community. "The more people that use this space the healthier it will be," said Maki when I asked him what he wanted out of the gallery. The neighborhood has definitely taken notice. Every person walking past with laundry and grocery bags stops to peer in. Maybe they all won't shell out the ducats for a class but they'll maybe come to a free event, or at least read up on something they saw posted on the board outside.

If you want to get involved, now is a good time. Classes on the horizon promise to please. On Tuesday, July 7, Maki will teach the first section of a two-part course on Pig Butchery and Curing, in which participants will learn the basics of swine disassembly as well as several principles and techniques of curing in preparation for smoking or curing. The cost is $60 for non-members. Buy your tickets here.

Photos by Michael V. Chopko

Happy Pride! The Gay High Holy Days—or week, or month, depending on your stamina and affinity for dance music, tank tops, rainbow balloons, sign-waving, marches, guys in banana thongs, and standing in line, endlessly, for tickets, beer, and/or bathrooms—are coming to their sunny, sweaty close today. Time to get off the Blue Angel-martini-and-popcorn diet and put those silver latex shorts back in the closet, at least til the Folsom Street Fair.

Or that's how it might be in other cities, where Pride comes around but once a year. Here in our lovely fog-bound burg, though, we can be prideful every day, even if we still-still!-can't get married in City Hall.

But there is something particularly fabulous in seeing the typical straight-to-gay ratio of just about everything upended this month. I still remember walking into 2223 Market one night near the end of June last year, and feeling like everyone there was gay. Gay couples, gay friends, gay parents--it was just like being in the straight world, except this time it was all ours.

Naming all the LGBT chefs and business owners who have made the SF food scene what it is would turn this column into a faygelah version of Adam Sandler's Hannukah Song, but still, let's raise a glass to Traci des Jardins, for running a fancypants place in Hayes Valley and a taqueria with a conscience, and never turning down the chance to help out a good cause; to bad boy Jeremiah Tower, for making Stars sparkle; to Elizabeth Faulkner and her partner Sabrina Riddle, for giving the dyke food mafia an official clubhouse, first at Citizen Cake, now at Orson; and to food photographer Frankie Frankeny, because she shoots what we want to eat, and finds a way to sneak her daschunds into every shoot.

And let's not forget a toast to vinologist Pamela Busch, of the late Hayes and Vine and the current Cav Wine Bar, and to Absinthe's Jamie Lauren and her Top Chef Team Rainbow, for making "hot chef" replace "folk singer" as the default lesbian occupation. Also heating up the room is Gialina pizza diva Sharon Ardiana, turning Glen Park into Naples, and Celia Sack of Omnivore Books, for bringing us cookbook-browsing perfection with nary a 30-Minute-Meal or celebrity diet in sight, just up the street from the ever-charming Lovejoy's Teahouse, run by Muna Nash and Gillian Briley. Were we getting married, we might just drag pastry chef Yigit Pura of Taste Catering out to Iowa with us, just so we could show that corn-fed state just how divine his chocolate-hazelnut daquoise with passion fruit filling wedding cakes can be.

And thank you Rainbow Grocery, for letting us shop for veggie dogs on the 4th of July but closing for Pride Sunday, so your collective members can be out and proud rather than stuck restocking the spirulina. Even Food Not Bombs gets into the spirit now, serving up free eats (in tuxedo shirts and fake mustaches) at their mobile Chez Gay Cafe in Dolores Park before the Tranny March. We're here, we're queer, let's eat!

Vahlrona Chocolate Souffle, Oola

"There is nothing like good food, good wine and a bad girl."

So says the fine print on the menu at Oola. It sure does set the tone, and on a Monday night at that.

Monday date night at Oola

The strategic lighting, exposed brick, and soaring-ceilings make you feel a little mysterious, a little daring, a little come-hither.

So while we're being naughty, let's start with dessert first. Our Vahlrona Chocolate Souffle served with a Chambord ice cream sauce, fresh berries, and a cute little puff of meringue was an absolute treat. Pastry chef Alicia Montalvo has a good thing going here. Our souffle was everything I wanted it to be. Light, airy, rich, and downright sexy. Montalvo is planning on featuring a new souffle special every Monday, only on Mondays. I'm already looking forward to finding out what creative concoctions she has up her sleeve.

