in praise of sardines

Slow Food Nation

Slow Food Nation starts tomorrow!

That's right, the nation's largest ever gathering of food lovers will be taking place right here in San Francisco. My only regret is that Contigo won't be open in time to play host. On the plus side, I'll be able to join in the revelry.

I've signed up for two symposiums at the Herbst Theater on Friday ("Re-Localizing Food," featuring Michael Pollan and Dan Barber, and "A New, Fair Food System," moderated by Eric Schlosser), the Taste Pavillions on Saturday evening, and several Taste Workshops on Saturday and Sunday.

Looking over my tickets, I realized half of the tastings I chose to attend center around pork! Oink! I suspect you pork-lovers out there may find satisfaction at Contigo.

These pork tastings aren't just for fun. They're work (sigh, I do love my career choice). They will allow me to connect with future suppliers to Contigo's kitchen. I'm looking forward to meeting Herb Eckhouse, the maker of Iowa's La Quercia prosciutto; country ham maker Sam Edwards of Surry, Virginia, maker of the "surry-ano" ham based on Spanish jamón serrano; and Eliza MacLean, who has helped preserve Georgia's heritage breed Ossabaw Island Hog, which is a direct descendant of Spanish ibérico pigs.

I'm also attending tastings focusing on chocolate, pickle making, and a taste of the Southwest, where I hope to connect with a breeder of churro lambs, which are closely related to the incomparable Spanish churra lamb.

I know many people in the local food community have issues with Slow Food and, in particular, with Slow Food Nation. I'm not going to address those topics here. For me, Slow Food Nation is a way to connect with others who share my passions and a place to find inspiration. In fact, a visit to the gorgeous (and, yes, somewhat controversial) Victory Garden has already sparked an idea for Contigo.

Below are pictures from my visit to the Victory Garden three weeks ago. I can't wait to see how the vegetables have grown.

Hot tip for locals: while visiting the garden, grab a bite to eat at Slow on the Go, which will be located in the Civic Center next to the special farmers' market Friday through Sunday. Blue Bottle Coffee, Imperial Tea, Fatted Calf charcuterie (hopefully including their porchetta sandwich), Vik's Chaat, Primavera, Ici and Bi-Rite ice cream... need I say more?

Quince

Since opening four years ago, Quince has been my go to restaurant for celebrating special occasions. So how could I refuse an invitation to join some favorite food bloggers in dining there last night — at the chef's table in the kitchen no less — compliments of Visa Signature?

Michael and Lindsay Tusk of Quince are still at the top of their game. Even arriving from New York at 3 am yesterday morning didn't slow them down (they were in NYC to cook dinner at the Beard House). Lighting wasn't so good, so my pictures don't do our meal justice. Thank you Heather, Linda, Jennifer, and Michael for hosting a spectacular evening!

Check out the Visa Signature website for listings of the posh food and wine events you can attend for a steal if you have a Visa Signature card. 5-course dinner with Tim and Nina Zagat at La Folie for $75 per person (price includes wine pairings from Souverain Winery, tax, and tip!) sound enticing? (Bummer it's sold out, but there will be similar events in the future).

Last night's tasting menu with wine pairings:

Stuzzechini del giorno
squash blossom stuffed with lobster
vitello tonnato with capers
NV Fanciacorta, Ca' del Bosco, Brut, Lombardy, Italy

Dirty Girl Farm tomato tris
gazpacho, crudo & flan
2005 Grauburgunder Smaragd, Franz Hirtzberger, Pluris, Wachau, Austria

Tagliolini
crawfish, chanterelle mushrooms, romanesco squash & their blossoms
2005 Châteauneuf-du-Pape Blanc, Domaine de la Solitude, Southern Rhône Valley, France

Acquerello carnaroli risotto
black sea bass, sweet peppers & extra vecchio balsamico
2006 Chardonnay, Lioco, Durell Vineyard, Sonoma Valley, California

Agnolotti di piccione (squab)
al burro fuso
2002 Barbaresco, Cantina del Pino, Ovello, Piedmont, Italy

Watson Farm lamb
La Tercera Farm stridoli & shelling beans
2000 Château Soussans, Margaux, Bordeaux, France

Concord grape sorbet
green grape juice, grape sections

Black mission fig clafoutis
blackberry gelato, rasperry coulis
Madeira, Broadbent Madeira Company, 10 Year Malmsey, Portugal

Where would you have met the Amateur Gourmet for lunch?

