Beating A Dead Horse

 

I truly understand, respect and acknowledge the importance of the critic and their ability to elucidate some of the more nuanced and overlooked details of the dinner experience, but I’ve also realized that there are a few topics that I just generally have no interest in hearing about any longer.  At some point, certain topics can be left to be addressed by the diner and does not warrant a discussion so frequently.  There are also a few topics that every critic seems to pick at despite how it sensibly has no technical use or application for their actual job.  The writing is fantastic and eloquently argued at times, but increasingly, the topics are becoming masturbatory.  Here are a couple of list of things that I would like to see the critics and writers to start to move on from…

The “Let It Die” topics of yesteryear:

-Restaurant noise

-Charging for bread and water

-Pizza

-Anonymity

-Top Chef

-Bacon (soon to be the “Tuna Tartare” of this decade)

-Bourdain comments on Alice Waters and Food Network (it was fun… a year ago)

-NY vs. SF

 

The “Don’t Cry For Me, Argentina” self-serving topics of restaurant critics:

-The importance/relevance of critics

-The unimportance/importance of bloggers or blogging

-Being a critic today versus critics of the past

-Creating new diner etiquette based on personal opinion/value/digression

-Defending ratings systems

Dinner and a Trip to the Bathroom... Classy

I ran across this on a blog (barstoolsports.com) and thought it was funny and food/porn relevant.  With SF being such a liberal city, I wonder if anyone would be tempted to offer such a fantastic deal.  Other possible dates for repeating this promotion are March 14 and Christmas...

Here's the story:

Restaurant promotes sex in its bathrooms

Mildred's Temple Kitchen is inviting customers to have sex in its bathrooms.


The Valentine's weekend promotion takes uncomfortable but electrifying sex from the close confines of an airplane and transfers it to the unisex stalls of the Hanna Ave. restaurant.

The Liberty Village restaurant proposes its modern bathrooms become one of the "101 places to have sex before you die."

Mildred's has always elicited a certain response. One customer, who didn't want to be named, remembers going to a wedding at the eatery's old location and seeing a copy of the Kama Sutra in the bathroom.

"They invite it," said the customer.

This time, the invitation is explicit. On its website, Mildred's asks: "Have you given any thought to moving beyond the bedroom?

"Check out Mildred's Sexy Bathrooms throughout the weekend of Big Love. You get the picture."

Actually, the picture is clouded by practicalities. Is the restaurant supplying condoms? What about the health risks of body fluids? And who's cleaning up?

"We've always had little trysts in our bathrooms," says chef/co-owner Donna Dooher, pointing to lingering weekday lunches as a popular time. "We're taking it to the next level on Valentine's weekend."

The restaurant's four bathrooms light up outside when occupied. Staff have learned to watch the light flicker twice when two customers enter the same bathroom, usually a few minutes apart.

Toronto Public Health says as long as there's no sex in the kitchen and the restaurant keeps its washrooms clean and sanitized, it's not fussed. "As far as bodily fluids, it's pretty much similar to the other human functions going on in there," says Jim Chan, manager of the food safety program.

Dooher says customers must bring their own condoms but she's hiring a maid to tidy the washrooms that weekend. "She'll be there with her feather duster and cleaning supplies."

At least diners aren't encouraged to use furry handcuffs, part of a $55 "naughty love hamper," while at Mildred's. "Best to savour and enjoy (those) long after you leave the restaurant," the restaurant says.

Recipe Creation and Menu Originality

There have been many occasions when I go through the process of recipe development and testing that I catch myself formulating a flavor profile, technique or ingredient combination that feels too close to a dish that I had either previously cooked (another chef’s recipe) or enjoyed at a restaurant.  Every time that this happens, I normally take a step back and methodically go through the process of breaking down my own recipe to avoid any confusion/misinterpretation.  This is not to say that I haven’t tried reproducing a familiar flavor combination in a dish, but sometimes certain lines between what can be deemed artistic plagiarism or inspiring tribute are muddy at best.

There are many different situations or arguments for trying to establish a specific set of guidelines for proper ethics when it comes to recipe creation.  In many cases, it would be asinine to argue plagiarism for recipes that have been developed and published for a thousand years (e.g. pizza – trust me, everything done to/for pizza has already been done somewhere else).  I would argue that there are specific situations that are questionably legitimate at best.  I fail to believe that seeing Oysters and Pearls Sabayon on any menu other than The French Laundry (or Per Se) would be anything less than culinary hackery. 

