Eat Gorda Eat.

Incanto...

2012-01-03T22:18:00.000-08:00

After dropping off some shirts to Chef Cosentino, two of my favorite people and I decided to come back in the evening and have some snacks and drinks.

Sweetbreads w/ Buddha Hand

Bone Marrow

Foie, Boudin Noir and Apples

Calfs Fries, Cockscombs and other good bits topped with a fried egg.

Although he playfully dissed Damien's camera, which had us in an uproar, he obliged the three goofy culinary students in posing with us for a photo.

Food Test Dec 2011...

2012-01-03T21:09:00.000-08:00

Dan's a professional photographer working in SF that wants to get into food photography and I'm using my culinary school cooking skills for the shoots. We amateurly choose the dish's positioning and props, not always successfully. We rush to utilize natural daylight, so my brownies didn't have a lot of time to cool before cutting. They weren't perfectly square. The chicken was so tender, one leg separated itself from the body, so we couldn't shoot from the top. The challenges are present, but we both work independently and together quite well. I really enjoy working with Dan.

Here's the photos folks...

Baby Arugula, Watermelon Radishes and Blood Orange Salad

Stuffed Poblanos w/ Shrimp, Chorizo, Oaxaca and Cotija cheeses

Basic Roasted Chicken

Double Chocolate Brownies

Carpo's...

2011-07-31T16:36:00.000-07:00

Reference to non-locals in the know: Walk in and make a right, you will then find the hidden counter where you order. I can see how locals would be attached to this place. Capros gives the same feeling the luncheon counter at Woolworth's used to give me, it's amazing in a nostalgic sense...it's humdrum in a gastronomy sense.

There was no line when we got here around 5pm on a Saturday summer evening, but the parking lot was definitely packed. It looked totally old school Italian restaurant from the outside, but more like a cafeteria on the inside. Frommers listed that "locals line up out the door for their seafood..." with that statement I sure as hell thought there'd be more than calamari and chips ($9.75) and fish and chips ($9.50) and a shrimp and crab sandwich on the menu.

One of those TGIFridays vibrating coaster pagers are placed in your hand and you're on to the adventure of finding a table. With a hunter green cafeteria tray, napkin dispenser, complimentary bread basket (of multi-grain bread), salt and pepper, there was barely any elbow room at the tables against the back window'ed wall. Hence the reason I gave my cup of ice water the sleeper hold and it went flying onto the floor.

The food was...gratifying. My beer battered fish was way more reminiscent of that heavily battered Chinese deep fried prawn than any fish and chips I've had. It was fried until a DARK golden colour and the cod was nice and moist. Or, it was just jizzing water from its previously frozen existence. There was a side of coleslaw, which I don't normally like, but this one was lightly dressed. I actually ate it. The clam chowder had nice chunks of supple potatoes, nice consistency to the soup and with a few pieces of clams floating about.

It's simple. It's affordable. It's attachment to memories that probably keeps the locals coming back.

2400 Porter St
Soquel, CA 95073

(831) 476-6260

$0.99 Store -- Basmati...

2011-07-29T06:27:00.000-07:00

It probably doesn't make sense if you have a spouse and minion spawn to buy a small bag of rice for $1. But, for a gal flying solo...it's the perfect size.

When you're looking for a switch up from beans and rice, Basmati and lentils with a little Madras curry mix is a great alternative. Yes, it's technically beans and rice all over again, but at least it'll wake up that clam-like tongue of yours. I bought the white Basmati, but they also had brown for you health-nutters. Although with less than $5 in my pocket at any given time, I don't have room for health. I need sustenance.

I threw in some chicken legs stewed in tomato sauce.

$0.99 - SoyJoy....

2011-07-28T18:17:00.001-07:00

Let's just say that I now know why I haven't seen the ads for Soy Joy in a very very long time. These things are gross. They could never replace Nature Valley bars, which is one of the rumors that was on the street.

The texture is the equivalent to biting into a warm loaf of tofu fresh off the shelf. Oh, with the "flavoring" of fresh raisins and almond. Raisins and almonds my tuchus. If this is what vegetarians and vegans are eating, no wonder everytime I see them they look as if they're about to pass out. Minus the fact they have no energy from the lack of animal flesh.

It was only $0.59. This was definitely a miss.

New Station...

2011-07-05T16:39:00.000-07:00

For a long time this was my favorite Chinese food place, especially after a good doin' the grown up session. And for that reason, I kept it a secret. For those who were fortunate enough to find themselves on the opposite side of the table, noshing away with me, they were sworn to shut the fuck up. However, my last visit was so shocking that it left my mouth open long enough for flies to lay their larvae inside of it.

I normally order combo plates for lunch, keeping the traditional Chinese fare for dinner. It's quick and I don't have to sit amongst Sacramento's version of the Chronicles of Riddick; state workers. State workers haunt this place. Since I've eaten here several times, I knew the portions and the flavor wouldn't fail me. I also knew the $5.75 wouldn't fail me. But, when they set down the plate before our eyes, my bottom lip poked out and began to quiver. What I had in front of me was a very generous portion of rice and noodles and five...count them...five little golden laquered nuggets of pork. One dollar per nugget. That seems to be the message they're sending here.

Now, Asian Garden Two is my favorite spot and I'll be sure to let everyone know about New Station.

Asian Garden Two...

2011-06-15T15:57:00.000-07:00

Those of you who follow me - I'm making myself sound important here - know I enjoy a good slab of pan roasted foie gras, caramelized baby root vegetables with a port reduction...more than anyone. However, I also have this primordial fat chick instinct to eat cliche Chinese-American food laquered in red gloop.

Especially after doin' the grown up.

With that being said, I'm probably not a good person to heed advice from when it comes to it. I love this place. My nina took me here for lunch and the portions were gargantuan in size and astronomically budget-friendly in price. Steamin' in temperature, fresh, well-seasoned and fucking good, man.

My General Tsao - I know, get off my back - was my expected crunchy little golden nuggets of chicken, tossed with dried maroon charred chilies that give it the heat it deserves. Normally, I would be bent that there was broccoli in my food, but I actually welcome these little trees of nourishment and their strange effects on your BMs. The lunch specials are where you get your choice of fried rice, steamed or chow mein. Egg roll and soup are included, but I could live without those. What I cannot live without is their lunch specials being $4.75. That's right...under $5. And when my favorite taco truck just raised their prices of the burritos from $4 to $5, you better be sure I'm looking for new deals that are both easy on my wallet and delicious in my belly.

8409 Elk Grove Florin Rd
Elk Grove, CA 95624

(916) 681-8318

Suzie Burger...

2011-06-03T15:09:00.000-07:00

You know what's cool about this place? The prices are reasonable and they have PBR on tap for $1.50. Granted, it's definitely not a pint and it comes in a plastic cup. Which some people know, I'm no fan of consuming my beverages out of anything plastic.