Last week, I left a comment for Adam on his super-popular New York City-based food blog the Amateur Gourmet. I told him I was sorry I missed his San Francisco get-together at Place Pigalle and wished we could meet.

2 minutes later I got an email: "Hey Brett! Just saw your comment — I would really love to meet you too. Are you free at all for lunch on Thursday?"

"Sure!" I replied.

I thought I'd have a little fun with him. I asked him to send me the list of the places where he'd eaten and where he was planning to go to, then I would come up with a restaurant for our lunch. How hard could that be? He agreed, adding one criteria: lunch should be relatively light. He was going to the best-restaurant-in-the-Bay-Area (aka Manresa) for dinner.

In case you missed his posts, this is the list Adam sent me:

Saturday lunch at the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market with Elise, Sam, and Catherine
Saturday dinner at Ad Hoc
Sunday lunch at Taqueria Pancho Villa
Sunday dinner at Zuni with Sam and Fred
Monday lunch at Tartine 
Monday dinner at A16 with Fatemeh
Tuesday lunch at The Slanted Door with Kristen
Tuesday dinner at Chez Panisse with Kristin again
Wednesday lunch at Delfina Pizzeria with Heidi and Bruce
Wednesday dinner at César and JoJo with Derrick and Melissa
Thursday dinner at Manresa with Pim

Oy! Adam had already planned to visit virtually all of my favorites. What had I gotten myself into?

Actually, I love challenges. (Why else would I be crazy enough to want to open a restaurant?) I got down to business. I searched for gaps in his list. Seemed a bit heavy on the California cuisine. The Bay Area dining scene is more diverse than that.

I asked myself questions. What kind of cooking do we do in the Bay Area better than what he can get in NYC? What are some places that are unique to San Francisco? What are some of my favorite places for lunch? What's on my Shortlist (see righthand column, half way down this page)? What would make for a light lunch?

This is the list I initially came up with:

"We freeze it fresh every day."

A whole week of temperatures over 80˚ (Saturday the mercury climbed as high as 97˚!). In San Francisco. In July. Simply amazing.

To celebrate our extraordinary good fortune, I headed across the Bay to my favorite gelateria, Sketch.

Sketch is located in a sliver of a shop in the posh and very un-sketchy Fourth Street shopping district of Berkeley. The storefront is set back a couple dozen yards from the street, across the way from Eccolo, an Italian restaurant I helped to open. As a beacon to alert passersby, the owners, husband and wife Eric Shelton and Ruthie Planas-Shelton, placed a shiny 1920's Italian ice cream cart near the sidewalk. The cart lures people into the inviting scoop shop, a tiny cocoon adorned with a few antique ice cream scoopers along one wall.

I love Sketch and all its quirks. First off, the awning advertises "ice cream." While the consistency is undoubtedly "creamy," there is nary a drop of cream in the frozen confections. Neither are there eggs nor any of the other varieties of thickeners typically found in products labeled "ice cream." Eric and Ruthie limit their palette of ingredients to three: Straus organic milk, sugar, and the star ingredient. (This strict minimalist approach must be the inspiration behind the shop's name).

The flavors at Sketch are all about the main ingredient. Peach tastes like the best peach you've ever eaten. The owners obsessively procure the finest from our local organic farms and they want every nuance of those ingredients' subtle flavors to reveal themselves. I find that their approach to gelato is identical to the jam making ethic of June Taylor, whose still room is located just a few blocks away. (Not surprisingly, I spied more than a few of Sketch's colorful bowls scattered around June's kitchen at a class I took there a few weeks ago).