Many times though, I do understand a restaurant/chef’s desire for creating a dish based on another dish’s inspiration, but these new dishes are normally subjected to reinterpretation and tinkering.  One of the issues that exists in a copycat industry (not by design) is that people are too keen on current trends and often too empowered with a lazy self-justified approach under the philosophical guise of “letting the food speak for itself.”   Clearly, you are going to be more prone to seeing multiple versions of something as mundane as Shaved Asparagus Salad or your early 2000’s explosion Tuna Tartar.  I sense you can argue that these examples play more along the lines of a lack of originality than piracy, but lesser cases have been argued and won in musical copyright infringement.

One of my favorite examples of clear cut creativity came from an anecdote in a written piece on Grant Achatz (New Yorker, I think) – who upon discovery that another chef had done something partially similar to his new concept, decided to nix the entire idea altogether.  By nature, many chefs are very guarded with their original recipes and techniques, but within the trade, there is also a desire to share and be open with their work and their discoveries. 

I’m not trying to imply that rustic/classic cooking is not creative and beautiful in its own right because making ingredients taste great or perfecting a recipe whether old or new is already a feat in itself.  Traditional cooking is what satisfies us and makes us go back to all our familiar places/dishes, but for those who want to continue to approach food as means of progressive artistic expression/creation may have to look outside of their current surroundings for new exposure and ideas.  It would be nice to see some people venture out of a comfort zone. 

Here are a few guidelines I like to generally follow:

• classically defined recipes and family inherited dishes are all fair game and can be done without any reservations
• classical dishes reinterpreted are fine, duplicating the reinterpreted dish is not
• all new techniques developed and shared publicly.published are open to use
• no more than a combination of three techniques and or primary ingredients from someone else’s recipe should be duplicated
• if the ingredient is served in the same exact technical form, all other supporting ingredients must be different

Here are a few basic restaurant menu rules I wish were followed:

• Grilled chicken breast salads should be forsaken from menus
• Edible visual garnishes only matter if they assist in taste or texture in any way
• Anonymous “Mixed Green Salad”
• Abusing asparagus as the first sign of spring
• Bad coffee costing more than $2
• “Throw the Vegetarian a Friggin Bone” dishes (not literally)
• “Throw the Vegans a Friggin Bone” dishes (wouldn’t be on this list if it was literal)
• Fried Calamari in a non-Asian restaurant
• Tuna and salmon on 90% of menus (except for sushi; sadly, only 1 out of 10 restaurants cook salmon/tuna properly)

Business Segregation by Economics

A few months ago, East Bay merchants raised a hissy fit over the increase in parking toll prices due to the fact that they would discourage business.  Today, it was announced that the Bay Bridge and other bridges would see a toll hike – one that would raise the commuter toll price of the Bay Bridge to $6 from $4.  Upon hearing this news, people are not happy today.  See here.

I’m normally discouraged to travel to the East Bay or anywhere out of San Francisco for much of anything, but sometimes I do make the effort because there are worthwhile places to go (such as my commute to my day job).  I have quite a few East Bay friends who often react similarly when it comes to visiting the city, but they manage to do so once in a while to enjoy a meal or a night in the city.  At first, this toll hike issue may surface as a common daily commuter problem, but if we apply the very basic idea of trickle down economics – everyone pays, including a fragile restaurant/hospitality industry.

I’m not sure if I need to remind people about how ominously quiet San Francisco happened to be when the Bay Bridge shutdown for a week.  With a jobless rate at 12-13%, gas prices hovering $3 and parking tolls at $.25 per 5 minutes, I wouldn’t blame anyone living as close as Emeryville to seek other dinner and entertainment options away from this city. 

As for the East Bay, a good chunk of the Bay Area’s disposable income resides within the wealthier confines of San Francisco and the Peninsula.  People who used to plan on saving some money by carpooling to eat and buy goods in the East Bay, (e.g. Ikea or WalMart to name a couple) will now have to fork over $2.50 for carpool travel.  If you couple that with the additional amount of gas spent on sitting idle in your car to pay this new toll, you will have a whole new group of pissed off people who swear never to venture out again. 