You know what sucks about this place? The Top 40 pop music they play and the fact that the stools on the North side of the building don't have foot rests. All throughout my stay, my foot instinctively went looking for the rest. Nothing there.

The burgers come with tomato and lettuce. The onion is included in their list of free toppings: grilled onion, raw onion, jalapenos or mushrooms. It seems odd to me that they wouldn't already add the raw onion on the burger, but instead, a slice of out of season and bland tomato. The beef patties are thin, so med-rare is out of the question. Still, the burger was tasteful. Their fries are irregularly cut, which I don't mind, because I like the contrast of textures. However, I don't like limp. I suppose this place is like In-N-Out, there's a secret menu where I have order my fries well done? It's a meal that has me hankerin' to shout from the rooftops. But, there was still something satisfying about it.

Where's the damn foot rest?

The parking is quirky, don't ask me how to figure it out. I don't drive and I'm the last person to ask for advice on that. It's bright and cheerful on the inside, thanks to all the windows. The outside setting isn't picturesque, but it's perfect for feeling that Delta breeze come tumblin' down P Street on Sacramento's notoriously fearsome summer nights. All while shovin' your gob with burgers, fries and PBR. And all for around $7.

P St & 29th St
Sacramento, California 95816
(916) 455-3500

Sac RT: 67, 68, Gold Light Rail

La Palma...

2011-05-25T15:50:00.000-07:00

We used to live in what USED to be considered "deep" in the Mission, 26th and Folsom baby. We never thought it was deep, we thought it was the heart of the Mission. You were never too far away from a good Panaderia; 3 bolillos for $1, 3 pan dulces for $1. A great taqueria; where the $5 burrito still exists. Goya canned goods on the shelf where no one considers it an "exotic" ingredient and they're not overly priced.

While we lived in this rat's nest from hell under the thumb of our slumlord, German. We ventured out many a night in hopes of scoring our drug of choice: food. And that's when we stumbled upon this place...

La Palma.

It's been years since I wandered my old neighborhood, but I still know where the good shit is. And yeah, I've never seen that many hipsters hanging out in this part of the Mission before in front of St. Francis' Fountain. So many hip food establishments; Dynamo and Slocombe. But, I fake to the left when comfronted with these obstacles and get down to the roots. What's the good shit?

A dozen warm and fresh corn tortillas for $0.50. Oh, that's right mofo. What can you buy in SF for $0.50? A clove of garlic? A sprig of mint? Nothing! You gets nothing. Or, you can get some tender, sweet, delicate corn tortillas.

So ask yourself, do you feel lucky?

2884 24th St
San Francisco, CA 94110-4233
(415) 647-1500

MUNI: 14, 33, 27, 48
BART: 24th street

The sandwich for broke peasants fit for rich kings.

2011-05-02T13:54:00.000-07:00

Dublin is comin' round the mountain when she comes, but it doesn't seem to be fast enough. Especially when it's a country where I only found two food magazines and neither had a lot of information. Who's Dublin's hottest chef? Hell if I know. You can certainly find amazing Michelin rated lunches and dinners, but only if you're prepared to spend $100. And for me, that happens like once a year. So, one of the best deals I found was completely by mistake, but it's an obvious mistake. Street food.

While at the pub, on a rambunctious rugby playin' weekend night, I had too many pints of Guinness and before I knew it, food stopped being served. Bastards. At least the bathroom hadn't been closed early, and so I made my way downstairs to the ladies' room when I looked out the glass door window and spotted something...a pig. A suckling pig. On a spit. I don't remember opening the door, I only remember standing in a line behind rugby jerseys and business suits, shifting from foot to foot impatiently.

Roast, a restaurant on Merrion Road, provides the downstairs Crowe's Pub with their food. And it was Roast that had what I was standing in line for. The young chefs were working frantically, smothering the Irish Tomato Relish and applesauce onto a bun, shaving the tender slices of piglet, a few slices of cracklin' and then topping it off with a stuffing heavy with sage. A heapin' behemoth of post-Thanksgiving goodness on a Saturday night in April and all for €7.

How can I explain how good it was? Well, I shared it with my traveling companion and almost got into a fist fight when I thought I hadn't the same amount of bites he did.

Roast
10 Merrion Rd
Ballsbridge
Dublin 4

Leo Burdock

2011-04-28T15:45:00.000-07:00

Tucked away in a corner of the Epicurean Food Hall, stood my first fish & chip experience outside of the pub. Sure, I could have chosen one of the other tantalizing and interesting vendors, but I was on a mission. Mission: fish & chips.

English accent: "What can I get for you love?"

"What do people normally order?"

"Normally, they get the cod or the haddock. But, I tell you what, I like the lemon sole meself. And it's the same price as the cod and haddock."

"The lemon sole we shall have then."

I think most people like cod or haddock because they are delicate fishes with a delicate taste. In fact, they don't really have a taste, instead morphing into whatever flavor they're being incorporated into or doused in. The lemon sole - not on the BC lists of Seafood Watch, I'm sure - was still a light fish with a citrus essence that you could still taste in the background under the thick and crispy coating. 4 pieces, plus a heaping mound of chips and for €8,95.

Leo Burdock's is one of the fast food chippers, so what? When they can throw a piece of battered fish into the fry-o-lator and manage to get a crisp and clean, brown and golden, delicious piece of fish into my mouth, that's fast food worth purchasing. Did I mention it's right off the Red Luas line?

EuroSpar

2011-04-28T15:35:00.000-07:00

When all else fails, it's a Sunday in Dublin when everything but the pub closes at 2pm (ok, 5pm), you're broke and possibly buzzed. Hell, even if you're just fat like me and fucking starving around 7pm, this is a piece of information you will need.

Spar. Who knows what the hell that name means? I certainly don't. However, the EuroSpar in Ballsbridge saved me many times over and I will never forget it.

There are Spars all over Dublin, kind of their version of the Seven-Eleven. There are some that only contain snacks, there are some that contain indoor Insomnia coffee shops. Some are only opened regular business hours, but the one on Bath Ave. in Ballsbridge is opened 24 hours, my friend. That's right, 24 hours. And it's off-license, Dublin's version of a liquor store. They have a hot/cold deli, you can choose from pre-made sandwiches like italian cold cuts on sub rolls with semsame seeds for 5 euros. Or, you can build your own sandwich, like I regularly did. My chicken sandwich. A breaded chicken breast cutlet on white bread - their white bread is nothing like the ones I've had in America - mayo, lettuce...and that's it. Nothing complex, just a simple and delicious sandwich. If you want to carbo load, you can order a side of chips - the kind we call "wedges" here - and sit down at one of the nearby tables knowing you only spent €5,50.