By eschewing richer ingredients in favor of purity of flavors, these former Aqua pastry cooks are clearly taking their cue from Sicily, the birthplace of gelato, as opposed to northern and central Italy, which don't shy away from using cream and eggs (now you know why you gained 15 pounds on that last trip to Rome and Florence). Eric told me the key to the satiny texture of their gelati is, as I quote him in the title of this post, that they freeze each of the 14 flavors fresh daily and hold them at precisely the right temperature (slightly higher than home freezers).

Another oddity: no cones. Again in a nod to Italy, the gelati are mostly served in cute brightly colored plastic cups, like the one pictured below that *briefly* held my apricot and hazelnut gelati.

In lieu of cones, you can choose to have your 'scream served in a crêpe or accompanied by one of the changing array of pastries and cookies, all of which are excellent (and contain all the cream and eggs omitted from the gelati).

Quirk number three: each customer is only allowed 2 tastes. I actually didn't notice this policy, but read about it online. It doesn't concern me. I don't stray far from the theme I pictured above (one scoop featuring whatever sexy local fruits are in season and one of the extraordinary nut gelati). My pilgrimages across the bridge to Sketch are too few, so I tend to stick to that familiar tango of textures and flavors that my tongue finds so ravishing. According to online reports, other flavors that consistently receive raves are Scharffenberger chocolate, tangy Straus yogurt, and Blue Bottle coffee. I read (and fleetingly have even noticed) that Sketch also serves sorbetti and granite.

If you're in New York and want a Sketch-like experience, head to Cones in the Village. Based on recommendations from Eric and Ruthie, I made tracks to this small scoop shop on Bleecker Street, which apparently gets the highest Zagat rating in the city. From what I read in the press clippings posted on the window, the owners of Cones share much of the same philosophy as our Sketchers. The main difference is that they add a little cream to their base (1 part cream to 3 parts milk). And, of course, cones are available here. The shop, however, lacks the charm of Sketch and flavors tend more towards the traditional. That said, my hazelnut was every bit as outstanding as Sketch's.

For a creamier, more traditionally custard-based experience, head to Il Laboratorio del Gelato. Their selection of flavors are amongst the most innovative you'll find (reminiscent of another Bay Area gem, Mitchell's). If I could sing, I would've have broken out in an aria over the black sesame and the mascarpone flavors I sampled.

Sketch
1809A Fourth Street
Berkeley
510.665.5650

Cones
272 Bleecker Street, between Morton and Jones
New York
212.414.1795

Il Laboratorio del Gelato
95 Orchard Street, between Broome and Delancey
New York
212.343.9122

Having a ball (or two) at Incanto's Head to Tail Dinner

I've mentioned before on this blog that I used to be a vegetarian.

So how did I go from eating a diet of rutabegas and wheat berries to finding myself staring down a strip of bacon flanked by two nuggets from that part of the bull that, to put it politely, makes him a bull rather than a cow (third picture in post).

In my mind, there is a straight line that I can draw between my veggie days and my seat at the table of Incanto's Third Annual "Head to Tail Dinner" 3 weeks ago (where the only vegetables were a few capers and a sprinkling of herbs). I'll attempt to describe the connection between the two eras of my life here in this post and you can decide whether I am in fact full of another product of the bull (which thankfully was not part of this particular feast).

Like many who are vegetarian by choice (as opposed to by their upbringing), my decision to stop eating meat was made consciously and was based on personal ethics. I was and still am sickened by the treatment of animals in the industrial system that currently exists for raising the majority of the animals that we eat. (If you haven't yet, view The Meatrix now). Well, er, maybe that's only part of the story. The other reason was that, as a good little rebellious twenty-something, I enjoyed causing my mother grief during holiday feasts.