But, you’re probably questioning if those situations are equalizers for each other – meaning are SF residents more likely to fill the blank spaces in SF and East Bay residents likely to do the same?  There may be some sort of cancellation factor there, but I’m pretty sure of three things.  The first is that there is an uneven amount of people going across one side of the bridge versus the other.  So I’m not sure who ultimately suffers more, but someone comes out worse off.  The second is that the services in SF that are desirable for people in the East Bay are not the same as the ones that SF residents travel to the East Bay for.  This means that the merchants that lose customers due to toll hikes are not the same people that may see a boost from them.  Third and finally, everyone will end up paying for this because this is eventually going to cost the food truckers more money in the near future – adding another tiny deficit to the already delicate profit margins and fragile operating revenues.  And, we all know that when you add costs to supplies, those costs will likely transfer to the diner’s check. 

On top of all these good feelings, if you can believe it, the contrast between Oakland and San Francisco might end up worse than it already is.  I'm not implying that there are a lot of people in San Francisco who are out of touch with reality, I’m just trying to say that there’s a good contingent who happen to seem out of touch with other people’s realities. 

What can you do about this grave injustice?  Hope you’ve got a good cushion for someone else’s pushing “and everybody hurts…some time.”

Have Coffee? Will Travel.

Disclaimer: Dear coffee nerds, I am not super knowledgeable about the crazy machines, all the crazy roasts, all the crazy regions and all the crazy farms.  Please do not kill me for writing this post.  I like what I like.  Thank you and enjoy.

Basically, I’m a sucker for tasty coffee.  Am I connoisseur or expert?  No, but I am an enthusiast.  The true specialist in my family is my cousin Peter who happens to have an  obscene coffee shop setup back at his place in Cambridge, MA.  We’re talking pricey shiny grinders, big ass espresso machine and siphon percolators.  It’s part ridiculous and part totally awesome.  I’m still working with my single cup cone dripper and a Bodium press.

During my holiday visits to Boston, I end up making a trip to a little coffee shop called Simon’s in Porter Square.  Peter and I happen to share the same affinity for the coffee that they serve there – which so happens to be the fantastic George Howell Terroir Coffee.  And so, on the last day of every Boston visit, it’s now part tradition that I go to Simon’s Coffee Shop to buy a few bags of beans for my return trip to San Francisco.  At first, this happened in only one city, but then there was another and another and another. 

As odd as it may be, coffee seems to have found a way to become a fixture in my travel plans and I’ve started frequenting different specialty coffee houses in different cities.  In fact, I’ve started to regard coffee as one of the key components of any successful trip.  I know coffee may sound like a mere footnote to a grand vacation, but you’d be surprised at how satisfying and fun it is to include it as a notable destination.  The best part about travelling for coffee is that it will never be touristy (except for Seattle’s original Starbucks) and rarely disappointing. 

 

I thought it’d be fun to highlight some of the places that I’ve enjoyed in the recent past, so that you may find it in your travels as well.  I’m not saying they are the best, but they are very enjoyable:

Favorite Places:

Boston/Cambridge: Simon’s Coffee Shop serving George Howell Terroir Coffee

New York: Mud Truck Coffee; La Colombe (also in Philly); Sweatleaf (LIC) serving Stumptown

Washington DC: Murky Coffee (RIP recently, d’oh)

Portland: Barista; Stumptown

Chicago/LA: Intelligentsia

Seattle: Caffe Vita (perfect w/ Paseo sandwich from next door, hmm…)

And, of course, if you happen to be in San Francisco:

Coffeebar; Blue Bottle; Four Barrel; Ritual; Sightglass; Trouble Coffee (because its a fun destination)

 

Personally, I’m a mid to dark roast drip/press kinda guy.  I enjoy lattes with a touch of raw sugar.  I like fuller bodied, little smoke, nuttiness, bittersweet chocolate, earthy flavors, citrus and even some lighter berry flavors.

