I did something the other night that I've never done before. In the middle of a swanky neighborhood restaurant, full of well-heeled types from all walks of life, I pulled out my SD500 Canon Elph, and photographed my food. With a flash.
Eek!
I am just not the type of girl who takes photos in a restaurant, unless it's a very casual lunch spot. I don't like calling attention to myself at dinner, but more importantly, I hate the thought that I can't get through a meal before I'm already mentally blogging about it. It's as though I no longer live in real time; I live in Fast Forward, and all the moments in the Present are, the minute they happen, being scrutinized through a backward-facing camera lens. Life becomes fodder for my blog mere milliseconds after it occurs. It's alarming, really. A girl ought to be able to enjoy her meal away from her own prying eyes.
But my best friend S. was (is!) visiting from Londontown and we were taking shots of each other anyway, so I figured what the hell?!
Rather than narrate dinner like I tend to do, I'll just give a small preamble and then get right to the good stuff.
Luella opened to great fanfare late last year, including near raves from our own Mr. B. Chef/owner Ben deVries was much loved by local and national food critics for his fare at Andalu, LuLu and Ristorante Ecco. Now he and his wife, along with sous chef Chris Wong, have their own Russian Hill den where they're feeding locals and faraway converts a low-key, Mediterranean-inspired menu within its moss green and warm amber walls.
deVries always knew he'd be a chef. At age five, he remembers going out to the Real Seafood Company in Ann Arbor, Michigan for mussels and telling his mom how he'd be doing things when he opened a restaurant. Turns out his proclamation was more than mere precociousness, and now, after nearly twenty years cooking, he has a restaurant of his own.
After two visits, it became clear to me that DeVries loves potatoes and lemons. A man after my own heart. Potatoes turn up in the salt cod brandade, as semi-crisp shells for ahi tuna tacos, fried in thick cubes with the chicken al mattone (cooked under a brick), and in the usual mash (which, quite oddly, my friend S. detests -- evil schoolmarms apparently forced her to eat the gray, watery from-a-box type as a five year old until her mum had a stern word with them. More on this later...) Meyer lemons show up thinly sliced and fried on that same plate of chicken, zested into pasta with basil chiffonade and razor-thin squash, and sauced into a velvety artichoke soup so thick it's like spooning up pale green custard.
Artichokes appear in another starter, poached this time and tumbled with bright green fava beans, red onion and pecorino shavings. I prefer a sauteed or grilled 'choke myself since it adds depth to the flavors, but this dish fires on all other cylinders. S. ordered the salad of romaine, radicchio and watercress in a red wine vinaigrette with hunks of gorgonzola and walnuts peppering the mix. I didn't try any, but it disappeared so it must have been good.
With some encouragement from me, Mr. Food Musings started with the salt cod brandade. Piping hot, full of salt cod and potatoes and topped with a bread crumby crust and a dollop -- nay, a whollop! -- of aioli, it was divine. A trade was quickly arranged, and spoonfuls of soup crisscrossed the table in exchange for the precious brandade, creamy and smooth atop lushly buttered toast.
Then it was time for the entrees. I had the housemade capellini with zucchini and squash, sliced into matchsticks and tossed with butter and lemon zest. Simple. Confident. Unadorned. Splendiforous.
Earlier, on another visit, I'd gotten to try the pork shoulder, braised Southern-style in Coca-Cola. I wasn't crazy about the white bean puree it came with, but the pork was flavorful, sticky-sweet, and so fork tender it made me cry. The Niman Ranch beef filet is another to try if you're feeling carnivorous. It's basted in bone marrow butter which renders it succulent, and the roasted island of portobello mushroom it rested on changed my mind forever about the fungus. Portobellos' thick, sturdy texture has made them a popular meat stand-in for many vegetarian dishes, but usually they taste like cardboard without the dust brushed off. This one was bursting with subtle buttery, beefy flavors from its precious cargo, and full-flavored mushroom notes. It was the best portobello mushroom I've ever eaten -- and I fear it's spoiled me forever.