Once I chose to return to my omnivorous ways (it turns out vegetarianism has a way of curtailing the options of aspiring chefs), I sought some system of ethics that would support my decision.

I enthusiastically latched onto the ethical standards of Alice Water's "Delicious Revolution" and, later, those of the Slow Food Movement. I intentionally sought out local ranchers and farmers who raised animals more humanely, like Bill Niman (cattle, sheep, and pigs), Bud and Ruth Hoffman (chickens and quails), Jim Reichardt (ducks), the Straus family (dairy cows) and others.

Unfortunately, I quickly discovered that ethics costs a premium. On the pennies that I earned as a novice cook and the nickles N earned as a teacher, we really couldn't afford these pricier meats. But we were both committed to the cause, so we shelled out a shocking portion of our incomes to shop at farmers markets and support the efforts of these pioneers.

One way I learned we could save money was to buy less expensive cuts of meat. I happily mastered the art of slow cooking and braising tougher cuts like lamb shanks, beef short ribs and cheeks, pork shoulder and belly, and duck legs. In fact, these are some of my favorite cuts of meat to this day.

Unfortunately, every other penny-conscious chef and home cook in the area came to the same realization at the same time as I did. As demand rose, so did the price of these once less desirable cuts. Slow-cooked meats became a hot trend and "comfort food" became a buzz word.

The next logical step was naturally to find out which of the even less desirable cuts were the tastiest. I had eaten many interesting parts - like pig's ears and bull's "whip" (another euphemism) - during my year teaching English in Sichuan, China, but I honestly had little idea how to cook them.

My bad. Reflections of a food snob

The Sunday before last, a local newspaper critic reviewed Dosa, a new South Indian restaurant in San Francisco, and dismissed bloggers, including myself, who were critical of their initial dining experiences there as “snobs.”

I can't speak for the others, but me? A food snob? Well, um, yeah. Is that bad? Which of the following words describes me?

    a. chowhound
    b. connoisseur
    c. foodie
    d. food geek
    e. food lover
    f. food snob
    g. all of the above

Clearly I have to circle “g.” And, you know what? I’m quite OK with that. In fact, I’m rather flattered.

Honestly, though, I was critical of my first meal at Dosa and I bluntly expressed my dissatisfaction in a comment on another blogger’s review. In hindsight, perhaps too bluntly. While my wife, a second grade teacher, will remind me that there are no are "mistakes" (only "learning experiences"), I do have some regrets about the comment I left. So much so that, prior to the newspaper review, I asked the owner of the blog to delete it, and she kindly obliged. My regrets stem not from being called a snob, however, but from my own self-imposed ethical standards.

So, if you don’t mind, allow me to get horizontal on the couch here and share with you some of my innermost thoughts and feelings about my role in the Dosa debacle.

First, let’s look at what happened. Shortly after Dosa opened, my wife and I invited our friend, who’s of South Indian descent, to dine with us there. We were all quite excited that a South Indian restaurant had opened in San Francisco, as we love and crave dosai (plural of dosa. Oops. Does that come across as snobbish? Ah well, I am what I am).

With its winning combination of an imaginative wine and cocktail list, a contemporary take on a previously underrepresented “ethnic” cuisine, and affordable prices, all presented in a colorfully painted loft-like space, Dosa brings to mind the original Slanted Door and the new Limón. Unfortunately, our first dinner at Dosa was marred by myriad service mishaps and disappointing food. We especially disliked the chutneys. We were crestfallen that the restaurant initially didn’t meet our perhaps too high expectations.

Although I intentionally did not write a review of Dosa on my own blog (more on that later), I left that blunt comment on the other blogger’s review. That review, which was also somewhat critical of the restaurant (although more balanced than my comment), inspired an earnest reply from the restaurant’s co-owner, Anjan Mitra. Mr. Mitra acknowledged that our  criticisms of the food were at least in part warranted. During the first weeks, Mr. Mitra explained, there were some "mistakes" made by the kitchen staff that led to our disappointing dinners and, in particular, the problematic chutneys. He invited those of us who initially disliked Dosa to return.