Hama Hama Oysters, Oola

From one aphrodisiac to another, bring on the oysters. Oola had Hama Hamas and Marins on the menu, both served on the half shell with a mignonette and cocktail sauce on the side. We preferred the hama hamas which had a more buttery texture and cleaner, fresh sea taste. Mmm, I could eat a whole pirate chest of good oysters.

Baby Back Ribs, Oola

If you've never tasted Chef Ola Fendert’s famous Baby Back Ribs, you must. Glazed in a soy sauce, cilantro, ginger sauce, they are the perfect flavor and texture. Eat them with your hands and lick the tangy, salty, sweet, stickiness off your fingers. The outer layer is beautifully caramelized and slightly charred, while the inner bites are falling-off-the-bone tender. The red cabbage-apple slaw on the side provides a nice fresh crunch and a touch of mellow creaminess. They dutifully perform their supporting role in this highly delicious act.

Foie gras and chicken ravioli, Oola

For my main, I went with the Foie Gras and Chicken Ravioli served in a roasted chicken and truffle broth. The ravioli had me at foie gras. When the dish arrived at the table, I was momentarily intoxicated by the unmistakable earthy, pungent, woodsy aroma of black truffle. The al dente pasta had great chew and flavor, and the foie gras/chicken filling was meaty and full-flavored, but texture wise, I wish it was more velvety, molten-foie gras-like, and less meat-like.

"Farmer’s Market Special" Bruins Farms Heirloom Tomato Risotto

The "Farmer’s Market Special," part of Oola's new summer menu dedicated to showcasing seasonal, local-sourced organic ingredients, was an Heirloom Tomato Risotto made with chunks of heirloom tomatoes, stewed cherry tomatoes that burst in my mouth, and oven-dried tomatoes that added a touch of smokiness. The combination made for a complex and bright sweetness. The risotto was topped with a creamy, mild goat cheese, and seasoned with fragrant lavender – the perfect complementary accents.

(In a way this dish reminded me of a way fancier version of what I used to eat as a child. Surprisingly, for a period in my life, I was a picky eater, and the only way my parents could get me to eat rice was if it was doused in ketchup. OK, you may or may not think less of me now. What's done is done.)

Parenthetical aside, Oola may just have what it takes to make Monday the new date night. Nothing like a souffle and some footsie to take the edge off a new week.

Oola Restaurant & Bar
860 Folsom Street
(between 4th St & 5th St)
San Francisco, CA 94107
(415) 995-2061

The joint endeavor of Mission District housemates Kale Daikon and Eggplant Kohlrabi (a.k.a. Katrina Dodson and Erin Klenow), Weird Vegetables sprouts a cut above most local food blogs. Do not, for starters, confuse it with a younger, much less weird San Francisco-based rival going by the same name, a site dedicated, seemingly quite seriously, to "celebrating diversity throughout the plant kingdom." In contrast, the one of which I write inhabits a special dimension of biological whimsy, where the crisper spills forth a menagerie of anthropomorphic leaves, roots, and legumes, and a trip to the farmer's market feels like a twisted safari through unfamiliar lands. Stuffed into the blog's strange sieve of language and thought, vegetables are not merely waxed, sticker-tagged produce; they are characters. Identities, needs, wants, and feelings squirm within their husks and peels as well as flavors and nutrients. For Dodson and Klenow, they are ripe springboards for gleeful leaps into philosophy, linguistics, and general poetic absurdity as well as cookery.