That night, S. and Mr. FM both had salmon. When it arrived, so lovingly arranged on its china canvas, my eyes grew wide. "Don't look!" I pleaded with S. -- but it was too late. She had seen the mashed potatoes (gasp!) hiding 'neath the fish. "Look away immediately and we'll send it back," I reassured her. She looked at me, eyes wide and brimming with tears. "But it wasn't on the menu!" she said, her lower lip trembling.
Okay. She's not that much of a baby. But we did have them remove the poisonous substance and give her a new plate. Apparently the corn and cherry tomato salad on the side was even better than the salmon, though vinegary notes had Mr. FM claiming it hadn't been the perfect match for the dish. Who can say? I was gleefully sucking up strands of perfectly cooked pasta, trying not to look like I was having too much fun. Who knows when your co-diners will reach for a bite and you'll have to stab them with your fork? And I didn't have a taste for violence that night.
Dinner over, we moved on to dessert. The first night we ate together this trip we played that cat-and-mouse game of "Who wants to order dessert?" with most of us feigning disinterest, disgust, or even smug disdain for the sweets until someone else caved. Then we were like dominoes, loudly smacking up against our cravings. By this evening all that nonsense had passed. S. ordered the maple cheesecake. Creamy. Smooth. Subtly mapled. Topped with candied walnuts. Plate-licking good. It is the best restaurant cheesecake I've ever had.
And then...(sigh)...there were the orange and ricotta-filled fried dumplings. Fritters from Heaven, donut holes of the Gods. Drizzled with a strong and wonderful honey, they vanished one by one. They rival the zeppole at Americano, my till-now favorite San Francisco dessert, and, as I ate, Mr. Food Musings commented (with wonder, silly boy), "You really do love fried food." Fingers shining with oil and powdered sugar, honey dripping down my chin, I wondered where he'd gotten that idea. As I looked at him, eyes shining, lips pursed around one perfectly fried dumpling, the thin crust yielding quickly to my teeth, the soft warm insides offering up just a hint of Florida citrus and mild creamy cheese, I slowly nodded. Yes, oh yes, I do.
Luella, San Francisco, 1896 Hyde Street, 415-674-4343
I know what you mean about blogging it before it is even over!!! so I give myself a break... but then I always wish I had the camera.. darn that. I know how your friend feels, I grew up on good mash then I was give evl box stuff on a school camp I didn't know what had happened!!
Great post
Posted by: clare eats | August 03, 2005 at 07:46 AM
Thanks, Clare. I imagine we all have similar complaints about childhood faves gone awry! p.s. your Chinese treats looked yummy yesterday!
Posted by: catherine | August 03, 2005 at 08:13 AM
really? Thank you so much! :) the chicken was the best ;)
Posted by: clare eats | August 03, 2005 at 08:20 AM
count me as another english person who shies away from mash for the same school-dinner memory reasons. These days I only really like it if I make it myself to my very exacting specifications which include more cream/salt and butter than potato usually.
BTW - i too get mortified taking pictures at restaurants after dark. In the day time I have started using my mobile phone which is less conspicuous but the quality suffers. I never use a flash at night. SOmetimes I take a picture of the menu, the visiting card or the restaurant logo just to give my piece some illustration.
i do like to have a picture of some kind on my every post but that is just a personal preference as I am a visual kinda girl.
Posted by: Becks & Posh | August 03, 2005 at 05:19 PM
Yeah, I agree, pictures ARE nice. I'm just too shy...
Posted by: catherine | August 03, 2005 at 06:46 PM
Our Camera is HUGE (but takes nice photos) so it is even worse!
Posted by: clare eats | August 04, 2005 at 05:37 AM
my camera is huge too which is why i have started taking with the mobile phone instead.
i was a little bit encouraged when the GM of Knife's Edge blog told me that people in their restaurant take pictures of food all the time and she doesn't think its just a food blogger thing - if that helps witht the braveness factor
Posted by: Becks & Posh | August 04, 2005 at 11:59 AM