Sunday, August 24, 2008

dining finely: thomas keller's ad hoc

(note: i don't have a lot to add to this one, so i'll just periodically interject as such. -l)


capitalism was killing the arts. if you dont think cooking is an art, then youre probably starving. im not starving (i 'm just Fat). eating is supposedly a necessity, but in an overpopulated civilization, it has turned into a privilege. i am a white male,so im fairly privileged. i want to eat well (by 'well', i dont mean healthily, necessarily) but because i am accustomed to eating well. i eat relatively well because i can occasionally afford to. recently, i was able to afford to eat well; finely in fact. disclaimer: we saved our change for months, then cashed it in at the bank. we took the money and used it buy a dinner. we spent more than we have ever spent on a single meal. weird, right?


at 48$ a person (prix fixe 4 course meal), ad hoc is thomas kellers least expensive restaurant. its in yountville, in the napa valley nestled side by side w his other higher priced creations, bouchon and the french laundry, surrounded by bucolic vineyards, and exclusive resort style hotels. kellers apparent intent was to create an affordable, casual, fine dining alternative to the overpriced eateries surrounding. his success in that endeavour exists only in relation to the price range of the other capitalist monstrosities lining the boulevard ad hoc lies on. but napa is napa and rich cunts are rich cunts. all people, not just rich cunts should be able to enjoy high quality food, so by bringing down the price, keller believes that he will be able to create an accessible restaurant experience for all. ah yes, and there it lies, a real working mans oasis! come one, come all, enjoy the bounty of our mother earth, a common treasury for everyone to share! pull up a chair, boys, tonite we dine-- finely! see the waiters? why lookee there, they wear the garb of a commoner-a work shirt and jeans! the price? well, its only 48 dollars a person! pocket change! no dress code, neither! cletus, put on them cover-alls and come grab some grub! soups on!


when we arrived our knowledgeable and sober waiter gave us a brief rundown of the menu. he seemed to rush our ad hoc primer slightly, but that was ok. i dont fancy any type of meal where i need a briefing to dig it. he did, however, emphasize the importance of enjoying the meal, having fun with it, not worrying about being held to any sort of fine dining standard as a customer. hey, just like olive garden! upon the waiters recommendation my mate ordered a sparkling wine. i ordered a beer, sudwerks out of davis. excellent, both (l.-as the only other 'high quality' wine i enjoy is the pink andre, i found this almost unpalatablely delicious. also, one glass of it costs as much as three bottles of andre, pink or otherwise.).



the first course was a salad of iceburg (l.-butter lettuce! mayhap you know it as boston lettuce.) lettuce, radishes, andouille sausage, medallions of corn on the cob and a creamed black pepper dressing. our server mentioned specifically the importance of eating the corn with our hands to maximize the casualness of it all. he also spoke briefly about the vegetables being raised on the keller restaurant farm so it was organic, seasonally fresh and local. huzzah! the food is delivered family style so we served ourselves. at first i felt slighlty shy, embarassed that i was ignorant of proper etiquette in front of the food. but, remembering our new best friends advice i lightened up. besides, it was amusing watching the rich cunts ignore obvious advantages of feasting handily on corn and scramble with forks after it like they was hunting an endangered species. the waiter humored them with humoring and spent much time speaking in great, florid detail about the quality of the food. more time with them than us. the food was delicious- fresh crunchy, flavorful vegetables complimented by the peppery kick of the dressing.



second course was steak and potatoes with asparagus and heirloom tomatoes under a red pepper sauce. it was pretty great. the steak was cooked sous vide, where the meat is vacuum sealed in a bag to preserve natural flavors and immersed in boiling water at a very precise temperature. it emphasizes the meaty, formerly alive qualities of the steak, preserving gristle, fat, veins and the like within a tender, medium rare prison of pink flesh. holla! the vegetables were, again, fresh and flavorful; the sauce, friendly and giving . (l.-the piquillo pepper sauce, my lord!)



