The quest for Sushi in SF

Almost from the moment we landed in San Francisco we have been searching for the perfect sushi restaurant.  A restaurant to satisfy our discerningly high sushi standards.  Mind you that weeks before moving to SF we had returned from a fabulously sushi filled trip to Japan, and prior to that we had spent the last 10 years spoiled by the top quality fish of NYC.  It's not that we didn't think we could find good sushi in SF, we just weren't sure if we'd be able to find that elusive 'regular' place.  A place where you can return week after week to scratch that sushi itch and not break the bank in doing so.  After some missteps and overpriced experiments we found ourselves at Ichi, the Bernal Heights sushi haven nestled amidst Mexican restaurants and mostly residential properties.  The only problem, we weren't the only people who found themselves with Ichi as their regular sushi fix. 

We thought we were so clever this past Friday trying to beat the crowd for an early dinner at 6:45pm.  Alas, we vastly underestimating the clamor for good sushi in this neck of the woods.  I almost thought twice about posting this for fear the line would get longer...but who am I kidding?  I don't have that kind of influence.  On our recent visit a coveted seat for omakase at the gregarious sushi chef's counter would be a considerable wait, even at such an early hour, so we opted for a shorter wait and table service.  Away from the counter, service is slower, but as soon as the glistening mouthwatering pieces began arriving we forgave and forgot the extra few minutes they traveled.  The wait is totally worth it to experience Chef Tim's take on traditional sushi.  Even I, who consider myself a sushi purist and strict traditionalist bow to Ichi's modern twist. 

Tender and sweet Ocean Trout with yuzu, yuzukosho, red sea salt and shiso leaf was the first bite to wow us table-side.  Butter-like Shiro Maguro (tuna) painted with a light garlic ginger yuzu was so wonderful it brought us back to Tsukiji in our minds.  The raw slices of Wagyu beef tasted like a lightly seared burger coated with sweet yet savory apple cider vinegar.  Perfectly plump spheres of Ikura (salmon roe) marinated in a yuzu bath and floating atop warm rice and crispy nori awoke our taste buds.  Succulent scallop dusted with green tea salt was so delicate it practically melted in our mouths before we could bite.  Triple A quality Uni dusted with a yuzu mirin flavor and a petite dollop of fresh grated wasabi was a perfect last bite before we ordered each piece again for a second round. 

The fish at Ichi is so fresh and prepared with perfect complimentary marinades, it's no wonder people line up for a seat.  After finishing our meal and sitting back to enjoy the remains of our sake, I caught myself staring at the steady stream of hungry and anxious hopeful diners adding their names to the wait list...and in that moment it occurred to me...next week we should get here at 5:45pm. 



Ichi
3369 Mission Street (at Godeus Street)
San Francisco, CA 94110

The privileges of California life

Sometimes I think about how blessed my life is and I'm overwhelmed.  The ability to go and do and taste and savor is not a privilege I take lightly.  And on several recent jaunts up to Napa Valley I have felt moments of breathtaking beauty and tasted the truest of indulgences.

It was not lost on me, during one of those jaunts this past February, that while my East Coast family awoke to driveways and sidewalks in need of shoveling, I awoke with the bright California sun and popped out of bed like a kid on Christmas morning.  We were up early to drive to Yountville for the coveted daytime seating at French Laundry, Thomas Keller's wine region mecca of French fare and delicacies.  The drive up flew by, the warm sun and cool air streaming in as we sped over the Golden Gate Bridge with windows down and radio up towards our culinary adventure.
 

We pull up to French Laundry on the idyllic street in Yountville and were suddenly transported to a provincial French town.  A town where men in white aprons ride antique style bicycle with baskets full of fresh bread from Bouchon Bakery to the restaurant several times a day.  Where wine pours generously from local vintners.  Where food is sourced from the finest purveyors and prepared with a French influence -- full of butter and layered with rich flavors.  A town where taking time to savor tastes and aromas isn’t only a common practice, it’s a way of life. 