Each entry often starts with a vegetable one of them has picked up at the store or market. From there, the specimen is assessed, first as object, then as food, an introduction irrigated with historical context and preparation suggestions, and subsequently sacrificed at the altar of their imagination. Take, for example, the August 2008 post on the lemon cucumber, in which Dodson sums up the chosen veggie as "a piece of produce that boasts the vaguely exotic yet familiar allure of the hybrid, the indeterminate, the mestizo...this fruit masquerading as a vegetable disguised as a fruit (a kind of double drag, F to V to F)." In the April 2009 treatise on farro ("Long Ago, a Farro Way"), a lisp-kissed summary of The Princess Bride acts as preamble to a discussion of the ancient grain's venerability and value, "farro" being, after all, a word perhaps best spoken with "a faraway look" in one's eyes. Clearly, vegetables are weird, often much weirder than we think, and the ways in which people treat these things they plant and eat says something about people too: namely, that they are weird as well. In early June, I visited the bloggers at their house. We skipped through the magic mustard greens garden, scouted scapes, and talked turnips.

Andrew Simmons: I like how your blog shares practical advice about actually cooking vegetables but also presents them as vibrant players in a somewhat goofy bio-cultural drama. What got you into vegetables? Did the blog evolve organically?

Katrina Dodson: I go to farmers' markets all the time and I spend a lot of time around food people, so I've learned something about vegetables from them as well.

AS: Why are vegetables weird?

KD: Certain types of vegetables can be weird because people don't normally eat them or aren't used to them, or they can be more common individual vegetables, like carrots and potatoes, that just look weird. I'm also really interested in the weirdness of language and how strange the naming of vegetables can be. I'm working on a Ph.D. in comparative literature right now so I think about metaphors all the time. That's the latest level of weirdness on the blog, the newest terrain.

Erin Klenow: I like how the name of a vegetable can freak someone out. The fact that something is called a blood orange is enough to get people to avoid eating it. And nipple fruit? It's pretty funny.

KD: Also known as titty fruit.

EK: It's often noted that people have aversions to eating gross parts of animals but when I mention a certain vegetable to some people, they just go ew ew ew.

KD: There's also the misguided idea that vegetarianism is boring, like you run out of things to eat because you just eat vegetables and nothing else. We're not vegetarians, by the way.

EK: When people ask me if I'm a vegetarian, I just say I only eat expensive meat.

KD: I taught a class at Berkeley on food called "Eating and Being Eaten." It was all about how food is always more than just food. Having that dialogue in my head really affected the blog.

AS: What did the class read?

KD: A lot of different things. There was a food politics section. We read some of The Omnivore's Dilemma, and talked about My Year of Meats by Ruth Ozeki and Kafka's A Hunger Artist. There was a whole meat theme. We talked about cannibalism too, because that’s a topic I’m really interested in.

AS: You have to bring that up at some point when you're talking about the idea of eating meat.

KD: There's a necessary violence that happens in the mere act of survival. You have to acknowledge it. Even vegetarians consume living things.

AS: When you write about vegetables, they sound like animals or aliens, bizarre creatures that might scuttle off the table. It's carnivorous, in a sense. Why don't you write about fruit?

EK: We do sometimes.

KD: They're technically a subset of vegetables. Vegetables are weirder than fruit though. People are more okay with weird fruit. They're sugary, luscious, and voluptuous. Fruit is meant to seduce. That's its biological function. Vegetables are gross. They have weird outgrowths. They're all like take it or leave it. In the lemon cucumber post, we talked about how "vegetable" is a cultural determination whereas "fruit" is biological. A fruit is any plant with an enclosed seed that comes from a flower. That's scientifically established, but vegetables are really undefined. They're just the edible parts of plants. Technically, anything goes.

AS: Erin, do you work in the food world?

EK: I was a waitress for a long time. Three years ago, I worked as an expeditor at Quince. I had to learn everything on the menu. I read a lot of food writing too. I grew up in Sonoma so I was always close to people who produced food, though I wasn't very conscious of it until later.

KD: I'm from San Francisco. We went to Berkeley together.

AS: I liked how, in the black radish entry, you compiled a list of black foods to see, in part, what they have in common. They're all polarizing. I've eaten black radish before so I think I know what you're talking about when you describe it as being "very radish-y." How would you describe a "radish-y" person?

KD: Kind of abrasive. Kind of funny. Acerbic. Sometimes goes a little too far.

