more than a food blog

Enough with the silly posts.  Time to blog a legit restaurant.  How about A16 – probably the most legitimate eatery in all of the Marina (rhyme it with “vagina” if you are a hipster to express your disdain)?  I’m sorry to say that I had not really heard of it before walking by it with visiting friend Eggroll and his bangin’ hot girlfriend Carne en Fuego, but a drunken gentleman came out, clapped his hand heavily on my shoulder, and said, “YOU GLUYZ MEED TO EAT HRRRR IZ SOOO GOOOOD.”  The fact that an establishment could turn a huge, middle-aged man into a lolcat piqued my interest, and then hint #2 was the large, dangerously heavy-looking cookbook bearing the restaurant’s name displayed in the window.

Now halfway down the block, the gentleman turned and yelled, “IF YOU CAN GET INNN! HAHAHA!” which was hint #3 that this was a hot joint.  We walked in and the host said that the wait would be about ninety minutes.  It was 9:00 by that time, and we weren’t that hungry, so we agreed, gave her our cell #, and sauntered down a couple blocks to Delaney’s where we had waaaay too many vodka/gin tonics.

Tangent: Drinks are SOOOO cheap in San Francisco!  My Ketel One and tonic, which was crazy strong and more like a double, was only $6???  It’s not only at divey bars like Delaney’s…I’ve found this to be the case in swanky Union Square bars, too.  I heart this city.

10:30 came and went and no phone call.  We were pretty sloshed at this point (after three of the aforementioned almost-double vodka tonics) so we staggered back and waited some more in the still uber-crowded entryway of the restaurant, and were finally seated just before 11.  Pictured top is app #1, which is NOT mashed potatoes but rather mozzarella burrata (my new obsession) with olive oil, sea salt and crostini.  If our bread ever got even the tiny bit low, the servers were immediately there, nodding while saying, “you want more bread yeah?”  I loved that.

Pictured immediately above was Prosciutto San Daniele, aged 14 months, ordered off of their salumi menu.  The three of us had great fun peeling off oozing layers of cheese, throwing it onto their bountiful bread, and wrapping the whole shazam in prosciutto.  I can’t think of a better thing to eat when one is drunk and starving at an 11 pm seating.

Relatedly, I can’t remember the wine we had, since the wine list is extensive and my world was spinning.  I just told our server that I liked red, blends, and “raisiney” and she came up with the perfect bottle, priced reasonably at $45 I thought.

Because I was drunk (noticing a theme here?) my picture-taking skills were not up to par.  The only salvageable ones are here, and it’s a pity that the other entrees didn’t make it.  For example, my Roasted Watson Farms lamb meatballs with giardiniera (a kind of relish).  Too salty even for my taste, but falling-apart tender and when paired with the very spicy giardiniera and washed down with a hearty gulp-ful of wine, well…you can imagine how great that was.  Also, Eggroll’s Ricotta gnocchi in brodo with cherry tomatoes, garlic and basil. When it came out it looked like not much – some pale lumps in a watery paler liquid, with two straggly basil leaves listlessly on top, dotted with three or four yellow and orange cherry tomatoes. However.  When you got the right combination of pasta + tomato in your bite, the tomato would POP and infuse the creamy, sticky gnocchi with a hit of acid, and it was all quite phenomenal. What IS pictured above is the pizza ordered by Carne en Fuego (by the way – the best MTFB pseudonym evar, no?  It’s courtesy of Daniel; must give him credit.), the Salsiccia – fennel sausage, roasted peppers, roasted onions, mozzarella, grana padano (a grainy Italian cheese), garlic, and chiles. A bit one-note, but what a note it was: a fatty fennel punch.

We finished eating and were a little bit rushed to get the two of them on the last BART, but our server came around, said, “We overheard that you just moved into the neighborhood, so we wanted to welcome you,” and dropped off three glasses of dessert wine (more alcohol is exactly what we needed) – I THINK a moscato?  So sweet, in all senses of the word!  I’m trying to not let it color my review but between free booze and the copious ETOH already flowing in my veins, it was bound to be a lovefest.

A16
2355 Chestnut Street
SF CA 94123
415.771.2216

Before Shimi and I went to Cafe Gratitude, she gave me a tour of the Gourmet Ghetto; i.e. Shattuck Ave in Berkeley.  We ooohed and aaahed at the hallowed gates of Chez Panisse (post forthcoming~ goody! goody!), shook our heads in wonder at the long-ass line at Cheeseboard, and got the skinny on the amazingness that is Gregoire.