the third course at ad hoc is always a cheese course. we got some kind of goat cheese (i forget the name), hard and salty like parmesan, with olives and almonds. this was without a doubt my favorite course. as an avowed salt freak, i ate each bite with a little of each of the ingredients. holy cow, ive never tasted that before. the flavors were perfect compliments to each other, fitting together like puzzle pieces.


throughout this whole affair, our waiter would return periodically to update us on the next course. we felt slightly rushed, like he was trying to get us out of there quickly. we did not recieve the same attention he flattered the other diners with. perhaps he thought our comparatively shabby attire (i was wearing a collared shirt and slacks[!] and my mate was dressed in business casual (l.-actually, one of the servers-not-waiters took this opportunity to compliment my "style," in such a way that i felt, though she may be blind, she was not making fun.) represented our tipping limits. meanwhile, the place was filling up and i felt ill at ease. why were the rich cunts so well dressed? oh yes, theyre rich cunts in napa, and their 'slumming it' was still superior to our 'dressed up'. now, this is the thorn in this rose-- why should i be feeling wiggy? i just want a meal, like any other schlub! (l.-here i am, baby!) but the thing was, in this restaurant for the 'common' schlub, we were the only common schlubs! the other schlubs were rich schlubs. so privileged though i may be to eat out, at what, to me, is a fancy restaurant, i was still getting the evil eye from the regulars! yeah, there was a table of regulars getting preferential treatment from the waiter. he brought them off the menu dishes as he asked about their ivy league offspring.



dessert, the last course, was panna cotta and peaches. it was ok. i was not especially moved. im not a dessert person. (l.- i really liked this. i am a sweets person. it tasted like an elegant and mature cheesecake. i wish the coffee i ordered specifcally because i felt like i was being rushed and wanted to take some more time arrived along with my dessert, but by this point, we were long forgotten. when the coffee did come, though, it took cream incredibly well, and i think was pivotal in my eventual low-brow coffee snobbery.) our grand total came to about 155$, with tip.


ok, youre saying this, then: 'why, shlub, would you go there? youre not welcome, you dont dig the vibes, its pricey, what gives?' and to you i say this-- 'i went because i have never dined finely before and i wanted to see what the fuss was about.and, oh yes, the fuss is about delicious food. the food was amazing; an accessible menu, eating with your hands, casual fine dining! thats groovy, daddy. but look, dont give me the stink eye because everyone is overdressed but us. im not part of your group and i dont want to be. i do, however want to enjoy good food in a receptive, loving atmosphere. even for the middle class, so lowly in the eyes of the napanese, eating is about the social experience, not survival. so many dont have the luxury of that social experience and so few do, and how! alright, buddy, this may not be the place to argue for the redistribution of wealth (i wish), but everyone, every single scum sucking schlub, from the worm schlubs to the rich cunt schlubs should be able to eat good food all the time. dont give that casual dining shit when its just another jerk booth for rich cunts and the panderers who yearn to be in their numbers. yeeesh!'

(l.-in my sociology lecture at a large state university, the professor really drove it home [with a chart] about taste vs. money, as in, us liberal art students had high taste (liked ethnic food), but no money, the nouveau-riche had lotsa money and low taste, (he left out low money/low taste because, at the time, there was not enough space on the internet for the bloggable fury incited by talking about poor people in front of 500 rich white and liberal 20 year olds) and, he alone as a professor had high taste, much money (debatable). anyway, i've never been transported so abruptly back to that moment of some run of the mill power-douche jumping on his desk and screaming, arguably word for word, about how much better he was than me (and the people filling up the rest of the hall). the association alone kind of slowed down the good time i had been having with this meal and i gradually grew more and more self conscious that no matter how much i love food, and how many (all of them) of the technical terms the waiter described in patronizing detail i already knew, and whatever else, this meal was Not for Us, it was for Them.)