Did I mention I also took a ham fistful of HP sauce packets? I gave them away as souvenirs...and you can too!

They had free samples of cakes, which I gladly obliged and my terrified traveling companion did not. They had scones, croissants, brown bread (Ireland's mainstay), cookies and an infinte supply of other pastries, all for under 2 euros.
You could also get personal hygiene products, but I much prefered the Tesco.

EuroSpar
3-5 Bath Ave.
Sandymount, Dublin

The Rolling Donut

2011-04-25T03:25:00.000-07:00

I stood in front of the Ulster bank on O'Connell St. to use the ATM, there stood the Rolling Donut hut.

Stark white, blue letters, and the smell of sugar/cinnamon and fried dough drifting from the teenytiny window; where a constant blur of hands exchanged money and dough. I talked my hesitant traveling companion to stand in line with my 60cents and buy me a sugar doughnut, while I stood in the ATM line. The doughnut line moves faster than the ATM line, while I was one person away from the machine, my traveling companion pulled up with a sugar coated cake doughnut. Never did I imagine that when I sunk my teeth into it that it would be warm, but it was. It was soft with crispy edges. Not cloyingly sweet, but just enough granulated sugar to satisfy any sweet tooth.

My traveling companion purchased a chocolate covered doughnut, which I never got to taste. But, I heard that doughnut wasn't warm. So, don't sleep on the warm sugar doughnut.

The Rolling Donut Kiosk
O'Connell Street
http://www.therollingdonut.ie/

The Pig's Ear

2011-04-24T15:12:00.000-07:00

In the states we seem to celebritize everything. So, there's no shock that good food has become the latest trend. It can be found around every corner, and is constantly shoved down our throats by our celebrity chefs. In Dublin, it's the opposite. Young creative chefs are appearing throughout the city, but they're hard to find. Lurking in the shadows, hands and minds feverishly creating.

With a lot of effort, I found a restaurant called The Pig's Ear. Behind a narrow doorway with a black awning that you're sure to pass up if you blink, lies a modest one room, eleven table establishment that would have a line out the door had it been in San Francisco. 2-course lunches (€15,95) and early bird 2-course dinners(€19,95) that are a revelation at what's to come in Dublin.

Our meal started off with Ireland's mainstay, brown bread and butter. Our starter was a salad consisting of black pudding, transparently thin apple slices, fingerling potatoes, watercress, garlic aioli and it was all served on a wood cutting board. The mild black pudding was like chocolate cake with steel cut oats lending a toothsome quality and there was no metallic taste of blood. A contrast of modern, traditional and rustic. Brilliant.

Organic Irish Salmon, tiny shrimp, sea beans, almonds on a bed of potato puree and finished with a lemon butter jus. This is exactly what I was looking for. It was contemporary and clean, but took advantage of the abundant natural resources that Ireland used to export, seafood. The Salmon was still opaque in the center, the skin crispy. The buttery jus was light and seemed to cleanse your palette after every bite, preparing for the next.

Homemade brown bread ice cream with yellow man. What's yellow man, you ask? It's a honey comb. Crushed into small bits on top of our ice cream, loaning a sort of bitter and burnt note that would be unappetizing on its own. But, with that sweet and creamy ice cream, it turned into a nutty component.

This place is amazing and I just hope that Dubliners are realizing what a jewel they have in the city centre.

Star Ginger...

2011-03-31T14:30:00.001-07:00

After a hostess telling me, "Just walk up to the menu when you're ready to order." So, do I order from the menu - although it says lunch - or do I wait for you to seat me? Turns out, you're seated. What's the point of the host station if you're gonna tell me to walk up to the menu to order?

Confusing.

Apparently, the owner of Lemongrass Cafe has found a niche of white Americans loving a Californian version of Southeast Asian classics, go figure. We opened our meal with Samosas. Not the triangles of Russet potatoes with a side of Raita I'm used to, but crispy purses of tender Red Bliss potatoes and Garam Masala with a side of coconut-coriander "chutney." I think we're getting ahead of ourselves by labeling every condiment that comes with Indian food a chutney. It came with a side salad, which is supposed to be an edible garnish. But, how can I eat a pile of colourful lettuce THAT'S NOT DRESSED? I'm not a fan of inedible garnish. If you're gonna place a salad on my plate, that shit better be dressed. I didn't care for the chutney, but the samosas were delicious. Then again, can you really go wrong with a potato stuffed anything that's been deep fried? Me thinks not. But, for $7.95 for three, eh. Who serves an appetizer in odd numbers?! So, we each had one and a half.

I get better samosas from a food vendor in SF at the farmer's market, 3 for $5. And his chutneys are killer.

My dining companion ordered the Pad Thai. This was not Pad Thai...at all. I have never eaten a Pad Thai with snow peas. I couldn't taste or see the egg. I couldn't see the peanuts. I couldn't taste a depth of flavor or the $13.95. I understand you want everything to be colourful, but the purple cabbage I got on the side just reminds me of mistakes first year culinary students make when they want their plates to be colourful: chop up yellow, green and red bell peppers and use them for garnish. Yes, the Pad Thai was pretty, but shit, they should have focused more on not over cooking the shrimp to a rubbery squeak than toss purple cabbage on the plate.

I got the pork chops, $12.75. Three - which is really one - thin, grilled pork chops, over 2 cups of rice, a ginger-sesame salad and a side of chile lime sauce. I tell you what, I much prefer that salad than my chops. That salad was what they should have done to our samosa salad garnish. It was a perfect blend of sweet, salty and sour. My pork chops were ok. Yes, just ok. But, they got better after dipping them in that chile-lime sauce. That chile-lime sauce could make a leather boot taste good. Trader Joe's might be better though.

This place reminds me of a modern cafeteria. It has more of a upscale deli lunch cantina feel than a fast-casual dinner place. But, I'd rather go to Hoa Viet on Broadyway and sit in a dive, eat the same pork chop (except charbroiled) and rice meal for half the price.

Happy Dumpling...

2011-03-26T09:00:00.000-07:00

I've been attempting to get out to the Stonestown Farmer's Market for months to experience one of the dumplings that gets great reviews. You can mix and match the dumplings, which we did. The day's special of beef and onion - not entirely impressed. Seemed kind of bland, couldn't taste the sweetness of the onion.

I feel like either I haven't been eating at the right places, or most of these vendors are producing non-traditional versions of our favorite foods. The dumpling dough was fluffy, kind of like a potato dumpling. I'm used to dumplings being more toothsome, but delicate. Firm, yet thin. Although, their execution was fierce by putting it on the flat-top and giving it that crispy texture on the side. Nice. Chicken and chive was my favorite, noticeable sizes of bright green chive giving off a spring flavor to the succulent chicken.

Musubi Kings...