Some of my favorite roasts:

Terroir Daterra South Italian

Stumptown Panama Carmen Estate and Mind Bender

Intelligentsia Agua Preta

Coffeebar Riserva Del Diablo & Bolivia Cenaproc

Blue Bottle Three Africans & Ethiopian Yirgacheffe

Going Dark: The Last Nights in the Kitchen at Poleng

I’m not particularly sure I wanted to write this blog and I definitely didn’t know what kind of tone it would logistically have.  It has become more of a mental chore the last couple of days to avoid the thoughts in my head, so I was inclined to simply put them into words.

Last Wednesday, Poleng announced its closing on twitter and their main webpage.  As a friend and former member of the Poleng kitchen, my reaction was obviously shock and disbelief.  For many people that work in the restaurant industry, it is common knowledge that cooks and chefs often rotate from kitchen to kitchen in short periods of time.  So, by default, sentimental attachments (or even good feelings for that matter) naturally are not built between ex-staffers and restaurants.

But, Poleng was a important step in my life and I’ve always acknowledged its integral part in building my foundation in San Francisco.  It’s cliché to continue on and blabber about the strength of the relationships that I built, so I won’t bother.  I still have some very close friends from Poleng that I will continue to forge strong ties with, but for the most part, I don’t know most of the staff there anymore.  In fact, I don’t know the former staff that the current staff replaced either.  People have moved on, Poleng moved on, and more specifically, I moved on.  That train of thought really made me question whether I really had a basis for my attachment to the current version of Poleng.

I’m still years away from sniffing 30 (so feel free to take all this with a grain of salt) but every year that I get older, I feel like I get better at detaching myself from situations – personal, professional, social or anything otherwise.  I’m not talking about detachment by design/choice, but rather, detachment as a subsequent byproduct due to a lack of effort.  I seem to simply be better at finding less to really care about.  That said, nobody held me accountable and nothing kept me beholden to Poleng, but I wanted Poleng to survive simply because there were still remnants of an institution that I cared so much about for so long.  With bad things happening at every turn, it gets harder to really care and invest in anything at all – and, in that same frame of mind, it magnified my strong feelings for the restaurant.

On Wednesday, I had a chance to speak with a couple of the owners in hopes of finding a resolution with their struggles, but I was sure that nothing could be done at this point.  I felt my efforts would be pointless, but inaction equals immediate failure, so it was worth a try.  After much talking and discussion about too-late-too-little-last-ditch situational efforts, I eventually reconciled myself to the fact that nothing would change this close date.  Food service would end on Sunday.  At that point, I told Desi (part owner, co-founder) of Poleng that I would like to be there Friday, Saturday and Sunday to work alongside the kitchen crew for their last weekend of food service.  I was inclined to do so because these would be the same team of guys that I worked with long ago.

On Friday, I returned to the kitchen.  I have never been part of a kitchen closing, but I have recently attended multiple closings.  The grandest closing I could remember was Postrio.  Chefs flocked back from different restaurants and cities to properly sunset the restaurant by working special dishes and throwback prices on the menu.  Local celebrities and Wolfgang sat shoulder to shoulder in a crowded and lively room.  It was a joyous, raucous and bittersweet moment when I looked from afar, but I had no false expectations that closing Poleng from the kitchen would be anything close to that type of spectacle. 

Friday service began and ended just like any other Friday service during their 3.5 years.  The volume was much heavier, but it eventually ended mercifully.  I plopped at my old bar spot (“101” on the POS) and started drinking with a group of familiar and unfamiliar faces.  And much like many other nights there, I took a regrettable shot, had a charming pickup conversation with a nice looking well-endowed woman, closed my tab and went home tired and happy.

Saturday was equally busy, but we weren’t nearly as plagued by large parties ordering a la carte, so service ran much smoother.  This time around, I wasn’t in as great of a mood to hang out – having exhausted most of my energy for the weekend.  The process of ‘86-ing food had begun to pick up momentum as we were steamrolling items while heading into a final Sunday showdown.  For the second night in a row, we were well into 200+ covers.  Some of the cooks would not be returning Sunday night, so it was my last chance to say goodbye.  We all shared a drink together and exchanged numbers.  It was mildly depressing, but thankfully not overly emotional.  During service, it was apparent that the unevenly brutal service coupled with the emotional rollercoaster of losing their jobs seemed to cause their frustrations to boil over.  This was surprising because these were some of the more composed, carefree and calm cooks I’ve worked with before.

