Impression: Amy’s Cafe #2: Not Recommended

Golden Gate between Hyde and Leavenworth, next to GAAP
San Francisco

I’ve mentioned my soft spot for small chaotic restaurants, and Amy’s Cafe definitely fit the bill. When I went in for lunch today, there were hand-written menus on every wall (making one wonder if they have an absurdly large menu, or just a large menu repeated in several places), a couple of cabinets strategically placed to block off part of the space they’re not using, and eight bars of Asian pop skipping on a CD player. My kind of place.

As I said, they have an extensive menu — mostly Chinese food, with a section for breakfast and American food selections. I ordered the broccoli beef rice plate ($4.25), which tends to be a pretty safe bet. Sadly, Amy’s Cafe let me down pretty comprehensively. The broccoli beef cowered by the side of a massive expanse of rice — more than I could finish, and I can eat a lot of rice. The sauce was bland and watery, and the beef was rubbery. The broccoli was fine, but a plate of steamed broccoli and rice is not a meal, but a joke about 70s macrobiotic cuisine. The hot and sour soup that came with it I didn’t even finish.

I feel like I should give the place another try some time — the American dishes looked better, and I tend to reserve judgment on a Chinese place until I try their fried rice. Still, at this moment, I can’t recommend Amy’s Cafe.

Impression: Law Cafe: Recommended

Lobby of 198 McAllister

This was a difficult meal to rate. I ate, from the Law Cafe (I can’t say “at” on account of the lack of seating), a turkey club wrap ($4.50) and a fruit cup ($2.50). Now, I have only good things to say about the convenience factor, and I have no complaints about the service. The wrap was merely OK. The insides were fine; the turkey was good, the lettuce and tomato seemed fresh, the bacon was bacon. They went a little overboard on the green condiment (some breed of aioli, I guess), but even with the ample saucing, I thought the wrap itself was sort of dry and heavy. This may just be a personal thing between me and lavash. It wasn’t terrible; it wasn’t great. I’d eat there again if I didn’t have time for anything else.

However — and here the difficulty arises — I cannot sing the praises of the Law Cafe fruit cup enough. Sure, $2.50 is a fair chunk of change, but you get a full pint of fruit, and the fruit is fresh and varied. Too often, a fruit cup is a small cup of soggy melon chunks, but the Law Cafe delivers strawberries and pineapple and grapes (and I have to say, this has been a damn good year for grapes) and bananas and yeah, some melon, but it’s fresh, sweet melon. It’s been my favorite afternoon slump snack for the last month or two. (I’m not sure they’re still doing it, but the fifty-cent hard-boiled egg was a pretty good snack too if you just need to put some food into your body between classes.) Sadly, as we move into winter, the fruit quality is ebbing a bit. The strawberries are not so good, and more and more melon appears. Even so, it’s still pretty good. Hence, the fruit cup elevates what would otherwise earn an OK rating into the Recommended band.

And the apple danishes are pretty good too. But those are mine, so back off.

Originally published at Tournedos

Review: Em’s Place; Recommended

McAllister between Hyde and Leavenworth

Em’s Place is my all-purpose fall-back lunch spot. It’s extremely convenient to school, and they haven’t let me down yet. The decor may leave something to be desired, but hey, it’s the Tenderloin. And the food is good, which is what counts.

The menu includes breakfast, American food, and Chinese food. I haven’t explored their breakfast option much, but I can vouch for the #3 breakfast ($3.65) — grilled cheese sandwich, two eggs, and hashbrowns. It wasn’t a revelation in cuisine, but all three parts of the breakfast were well-made, and the hashbrowns were generously portioned.