We also ran smack into a farmer’s market!  You know how grocery shopping when you’re hungry is bad news bears?  So is farmer’s market wandering.  Just cuz that shit’s organic and foofy does not mean your brain can distinguish such nuances.

My low blood sugar caused me to do strange things.  Like: get ICE CREAM???  Ice cream, mine mortal enemy; my most hated of foods (I conquered okra earlier this summer so this is a true statement now)?  It also caused me to not take note of the names of any of the establishments were that I was nibbling from (sorry).  But listen up, this ice cream was ACE!  The flavor is what spurred me to proffer my paw containing three crumpled dollars in the first place  - corn and spicy chili.  Both Shimi and I marveled at how INTENSELY corn-ey this tasted!  Like they ran corn through a china cap over and over and over again, fed the resulting liquid to baby angels who peed out concentrated miracle corn extract, mixed with heavy cream from…baby cow angel udders? and made ice cream outta it.  Then Satan was all, “Hey now!” and threw in some spicy chili.

Ignoring Shimi, who was scolding me for ruining my appetite before dinner, I meandered over to the fresh oyster bar.  In some ways, I’m a bad foodie.  For example, I haven’t had a raw oyster since I was 7.  Perhaps the fact that I was shoving raw oysters in my maw at the punk-ass age of 7 makes me an exceedingly good foodie?  Anyway, I paid $1.50 for one oyster (refraining from the 3-for-5 deal to excape Shimi’s motherly wrath), and the bearded, burly Santa behind the table deftly cracked open a lone oyster, which I doused with all three of their homemade condiments and a squeeze o’ lemon.  Umam-alicious, eyes a-flutter.  The texture is awesome – NEVER be one of those people who just swallows it [OYSTERS!!!] whole.  Give it a chew.  Just two will do.  A chew-chew.  And relish the lingering, lovely aftertaste [OF THE OYSTERS!!!] at the back of your tongue.

I took a picture first, which when I downloaded it from my cammie gave me pause.  I have never really stopped to LOOK at an oyster.

Is it beautiful?  Is it horrifying?  A little of both, perhaps?

Boo yeah!  Lattice-topped strawberry rhubarb pie.  Recolliiiize.

The recipe is from Bon Appetite, the rhubarb and strawberries from the farmer’s market, the pie tin from Williams Sonoma.  Feel free to roll your eyes now.  I even did, to myself.

Modifications I would make to the recipe – you can probably cut the sugar down, and try rolling the dough between wax paper and then freezing it for a bit before you try to do the schmany lattice business.

Follow the guru Alton’s directions (good genius-ey stuff at around 4:35) for the lattice top. Not that I did – my crust was so wimpy that picking it up made it break into a thousand sad pieces.

Nothing that a little pat-pat-pat couldn’t fix, though!

OK here is the recipe:

For crust
3 cups all purpose flour
2 1/2 teaspoons sugar
3/4 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup chilled solid vegetable shortening, cut into pieces
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons (1 1/4 sticks) chilled unsalted butter, cut into pieces
10 tablespoons (about) ice water

For filling
3 1/2 cups 1/2-inch-thick slices trimmed rhubarb (1 1/2 pounds untrimmed)
1 16-ounce container strawberries, hulled, halved (about 3 1/2 cups)
1/2 cup (packed) golden brown sugar
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup cornstarch
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt

1 large egg yolk beaten to blend with 1 teaspoon water (for glaze)

Make crust:
Combine flour, sugar and salt in processor. Using on/off turns, cut in shortening and butter until coarse meal forms. Blend in enough ice water 2 tablespoons at a time to form moist clumps. Gather dough into ball; cut in half. Flatten each half into disk. Wrap separately in plastic; refrigerate until firm, about 1 hour. (Can be made 1 day ahead. Keep chilled. Let dough soften slightly at room temperature before rolling.)

Make filling:
Preheat oven to 400°F. Combine first 7 ingredients in large bowl. Toss gently to blend. [Editor's note: Use your hands - squishy and fun and you won't kill the strawberries.]

Roll out 1 dough disk on floured work surface to 13-inch round. Transfer to 9-inch-diameter flass pie dish. Trim excess dough, leaving 3/4-inch overhang.

Roll out second dough disk on lightly floured surface to 13-inch round. Cut into fourteen 1/2-inch-wide strips. Spoon filling into crust. Arrange 7 dough strips atop filling, spacing evenly. Form lattice by placing remaining dough strips in opposite direction atop filling. [Editor's note: fuck that pansy ass shit - go with Alton's brilliant technique in the video above.] Trim ends of dough strips even with overhang of bottom crust. Fold strip ends and overhang under, pressing to seal. Crimp edges decoratively.