When I got in on Sunday, I quickly found out that we were going to be seating 6-8 parties of 10 or more.  3 of these parties happened to be 20 tops (full of customers and VIPs), but only one of them had a buyout ticket.  In a restaurant, anytime that you have a party over 10 ordering individually off the menu, you are essentially condemning your kitchen staff to a night of misery and hell.  Now, combine that with the fact that none of these tables would seat before 7:00pm and you have utter chaos.  Pure madness ensued as we started to cancel menu items left and right with one call for “86” following another for every half hour of service.  I took a breath and kept 10 new tickets sitting on a stack as I calmly fired a groups of coursed tickets approximately 5 tables at a time.  I apologized to the servers and simply told them, “please let your customers know that due to the volume tonight, they will just have to wait until I work towards their ticket order.”

And to the credit of the faithful and understanding customers there that night, they seemed to be calm throughout the final dinner service.  The servers all seemed to say that customers were happy for the most part.  Then again, this was one of the few occasions in my life where I legitimately didn’t care and couldn’t do anything about how the customer felt about the pace of their meal. 

I tried to stay and keep the cooks in control by simply not allowing the idea of an over-frantic pace to unsettle them.  There were no repercussions for a last night, but there should still be no mistakes for the food going out.  By 9pm, most of everything was gone and over a 120 customers were served in a short 2 hour window.  I was sure we had hit the 200 covers mark for three successive nights.  Reservations and seating had already come to a close by 8:45pm.  Just as I began to exhale, I could see a realization settle into the eyes of the cooks.  There were no tears or anything close to melodramatic, but they all seemed to possess a very barren stare.  Normally at the end of a long service, you can see cooks with an expression of either exhaustion, exhilaration, relief or frustration.  But, the emotion and mood couldn’t be categorized as any of these. 

After everything was cleaned up, I walked out to the dining floor.  There were no DJ’s tonight and there wasn’t a after-dinner party buzz.  I milled around and had a drink with some friends who showed up earlier for food, but couldn’t get seated.  Eventually, the entire kitchen staff took some pictures, said our goodbyes and closed up.  I went with my friends to NoPa for a martini and shortly after that, the Poleng kitchen went dark. 

       

*fyi* Poleng will continue their nighttime entertainment service until the end of the month.  

Help Save The World, Eat An Ugly Fruit.

During my dazed drive to work from the gym, I was partially listening to a story on NPR regarding farms in Florida dealing with an unexpected winter frost.  The story was a generic report about farmer issues with maintaining the health of the crops – which is a similar issue that Napa farmers seem to deal with every other year.  I was entirely tuning out the radio until the narrator’s semantic selection caught my attention.  For some reason, he chose the word “cosmetic” in reference to maintaining the quality of the fruit.  And, for some other reason, I couldn’t help but digress upon whether or not the narrator really made a mistake. 

One of the few things that most consumers seem to overlook is the basic idea of fruit/vegetable cosmetics.  Much like how we judge other people, we normally seem to associate exterior appearance with interior quality.  And, fittingly, much like how we discover other people, we realize quickly that a pretty fruit can actually turn out to be an evil bitch - ahem, which is to say it can taste bad. 

Basically, if you are clueless in learning how to determine whether a certain fruit is ripe, fresh or sweet – then, you are obviously more inclined to pick pretty fruit.  And because, farmers and distributors know we are senselessly prejudiced and dense human beings (for the most part), they decide that they must make fruit to look pretty to appeal to our desires.  But to make fruit look pretty, they must perform cosmetic manipulation – chemical tummy tucks and boob jobs for produce if you must.  As a result of this cosmetic manipulation, your food is now more harmful to you, costs more to you, tastes worse, and might become a dirty whore that cheats on you when she says she’s going to have a girl’s night out but really is meeting up with an orange muscled dude who wears like a size 15 shoe but has a tiny package because he got screwed for juicing.  You know, shitty.

Nothing I just wrote should be a surprise to you.  The important lesson is to really learn how to pick produce (ask someone!) and don’t rely on the shiny wax coated stuff at the supermarket.  Just think, when you pick the ugly fruit from a market stand, you are doing yourself and the world a great justice.  You know, it’s fun, like taking the ugly girl home for a party.  (That quote is from a show or a movie, by the way, I am in total support of inner beauty.)