The Chinese food is pretty good. Their great strength here is that they use good ingredients and don’t overcook them. So most of their dishes consist of good-quality meat and nicely tender vegetables, which gets you a long way in Chinese food. Their sauces tend to be a little syrupy for my tastes, alas. I recommend the black pepper chicken ($5.25), the teriyaki chicken ($4.75), or the broccoli chicken ($4.95) (I understand you can get beef or pork in any of these for 50 cents more, but I’m cheap and I like chicken). The pork fried rice ($4.95) is hit and miss; it’s been really good on some occasions, and sort of mushy on others. On the other hand, I have to respect a pork fried rice with actual slices of barbecue pork rather than rubbery cubes of extruded pork-like product. The curry chicken ($4.95) is mediocre; there are better places to go if you want curry.

The American food is also tasty. I highly recommend the grilled chicken sandwich with BBQ sauce ($4.50). The quality of their chicken helps here, and the syrupy quality of their sauces is actually a plus with BBQ. They make a perfectly serviceable burger ($3.75), a darn tasty turkey burger ($4.50), and as I mentioned, a pretty good grilled cheese sandwich ($2.95). I can’t endorse their breaded foods; the chicken club ($4.50) and chicken-fried steak ($5.50) are fine, but not great. There’s better stuff on the menu. Of the side orders, I recommend the potato salad. The fries, in my experience, are unexciting, and while the fruit cup is fresh, it’s basically a small cup of melon chunks.

Originally published on Tournedos

Impression: Larkin Express Deli: OK

Larkin between Golden Gate and Turk

I like this place, but I have to back off from a recommend because I think my soft spot for quirky little places with character is clouding my judgment. For me, the strategically placed sign concealing a hole in the window is cute; others might feel differently. I ordered a turkey sandwich on a sweet roll, which was $4.95. It was a good sandwich, if nothing to write home about. They use fresh roast turkey, though, which is definitely a standout; I could see getting a yen for that at some point. I must warn you, however, not to get a soda from the cooler. I think they don’t get much sell-through, and my soda tasted a bit…off. When bottled soda is past its prime, something ain’t right. On the other hand, they also have fresh cookies, which are good but a bit pricy at $1.65.

Originally published at Tournedos

Impression: Taqueria el Castillito: Recommended

370 Golden Gate Avenue (between Hyde and Larkin)

I like this place; it strikes that balance between asepticness and squalor that is the hallmark of a good Mexican joint. Their regular burrito has a nice heft to it, and they don’t put anything weird or messy in it — rice, beans, meat, and salsa. You can get cilantro and onions if you want. I had mine with grilled chicken and the spicy salsa. The grilled chicken is good, but pretty ordinary. The spicy salsa is nice; it’s got big chunks of jalapeno that put some body behind the heat. The regular burrito is also $4.40, which is pretty reasonable in my book.

UPDATE: Taqueria el Castillito has another location on McAllister between Leavenworth and Jones. It’s a little smaller; I like the Golden Gate one better. But for Tower folks, it might be more convenient.

Food Review: Biryani Chapati

Turk and Leavenworth
San Francisco, CA

A restaurant just broke my heart.

Since I started school, I’ve been on a bit of a culinary expedition to try eateries convenient for lunch between classes. The Tenderloin is full of those little hole-in-the-wall eateries that could be wonderful and could be abysmal, and there’s not really any way to tell unless you give it a try. I noticed, on one of these walkabouts, a hand-lettered awning which read “Biryani Chapati”; I thought, “Cool! Indian food!” (Now, I imagine some of the locals will be saying, “You madman, why would you eat at a dubious Tenderloin eatery when the ever-fabulous Naan N’ Curry is mere blocks away?” I’m funny like that sometimes. (On a wholly separate note, Biryani Chapati turns out to be Pakistani.))