The meal begins with the only course that has been included on every menu since French Laundry opened its doors in 1994; the butter poached oyster with caviar and tapioca pearls.  I needed to pause while eating it and I need to pause while recalling it because rarely have I tasted something so buttery sweet and decadently silken.  The oyster's spherical pearl hearts are lightly bathed in a hot butter; each bite practically melts on your tongue the moment your taste buds awake from their monotonous daily slumber.  I practically could have ended the meal there.  But of course we were in for the almost 5-hour long haul.

The afternoon and the wine flowed.  A few plates later and we were sampling the brown butter-poached Maine lobster "fricassee" over a ranch bean style base accompanied by crisp radish and romaine lettuce all dusted with sweet cornbread. The tender veal with salty artichoke, olive, Swiss chard, and a tomato confection was constructed to optimize the flavor combinations; layer after layer of salt and butter and earth.  Several plates later the dessert courses were introduced with a pomegranate soda, an effervescent concoction over fleur de sel shortbread and topped with a dollop of jasmine ice cream.  Dessert continued with a chocolate and passion fruit roll and an unlimited (although we didn't test that) selection of Chef Keller's favorite truffles - my personal favorite were the hazelnut and guava.

The day ended in a wine and butter soaked haze but not before a brief tour of the pristine kitchen, we waved at our NYC friends over the closed-circuit camera to Per Se's kitchen.  And then we stumbled into the cool crisp California evening, a refreshing change after the half-day of dining.  We wandered around Yountville as the sun set and twilight came into focus.  Preparing to leave Yountville and head back to SF, I found that I was satiated in a way that can only experienced when your heart is filled with beauty.  Beauty from the spectacular landscape of Northern California and beauty from the overwhelming culinary experience we had just shared.  What a privilege indeed.

The French Laundry
6640 Washington Street 
Yountville, CA

We're Rich!

I became entranced by the choreography of the kitchen.  Waiting for our table, standing not three feet from the chef's station, I was unable to look away from the agile movements of the cooks.  As I calmly sipped my "Turkey Trot" cocktail (which contained whiskey, butternut squash, honey and meringue) the frenetic yet deliberate actions taking place nearby were hypnotic.  And it was while watching the plates come to life that I turned to my husband and almost without thinking said "we're having the tasting menu," to which he responded with wide eyes and a childlike smile that said, "hell yes, we are."  And thus began our evening at Rich Table.

After being seated at the rustic wood table in the busy yet casually chic and warm dining room, the wine started flowing and we put ourselves in the hands of the "Chef's Picks" menu.  I slowly began to feel that despite the restaurant's name (inspired by Chefs Evan and Sarah Rich) and the pedigree of the purveyors, this was a comfortable and approachable space.  We would be experiencing a rich meal but on an attainable level. 

We began with a cornucopia of strong appetizers.  The standouts included the homemade potato chips woven with whole sardines and sitting atop a horseradish cream.  We were almost speechless while devouring the chicken liver mouse sprinkled with confetti of crunchy puffed rice and dollops of sweet and tart pomegranate jelly; the range of textures along with the sweet and savory flavors made for an awe-inducing bite.  The salad of roasted beets, pomegranate and chocolate shavings allowed us to momentarily skip to dessert before being pulled back to the savory again, all in one mouthful.  The next course consisted of perfectly al dente yet buttery soaked pastas conveying seasonal meats and herbs touched with traces of pungent cheeses.  The final savory courses, artful trout almondine atop spinach and wild greens, and hearty strip streak with chimichurri and white mushrooms, rounded out the meal and completed the gamut of flavors and weights.  The evening ended with a refreshing yet whimsical milk ice cream and chocolate cracker all kissed by mint chocolate cream. 

Perhaps it was the KickStarter-funded backstory that we learned about which made our experience so inviting, but something kept this extraordinarily rich meal down to earth.  The food was ambitious but not intimidating.  The preparations were daring but not overwhelming.  The flavors were delicious but not exceedingly complex.   Our evening was rich but not more than we could afford.