now, capitalism is the art. the artist produces a product or object and trades it for money. the patron of the arts is the lynchpin in this lifestyle of exclusivity for artist and patron, brandishing the art (status) object as an advertisement for themselves, their class, their club, their comfort. the privilege of people who can afford to be arts patrons seems a given to them as schlubs of the world trudge wearily to their minimum wage job, unwitting noble savages in a post agricultural world, killing time for rich cunts-- patrons of the arts and of ad hoc.


so, kellers aim is supposedly righteous, but he misses the mark. he is a chef to be respected, a restrauteur to be admired, a capitalist (artist) to be feared. he disguises his notions of class and status behind an all too transparent veil of community and equality. his patrons and their ilk sour the arts experience with their putrid stink--the empty smell of money. the fresh, local, organic trophies of luxury that should be available to all, they congratulate themselves with. the souvenirs of lifestyle will rot soon enough in their bellies, falling into greasy, useless detritus in 'the house where every man goes', perhaps the only equalizer in the civilization of More and Less.

northwest staycation

our northwest staycation (or, journey to the center of maxs negative bank account) begins with a wop bop a lu bop a wop bam boo at glos. no wait (except for on james and emily), caffiene jitters gripped my jet lagged brain ([bro]oakland to seattle), but i was soothed by the creamy deliciousness of the steadfast benedict. carry on, glo! steady as she goes!

l: you know the shellac song 'steady as she goes'? that's all i can think of when i hear that phrase now, which is fine with me, for several reasons, as follows: 1. i never thought that song was going to get released; a happy day indeed when it was, 2. clearly, shellac is inextricably and understandably linked in my brainskull with bob weston, 3. who is the stuff my dreams are made of. in fact, i would say the only thing wrong with this meal at glo's is that weston wasn't there, but, really, he never is. i think i had a greek scramble. does bob weston like greek scrambles? i could pretty easily switch to pancakes, if it would make breakfasttime easier.



thai tom in u district next. ok, look. first i just had a sweating problem, but then i got fucking Fat, so lay off, capice? swimming rama, foah stah {ed note: max only got two or three stars. i remember because i ordered four stars in an attempt to gain control as the AMOG [alpha male of group]}! see, its just that i love deep fried tofu. on a placid bed of spinach. flavored saltily by my sweat dropping into it, but still, y know, like, impervious. uh, whatever

l: the money meal here is splitting the coconut soup and then taking home your delicious entree (mama likes the spicy broccoli with chicken). are you listening, bob weston? i need someone to split soup with.


no dinner for you! you too Fat! you dance with james on mask on!


back to glos but i dont think the waitress remembered us. which is likely for the best. portions are extraordinary. after eating a spanish omlette i was quite full. like bowed-buttons-on-shirt-full. yipes. garnished w a grapefruit slice and shredded cabbage. first of all, orange and purple are complimentary colors. second of all, im not even sure if thats true. so, yeah, thats like, two things.

l: what did i eat? i think french toast. we should start writing these sooner, so people have more time to not read our blog.


go meet nate schmoe downtown in line for salumi, (as featured on no reservations. i dont care for that show. but i care for salami. a great deal.) where else? wait 45 minutes so that i can never eat another salami sandwich again. the bars been raised to high. hot coppa, come to poppa. (pause for laughter; my own) AHAHAHAHAHA!!!


"oh im sorry, im wasted. i will need 'dicks in my mouth'. not my words. no, sir, i wont try to climb through the tiny window. not tonite. its too late now anyway. im too Fat. havent you been reading? oh, and i will have a deluxe, a cheeseburger, and a tartar sauce. yes, id like to eat them and pass out immediately. no, i dont care about The Facts Of Unhealthiness. havent you been reading? oh, and i will have a deluxe, a cheeseburger, and a tartar sauce. yes, id like to eat them and pass out immediately. "



than bros pho hangover over staple. the medium bowl is so big i would wear it as a helmet if thats what it took to get another free custard puff pastry. i also had a coconut drink.

l: did you know that i'd never had pho till i moved to seattle? now my neck hurts from eating it 3-5 times per week? my chopstick skills are unparalleled. bring me a creampuff, then.