2011-03-25T08:00:00.000-07:00

You can usually tell who's new to the game in the food industry. It's obvious that Musubi Kings hadn't anticipated their popularity. You could watch them perform through the mesh of their booth, frantically busting their ass like ants saving food before the cold weather comes, trying to produce food for a starving and demanding public.

The "pick-up" line was an oxbow of hodge podge customers, impatiently tapping their foots and throwing their hands up in the air occassionally saying, "What the fuck?" because their names hadn't been called for their Musubi. I ordered the Morning Musubi for $4 - spam, smoked bacon, maple aioli and egg - I don't love spam, but it's a nostalgic ingredient for this girl who grew up in the ghetto.

When I finally got it, I looked down and there was something missing. What's missing? I walked back up to the window and said, "Excuse me, I'm sorry, but could you please tell me where my spam is?" "Oh, you know what? Take this one." The spam was missing. And with a new Musubi in hand, this time my complimentary side of coleslaw was missing. No worries. By the time I was handed my Musubi, it was stone cold. Bummer.

I couldn't taste anything but seaweed and smoke. I would have loved to taste something as wonderful sounding as maple aioli, but I didn't. What this Musubi is missing is texture. Maybe if the spam could be left on the grill until the edges become crunchy, or maybe the bacon could be crispy instead of limp. I don't know. It just seemed to be lacking a lot of somethings

Off The Grid - Ft. Mason...

2011-03-24T15:08:00.000-07:00

I could feel the energy buzzing in the air as I approached the parking lot full of people and trucks. There are so many trucks to choose from that you have to use the divide and conquer approach. It just seemed like no matter where I turned, I was met with a person's face or a brightly coloured truck.

First stop, El Porteno. I had a $3 chicken empanada. I've never had an empanada with such a flaky crust, I almost wish it had a more traditional encasing, because at least it gives you more stability so that your filling doesn't fall out. However, it was delicious. Moist, flavorful and with an almost puff pastry-like crust. We tried to veer off to the side to avoid the impatient city-folk, but it wasn't any use. We just crammed the empanada into our gaping holes and moved on.

JapaCurry - Best meal of the day, by far. And the most expensive, $6. We were the only ones in line and our curry came out in a hurry. I like efficiency. Crunchy panko breaded pork cutlets, topped with an amazing curry sauce that had a truly deep flavor and a creeping spiciness that hit you before you noticed, a mountain of rice and pickled radish that just set everything off in your mouth. Amazing. So simple and yet so delicious.

As we tried to nab one of the multiple chairs at the event, we saw a pod of 10 chairs, only for this asshole to tell us he's saving them. All of them. As we moved on to nab other chairs, the same was being said in all these pods of empty chairs, people were saving them. Now, I don't mind seats being saved, but what the fuck people? Don't get there at the beginning of the event and save every fucking chair at the event with the hopes that your flakey city friends are going to show up. And since I'm in anger management, I couldn't rely on my old tactics of telling him to go fuck himself at the top of my lungs with foam spewing from my mouth and snatching the chairs up aggressively. Regardless if he was saving them for the Queen Mother herself. Instead, I moved on. We found some benches on the Northside of the parking lot, against the cold buildings. They turned out to be better seats anyway.

I've never been to this Off The Grid, but I've been to all the others. Ft. Mason's is bigger, but not necessarily better. You lose the intimacy. You lose the sort of personal connection you should gain with the vendors. But, what you do gain are far more options and a hell of a lot more douchebag arseholes. I'll stick to the one in Upper Haight.

Off The Grid @ Ft. Mason
Fridays 5pm - 10pm
http://offthegridsf.com

Muni: 28, 43, 49

Little Green Cyclo...

2011-03-24T00:10:00.000-07:00

Parked at Off The Grid with a long line, as the rest of the vendors. I danced from foot to foot impatiently and awaited my turn to try out Sweet Potato Tater Tots. Come on, who doesn't love a tot? And in sweet potato form, which I have never seen, gotta pop them in my mouth.

Totally disappointed in the texture. Sweet potato flavor definitely shined through on the forefront. But, it was not that crispy and delectable crunchy texture that you normally get with tots. Maybe if they rolled these bad puppies in some Panko it would be amazing. But, for now, they're just kind of...squishy. No one wants to think of squishy when they think of tater tots.

Squeeze Inn...

2011-03-17T15:47:00.000-07:00

I'm stuck in between 6 grey-haired hens cackling about Guy Fieri and his stolen Lambo. Help.

What is the big gimmick? The massive and greasy cheese skirt, seems to be the answer. I don't feel comfortable paying $6 for a grilled cheese sandwich, I like my ratio to be more meat than anything else. 86 the onion, tomato and lettuce (that just wilts into submission anyway). Basically, it's just average bland beef patty, a decent sesame seed bun and a creative mound of cheese that spreads onto the grill and becomes a parmesan cracker texture. $2.55 for a small french fry that seems to be too much for an individual person, judging by the fact that many diners left them on their table. I'm like the military, no food gets left behind. Each french fry is a soldier of mine. It's basically just good diner fare, but not worth the hype.

The feel of this joint is definitely old school, characters rollin' through and characters working there. I forget that somewhere out there, there's still cooks. Just regular cooks that come from my neighborhood, that talk about how their co-worker got knocked up and how they hate working there. I love it.

5301 PowerInn Rd
Sacramento, CA
(916)386-8599

Orphan Breakfast House...

2011-03-14T10:54:00.000-07:00

Hipsters like this place. That's the general theme I notice while sitting in this joint at 10:30am on a Monday morning and noticing the cacophony of tattooed, beanie and converse wearing bespectacled youngin's. Doesn't anyone work?

I'm not sure I understand the concept of this place, even after going online to read its Mission Statement on how it's supposedly Latino flavors with Asian nuances. Where? What's Asian about this place? The ribbons of scallions on my plate? What's latino about this place? The excess use of avocado and pico-de-gallo? I don't like drinking out of plastic cups, I don't like drinking chlorinated city water out of plastic cups. Ok, don't be so damn judgmental, just order.

"I'll have the rosemary plate, where does your bacon come from?" "What do you mean?" "I mean, where does your bacon come from. Is it made in-house, out-sourced, local?" "Oh, it comes from a local meat distributor." Companion: "Del-monte is a local meat purveyor."

Rosemary plate, 7.50, side of two pieces of bacon 1.50. Rosemary potatoes, toast, and two over-medium eggs. I have to admit that my eggs were well executed, which doesn't seem like much...but you'd be surprised what I've received on my plate in the past. Let's remove the scallion ribbons and pale small dice of tomatoes. The potatoes were crispy and well browned on the outside, but I suppose this place is taking the "diner" approach when it comes to seasoning. And by that I mean, do it your damn self. Rosemary toast, tastes like frozen Texas toast. Companion's blueberry cornmeal pancakes; always love the texture that cornmeal lends to pancakes. That bite of substance. Pancake batter was one-note and flat, blueberries were not sweet. Not sure how I feel about the blackberry preserves squeezed out onto the rim of the plate in a gloopy stream. No, I know how I feel about it...don't put anything on the fucking rim of the plate. That coca-cola bottle with the syrup in it is cute.