Rich Table
199 Gough @ Oak
San Francisco

Adventures in House-wifery; Salmon for dinner

Well it happened.  Somewhere between looking for a new job and being turned on in the organic, local, co-op produce market I became a housewife.  I have an apron and everything.

I also have recently been taking a Fundamentals of Cooking class at the SF Cooking School and all of a sudden I'm inspired.  It's like years of dining out compounded with our new garage-sized kitchen has unleashed a whole new side of me.  I have...drum roll please...cooked two nights in a row!  That's one more night in a row than my previous record.

And now I'd like to share with you my recent creation.  A delicious yet so-simple my mother could do it recipe (sorry mom) that I adapted from Real Simple.

Salmon with Fennel, Red Onions, Heirloom cherry tomatoes accompanied by Delicata Squash.  
I'll try to make it as simple as possible because I appreciate that so much when reading a recipe.

2 Salmon Fillets
1 large Fennel (get the full one and google "How to cut a Fennel" - the top part is inedible!)
1 large Red Onion
1 container or bunch of Heirloom cherry tomatoes
EVOO
S&P
Thyme
Lemon

1.  Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  In a roasting pan combine sliced Fennel, Red Onion and whole cherry tomatoes and a few bunches of Thyme.  Add modest amounts of EVOO, S&P (don't measure, you're a chef!).  Cook for 20 mins.
2.  Make room for the Salmon on the pan.  Add Lemon juice, S&P to the fillets.  Continue baking for 10-12 minutes.
3.  Buy pre-made Delicata Squash (or cut squash in one inch slices, cover in oil, S&P and put on a separate baking sheet in the oven for 20-30 mins or until tender).
4.  Enjoy with wine and play the Wes Montgomery station on Pandora.

Voila!  I just went from a restaurant blogger to a sometimes chef!  But not to worry, we have reservations tomorrow night. 

I'm still here.

I'm not exactly sure why it's taken me this long to post something about our new home.  I think I have been overwhelmed by all the new and incredible experiences.  And while there have been many personal and culinary adventures that I've wanted to share I think it's the newness of it all that has been holding me back.  It may be the fact that I don't know the San Francisco landscape as well as I knew the New York one and my voice has been temporarily stunted.  Whatever the reason, the words just have not been flowing like they used to.

Until recently at Local's Corner restaurant, a neighborhood alcove fast becoming a favorite, where it occurred to me...no one expects me to have completely devoured the SF restaurant scene in 3 months! I need to lay the pressure off!   It is hard enough to have a deep and meaningful experience at a restaurant and we've barely been in town long enough to form thoughtful opinions.

So, I would like to take this opportunity to state for the record what I think the point of this blog actually is.  While it surely leans towards a restaurant and sometimes travel blog my goals are far more personal and esoteric. As the blogs' title casually suggests (in addition to being my initials) the purpose is to add love (aka AMOR) to the world; and as a result I try not to speak disparagingly about a restaurant or experience (afterall, what good does that add to the world?). Ultimately I want to share thoughts on all the things I love; whether it be activities, people, places and of course food.  I'd like my musings, in their small way, to add value to the universe.

And while this post may veer dangerously close to a ramble as opposed to a musing I'd like to share it with anyone who's interested...and hopefully it will serve as a reminder that there's more to come, more to explore, more to share...and that I'm still here.

Baby steps

Citrus & squid salad @ Flour + Water

It could take a small lifetime to really know a city.  It took me my lifetime up to this point to feel like I really knew New York and even so my expertise was concentrated in and around the East Village.  But in recent years I had been feeling that I really knew the NYC restaurant scene.  And just when I reached the point in life when I felt comfortable calling myself a real New Yorker we go and uproot our lives and move to San Francisco!