A couple of weeks ago (prior to the newspaper review), my wife N and I accepted Mr. Mitra’s invitation and returned anonymously to Dosa. I am happy to report that the food and service are much improved. To use an analogy from the Winter Olympics, our recent meal was like Bode Miller’s performance prior to the Olympics, while our first experience at Dosa was like Bode during the Olympics. As the pictures on this post help illustrate, the food is now quite tasty.

Incanto, an offally delicious trattoria

Although it's not as sexy as A16, as trendy as Delfina, nor as pedigreed as Quince, Incanto may be the most innovative and inspired of San Francisco's many Italian trattorias.

Tucked away on the outskirts of Noe Valley, Incanto suffers from being off many restaurant patron's radar screens. It bears the unfortunate distinction of being the southernmost restaurant within the San Francisco city limits on the Chronicle's list of the Top 100 restaurants in the Bay Area.

A few years back, the owner, Mark Pastore, took the small fortune he made in the software industry and bought a dilapidated old German restaurant at the corner of Church and Duncan Streets. He stripped it down to its frame and spared no expense to lovingly convert it into the type of rustic trattoria that dots the Tuscan countryside. The dining room is awash in neutral Al Gore earth tones, from the stone pavers beneath your feet to the antiqued brick and stucco walls. Through a set of monastic arches, you have a clear view of the bar area and a glimpse into the buzzing activity in the kitchen.

The food that comes out of that kitchen is what draws me to Incanto again and again. The chef is Chris Cosentino, an iconoclast sporting spiky bleached hair, a goatee, and thick-rimmed Elvis Costello glasses. Although foolishly never tagged as a Rising Star by the Chronicle, Chris creates some of the most interesting food in the city. His daily changing menus take the concept of sustainability seriously - perhaps even more so than Chez Panisse. For one, he and Mark have worked together to make Incanto the first and only restaurant in California to receive "Certified Humane" certification. What really sets Chris - and Incanto - apart from the crowd, however, is his refusal to let any part of the animal go to waste.

Like his hero British chef Fergus Henderson, every night Chris features one or two dishes made from the innards, extremities and other odd cuts of meat that most chefs ignore. Two years ago, he began what has become an annual tradition, "Dining Head to Tail," in which every course features something from the "fifth quarter." I missed the first two events, but others - including Nancy Oakes, Mario Batali, and Fergus Henderson himself - have enjoyed menus that in the past even included a chocolate pudding thickened with pig's blood! Our own local bloggers, the BunRabs, were in attendance last year and shared - in their inimitable witty style - their experience and photos in their review titled "No Guts, No Glory."

I've already made my reservations for the next "Dining Head to Tail" dinner, which takes place in a few weeks on Monday, March 6. The tentative 5-course menu includes the following for $60:

• Beef heart tartare puttanesca
• Marin mountain oysters with pancetta afumicata and capers
• Finanziera, Piemontese market stew of cockscombs, sweetbreads, and sanguinaccio
• Spring lamb trio with spicy lentils, lemon and mint
• Suet pudding with chocolate blood gelato

{Gee, who knew their were oysters in the mountains of Marin! Gosh, do you think he meant "chocolate blood orange gelato"?}

On my most recent visit to Incanto a week or two ago, I thoroughly enjoyed my meal, which although relatively more prosaic was no less delicious. I started with local sardines (now you know the true reason I like this place) that had been lightly cured ceviche-style and were served with a salad of bitter curly-leafed puntarella and radishes.

Next I lapped up every bit of my flavorful seafood stew, in which every one of the clams, mussels, squid and head-on shrimp were as perfectly tender as their counterparts found in Spain and Italy. That favorable comparison is the highest compliment I can pay any seafood preparation in California, where I've found even the best restaurants sadly tend to overcook fish and shellfish.