I was briefly confused upon arriving by the big CLOSED sign at the top of the front window and the small OPEN sign at the bottom, but I figured I’d take the open door as a hint. The staff, in traditional downscale ethnic restaurant style, were all sitting around a table chatting when I came in. I wasn’t really sure what the idiom of the joint was: should I sit down? Order at the counter and take out? Order at the counter and sit down? The guy who seemed to be in charge was headed behind the counter, though, so I walked over there. He handed me a folded paper menu, and cheerily offered to explain their offerings. “We have chicken curries, lamb curries, we can put vegetable…” (I do have to hand it to them, though; it was actually a pretty clear menu. I’ve been in Indian places where the distinction between certain dishes was … subtle at best.) I ordered chicken biryani and an order of naan, and he invited me to sit.

We’ve got some fine examples of the po-ass decorating style in the Tenderloin; one of my favorite places near campus is dark, rowed with cafeteria tables, and they store random supplies in the bottom shelves of the soda fridge. Biryani Chapati, however, may be the purest example of the form yet. They barely have a counter; I think they don’t even have a cash register. Bare white walls are adorned with construction paper butterflies. My table was at a slight angle. I was a little concerned. But everything was clean, and the carafe of water was a nice touch.

When the food arrived, I was still reserving judgment. The naan looked disappointing, like a whole wheat tortilla, and the biryani, while generously portioned, was nondescript. In the eating, however, I was impressed. The biryani was spicy, but not painfully so; the naan was much better than it looked. The chicken was tender and falling off the bone (indeed, my only complaint about the food would be that I’m not a huge fan of chicken dishes with unexpected knobs of bone, authentic though they may be). About halfway through my meal, they brought out what I assume was probably raita, but serving an ordinary portion of raita in a massive soup bowl looks a bit weird. I failed you, my audience, in not trying it, but as I said, it looked weird, and I don’t like raita that much anyway. The staff was extremely attentive; the manager asked me several times if I wanted more naan, because I could have more free of charge. I suspect the red carpet treatment would be on account of my being their lunch rush; I came in at 12.30, and no one else came in while I was there.

This last bit is what makes me sad. My lunch was six bucks (they didn’t even charge me for the naan, so I overtipped), and I was the only customer for at least half an hour. Maybe they do a brisk delivery business, but I suspect they won’t make it. Nice folks, making pretty tasty food, but the skankier end of the Tenderloin just isn’t prime foodservice space.

Originally published at LiveJournal

Food Review: Trader Vic’s Palo Alto

Last night, one of Jen’s volleyball folks had a birthday bash at Trader Vic’s, and we attended. Considering the culinary experience, I have to say that the decor was nice.

To begin with, if one is going to slap a 20% automatic gratuity on a party of 20, one ought to assign said party more staff than one waiter and a busboy. The service was extremely slow and moderately inept; I was unimpressed.

We began with drinks. Jen ordered a Mai Tai ($8.50), figuring Trader Vic’s would be the place for a good Mai Tai; while the glass was large, it was mostly filled with ice and an lime half. According to the waiter, it was made with “lemon juice, lime juice, Mai Tai mix, and rum”. Maybe it’s just me, but I am dubious of destination drinks made with mixes. I had a glass of Firestone Riesling ($6); that’ll teach me to buy wine from a tire company.

Both of us ordered salad: Jen took the house salad, while I opted for the caesar. I can’t evaluate the house salad, because it never came. At least they didn’t charge us for it. The caesar ($8) had three serious flaws. First, the croutons were bland and stale. Second, they went a little nuts with the lettuce; they used the outer leaves of Romaine and tried unsuccessfully to cut them into bite-sized pieces; as a result, most of the salad was a mess of limp, perforated leaves. Finally, the dressing was watery; I can only imagine they didn’t drain the lettuce before dressing.

For the main course, I had the grilled king salmon ($25); Jen had the seafood taro nest ($23). The salmon itself was fine, if unexciting. It came with dry, leathery fingerling potatoes, and some grilled zucchini and eggplant that I couldn’t bring myself to eat. The whole dish sat on a pool of what was probably beurre blanc, though at the time it struck me more like bechamel. So not disastrous, but I’ve had a lot better food for twenty-five bucks. Jen’s seafood taro nest was a stir fry of overcooked marine life and canned vegetables. It looked pretty dismal. She picked out the seafood and called it a night. The taro nest also came with a side of rice, which I asked if I could take a bit of, as I wanted a palate cleanser after my buttered salmon. It takes some talent to screw up rice, but they managed it. I’ve had better rice in cafeterias.