EK: A little refreshing but also overwhelming.

AS: If you were a vegetable, which would you be?

KD: I'm clearly Kale Daikon -- my initials. I said onion once when someone asked me that but it's not, you know, because I have so many layers and you have to peel them off...

AS: But the onion is so common, the cheapest vegetable in the store...

KD: I was feeling like one at the time.

EK: I've always identified with eggplant -- for Erin, I guess. Eggplant are a little inconsistent. They can be delicious and creamy or bitter.

AS: I don't want to read too much into that, but you might be the kind of person that, given proper attention and care, can be a very pleasant cohort in friendship...

EK: I like that it's purple.

KD: I have to say that now I've picked up more of an affinity to the carrot. They're unexpectedly weird.

EK: I could be a turnip too now that I think about it. Roasted, they're so good. I like them but I think about things I want to eat and they aren't usually something I'd want to be.

AS: Maybe be something no one would eat.

KD: Like bracken? But they serve it at Cha-Ya.

Barbecue is literally the slowest of slow foods, not a sauce, but a process, a ponderous and primitive one often measured in days as much as hours. It's much more than mere technique. Like a Bedouin goat roast or a Hawaiian luau, barbecue is a festive carnivorous rite, the sort of party humans all over the world have thrown ever since they could catch the beasts they wanted to eat. Barbecue is a distinctly American tradition, however, and it warrants esteem in our food culture, one that increasingly values authenticity, heritage, and, importantly, a bargain. Historically, barbecue began as poor food. Indirect smoking with hardwood chips and charcoal renders sumptuous feeds from large, inexpensive, uncompromising cuts of meat the non-wealthy can readily afford. Today, due to trend as well as economic circumstance, food writers and chefs champion sustainability, rhapsodize about nose-to-tail eating, and fetishize la cucina povera across cultures. Hip local foodies head to starred eateries to scarf humble ribollita and marrow, and food glossies aggressively explore the homey cooking traditions of everyday people in distant locales.

Even though food tied firmly to a place invariably tastes best in its native setting, barbecue should have a stronger presence here. Sadly, like real bagels and perfect pizza slices, there's something about it San Francisco doesn't quite get.

L.A. export Baby Blues BBQ sits in an old pharmacy storefront on Mission Street at the base of Bernal Hill in San Francisco. The restaurant headed up the S.F. Chronicle's flimsy "new-school" Bay Area barbecue round-up back in February. In the article, the proprietor described his establishment's style as a hybrid, with dry rub from Texas, greens from Kansas City, and grilled shrimp from New Orleans. While only one of those things necessarily has anything whatsoever to do with barbecue, I withheld preliminary judgement, assuming I'd look for proof in the pork. The same writer, Amanda Gold, penned a largely favorable review less than two months later, hailing Baby Blues' offerings as "spot-on," and singling out the brisket and ribs in particular for accolades.

The brisket was, in fact, good -- shredded, not sliced as is customary, slightly sweet, with a broad, warm flavor that belied the stringy appearance. On the other hand, the chicken was desert-dry and the pork shoulder shockingly tasteless. Sauce helped but it shouldn't have been necessary. Good barbecue doesn't truly need sauce, maybe just a splash of vinegary Crystal. The Baby Blues macaroni and cheese was pretty tasty but that came as no surprise. The tidy tureen of pasta, butter, cream, and cheese congregated in creamy, crust-topped ooze resembled a miniature version of one of the less flamboyant goofily greasy things you'd see on thisiswhyyourefat.com. Pork and beans: dreary canned ones of various stripes, topped with some of the same tasteless pork shoulder. Mashed sweet potatoes: one-dimensional and cloying. Great sides are not a prerequisite for even serviceable barbecue but they sure help, especially when a bunch of people are trying to eat until they can't walk.