For dessert, I was lured in by the combination of cardamom pastry cream, kumquats, and chocolate sauce in a napolean-like puff pastry creation. Although it didn't quite live up to my expectations, it was not bad.

Incanto's beverage service is as innovative and concerned with sustainability as the food. Mark, the owner, offers his guests complimentary local Hetch Hetchy water that has been filtered and, if desired, carbonated in order to reduce the number of bottles in landfills and recycling bins. The restaurant also offers all the wines on the excellent all-Italian wine list by the full- and half-glass. To help educate people less familiar with Italian wines, Mark cleverly places around the base of each glass a cardboard ring inscribed with the producer's name and the wine's region and vintage. Various wine flights are also on offer.

There are more clever touches and innovative approaches at Incanto that you can read about on their website here. I've said enough. Go to Incanto! Support this caring and wonderful little trattoria. Make the trek southward to Noe Valley, especially during the weekdays, which are less busy than they ought to be.

Perhaps I'll bump into some of you at the "Dining Head to Tail" meal on March 6?

Incanto
1550 Church St.
San Francisco
415-641-4500

Food|and Drink|Restaurants|Italian|San Francisco

My Tofu House

Rarely do I fall so madly in love with a place that after just one visit I add it to my "Short List" of favorite eateries in the Bay Area {see the right hand column}. But that is exactly what happened when I dined at My Tofu House {website is in Korean, click here for English} this past week.

Our friends who live in the Richmond District casually mentioned that we ought to try this small, always crowded Korean restaurant near their apartment. They told us that the husband and wife owners specialize in just one dish, a spicy stew of soft tofu, vegetables, and a choice of meat or seafood. A light of recognition instantly flashed in my mind.

A year ago, I had enviously drooled over tantalizing photos that accompanied an article in the New York Times which depicted this exact same spicy stew, which in Korean is called
soon-dubu chigae. The photos caused me to fantasize about making my own fresh tofu or, alternatively, to pack up and move to New York. At the time, I had no idea that there was a restaurant in San Francisco that specialized in this dish.

Now that I know, it is not an exaggeration to say that the quality of my life has suddenly improved. Just realizing that I can, on any given day, drop into the quaint little restaurant and order a bowl of this spicy elixir fills me with joy.

As soon as you sit down at your table, the waiter brings a warming cup of barley tea (mugi cha in Japanese) and an array of little dishes (pan chan), which include tiny dried anchovies and various pickled vegetables (kimchee), some of which are spicy.

While there are a few other typical Korean restaurant dishes on the menu, just about everyone in the place was ordering some version of soon-dubu chigae. You can specify whether you want your stew with pork, beef or seafood, if you want kimchee added to the pot, and how spicy you want it. I opted for the medium spicy version with pork and kimchee.

The arrival of the stew is quite an impressive production. The waiter delivers to you a stone tureen full of soon-dubu chigae that appears to have been lifted out of a volcano {pictured at the top of the page}. I quickly cracked an egg into the ferociously bubbling broth and left it alone while it gently poached. While you wait for the molten stew to cool, ladle a little broth and vegetable over some rice in a separate bowl and munch on the pan chan.

Pure heaven on a chilly winter night. If you live in the area and have not yet been, go tonight! I promise, your life will change for the better.

My Tofu House
4627 Geary Blvd.
San Francisco, CA 94118
(415) 750-1818

Food|and Drink|Restaurants|Korean|San Francisco

If you can't be with the one you love...

On a narrow shelf above the slicer at the front of the restaurant, where the deli man performed the final step in the magical transformation of tough beef brisket into ethereally tender pastrami and corned beef, dozens of mustard jars stood like toy soldiers, proudly displaying their labels.