we off to portland with nate, james, johnnie. reservation (for 8 minus 1) at pizza scholls bypasses around the block line straight to the best pizza i ever had. the truffle oil especially is like eating one million dollars. astounding. fifth reich pizza nazis reign of terror begins. this was before i got into fiber supplements, by the way.
l: we ordered five pizzas (two margherita, one truffle, one bacon, one sausage and peppers), and i wisely asked the waitress if this was going to be enough. she laughed. she is a fool. i ate an entire pizza by myself, lady, and if nate was the man he once was (see: sharkweek vol. 2), he would've too. plus, the only thing that stopped me at eight slices was embarrassment. why i'm not embarrassed to discuss this now, i do not know.


l: do fiber supplements deserve their own entry? does bob weston take fiber? of course it does. of course he does. our "friends" had been telling us about fiber for months, but our friends are also idiots, so it took a while for us to catch this wave, but eventually we got some fiber and were so disgusted with the outcome (ha!) we kept taking it.



next morning, screen door portland. oyster benedict. amazing fresh ocean taste, but after glos benedict i am more impressed with screen doors generous syrup annointed nut bacon and the onion cheese biscuits than anything else. except for our unhinged capacity for inhalation of food.

l: i unsurprisingly overate and then played wii fit at nate's house, except it wasn't playing because i didn't have fun because i was too full because the fucking bacon was covered in molasses.


unremarkable thai food. actually downright weird. actually sub par. also, i had a canned coconut drink.

l: i had "artichoke drink." thinking about it nauseates me and if max didnt write the first section of this, i would have willingly excluded this section altogether.


more pictures there.

Thursday, June 5, 2008

this was a solo venture on my part, but the food was so delicious that it would be impossible to overlook it as a culinary adventure.

***
a few weeks back, i started an epic trip visiting my friend studying abroad in paris. before i touched ground, though, i had a surprisingly delicious meal aboard continental.

i fly kind of a lot, and once i grew weary of the chicken patty/big bite pizza/cheeseburger rotation continental typically serves, i decided to work my way through all the special meals. for this trip, i had finally hit 'hindu' and i might just stop the experiment because this curry was delicious, the coconut rice was delicious, and who doesn't love milanos, hmmm? no one. delicious. it made up for my later plane faux-pas of assuming rich, creamy european butter was actually brie and spreading it lavishly on my pear. i'm sorry for being american.

i ate my way across paris without taking any pictures, unfortunately, but rest assured, one of my meals was served in scallop shells and basted with wine. i purposely skipped taking any pictures of those pastel delicacies, macarons, because i feel the internet is already oversaturated with such things, though i now see why: there is nothing else in the world that tastes like this. i had moroccan food for the first time in paris as well, and it was sweeter than i ever imagined lamb could be.


moving on! greece was up next, and while i found the country itself a general bumout, this salad is the kind of thing my dreams are made of. i eat greek salads probably five days a week at home, but never so decadently topped with an actual brick of feta oozing with drizzled olive oil. have mercy!

after ten hours on two ferries, and two overnight buses, i ended up traversing turkey, from traditional clay pot stews in goreme to kofte in istanbul's sultanahmet.


and of course, what visit would be complete without doner kebaps?

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

sxsf: south by south food

lauren: typically, these middle weeks of march are reserved in austin for showcasing music, technology, and film. under these auspices, we trek across the desert deep into the heart of texas, but find ourselves much more interested in food than, well, anything else.

lauren: as you may or may not know, your heroes are more than obsessed with barbque. we often quiz each other on favorite bbqs, idly discuss going to the bbq championships in memphis, and frequently riff on things we'd do with ribs before we eat them (make silly moustaches, lazer pointers, etc.); thus, texas was kind of our holy grail.



and oh, it was beautiful. that little gem is from ruby's in austin, kind of a hipster-ish place, but that is irrelevant as no texan bbq is bad, no matter how ironic your waiter's haircut is. the brisket in question had discernible smoke rings around its flaky exterior that gave way into sweet tenderness, complimented by a vinegary coleslaw and a bun toasted just so. later, i went into a complete and total food coma at sam's across town, where i filled myself well beyond capacity with a completely different tomatoey style of 'que.