So, when all was said and done, with the food, drinks, and aforementioned automatic gratuity, the bill was $96 for an evening of insipid 50s-style Polynesian fusion cuisine for two.

I suspect I won’t be going back.

Originally published on LiveJournal

Sacrificed Chine of Beef
with Nectar Reduction
Pan Sauce
(Sept. 9, 2004)

Ingredients:

1 sacrificed chine of beef, about four pounds 
2 tbsp butter 
1 cup nectar
2 shallots
1 cup tears of the damned
Salt
Chopped parsley to garnish

Selecting a good beef chine is essential to this recipe. We recommend a chine from the rib or loin, which are more suited to dry cooking methods. Chuck and round chines are better
for braises and other moist cooking methods. If your worshippers can’t be relied upon to secure a high-quality rib or loin chine, or to sacrifice it appropriately, smite them and build your cult from scratch. This recipe demands a high-quality chine, properly sacrificed to add that smoky altar tang.

Season the chine well with salt while melting a tablespoon of butter in a roasting pan over high heat. Once the butter stops foaming, sear the chine about 2 minutes on each side.
After searing, place the chine on a roasting rack, fat side up, and place in a 350-degree
oven for about two hours, until omniscience suggests the roast is medium-rare.

Meanwhile, begin reducing a cup of nectar in a saucepan over medium heat (for a subcontinental twist, you can substitute an equal amount of soma or amrita for the nectar). It should take about half an hour for the nectar to reduce down to a quarter cup.

When the roast is done, move it to a plate and tent with foil. Remove any fat from the pan juices, and then place the roasting pan back on the stovetop over medium heat. Add two diced shallots and saute until golden. Deglaze with one cup of the tears of the damned, scraping the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon. Once the pan is deglazed, add the nectar reduction and stir to combine. Wait for the foam to subside, then reduce the heat
to low and let the flavors meld.

When the chine has rested about ten minutes, remove the foil and carve. Add any juices from the resting plate back to the sauce, and whisk in a tablespoon of butter and a splash of fresh nectar. Ladle about two tablespoons of the sauce over each portion of meat and sprinkle with parsley. Serve with a small salad of ambrosia and endive.

Review: Bluewater Grill

888 El Camino Real
Menlo Park, CA 94025

Bluewater Grill is a nice-looking seafood place along the route by which I take Jen to work, and on several occasions we’ve said, “We should go there sometime”. Well, tonight we finally got around to it. And this is not your grandfather’s seafood restaurant.

Oh, wait. Yes it is.

The food wasn’t bad, mind you. It was just … unexciting. The free bread was an uninspired sourdough. It was warm, which was nice, but the crust was unexciting and chewy and the crumb was uniform and bland.

We ordered wine and appetizers to start with; Jen had a glass of Pinot Grigio and a cup of clam chowder, and I had a glass of Riesling and a bay shrimp cocktail. The waitress warned us that the Riesling was sweet, but I like sweet wines (what can I say? I’m a wuss). Jen’s wine was good, and the clam chowder was tasty but very rich. My shrimp cocktail was also good, though I probably would have eased up on the cocktail sauce a little. I’m not sure what to think about my Riesling. I now understand what they mean by wines having “apple notes”, because my wine tasted like cider. This was OK — I like cider — but it was a little weird. Still, so far so good.

In passing, I want to note that there was a massive box of Old Bay on our table.

For the entree, I ordered grilled catfish, and Jen ordered scallop and shrimp skewers. We both got sliced tomatoes and sauteed spinach as sides, because we are people on a diet, not professional food critics. And here is where Bluewater Grill didn’t come through for us.