"I really ought to buy one," I thought, "and bring it back to N as a surprise." Then I glanced outside at the steady rainfall and pictured myself schlepping the jar around in one hand, while balancing my flimsy umbrella in the other, as I sloshed from one of my million errands to the next. It would be hours before I headed back to my hotel room.

"What good is the mustard without the pastrami or corned beef?" I reassured myself.

I felt a twinge of guilt, as at that moment my stomach was reveling in the object of N's and my shared affection, one of the massive sandwiches of the famed Second Avenue Deli on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Though full to the point that my belly ached as much as it has after any Thanksgiving feast, my nose couldn't resist being intoxicated by the earthy, spicy aromas that engulfed it. Garlicky, salty vinegar continued to dance on my tongue to the sounds of the crunchy-crisp rhythm of the half-sour pickles that echoed in my ears. I swooned at the thought of the samba of flavors, the sweet coleslaw and, of course, that sharp mustard that had, just moments before, punctuated each bite of my juicy pastrami on rye.

My reverie was abruptly broken by a woman's voice. "Can I get you something else, hun?"

I hesitated. "No, that'll be all." Next time, I consoled myself. Next time I'll get the mustard.

There will be no next time.

I awoke yesterday to the sad news {broken to me, in the way that can only happen in our technologically accelerated era, by a comment on this blog by a longtime reader who lives in Spain...thank you "nopisto"!} that Second Avenue Deli, which had closed its doors on January 1st, would not be reopening. The kosher deli had become a landmark in the 50 years since it was founded by Abe Lebewohl, a Ukrainian immigrant who was tragically murdered a decade ago.

I can't recall a visit to New York that didn't include a visit to this temple of pastrami and corned beef.

For a foodie, losing a favorite restaurant can be as devastating as losing a close friend {I am embarrassed to report that I am that obsessive. Pronouncing my loss, say, "as devastating as losing a pet goldfish," doesn't do justice to my sense of grief... please feel free to tell me to get a life}.

All that remains are our memories. Thankfully, because of this blog, I recorded what has become my last pilgrimage to Second Avenue Deli just a few months ago {read about it here}.

Growing increasingly distraught after David pointed me to these depressing photos, the dreary morning rain outside my San Francisco window mirrored my sullen mood.

My heart {or was it my belly?} lifted momentarily when I recalled reading of a New York-style deli opening in the Presidio Heights neighborhood of San Francisco within the building that houses the Jewish Community Center. Hopes raised further when I remembered that the illustrious Joyce Goldstein had been hired as consulting chef.

Like a widower that starts dating too soon after his wife's passing {Prince Charles comes to mind}, I made tracks to the California Street Delicatessen and Cafe (website not operational yet), where I spotted this sign.

Rainy day breakfast

On a rainy winter morning in San Francisco, nothing beats a steaming hot bowl of jook, Asian-style rice porridge (also known as congee), at Hing Lung in Chinatown. On week days, if you arrive between 8 and 11 in the morning, this bowl of comfort costs just $2.50. There are a couple dozen choices of flavorings, such as chicken-and-corn, duck, meatballs, sliced fish, pork, pork liver, and giblets. I opted for a combination of pork liver and meatballs today.

Make sure to order a side of the "deep-fried devils," yao ja guai, which I like to think of as a fried baguette. The cooks at Hing Lung make and fry them fresh in house every day. I love to dip pieces of the savory bread into the molten porridge while I wait for it to cool off.

The cooks here are also masters in the art of making cheong fun, steamed rice noodles, which come in many fillings, including shrimp, barbecue pork and mushrooms with Chinese greens (pictured above).

Due to its location in the crowded Chinatown area, I don't make to Hing Lung as often as I'd like. Nobody else in the city seems to be able to make the deceptively simple dish of jook quite as well. For that alone, Hing Lung makes it onto my Bay Area Short List.

Hing Lung
645 Broadway (between Stockton and  Grant)
(415) 398-8838
Open daily 8am-1am

Food|and Drink|Restaurants|Reviews|San Francisco