Dodging categorization is no boon when it comes to barbecue. Homogenizing its varied nuances with the perceived intent of garnering broader appeal smacks of desperation or at least excessive compromise, not inclusivity. Barbecue pit-masters, are curators of sorts. They consciously nurture and carry on a tradition, just making something they really, really know exactly the way they think it should be made for anyone who happens to be interested. Diners prize authenticity when it comes to regional Italian fare; they should when it comes to barbecue as well.

Maybe we're barking up the wrong tree even hoping to find what we're looking for at a place like Baby Blues. Throughout the barbecue belt, you'll eat some of the best barbecue in the world at church benefit suppers, desolate country grocery stores on two-lane roads, and strange little delis straddling dusty cracks in the interstate, not just at grand 'cue emporiums with bright lights and long lines.

Fittingly, in keeping with another current trend, that of back alley catering and restaurant-esque entities sprouting up all over town, the d.i.y. barbecue operations churning away on the edges of the local food scene actually best the likes of Baby Blues, Memphis Minnie's, and Big Nate's. There's definitely something appealing about outlaw status, and barbecue wears it especially well, even here. While the best pork barbecue I've had in San Francisco had to fly 2,000 miles from a deli case in Allen County, Kentucky, there are a few local super-smokers doing it right under-the-radar:

Try ordering a spread from Oakland-based Sneaky's BBQ for your next business meeting. Since 2008, the smoker-in-chief, a native of South Carolina, has been faithfully recreating the barbecue he knew back home -- husky, succulent pork shoulder with pepper-flecked vinegar-laced red sauce and racks of chewy baby-back ribs -- and delivering it, quite sneakily, in an unmarked van (red like the sauce), to homes, offices, and even park parties. It's popping off on Yelp and Chowhound for a reason. It tastes like vigilance. When you're eating it, you easily imagine the whole ritual -- the meat hitting the grill just after rush hour, and coming off, sticky-black, hours and hours later, as well as the sleepless night vigil, the sense, perhaps, of beers drunk and cigarettes smoked, of bleary eyes peering down and smudged hands reaching to open and close flutes at the proper intervals while the rest of the neighborhood sleeps.

The Broken Record is a mildly Zeigeist-y bar in the Excelsior. Chef Ryan Ostler, an alum of Boulevard, doesn't own it but he cooks from behind a wooden, windowed counter buried in the back. He's a Mission Street Food veteran, no stranger to the underground eatery game. The bar's offerings run the gamut from frito pies and amazing 'kraut-topped boar and pheasant sausages (sweet, high-flying stoner-pub party fare, yes, but not barbecue) to pulled pork sandwiches (serious barbecue). Of course, it's a chef's whim kind of place at heart. Sometimes, you show up and the pork isn't done. Or it is done, but it hasn't been carved up yet. Or it was ready hours ago and now there's none left. According to Ostler, they smoke every day, but quantities are limited. If you miss out, eat a sausage. Barbecue is not, after all, on-demand.

Baby Blues BBQ
3149 Mission St. in San Francisco
415-896-4250

Sneaky's BBQ

The Broken Record
1166 Geneva Ave. in San Francisco
415-963-1713

Last Sunday, a brand-new farmers market opened in one of my favorite San Francisco neighborhoods: The Inner Sunset. The market, in the parking lot at Ninth and Irving streets, is run by the Pacific Coast Farmers Markets Association and will run from June through November. Walking into the market, you get a feeling of a true community event. Neighbors are greeting each other, and the general atmosphere was festive and fun. The market is mostly vegetable and fruit vendors, but shoppers can also purchase eggs, baked goods and prepared foods. There is even a tofu vendor, but I don't remember seeing any cheeses or meats.

By the time I arrived, the eggs were sold out, but the vendor -- Smart Eggs -- looks interesting. It's a student-run egg farm that is from Modesto Junior College.

There are quite a few farms from the coastal region and several from the Central Valley. I will be returning to this market. It's a fun, mellow option for a Sunday morning market.