All in all, this place isn't the worst place I've eaten breakfast in Sacramento. I just think that their big picture efforts weren't executed well in the final product.

C Street in Sacramento, CA 95816
(916)442-7370

Wayfare Tavern...

2011-03-07T16:26:00.000-08:00

Unfortunately, the only photo I managed to guilt my dining companion into taking turned out dark, grimy, static-y. Fortunately, I wouldn’t use any of those words to describe the dining experience itself. I’ve never had the pleasure of laying eyes on that hunk of Tyler Florence in real life, but I imagine him to be warm, intimate, and straightforward; a classic Southern man’s man meets Californian sensitive with a boisterous laugh. The type of man that never goes out of style. Ironically, this is also how I’d describe Wayfare.

You’ve been invited into a turn-of-the-century man’s lodge with distressed hardwood floors and Victorian patterned wallpaper to eat straightforward and simple down South-Californian (that’s not So Cal I’m talking here) fare that’s meant to be shared family style. Bone Marrow – tastes like they took a Rib Eye and butter, blended it together and forced it back into a bone, tossed under the salamander for a brief moment until myard kicked in – heart attack waiting to happen, but what a way to go. No sides accompany (I said family style) the chicken brined in buttermilk and fried until golden crispiness, topped with rosemary and sage, and served with lemon wedges on the side. This chicken seems excessively salty, until you add a squirt of lemon...POP! It all comes together; the acid eliminates the saltiness. The creamy grits with wild mushrooms where you can actually see the hominy, nothing like the boxed (which I still love) grits powder. All washed down with one of my favorites as of March 2011, Bonny Doon’s 2006 Le Cigare Volant.

Our quirky and lovely server – who reminded us of a mixture of Elvis Costello and Fred Schneider – was pushing the sticky toffee pudding, but a girl just can’t turn down chocolate. It wasn’t just the chocolate, it was the pairing of a flourless Scharffen Berger cake, hazelnut pavlova crumbles and brown butter ice cream topped with little bits of toffee (which may have been salted). Really, Tyler? Really? How simple could this dessert be? Can’t get any simpler. How fucking delicious is this recipe? Enough to be consumed by a self-conscious fat girl with wild abandonment in mere seconds.

Tyler Florence, hug me. I bet he gives good hugs.

Just a little stroll around town...

2011-02-04T23:38:00.000-08:00

A classmate and I decided to have lunch at The Alembic on a whim. He drove all the way from Sacramento for a few hours of lunchin' in the city. He fell in love with Bi-Rite Market, where I found all the wines I had been looking for and couldn't find in Sacramento. No shoker there. And we chatted with Tom, an employee at Bi-Rite who was majorly kick ass.

First, a stop at Tartine. I'd give up every possible food group if I could eat this for 7 days straight. Frangipane croissant. Ooh, hot buttered and dark golden brown, the way I like my men.

A stop inside Bi-Rite Market with Cafe au Lait in hand.

After asking my classmate if he'd tried Humphry Slocombe and he replying yes. "Let me show you who was making great ice cream before Slocombe came on the scene." A surprise pop-in. Brown butter pecan, Malted Vanilla with Peanut Brittle, Orange Cardamom (shocking flavors), Roasted Banana. I love that their banana tastes like a fresh fucking naner, but without that synthetic nauseating banana flavor.

Finally, we made our way to Alembic and had lunch. I personally prefer their dinner menu, but my classmate was moaning and groaning about the aching hole in his mouth where a wisdom tooth once stood...3 days prior! He's a trooper, I tell you. But, I sure felt bad for having him running around SF eating things that he probably shouldn't have been eating. Poor guy.

Jerk-spiced duck hearts and pickled pineapples.

Pretty eventful day, full of good food and good company.

Apizza Scholls...

2011-01-16T14:19:00.000-08:00

The owner has been known to mouth the words, "If they don't like it, they can go somewhere else," when questioned about his nazi-esque control over the ingredients that are applied to your pie. But, since this isn't just any pie, but thee pie. Since I don't consider it controlling, but rather respecting. I can tell you that if you're a cry baby that believes the customer is always right, just save face now and not even show up. Thank you.

Apizza Scholls doesn't open up until 5pm and closes at 9:30pm. That's right, four hours a day. However, we were in line 15 minutes before 5pm. We were the only two people in line. The two of us stared at each other as if to say, "What are you doing in line so early you freak?" Until we turned around 15 minutes later and the line was down the street. Whoa, what the fuck happened? This line grows quickly, turning SE Hawthorne into a river of oxbows, snaking down the pavement. Until a random passerby asks you, "What's this line for? The 5 o'clock free crack give away?" It's not free, but it pretty much described the situation to a tee. That dude was weird, but funny.

As the door opens, the line rushes into the dining room. Before you know it, a pie sits in front of you on a pedestal. And that damn thing deserves a pedestal. They don't hide or avoid the charred bubbles on the crust, they embrace those delicious pockets of flavor. Thin enough to hear the crackle, thick enough to sustain the toppings and that flavorful sauce that lightly coats the bottom, all until it all reaches your salivating mouth.

1/2 Pizza Amore and 1/2 New York White Pie. That hot capicollo is something to talk about. It's got a serious kick in the teeth, adds a nice fattiness to an otherwise light pizza. Super fresh Ricotta, Mozzarella, Pecorino Romano...for the love of cheese culture holiness.

I don't care if this place is hyped, it deserves it. I've eaten at so many pizza joints that are self-proclaimed as "the best of" only to be met with Little Ceasar's. I'm tired of their mouth moving. I've heard no hype from the owner of this joint, only of those who have taken the pilgrimage to find out for themselves.

4741 SE Hawthorne Blvd
Portland, OR 97215
Neighborhoods: Southeast Portland, Hawthorne

(503) 233-1286

Wing Lee Bakery...

2011-01-12T08:30:00.000-08:00

Uhh...three pot stickers for $1.60? Yes, please. Those tasty little steamed pockets of shrimp, chives and cabbage perfection.

I don't care for those little egg custard tarlets everyone seems to love. Today I bought four of them for my boyfriend and I ended up eating half of them before I made it to Arguello to catch the 33 back home. The egg flavor was delicate, not that overpowering egg currdling taste I've experienced so many times. The crust was flaky without crumbling to pieces in my hand. The aftertaste was sweet and not rancid.