max: sam's bbq in austin. the only boss worth listening to, bruce springsteen, eats here. so does leann rimes. they claim its so tender you dont even need teeth, and though i have teeth (mostly), i believe them. the fellow behind the counter (sam?) picked up a huge baby sized chunk and cut it with love. so tenderly, just like the meat.



lauren: of course, the dual gems in texas's crown are bbq, yes, but also mexican food. from our starting meal in san francisco at papalote, to a repeat visit to el taurino in la, to tamale house in austin, we covered most of the southwest. it was, in short, an extravaganza.



lauren: but there is also regional cuisine, and we found this in las cruces, at nopalitos.
this is completely novel to me, but my enchilada was vertical rather than cylindrical, and covered with a god damned egg that melted beautifully deep into the chile sauce. my all-star here was the sopapilla, another newcomer to me, that likely will forever change how i think of fried dough slathered in honey.

max: dig- southwest(ish) poutine (waffle house). to wit: double order hashbrowns 2.25. smothered .25, covered .35, chunked .75, peppered .50, capped .75, gravy (! NEW) .75. go!





and, as always, more pictures from our trip here.
y'all come back now!

Sunday, February 24, 2008

happy barfday to us.

Gluttons for Gluttony: A True Story

lauren: our birthdays are february 8 & 9, which gave us an entire weekend to gorging ourselves on our favorite foods, ever. we discussed for weeks what we wanted to eat on our special days, obsessing over every detail, assuring and reassuring we wouldn't eat those foods until then so they were that much better. finally, i decided my theme would be "burgers and beards," but max's birthday was first, so he took to the internet and we met in mission for burritos at papalote.

max: is that true? is that really what happened? i wouldnt know, having gone into a blackout food coma the moment feb 8th food touched my lips. see, i started out that day with a back pack full of piss and spit- specimens, see?- for a research study. after a pint blood draw and a 12 hour fast, you may know, i will tell you, daddy was hungry. at the hospital, they gave me veg lasagna and broccoli (not pictured). it was my choice from a menu. it was free, no, they paid me for it. i coulda got more but i didnt want to fill up before the 2 day food orgy i was about to embark on. im sensible like that. ahem- like dat

yeah so what i defer to a burritto blog? doh kay. papalote in the mission, short walk from my UCSF doctor office, where i meet lauren. what a vision! she appears carrying two chicken sandwiches, cookies, lemon squares from bake sale bettys. my legs shake, my kneees quiver, my pants become tight, my mouth gets sandpaper dry. confusion reigns. gorge chicken sandwiches here in the heart of burrittoville, usa, or forsake the crushing warmth of baked goods for a mexican food? uh, we just go to papalote. not that it was easy. but
so i got a chicken burrito. im kinda on a white meat burrito kick, ive been betrayed by the attendance of gristle in my bites too many times, not at paplote, but anyway. i got blackened chick super burrito- truly the balls. tender meat dissolves and perfect, not overwhelming mix of super burrito accoutrement.


lauren: burritos are the least photogenic of all the foods. on the left is max's pollo asado burrito, and the right is my fish burrito, and as you can see, they are snuggling.
i was having trouble deciding what to order, when an angel sent from heaven to stand in line behind me and gush over foodstuffs gushed over the fish. she settled my mind, and i thank her to this day for turning me on to garlic chili lime marinated fillets of just the sweetest little fish you ever did eat.


next, we headed to sutro baths for a picnic comprised of bakesale betty chicken sandwiches and lemon squares i picked up in oakland earlier.
i feel like the only thing that could possibly enhance this sandwich is sea air, and thank you, sutro baths, for that. lemon squares are perfect as always, and thank you, bakesale betty, for that.