Smoked trout w/ beets, huckleberries & toasted seeds @ Central Kitchen

Here I find myself, a little over one week in to our West Coast life, and I'm a bit overwhelmed.  Overwhelmed by the newness, by the unknown, by the odd weather, by creating a new home for us but mostly I'm overwhelmed by all the restaurants I'm yet to try.  I feel so behind the curve.  It helps that the content of our home (including all our kitchen supplies) are still on their trans-America road trip and we've had out-of-town house-guests which has forced us to eat out almost every meal. In the last few days we've been able to sample some of the amazing gems in our neighborhood - Flour + Water, Lot 7, Universal Cafe, Foreign Cinema, Hog & Rocks, Namu Gaji, Mission Chinese, Blowfish Sushi and Central Kitchen to name a few.  And for good measure we threw in a cone at Bi-Rite Creamery (holy cow, that was possibly the best ice cream of my life) and Humphry Slocombe to round out the week.  I feel like my head (and stomach) is spinning.

Sushi @ Blowfish SF

I plan to revisit and hopefully write about many of these but for now I'm just trying to take it all in.  I'm trying to learn my new neighborhood and gradually expand the radius of places I can say I "know".  I'm hopping on my new bike (which I named Harrison),  exploring my new surroundings and giving myself a little time to just live.  And once the dust settles and our stuff arrives from New York I'll take more than a baby step towards knowing our new life.  I'll take a leap right into the thick of this new place.  And one day, in the not so distance future, San Francisco won't feel so strange and new...it'll just feel like home.

Adventure awaits

Sometimes fate steps in to shake up your life.  In my case I've recently been tempting fate by becoming enamored with West Coast living.  And as she tends to do, fate is delivering.  Because as of tomorrow morning I am a San Franciscan.  And aside from leaving my beloved NYC, my family, my friends and the home I hold so dearly, I am ready for this West Coast adventure. I am ready to take a leap outside my comfort zone; to take a chance on a new locale, a career change and embrace the exploring spirit.  I'm ready to take husby's hand, close my eyes...and jump.  And most of all I'm ready to see what I find out about myself when I shake things up.  What will happen when I leave the city and community I've lived in almost my entire life?  What will I create when I am out of work for the first time since I was 15?  How will I face each morning when I am completely autonomous over my days; I can choose to create and seize my own opportunities over and over.  And who knows, I could miss the frenetic pace I know in NY and be overcome by homesickness.  But even if that happens I know this adventure will be a positive one in the story of my life.  Because what is life without a little nerve racking, unplanned, eye-closed jumping.

....New York will always be in my blood and in my heart.  But I think my mind and soul are ready for California.

Jersey Grown

I am from New Jersey.  Gasp. 

I grew up in the sleepy, safe, bucolic Central Jersey town of Hillsborough and despite the state's reality TV reputation, I had an extremely lovely childhood.  But my wonderful adolescent years notwithstanding when I go home to visit the 'rents nowadays I find the restaurant options to be few and (literally) far between.  Until recently when we discovered One 53 in the neighboring town of Rocky Hill.  Nestled down a sleepy country-town road this spot attracts both the Princeton Sophisticates and the Rural Glitterati who not only favor farm-to-table but actually live next-door to the food purveyors themselves.  The restaurant is a welcome oasis in the country with suburban prices but city level cuisine.


We began the evening with a shockingly reasonable (for a Super Tuscan) 2008 Brancaia Super Tuscan which was not only an incredible value but it was rich, full and easy to drink.  An order of the blister roasted red Shishito Peppers with complex Romesco sauce (red pepper, onion, garlic, EVOO, white vinegar and almond puree) was spicy and flavorful with a fantastic kick.  The grilled Romain Caesar Salad is consistently excellent -- grilling the greens creates a subtle smokey flavor that compliments the acidic anchovy vinaigrette.


The meat of the meal included a perfectly cooked pink to the edges medium-rare burger complete with shoe string fries and homemade "first field Jersey ketchup" (and we know how I feel about homemade ketchup).  The Seared Day Boat Scallops with local Kerr's Kornstand corn and edimame succotash was sweet and light yet satisfyingly filling.