The vendor list, as I noted it, is as follows:

Serendipity Farms
Far West Fungi
Berrylicious
De Palma Farms
Capay Organic
Wassum Ranch
Smart Eggs
Tofu Yu
Bakers of Paris
Her Farm
Arizmendi Bakery
Garcia Farm
Rodin Farm
Calolea
City Bees
Fifth Crow Farm
Kashiwase

Inner Sunset Farmers Market
9am - 1pm, Sundays
In the parking lot behind the Irving Street shops.
Enter from 9th or 8th Ave
Runs through November 22

Crawfish Po' Boy with Remoulade Sauce (mind you, that's just a half order)

When I first visited New Orleans as a young and adventurous 21-year-old (with nine other young and adventurous 21-year-olds), it was under the incredible hospitality of the generous Miss Dawn. Like a good southern hostess, Miss Dawn kept us well-fed, full of hearty, delicious, filling sustenance that would provide the proper base for a night of revelry.

Two memorable meals from our time there was the epic crawfish boil she set up our first night in, and the constant supply of po' boy makings she kept on hand for 1 pm breakfasts...5 pm snacks...and 4 am nightcaps. Piles of roast beef, fresh French bread, and dressed to the nines.

As soon as I saw the menu at Yats, I was brought back to sultry nights of sucking crawfish out of the shell and feasting on the ubiquitous po' boy.

Yats, San Francisco

In case you're wondering about this order window with the sign "Yats" pointing to it, well, that's it. Yats is actually, brilliantly, located inside Jack's Club, an homage to the divey friendly bars of New Orleans.

NOLA Fries: thick-cut steak fries showered in parmesan cheese, salt and pepper

The humble establishment makes good use of its well-loved deep fryer. Cue specimen A: NOLA Fries. Thick, golden, wedges of starchy goodness, dusted in a snowfall of parmesan cheese, salt and pepper. These huge steak fries are crispy on the outside, nice and soft on the inside.

You may be overwhelmed when you see the lengthy selection of Famous Po' Boys on the menu. I don't mean to be bossy, but get the Crawfish with Remoulade, and ask for extra sauce! Succulent bits of crawfish meat, coated in a crunchy cornmeal crust, and stuffed inside a loaf of fresh French bread with a soft airy center, and crispy flaky crust. And, you should probably get the whole foot-long. Trust me.

Mac-n-Cheese

You will also want to complement your sandwich lovin' with a side of Mac-n-Cheese. Quite possibly the best in SF. Do I have any challengers? This mac-n-cheese is no joke. Creamy and rich with a little coarse-grained mustard thrown in. Pure comfort food.

Yats takes bar food to a whole new level. The only down side is that the hours are a little tricky for a weekday visit unless you work in the neighborhood. Otherwise, your Saturday afternoon may have just found a new best friend.

By the way, if it's an authentic crawfish boil you seek, Yats is celebrating its One Year Anniversary with a Crawfish Boil this Saturday, May 16th, noon - 5 pm.

Yats
(Inside Jack's Club)
2545 24th St
San Francisco, CA 94110
Map
415-282-8906
Open Mon-Thurs, 11 am - 4 pm; Fri, 11 am - 8 pm; Sat, 11 am - 6 pm

Café Claude, San Francisco

Tucked away in a hidden alley amongst financial district lunch spots, Café Claude is a delightful breath of fresh air. I half expected my feet to touch cobblestone as I made my way past the charming red trellis and climbing ivy partitioning this Parisian gem from bustling Kearny Street.

Enjoy the sunshine and dine al fresco, or sit inside in the romantic, pleasantly glowing ambiance. Either option will make for a great date. And if you order well, you will definitely ooh la la your way home.

Paté Plate: Sauternes Mousse, Rillettes du Perigord, Truffle Mousse (from left to right)

Café Claude's selection of patés makes it difficult to choose just one. You can opt to be a glutton like me and go with the Paté Plate of three, or you can be kinder to your cholesterol level (although, what's the fun in that?) and make the hard choice.

Our table's favorite was the Sauternes Mousse, creamy all-natural goose liver marinated in sauternes wine. Light and silky, the texture was ethereal, and the flavor was full-bodied and rich with a touch of sweetness.