The spinach was OK, but swimming in oil, which made it a little unctuous for my taste. The tomatoes were quite good; firm and sweet and huge. Should you go, I recommend the sliced tomato side. Alas, my catfish was profoundly bland. It was cooked well — tender and moist. Just deeply uninteresting. You would never know it was grilled. Jen’s skewers, meanwhile, were similarly bland. It took a while to find any evidence of grilling on the scallops, and the pieces of seafood were spaced on the skewer with unappealing squares of bacon, charred at the edge and underdone at the center. Judging from the look of the food, they used the exact same seasoning on the catfish, the scallops, and the shrimp. That just doesn’t seem right.

We also had to ask three times for water, which was annoying.

In the end, Bluewater Grill seems to have good-quality ingredients, but not a lot of ingenuity in putting them together. If I were to go again, I’d focus on dishes where the flavor of the seafood itself is paramount. The shrimp cocktail was good, and I’d bet the raw bar might be tasty too. More assertive fish like salmon might also fare better with their chef.

A Bachelor’s Test Kitchen Thanksgiving
(Dec. 3, 2003)

Thanksgiving is a time  for bachelors to return to the ancestral hearth, and to bask in the warm glow of family. It’s a time to do laundry. A time to scam as much leftovers as humanly possible.

So we’re not going to be discussing how to make Thanksgiving favorites today in the Bachelor’s Test Kitchen. Instead, we’re talking about how to use those Tupperwares full of cold turkey and mashed potatoes. There’s good eating in a holiday meal that doesn’t have to be over once the turkey coma has passed.

And now … the recipes.

November Revolution Sandwich

Ingredients:
1 sandwich roll
leftover turkey
canned cranberry sauce
mayo
sliced Fontina cheese
arugula

I call this sandwich “November Revolution” because its central ingredients are associated with November, because it revolutionized the way I think about sandwiches, and because its appeal depends on a struggle between Red and White.

The ingredients for this recipe are important, and some of them may seem a little highfalutin for a proper bachelor recipe. Explanations seem in order.

The greens don’t have to be arugula. You can use plain old lettuce, and the sandwich will still be great. I find, however, that arugula is a vastly underappreciated sandwich lettuce; it’s got a sort of bite to it without the bitterness of a lot of fancy greens. It also tends to be a bit drier, so it doesn’t water down your sandwich.

Similarly, Fontina is just the cheese that I like. Havarti works too. Probably any mild cheese would. Avoid cheddar; its sharpness is overpowering. You want the cheese to lend smoothness and only a little bit of cheese flavor.

Your choice of roll is also important. You need a roll with good heft and chew, but not a hard roll. Hard rolls tend to squirt the fillings out when you bite into them. I like Dutch Crunch rolls; they combine a nice crunchy top with a good soft chewy crumb and easy biteability.

Finally, it’s actually important to use canned cranberry sauce.  Homemade cranberry sauce is much better as cranberry sauce, but it tends to be too tangy; the balance between tart and sweet is off. It’s also frequently lumpy. I don’t recommend it.

Slice your roll lengthwise, and spread each side with mayonnaise. You want enough that it’s not scraped thin over the bread, but not so much that there’s a palpable layer of mayo. The mayonnaise and cranberry sauce are going to meld into a really good sauce, but the proportions have to be right. Too much mayo and you’ll have a greasy, sloppy mess.

Layer cranberry sauce onto one piece of bread. If you have a fresh can, you can slice it right off the cylinder. Quarter-inch slices or slightly thinner is the way to go, in a single layer. Stack the cheese on top of the cranberry sauce; the cheese will help hold that side of the sandwich together.

Lay your turkey on the other piece of bread. Again, quarter-inch slices or thinner is ideal. I
find shredded turkey just makes a mess unless you’re making turkey salad, and chunks are even worse. Put your greens on top of the turkey and top with the other piece of bread.