I love how it only takes one great experience and properly prepared food product to make you forget all the horrible previous encounters.

I love you Wing Lee Bakery.

503 Clement Street
San Francisco, CA 94118-2323
(415) 668-9481

Muni: 33, 2, 38

Richmond New May Wah Supermarket...

2011-01-11T16:35:00.000-08:00

How awesome is this store? So damn awesome that it's crammed butt to gut on a weekday afternoon. This place is not for the claustrophobic. I had to slip and slide through crowds of aggressive elder Chinese bargain hunting women with my Puerto Rican booty and kangaroo pouch bumping here and there. Now, it may not be the free-range and organic nirvana many gastronomes and locavores want to participate in, which is fine when you have the money to live that lifestyle. I practice that preach when I'm rollin' in the dough. But, for when I'm living on the stereotypical (and some think mythical) artist's wages - nonexistent - I'm trying to make $5 stretch the length of a week's time. Comprende?

The narrow aisles can get overwhelming if you don't know what you're looking for, or are new to Asian ingredients. The crowds can get overwhelming if you're timid. You have to flail your arms about to get the attention of the butchers, because they will dismiss you like yesterday's food trend. The deals here are worth anything you could possibly encounter. Fresh chicken in pink moist piles for under $1 a pound, fresh duck for under $3 a pound, fresh oysters for $0.50-$1.35 each, Salmon "carcass" bones with some flesh for salmon tartare, chicken feet, soft shell blue crabs and Dungeness for $3 a pound. Florescent candy packages, quirky charicatures, sake, rice wine, oyster sauce, hoisin...am I emphasizing the importance of you getting down to this store?

Get your arse down there, man!

707-719 Clement St
San Francisco, CA 94118
(415) 221-9826

Muni: 33, 2, 38

El Norteno Taco Truck...

2011-01-11T08:51:00.000-08:00

I've never been to a taco truck that served breakfast burritos with more than just eggs, meat and maybe some salsa. I guess that's how "gourmet" trucks are doing it to surplus filler. I'm making a safe inference that the folks running this truck were of Latino descent, I know they don't eat guacamole with their damn chorizo, so why are you offering me that shit?!

The burrito was lackluster. Nothing shined, there were about 4 papa cubes in it, a little bit of salsa and a TON of rice. And there were beans, which were also a shock. I asked for papas in my burrito, that's potatoes for your gringos, because I didn't know there would be rice in it.

I suppose those who get the guacamole, crema, beans, rice, chorizo, eggs, salsa and the fucking anchor hanging off the Queen Mary don't notice a flavor lack because there's so many ingredients going on. But, that's not how I role folks. And the next morning, I made me lad a real chorizo, egg and papa breakfast and he saw the light.

And it didn't cost $7 either.

Saturday night Happy Happy Hour in Upper Haight...

2011-01-09T13:27:00.000-08:00

If you're not an old foagie that turns in before 11pm, like me most nights, then you should get your ass to the Upper Haight for a killer Happy Hour that I'm reluctant to tell anyone about. But, for the sake of everyone having access to great deals, here you are. You bastards.

Trax is a gay bar. Trax is a gay bar on Haight. Trax is a dark gay bar on Haight that has Saturday night Happy Hour drinks for the following prices: $1 well cocktails from 9-10pm that turn into $2 from 10-11pm and then that turns into $3 from 11pm to closing. That's right, for $1 you can nab yourself a well whiskey and ginger ale.

And you can drink your heart out in a place with a pool table, limited crowds, decent music at a decent volume, characters galore and most importantly...CHEAP FUCKING DRINKS. Of course, it's hetero friendly.

Drink on.

1437 Haight St
San Francisco, CA 94117
(415) 864-4213

Muni: 71, 6, 33

Costco: Thee Broke Ass Destination...

2011-01-07T17:21:00.000-08:00

For those of you who are broke and have no shame in admitting to it, owning it, living it and eating it...here's an insiders tip.

It's no secret that you can score a monster hotdog/polish dog and soda for $1.50, a chicken bake for $3 and a greasy slice that's the equivalent to a tween's face for $2. However, if your local Costco doesn't have the outside snack shack, you still have a way of entering. In fact, you have a way of entering to not only score cheap food...but free samples! That's right. If you're so broke or so cheap that you don't want to spend $1.50, you can gorge yourself on free samples inside of the store.

"I don't have the money to purchase an annual membership," you say?

Say you're buying booze. You don’t need a membership to purchase booze. Alas, gaining entrance into a world of FREE food samples and a very satisfied belly.

You're welcome.

Sacramento Mobile Food Festival 2011...

2011-01-06T16:09:00.000-08:00

Hear ye, hear ye! Sacramento has finally heeded my bitches and moans about their lack of support for mobile food vendors. Now only if they could hear the same thing about the arts community.

Anyway.

What we have here, is our first annual (hopefully) mobile food festival in Sacramento, affectionately titled: SactoMoFo. Squeal. Over a dozen trucks from Sacramento, Yolo county and the Bay Area -in particular one of my favorites, Adobo Hobo- and an equal number of carts and other non-motorized vendors. Bicycle valet parking will be provided for free, and Fremont Park is a block from the 16th Street Light Rail station!

I only hope that foodies, gastronomes and post-op lap band users will show their beautiful faces and bellies to this event that takes place at Fremont Park this Spring.

You, be there!

When: Saturday, April 30th, 2011 - Noon to 6pm.
Where: Fremont Park - 16th @ Q
Cost: Free

BTW - They're seeking additional food vendors, volunteers, and other partners. Drop a line if you're interested in participating at hundertwasser@yahoo.com

Adobo Hobo, photo taken by yelper Ed C.

New Year's Eve at Chez Panisse...

2011-01-02T19:52:00.000-08:00

Honestly, I can’t tell you that this entire experience was magical. I can’t tell you that this entire dining encounter filled me with glee as a fantastical haze spread across the dining room swept me off my feet. That would only be partly true. The other part of me felt an enormous guilt from the moment I stepped off the once blighted street pre-gentrification, handed a glass of Prosecco, warm walnuts and walked into the predominately-warm wood tri-leveled restaurant for my specially expensive priced New Year’s Eve dinner.

Guilt is an understatement from what I felt. I felt like a reincarnated fat aristocrat of Paris, or the Rockefeller’s, dining on decadently rich foods and throwing expensive champagne down the goblet while those with depression era dust covered faces sat in the window, drooling at the mere crumbs on my table, watching me lick pastry cream off my derogatory Picaninny-esque greasy lips. It didn’t help that my shirt included black lace and silk, and I had costume jewelry on with sapphire and pearls. Even my own mother couldn’t imagine the bill that came at the end of this meal. It was probably my nana’s food budget for a month, on which she fed her seven children and husband.

