food, and other musings: Go Fish

On Tuesday night we were asked to wait 45 minutes past our reservation for dinner, then we waited another 20 minutes for a glass of wine -- which I requested twice before Jeff got up to fetch it himself from the bar -- and yet I am still going to rave utterly and absolutely about Fish & Farm. What gives?

I must begin with the hand-smashed red potatoes with fresh herbs and sour cream. Oh, the things I could do if I had a 10-pound bucket of those potatoes at my desk right now.

1. I could eat them all up, all by myself. For breakfast.

2. I could pour them in the pool of the hotel where I'm staying this weekend and dive in, rubbing their creme fraiche, heavy cream, and buttery sauce into my flesh.

3. I could put them on a small table with votive candles and a statue of the Buddha and kneel in front of them each morning and afternoon.

4. I could mail a small taste of them to each of the world's warlords, dictators, and despots. World peace would ensue.

5. I could give them to my boss in exchange for a $1,000,000 bonus. She'd clearly be getting the better end of the bargain, but hey, I'm a reasonable gal.

Yes, people, they were that good. In fact, every bite we ate was worth crowing over. Thick, meaty butter beans and sauteed greens with breadcrumbs and fresh Parmigiano-Reggiano. Grilled Monterey Bay calamari doused in lip-smacking harissa. Corvina, a buttery white fish from off the coast, with a sweetbread raviole (is that the singular form?).

The focus here is on "New American" local eats. There are limitations -- obviously Parmigiano-Reggiano can't be got here without importing it from far across the pond -- but the fish is primarily California (or West Coast) and the vegetables and dairy are sourced from within a strict 100-mile radius. The booze is all organic, including the bourbon they pour into their Fish & Farm Julep. A nice touch, n'est-ce pas? On our visit, I noticed boar ribs on the menu, and that looked interesting. Slavs might take to the housecured fish platter.

The down-home atmosphere was cozy but chic, perfect for this unseasonably cold weather we're having (I kid, I kid -- the nippy weather suits.) Bright blue walls with dark brown bamboo floors, and 20-ish tables, all put together under the genius eye of Swallowtail's Sheri Sheridan. I loved it.

After dinner I had the chance to chat with one of the owners, John, who listened to our service complaints and explained that they were short-staffed and were doing their best. He acknowledged that there were ways they could have improved our experience (the long wait, etc.). They haven't been open even a month, so I think it's fair to give them a pass on that one. If they can smooth out the kinks in service, I think this is one place where you'll soon be lucky to find an empty seat.

Fish & Farm * 339 Taylor Street * San Francisco * 415.474.FISH * fishandfarmsf.com