The meal was capped off by another of Kerr's Kornstand delicacies - a grilled peach accompanied by decadent scoops of vanilla ice cream, dusted with caramel sauce and thin ribbons of fresh basil.  And as we sat there in the cozy room, a hub-bub of conversation and warm food filling the air inside while the dark, still, star-filled sky consumed the air outside, I sat back and breathed in my home town.  And as I sipped my wine, I was happy to know that I'll always have my own Jersey-grown retreat in my childhood's backyard. 

One 53
153 Washington Street
Rocky Hill, NJ 08553

The Bar Has Been Raised.

Last night we enjoyed our first three-star Kaiseki (multi-course meal) and going forward all other meals will have to work a little harder to live up to it.  A three Michelin star meal is defined by "exceptional cuisine and worth a special journey" and no where in the world is there more Michelin three-stars than Japan.  The bar has already been raised by proximity but Kikunoi in Kyoto is leading the pack.  Comparable only to our experiences at Brooklyn Fare or Eleven Madison the meal consisting of 11 courses served in artfully crafted ceramics and contact lens thin crystal via our two deferential geisha-like hosts who brought fine dining to a whole new level.

Kikunoi (we believe) means chrysanthemum and the flower made an appearance throughout the evening.  Etched on the bottom of glassware and petals floating in tastes of refreshing sake.  The menu doesn't change seasonally, it changes monthly and that fact alone has already sparked plans for a repeat visit.  During parts of the meal I actually felt myself hover off the tatami mat and watch as I ingested flavors and textured that made my synapses fire at rapid speed.  The lack of music and bright lighting was startling at first but once the food began I realized we couldn't have dined with such pedantic distractions.

The meal began with basic, fine ingredients taken to the next level and combined in dream like formation.  Walnut tofu, shaved grapes with a dashi en gelee, wasabi and shiso flower buds.  Each sweet and smooth bite rolled around our mouths and reminded us we are alive.  Next was sashimi of two types of spectacular tunas accompanied by soy-marinated egg yolks.  The sauce by itself was incredible but when complimenting its intended master a new height of taste was reached.  After several more traditional courses the meal fast forwarded to the future with an odd looking white mound of muscat grapes and persimmon dressed with a tofu, mascarpone and roquefort cheese sauce sprinkled with pomegranate seeds and black pepper.  I never though that a strong flavor like roquefort could be forced into a submissive role but in this dish it was so sweet and light; it's purpose had changed from central flavor into perfect complimentary character.  The meal continued with aromatic sticky rice mixed with heated chestnuts and grilled hamo (an eel-like fish currently in season).  Over and over we oohed and awed the flavors and presentations.  Finally a sweet delight of figs and giant grapes in a sweet gelee along with teas to compliment the conclusion and help our bodies relax and recover.

And as we sat in our room, pretending we were emperors and basking in the rarified air reserved for paradigm shifting experiences I noticed a quote by elBulli's Ferran Adria on a book nearby:

It seems fitting that Kyoto should be the home of a cuisine, which, like the city itself, is born of an intimate communion between the work of a man and the gifts of nature. This is what makes Yoshihiro Murata a truly unique chef.

Amen!

Kikunoi
459 shimokawara-cho, Yasakatoriimae-sagaru, Shimokawara-dori, Higashiyama-ku, Kyoto-shi, Kyoto

Dreams of Japan

I must be part Japanese.  Everything in this country strikes me the right way.