Brush glaze over crust. transfer pie to baking sheet. Bake 20 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 350°F. Bake pie until golden and filling thickens, about 1 hour 25 minutes. Transfer pie to rack and cool completely.

If the title of this post looks like a random collection of syllables with a squiggly thing in between, you’re probably not alone.  Monja yaki is a kind of Japanese food, and Gaja Moc is the name of the place, in Lomita CA.  The squiggly thing means “at” and if you didn’t know that then I’m very impressed that you had the technical know-how to open your browser, much less find this little blog at the corner of the interweb.

I went with Venus, who was in LA to give a talk on the importance of furniture design when it comes to food.  Love it!

Anyhoo, perhaps “okonomiyaki” is more familiar to you?  It is a much more common Japanese food; reminiscent of pa-jun in Korean food but much more fun, since you make it at your table.

In very Japaneezy fashion, the menu has their items listed in a ranking system in terms of popularity.  You always want to go with the majority if you’re Japanese, so it’s very critical that you know what the #1 aitemu (“item”) is.  In the case of our okonomiyaki, we went with #7 – Buta Kimuchi (Pork & Kimchee).

Venus was the pro here so she showed me the way.  First, mix mix mix all the ingredients in the bowl. Then, pour it all onto the Hades-hot griddle.  Using the tool/utensil thingies that are shaped like this: D—, tamp it all down into a 2 cm thick disc.

Sit on your hands and wait.  Perhaps order a Chu-hai – a cocktail made with soju (which is Korean, don’t get confused, but pronounced sho-chu in Japanese).  I did so – a peach one.  Sugary and weak and probably not worth it, but ordered because it was #1 ranked.

MMMMMM!  You’ll end up with a golden brown circle of goodness just like above, which you will vigorously slash through with the special tool and slam down onto your plate.

Where you will load it up with: katsuobushi (bonito [fish] flakes), okonomiyaki sauce (like Worcestershire, but muuuch thicker and sweeter; addictive), aonori (seaweed), ginger, and…mayo!

Every bite has a lot going on, in a good way.  Meat. Cake. Cabbage. Heat. Sweet. Chewy. Salty. Tangy. Slimy. Hot. Crunchy. Creamy.

Onto the monja!  It was, I must confess, my first time having monja yaki.  It went through a “boo-mu” (“Boom”; i.e. fad) when I was still living in Japan (now over a decade ago [!]) but I never got around to trying it.

Monja yaki is, in essence, a watery, raw version of okonomiyaki.  Sounds completely unappealing, doesn’t it? That’s why I think I avoided it in the first place.  But why?  It has such Janet-appeal.  The watery-ness means it’s basically one big, complex condiment, which makes my nerves trill.  There are deliciously burney elements.  Finally, the D— tools are mini-fied!!!

EEEEE SOO CUUUUUTE!

This time, like proper obedient Japanese, we ordered the #1 aitemu.  It was mentai mochi cheezu (spicy cod roe & mochi & cheese) which I’m sure is making the more squeamish MTFB readers shudder but was really quite awesome.

Well, I have to admit it came out looking a bit daunting.  I mean, is that, like, shredded cheddar and jack? (I am less disturbed by the sac of fish eggs resting on top.)

Again, mix mix mix.  Then spread on the griddle.  This time it’ll be way runnier so your job is simply to wave the thingies around as if you’re doing something.

Then, when it’s just barely cooked (you will know when the fish eggs have slightly swollen and turned white – HORF!) use your mini tools and scoop little driplets into your mouth.

Once that’s all nommed up, time for the realllllly good part – the burninated bottom layer, which is an eye-fluttering mishmash of cheese, salt, popping fish eggs, and chewy thin mochi.  Use your mini tools to dig dig dig under that layer, which is absolutely glued to the griddle.  Munch on your well-earned two to three flakes.  Repeat.

Sadly, the next day my palm in between my thumb and pointer was bruised and sore and tender from the repeated jamming of the thingie (that’s what she said?).  Absolutely worth it, though, and now that Venus and I are both up here in SF we definitely need to go again.  And get sore from the thingie.

Gaja Moc
2383 Lomita Blvd #102
Lomita, CA 90717
310.534.0153

Some food trends I’ve noticed: local & organic; gourmet diner food; Indian spices where they shouldn’t belong; grass-fed beef.

An internet trend I’ve noticed: lazy bloggers using haiku when they don’t want to put in the energy to write anything entertaining.