Second favorite was the Truffle Mousse, made with all-natural petaluma chicken liver, truffles and cepes (wild mushrooms) marinated in sherry. This is a great choice for paté virgins, with less funk than the other patés made with goose and duck.

The third paté was the Rillettes du Perigord, shredded all-natural duck meat and pork meat, seasoned with duck fat and cooked confit style. Tasty, but not as luxurious of a mouthfeel as the previous two.

Escargots en Croute

For starters we had the Escargots en Croute and Coquilles Saint Jacques.

One of my first memories dining out in a fancy restaurant is of my mom ordering escargots (ewww snails are in there?!). I got over the ew factor quickly as I discovered that escargots meant pools of fragrant garlic, butter, and parsley. Added bonus, they're served in fun dishes with holes perfect for stuffing pieces of crusty French bread in and soaking up all the buttery goodness. The escargots at Café Claude came in an aromatic sauce, but no flavor could be detected from the snails themselves.

I had high hopes for the Coquilles Saint Jacques. With scallops, shrimp, mussels, parmesan, and béchamel sauce on the bill, I had wild visions of creamy seafood decadence. Sadly, my expectations fell short, this was the weak link of the meal. Next time I'll opt to start with the legendary French onion soup, or either of phenomenal sounding tartars (tuna or steak).

Ahi

The standout of the night was the seared Ahi tuna, served on a bed of onion and bacon confit, soy green peppercorn sauce, and plenty of lemon zest. Intriguing, appetizing, perfect. The tuna was cooked just right, pink and rare in the center. The well caramelized onion and smoky bacon infused the dish with a savory sweet bouquet. The green peppercorn gave a little bite and kick, and the shower of lemon zest was the crowning touch. This dish was well-balanced, creative, and executed flawlessly.

I imagine any other entrée would pale in comparison to the phenomenal Ahi, so it may be with prejudice that I judge the Lasagne harshly. In concept it sounded like a lovely spring dish with fresh egg pasta loaded with veggies like roasted eggplant, zucchini, spinach, and tomato. But it was mediocre. Lesson learned, don't order Italian at a French restaurant?

After I nearly licked my plate of Ahi, I couldn't help but notice the Paleron Sauce Poivre Vert being served at the table next to mine. Gorgeous flat-iron steak served in a cognac, green peppercorn sauce, with golden potato gratin on the side. Sorry, dining neighbor, if I was staring.

For dessert, another hit and another miss.

The Moelleux au Chocolat, flourless chocolate cake with crème anglaise, was a little cloying and nothing spectacular. The Tarte Tatin on the other hand, très bon. A superb mix of flakiness soaked in burnt caramel, tender apple, and whipped cream. Worth saving room for.

All in all, Café Claude may be like a fickle love affair -- hot, cold, hot, cold. But this meal did end on a hot note, and there's no question that a second date is in order.

Café Claude
7 Claude Lane
(between Bush St & Sutter St)
San Francisco, CA 94108
415-392-3505

Pendennis Cocktails, Heaven's Dog

San Francisco is becoming extremely well known for its cocktails. In December, the New York Times said this of San Francisco: "In the San Francisco Bay Area, a growing scene of local distillers and bartenders capable of wielding their elixirs to maximum effect has emerged."

I have a first-hand love of San Francisco's focus on cocktails, having been the unofficial leader of a band of friends who go from bar to bar tasting the best cocktail that the bar has to offer. We've been to 22 bars so far, and there is no end in sight for the excellent cocktails we can continue to have in San Francisco.

So when a town with such a vibrant cocktail scene announces an entire week dedicated to cocktails, I circle that week on my calendar in red. San Francisco Cocktail Week is presented by the Barbary Coast Conservancy of the American Cocktail, which is an organization who is preserving the art of the cocktail in San Francisco. Here is the official schedule, but below are some events that I am especially interested in attending:

US Bartenders' Guild National Competition
Tuesday, May 12, 5.00 pm at Harry Denton's Starlight Room
Admission: Free
This is the competition for the National Champion Title, and is sure to be fun to watch.