Then I turned around, stared into the kitchen and there she was…Alice Waters. I pretty much forgot about all that Mother Teresa bullshit and started on my champagne.

Duck terrine with pistachios and black truffles: A terrine tastes like a fancy hot dog without the casing. It’s not for the weak at heart with its strong taste and odor, but rich texture that seems to make sense only when accompanied with the accoutrements on the plate: aspic, cornichons, and pickled chanterelles.

Celery root and Jerusalem artichoke soup with new olive oil: The only other thing more appropriate for a chilly bay area night would be a crack rock or a bottle of cheap vodka. Basically a warm vichyssoise topped with shaved black truffles, super smooth textured goodness. No flavor overpowering another, the celery root and J-artichoke presented themselves as the most delicate tubers on the planet.

Potato and green garlic ravioli with wild mushrooms: The creamiest ravioli filling I’ve ever come across, inside of tender pasta packages floating in a broth that tastes of fresh chicken, the dense earth and foraged mushrooms.

Dungeness crab feuillete with spinach and lemon: I never knew my body was capable of having the same reaction to food as sex, that automatic sigh of relief and the apparent relaxation of shoulders. However, when I picked the freshest of fresh Dungeness crab out of its puff pastry tuxedo and placed it into my mouth and that sparkle of lemon hit my taste buds, it was an immediate Zen.

Grilled grass-fed beef filet Rossini, pommes Anna and mache: I read about this dish, originally called Tournedos Rossini by Escoffier, in Larousse Gastronomique and it's straight up old school. I’m surprised there weren’t any tournee’d potatoes on my plate. A filet mignon topped with a slab of foie gras and drizzled with Madeira demi-glace. I’m not a fan of foie gras without it being crusted up in a pan. Nonetheless, I appreciated this shot out to Escoffier and the incredibly heart stopping (physically and metaphorically) dish.

Baked Alaska with blood orange sorbet and vanilla ice cream: If you ever liked 50/50 creamsicles, you’d have loved this dessert. The sharp, sour and luscious blood orange sorbet against the creamy ice cream and room temp caramelized meringue, is pretty damn shocking to the system.

And for the finale, Hazelnut Marjolaine with bittersweet chocolate: A tiny square of dacquoise layers of crunchy almond and hazelnut meringue with chocolate buttercream filling with a glossy ganache and whipped cream. Oh, and topped with a sterling silver leaf to end the New Year with good fortune.

I couldn’t possibly have good fortune. It just cost too damn much for this dinner.

1517 Shattuck Avenue
Berkeley, CA 94709
(510) 548-5525

Plan B...

2010-12-09T14:09:00.000-08:00

Was actually our Plan A. Come on, how many people make that joke? More than you know, because I'm almost positive this place is under the radar in Sacramento. It helps that it's on the backside of a non-descript retail shopping plaza.

The Good - They have sweetbreads on the menu as an appetizer for $13.50! It comes with various vegetables (what they describe as a "vegetable medley," I hate that term) in a puff pastry shell, which is a cute riff on the All-American Chicken Pot Pie. Service is speedy, food is hot and the menu simple. Just the way an ideal restaurant would be. I had an amazingly perfect charred on the outside and pink on the inside rib eye steak, thin and crispy frites and an interesting spin on ratatouille for $21. Plus, the inside of this joint is really beautiful, modern with clean lines and intimate.

They have mussels, many mussels, five different kinds in fact. Me lad got the Nantaise (like from Nantes?) with butter and cream for $12.

The Bad - The tartlet we ordered had some delicious flavors. Pancetta, potatoes and caramelized onions on flatbread, and the only complaint I have is where the dough was folded over to give it's decorative border...it was too chewy and undercooked to cut through. Even with a knife. But, the rest of it was cracker crispy.

The Ugly - The finely chopped sweetbread bits could have been any number of things placed in that faux chicken potpie. They could have been chicken thighs for all I know. I had imagined them being the superstar and center stage, where you could clearly identify them from eyesight and taste. They were almost non-existent. I think they should stop playing it safe (tons of young people working here)

Something else that is completely not related to service or the food here, why were me and the lad the only people under 50 in this joint on a Saturday night? Is this what Sacramento dining has in store for me? Does it offer a complete lack of ethnic and age diversity amongst its diners? Bah.

555 La Sierra Dr
Sacramento, CA 95864
(916) 483-3000

Tacos Apatzingan...

2010-12-09T08:47:00.000-08:00

A long line is always a good sign when it comes to food. It could turn out to be the best thing you've ever eaten, or most of the people are just lazy and dumb. In which case, at least you learned something, right? There was a long line of people standing outside this truck when I passed it, two consecutive days.

They're out of carnitas. Damnit to hell and back! Fine, carne asada it is. 8 minutes later, four $1.25 tacos stood on our plate. The salsa not looking very inviting, but the bottom of the barrel micro sized nibbles of steak looked delicious to me. However, the friend thought the maillard effect had worn down the meat to the point of crunchy cow pellets. They were steaming hot, the chile was picante, but didn't sing and looked gloopy. My radishes looked practically mauve and needed about a bottle's worth of Curel to reduce the ashy status. As we stood outside the car, in between the liquor store and gas station/liquor store, the truck took off within minutes of handing us our tacos. Would our food have been different had it not been the end of their day? I doubt it.

It was hilarious and Vaudevillian-esque the way they just drove off the parking lot without sign or warning. Friend and I heard a "ca-clunk," looked up and saw the ass-back of the truck veering right onto the main road.

Tacos on Ortega Street...

2010-12-09T08:44:00.001-08:00

This nondescript, but not discreet, taco truck just popped up out of nowhere. With only the 2010 permit/reg sticker on the back, I can only assume it's new...or, it just got back on the road. Either way, it's not that great of a taco truck.

First of all, are those dirty rough hands I see before me passing my taco through the window? Yes. At the popular going rate of $1.25, this is the kind of thing you can try and afford to not like. The tacos were just...eh. Dry and bland carne asada and carnitas, lukewarm tortillas, not so great salsa. I'm sure the guys at the tire shop (in which this truck sat) don't mind cheap tacos being at their disposal. Perhaps I'll try again and see if I change my mind, after all, everything deserves a second chance.

Ortega Street and Fruitridge Road.
Sacramento, Ca 95824

Son of Flavor Spot...

2010-10-29T10:30:00.000-07:00

We stayed at the White Eagle, which is in the general neighborhood of flavor spot. You have to hoof it up a hill, under the I-5 and in an industrial area, which we found out the hard way. No matter, when we got to the top of the hill (which seemed like the promise land) we turned our heads to the right and there it was, The Son of Flavor Spot. Not to be confused with its father, Flavor Spot. Nestled in a residential neighborhood and completely unassumed, this one had no lines on a cold early morning, but it did have Stumptown coffee (does everyone in this city have this coffee?), outdoor seating only on damp picnic benches and sweet, sweet Dutch tacos.