Let’s combine alllll of these things together:

Ode to Let’s Be Frank – a haiku

Yummy grass-fed beef
Totally addictive sauce
Let’s Be Frank hot dog

The hot dog in question is the regular beef hot dog.  They say: These snappy dogs are loaded with flavor, not junk! Using premium cuts from cattle raised on pasture in California (naturally high in healthy Omega 3 fatty acids!) and organic spices, we’ve crafted a delicious dog that’s lower in fat, calories and sodium than conventional franks. No nitrites, nitrates, hormones, or antibiotics, ever.

No, I KNOW.  I know you are thinking, “OK, love the snooty description, but how great could it really be? And PS?  We are SO over Kobe beef sliders and other shit like that so you can stick your pasturey hot dog up your ass.”  I know you are thinking this because that was what I was thinking. But this hot dog is…simply astonishing.  I’ve had two in two weeks!

First of all – the bread!  It deserves a haiku of its own:

Ode to Let’s Be Frank hot dog bun – a haiku

Let’s Be Frank dog bun
Piping hot and chewy too
Really nice mouthfeel

The component of the dog that hooks you under the armpits and drags you into addiction land are the condiments.  Most notably, the Diablo Sauce - Who knew the traditional spices of Mumbai: spicy peppers, garlic, ginger, and an array of hand-toasted spices, would complement a frank so well? But this diabolically delicious sauce, made with organic California-grown peppers, isn’t only delicious on dogs-check our Recipes page for ideas!

Ode to Let’s Be Frank Diablo Sauce – a haiku

Oh Diablo Sauce
Spicy, sweet, and tangy too
Indian-ey nom

Let’s Be Frank
3318 Steiner St. [other locations too!]
San Francisco, CA 94123
415.674.6755

At first glance, Naked Fish seems like a little throwaway restaurant on Chestnut street.  Its store sign is a little too 80′s and the name itself is that horrible mix of trite and forgettable.  But all Simon, Doris, and I needed to see was “Happy Hour! Some sort of insane sake + beer deal written in neon letters!” and we were in.

The space looks like it used to sell overpriced and ugly women’s clothes – that sort of vibe.  There was also a cute little terrace and backyard, but we were seated across from the WORLD’S! LOUDEST! TABLE!

Ah HAH!  I had finally discovered the douchebags that everyone had been warning me about in the Marina. All mid-twenties, all drunk, all hittin’ on ladies (they actually dragged their table to attach it to a four-top of girls + one guy; that one guy did NOT look pleased), and smashing water glasses left and right. Awesome.

The three of us started on our own drinking; Simon got hammered because he was leaving me shortly for LA (after moving me in) and was doing his best to drink away his pain and despair.  [This led later to a self-shot video of Simon, drunk and slurring and babbling about Friendster and Harry Potter spoilers.]

We definitely did some eating of half-priced apps as well!  Pictured top, photographed by me on Simon’s camera because he was off rolling around somewhere in his drunkenness at that point, are the Korean shortribs.  How gorgeously fatty/crispy/burney does that look?  They were a bit thin, not to mention chewier than even this chewy cut of beef should be, but when you’re buzzed and ready to eat to distract yourself from (a) sadness [Simon]; (b) heartache [Doris]; (c) creeping doubt about your neighborhood choice [me], they were great.

Immediately above is the spicy calamari.  Yes, those are jalapenos chillin’ in there (hottin’ in there?), also battered and fried.  Both Simon (who is a pesca-hater with the exception of calamari only) and I agreed that this was THE BEST calamari either of us had tasted.  It wasn’t even about the sauce – it was all in the batter, which was spicy and stridently salty but still airy and delicate.

This is the Crunchy Cannon – panko fried California roll topped with tobiko, honey mustard, and unagi glaze.  One thing you need to know about me – honey mustard is my blood.  God help the vampire who doesn’t have some chicken nuggets handy when he makes me immortal.  Add to this fat AND sweet unagi sauce – this roll was lethally good.

What the-?   Where the hell do these fuckers get off not putting rice in their roll?  If you read the description: Autumn Delight – tuna, albacore, avocado, and tobiko lightly tempura-fried and served with lemon ponzu and wasabi mayo…wouldn’t you think that you’d get a normal roll?  I begrudgingly give them points for creativity and double points for the outstanding lemon ponzu sauce (tasted like a super intense lemonade iced tea, which sounds gross but trust me it was fabulous).  And the wasabi mayo was commandeered instantly for the calamari instead, which made the calamari an even bigger zinger – hot heat of jalapeno and cool heat of wasabi, oh!  Intense pleasure status!