Arriving in Tokyo four days ago after the most pleasant and elegant flight I have ever traveled, complete with linen tablecloths, tasting menu and effervescent wines we glided through Narita Airport and easily picked up railway tickets.  And then we were off.  Hurling at high speeds through the Japanese countryside towards the shining megalopolis that is Tokyo.  The second our train spit out of the station my mind was abuzz.  I was afraid to blink for fear I'd miss a sight as we sped by.  The neatly lined crops, the countryside architecture, the flashes of people.  In what seemed like the fasted hour and a half imaginable (is it possibly time moves quicker here?) we arrived at Shinjuku station, the busiest in the world.  Not a moment of looking at a map with a befuddled gaze did a woman approach us and kindly explain that "she had been to NYC four times and people were so helpful, could she escort us to our destination?"  I put aside my European-travel knee jerk reaction that she was trying to con us and allowed the kindest woman in sweet-broken English to guide us in the right direction and get us squared away with our white-gloved taxi driver.

We arrive at the Park Hyatt Hotel and were whisked through the tranquil entryway to the 41st floor lobby.  The elevator door opens and you're struck by the almost 365 degree view of Tokyo.  The city which is as sprawling as LA but as built up as midtown Manhattan is awe-inspiring to say the least.  In fact it took me 3 days to even notice the first class artworks and mammoth collection of books floating in backlit wood cases throughout the hotel.  I suppose with a view like this it's even easy to overlook a Valerio Adami.

I could go on and on and on and on about Tokyo.  The alleys and buildings like jewelry boxes holding culinary and cultural surprises around every bend.  The fashion!  I'm convinced that everyone here has no regard for comfortable walking shoes or budgets and collectively decided that their city should bring the runways to life 24 hours a day.  The shrines and flora & fauna older than Jesus and more intricate than almost anything I've come across in my travels to this point.  And the food.  Oh the food.  I challenge a traveller in Japan to have a bad meal.  Whether it costs $3 or $500.  It will be incredible.

That brings us to Jiro.  After months our beloved concierge was able to procure for us two coveted seats at Jiro's counter.  Once the reservation was confirmed we quickly re-examined "Jiro Dreams of Sushi," the documentary about his humble establishment and the small staff churning out the finest sushi in the world in under 30 minutes flat.  I don't want to think about the cost of the meal amortized by minute.  But as we approached the stairwell to the Ginza train station and anxiously descended towards what was bound to be an incredible sensory experience, I noticed out of the corner of my eye an international celebrity and his wife doing a similarly anxious dance half a block away.  I commented that perhaps we'd be dining with them and then removed the thought from my mind; I had more pressing things on which to focus.  But not moments later we were seated at the 10 person counter awaiting the jewel like bites of sushi and in walks said celebrity.  And would you believe it, the first thing out of his wife's mouth after making eye contact with me (ME!) is "hey, we had breakfast at the hotel together yesterday."  After that we were best friends.  Sharing mouth-full smiles and stories about the food.  After the meal we discussed travel (hint: they're Australian) and our work (he's here filming a prequel).  But that's really besides the point because the true star of the evening was the whirlwind sushi dinner we had practically flew round the globe to taste, and the smiling sushi master who served it to us.  It was a 20-piece meal and just like a good tasting menu had a crescendo-ing pace.  Beginning with lighter flavored yet full-bodied pieces such as striped jack and gizzard shad, some chewy but overall bursting with subtle essence.  Moving on to what I consider the meat of the meal with some of the finest tunas, rich and butter-like.  And finishing the experience with bites of excessive flavor beats unlike ones I've ever tasted.  There was the Sea Urchin, Scallop, Salmon Roe, Sea Eel and Sweet Egg.  Whoa.  If I could repeat those 5 pieces over and over into infinity I think I would reach Nirvana.  I'm not going to lie, the pace of the meal was too fast for my liking but you never felt pushed.  Rushed yes but not pushed.  I got the impression we could have loitered at that counter speaking broken-Japanese and tasting bites of the ocean for as long as we'd like but we'd run out of money before we'd be asked to leave.

The meal ended with bows and a giddy photo shoot with Jiro.  I think our celebrity-dining companion appreciated that he wasn't the one being asked for pictures.  And then it was over.  As quickly as it came, it ended.  But much like everything I've been exposed to in Japan thus far, it's beautiful and meaningful and exactly the way it's supposed to be.