Pressing the sandwich down slightly will help the flavors to mix. I like to slice the sandwich in half before serving.

Cranberry Croquettes

Ingredients:
leftover mashed potatoes
cranberry sauce

This one’s real simple. Put some mashed potatoes into a bowl. It’s best if they’re a little dry. Swirl some cranberry sauce into the potatoes.  For this recipe, homemade chunky sauce is superb. Form the mixture into patties; you want your patties to bulge in the middle, making them sort of oval or football-shaped. Flour the patties. Fry in oil until a golden crust forms. Serve hot.

If you want a more rib-sticking variation, you could try adding some shredded turkey to
the mix.


Turkey Stock

Ingredients:
1 turkey carcass
1 red onion, roughly chopped
2 carrots, roughly chopped
a sprig of thyme
salt and pepper
1 tbsp. garam masala

People think that making stock from scratch is complicated and troublesome. Lies. All lies. The only reason that people don’t make stock more often is that we usually don’t have carcasses lying around to make them from. Stock is dead easy. It just takes a while.

After you finish picking all the usable meat off your turkey carcass, fill your biggest pot with
about 3 quarts of water. Dump in your carcass, your vegetables, and the thyme. Cover and place over high heat until the water boils, then reduce to a simmer. While the stock boils, heat a small pan and put in the garam masala. Cook briefly until fragrant. Then dump it in the stock. Simmer for at least 3 hours. You can keep boiling goodness out of the bones until they crumble rather than snap when you break a bone in half. By this point, the vegetables will probably have disintegrated — all to the good. Strain out all the solids. You’re left with a rich, velvety stock. It freezes admirably; stick it in some quart-size containers and stash it in the freezer.

Stock is good for a lot of things, but most of all it kicks ass for soups. With a good stock as
a base, you can just sort of clean your fridge into a pot and end up with a really good soup. You’re never at a loss for a meal if you have stock in the freezer.

What’s with the garam masala?, some of you may be asking. Yeah, OK, it’s a little weird. This
year our stock was really good, because we used a garam masala spice rub on our bird. It was excellent, with crisp and flavorful skin, but since we’re assuming a carcass scavenged from your grandma, I don’t want to assume you have that luxury. However, the faint Indian note in the stock was totally worth it, so I’m suggesting you add the garam masala directly to the pot. If you don’t have any garam masala, you can fake it with about a teaspoon of cinnamon and half a teaspoon each of cardamom, cumin, black pepper, and ground cloves (I’m not claiming this is a proper garam masala, but it’ll do for the subtle effect we’re
trying for). Remember to cook the spices before you put them in.

Really, however, the garam masala is optional.  Mainly you want it so that you can make the
next recipe.

Best Damn Risotto

Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups uncooked rice
1 quart turkey stock
1 large onion, chopped
1 tbsp olive oil
1/4 lb. mushrooms, sliced
1 oz. grated Parmesan cheese

First off, put your olive oil into a skillet and heat it up. Add the onion and cook until onion is soft and golden. Add the rice and cook for about a minute. Then add the turkey stock, a little bit at a time. Maybe a quarter cup, or even less. Add some stock, stir it in, and wait for the rice to soak it up. Then add a little more and repeat the process. Stir frequently.  As you add the stock, the rice will give up its starch and become soft and creamy. If the rice is still chewy when you’ve added all the stock, add some water a bit at a time until it’s properly softened. When the rice is nice and tender, add the cheese and mushrooms and stir them
through. Cook for another minute or so, continuing to stir, and serve hot. It’s really simple, but it’s one of the most filling and satisfying things I know how to make.

About the ingredients: some people insist you need special Italian rice for risotto. I just use calrose rice — the short-grain stuff, sometimes called sushi rice.  It also doesn’t really matter what kind of oil or Parmesan you use, but I like to grate my own cheese. The stuff in the green can doesn’t quite work for me.