Farmers Market Cocktails with CUESA
Wednesday, May 13, 5.30 pm at the Ferry Building
Admission: $30.
This will be the third time that CUESA has hosted a cocktail event which features market ingredients. It's fun to see what bartenders do with the inspiration of the market. This event will focus on cane-based spirits. Admission cost includes two full cocktails and approximately a dozen tastes of other cocktails. Among the confirmed bartenders are some of my favorites in town: Scott Baird, Carlos Yturria, Dominic Venegas and Jackie Patterson. Buy tickets soon, this will probably sell out.

Day of Education
Thursday, May 14, various locations
Cost: $30-$40 per class
On Thursday, you can attend several classes on topics surrounding cocktails. I'm especially interested in the class about house-made ingredients, and the class about Barbary Coast Cocktails. Check out all the classes and buy tickets here.

Stomping through the Savoy
Sunday, May 17, Alembic, from 6pm on.
Cost: Free with a charge for cocktails
Friend and cocktail master Erik Ellestad will be behind the bar at the Alembic. Approximately once a month, Alembic allows customers to thumb through the Savoy Cocktail Book and choose any cocktail from the book to try. I haven't made it to this event in the past, but hope to do so on the 17th.

Related:
Listen to a Sparkletack podcast about the Cocktail Route of the 1890's.
Commentary on the SF Cocktail Scene on Alcademics.
Watch the official site for additions to the schedule.

Slim as a finger or big as a fist, wrapped in papery corn husks or supple banana leaves, sweet as spring or spicy as summer -- the humble tamal in all its forms and flavors has become the star of an annual fundraising event in San Francisco. Taste of Tamales By the Bay will be coming again to the Fort Mason Center on Sunday, April 26, 2009.

During the rest of the year, the organizers of the event, the Benchmark Institute, helps develop better quality legal services to low-income communities. With an office in San Francisco's Mission District and with a potent blend of inspiration and hard work, their staff have proved tamales to be as unifying as they are fortifying.

I can still remember the first time I succumbed, one sunny day on a San Francisco sidewalk, to the low and furtive murmur of "hot tamales, hot tamales." Without a word, I followed a man to a minivan parked at the curb. Inside, his wife and teenaged daughter dug into their secret stash, kept warmly bundled inside 5-gallon buckets covered with thick towels. One pork, one chicken. I found a fire hydrant to lean on and ate both tamales straight out of the plastic. That red minivan still appears in my dreams.

So with much excitement, I’m heading to the Taste of Tamales festival. A wide variety of vendors will offer tamales and other tamale-friendly treats, such as hand-fried plantain chips by Estrellita’s Snacks, heritage beans both cooked and uncooked from Rancho Gordo, and coffee by Mama Art Cafe. In between all the tasting, you can browse gifts like colorful tile paintings from Suha Suha Studio or books new and old on Mexican and Southwestern cooking from Omnivore Books.

The margarita competition should be as fun to watch as taste. Family-friendly events include storytelling sessions and a tamale-making demonstration.

Those fascinated by how cuisines crossed the oceans can stop by the stage for my presentation, South By Southeast Asia: Tamales in the Philippines and Guam. Filipinos sailors manned the first Spanish ships that landed on our coast, while the Manila-Acapulco galleons directly connected Mexico to Asia long before California even appeared on maps. I'll be showing how corn deliciousness wrapped inside a leaf moved and morphed across 7,000 islands in Southeast Asia to mash up in Manila with its Chinese counterpart. Along with cheese and pork, peanuts and coconut milk made their way into the post-colonial tamal. For the first couple of hundred who arrive at the talk, there'll be tastings of these unique versions of tamales still enjoyed in the far-reaching Pacific archipelago.

A detailed schedule will be posted soon. In the meantime, mark your calendars for the last Sunday in April. You might want to skip breakfast that day.

Taste of Tamales By the Bay
Sunday, April 26, 2009
12:00 noon – 4:30 PM
Fort Mason Center
Buchanan St. at Marina Blvd.
San Francisco, CA 94123
Map
Conference Center, Landmark Building A