max: ok, so to sutro for outdoor seaside picnic. but not romantic, just gluttonous. oh, also, i was pretty full from my two previous meals but so what? we feast on the still warm bakesale betty sandwiches. delicious parsley/ green pepper coleslaw, oil and vinegar heavy, no mayo or other condiments. clean, busy taste, but quite uncrowded. in between bites lauren curese me savagley. 'we could be eating these for free, swine!!' she seethes. see, folks, i got hired at this reputable but chaotic establishment well into being broke after our move here. i worked one shift then went no call, no show for the second. i got The FEAR, employment sweats, fuck, man. anyway, i have not the maturity of my now 26yrs(!) and havent set foot in there since. god, those lemon squares! out of sight. always they give free shortbread cookies too. yes. wonderful.

lauren: my birthday was the next day, and i have a very special place in my soul for mcdonald's breakfast, so we trudged the blocks up telegraph before 10.30 struck us breakfast-less, and placed our order.

i couldn't decide, so i opted to add on pancakes. further, i covered every single crumb of my meal in syrup, and this is the distinct pleasure of being a grown ass newly 23 year old woman.

max: right. next, i got a little messed up that night. this is important, dear reader, because it segues nicely into breakfast the next day. my hangover was immense and i struggled to my feet to walk a total of three blocks to mcdonalds(!). i embarked on another day of self indulgent cramming of my foodhole with an egg mcmuffin and a sausage mcmuffin. my head was still spinning, but there must have been some sort of moment of clarity, for in one swift, sudden movement, i swiped laurens extra pat of butter lying motionless and unused on the sidelines, to place it deftly in my s mc m. fuck, dude, it was the shit.


lauren: but, as you know, the theme for the day was 'burgers and beards.' we hopped on the bart to head back to the mission for zeitgeist. this was one of the first places we went when we moved to the bay area, and by god, it is the best burger i have ever had.

delicious, juicy niman-ranch house smoked beef with that ever so scrumptious, ever so elusive salty crust that me and my george foreman struggle to recreate, thick cheddar lazily oozing and melting off the sides into crisp, almost burnt but just right hash browns. mama, i'm coming home.

max: a bart ride that almost made me vomit (why? beats me) and we arrive at zeitgeist for burgering. they use niman ranch organic beef its like a 6oz patty. ok. owen used to work there so i know now. see imminent myspace picture. cooked perfect and did you know you can smoke pot on that back patio? i didnt, smoke, i mean, but i did know. now you know. the requisite starch side is home fries, potato clumps and you have to ask for cheese.


laurenonto the beards. cream puffs have always been my favorite birthday treat, always, so when asked for my birthday dessert, it was clearly destined to be beard papa, a softball sized japanese cream puff joint in a mall downtown.

max: trek down market to see the papa. BEARD PAPA THAT IS!!!!!!!!!!111!!!. those japanese export puff pastry in mall food court. uh, doi. its pretty darn good. vanilla cream is almost of a sandy granule quality good, and i dont really have a sweet tooth.

max: whoop, take the trolley car the right way, to see the sea lions, but we go the wrong way and lurch with the oldest car in the fleet all through its route, my stomach bouncing, also upset (fat joke[?-ed]). at this point, i lust for sea food. im not hungry, i dont really want to eat, i feel sick, but i lust for sea food. (this yearning will stay with me for weeks until finally sated, greasily, at catch isle, in yuk mall food court. ) i guess i just remembered it.



max: we wander aimlessly through touristy pier 39 area and little italy, chinatown, back downtown, fruitlessly waiting till we am hungry again. but for what? well...punk, i guess. delay is in town so we meander to thrillhouse. somehow, i manage to slug a 40 of budweiser, but i would have confused austin and ryan anyway, how do you tell who is which? we leave the show and i convince lauren to stop at papalote before we get onto the bart. pork chile verde super burrito, please. yes. gosh darn, does this place score highly on all fronts. so tender, marinated pig meat, perfect black bean (whole, not refried)/rice ratio. good lord! my fave right now

lauren: and like that, our birthday food adventure was over and all we got were these lousy t-shirts