What's a Dutch taco you ask yourself? Well, I'm glad you asked my friend. It's not a new position you can try with your FWB, it's a fat person's wet dream. A Belgian waffle stuffed with an array of proteins from two sausage patties with maple spread (what I ordered), to fool your mouth into thinking it's sweet. But, oh no! It's also savory. My fingers smelled like maple for the rest of the day and me lad was having a hard time from preventing me from also licking them throughout the day. That was, until he put a dog cone around my neck, that did the job. He on the other hand, got a Dutch taco filled with black forest ham, bacon and gouda. It was good, but not as good as mine was. They also had a seasonal special filled with pumpkin, damnit.

We came here on two different occasions, did I stutter? I said it, two! I promise they were not consecutive days. And both times the staff were really nice, even at an ungodly hour.

My waffle was only $4.75

NE Fremont St & N Mississippi Ave
Portland, OR 97255

Trimet Bus: 4 line

Pine State Biscuits...

2010-10-28T08:01:00.000-07:00

Can we please find the sole person who created the biscuit and give that person some proper head? I mean, who knew this thing would end up in something called the Reggie? A fried chicken breast sandwiched between the two flakiest, softest, pillow-y biscuits and then topped with sausage gravy. By the way, what is going on with Portland's obsession with biscuits and gravy? Haha.

The lad and I had a big breakfast, but since we found ourselves in this neighborhood, we just had to toss down a biscuit down thee old goblets. So, we opted to split a simple fried chicken breast nestled between a biscuit. He said it was some of the best fried chicken he'd had in a long time, I agreed. He said it was one of the better biscuits he had in a long time, I agreed. And by agreeing, I mean my continuation to chew, smiling and nodding while he did all the speaking. The chicken had real flavor, lots of pepper (which I like), seasoned well and maybe some paprika? The inside of that delicious and perfect crispiness was a super juicy breast. Hmm, that's a double entendre waiting to happen.

Did I mention there's a constant line out the door? We came at the perfect time, because there was no line.

2204 NE Alberta
Portland, OR 97211
(503) 236-3346

Trimet Bus: 72 line

Voodoo Doughnut...

2010-10-27T07:35:00.000-07:00

When there are street kids holding signs in front of your establishment, "Will work for a Voodoo Doughnut", or a woman has the gall to approach you in line (inside of your establishment) to say, "If I pay you, can you buy me a dozen bacon maple donuts? I'm out of time." You have created an addiction and criminal activity. Now, that's some good shit.

If everyone else has to wait an hour for a donut, she did as well. Hey lady, some advice? DON'T SHOW UP TO A POPULAR EATERY IF YOU'RE TIGHT ON TIME! Jerkface.

Anxiously shifting your weight while approaching the stone façade, the north wind blowing, sneaking in the crevices of your Dickies zip up hoodie while your boyfriend contently stands in his virtually crevice free high performance rain jacket can start to really poke and prod your patience. When you finally step foot into what seems like the smallest donut shop in the world, everyone lets out a collective sigh of relief. The towering pink boxes stacked in the corner, the trays of shiny iced donuts on baker's racks, and the glass case of rotating donuts on display sparking arousal like electric gadgets in an adult store. You want it. You must have it. And hopefully (if you tell a random woman who wants to buy up the entire inventory of the most popular donut in the shop to go fuck herself) you shall have it. It took a lot of restraint from me to opt for a maple bacon donut and a cake donut with rainbow sprinkles. I desperately wanted to find a way to justify my fatness and get the Old Dirty Bastard -- a hot mess of gooey peanut butter spread flung on top of Oreo cookies, chocolate icing and an airy raised dough. All of it reminiscent of Reese's Puffs cereal. I just couldn't find it in my heart. Luckily, me lad was in tow and he had no shame in his game. He got the O.D.B. and the Triple Chocolate Penetration. He has to outlive his chocolate penetration fantasies somehow, right? We skid-addled round' the corner and copped a squat on a log bench, geeked out while taking the food-blog photos and dug in.

I love the fact that Voodoo leaves their bacon in strips and not cutting them in micro sized bac-o-bit dust. It really gives you that teeth-sinking satisfaction when you bite into that salty top and then the sweet maple and on down to the light and airy raised dough. How do you describe something like this? Is it pancakes? Is it a donut? Is this that faux maple pancake syrup that costs $2 in Slaveway? With a side of bacon and a milk chaser. The chocolate penetration has chocolate icing and cocoa puffs, which is interesting because the puffs lend themselves as a major crunchy texture against the normally monotone raised dough. While me lad sat in a zoned-out bliss, chomping away like a kid with a bowl of cereal in front of Saturday morning cartoons, I was feeling really ashamed of myself. I felt...dirty. Did it help that we were technically sitting in an alley?

Needless to say, I was twacked out of my mind on a sugar high by the time the consumption of these tidbits had came to an end. Wandering down the alleyway in a sort of comatose daze, feeling nauseous, but also extremely elated and ready to repeat the self-destruction the next morning.

22 SW 3rd Ave
Portland, OR 97204
(503) 241-4704

MAX: Yellow line.

Portland...

2010-10-26T15:45:00.000-07:00

The day after I dropped the shirts off to Chef Cosentino, me and the lad ran off to Portland for a week. All I can say is, I love Portland. It could use some more diversity, don't get me wrong. But, I love it. I love that Portlanders are eco-conscious, bike friendly, voracious consumers of great food, coffee and beers and all without being pretentious about it. Everyone was super chill, the drinks were strong and the boys were cute.

I would love to live in Portland, Southeast to be exact.

Mt. St. Helen on the drive up to P-town.

P-town has these awesome water fountains throughout the city. Just drink from the ones that spout the highest.

Walking through Southeast P-town, near Clinton St.

Chef Cosentino...

2010-10-25T08:28:00.000-07:00

I was very lucky to be allowed to create a few shirts for someone I admire. That's pretty much where my art has come down to, no more art shows or vendor shows, now I just make things for people I like and admire. It's not entirely bad, but I sure wish I could have made millions!

Anyway, shocked that Cosentino was into lowbrow, I took a shot in hell and asked if I could make him one. He said hell yeah, and it was on. That Twitter, it's a magical thing, who knew? After our schedules doing opposite things, we finally got a chance to connect and set a date for me to drop the shirts off at Incanto. Me lad said his assistant would probably be on the receiving end of the shirts and I wouldn't so much get a whiff of Cosentino's armpit. It sounded like a pretty typical setup for a busy celebrity.

On a intensely warm Wednesday, I hopped off the J-line and walked a few blocks towards Incanto's side delivery door. When I told one of the workers I was there to deliver shirts to Chef Cosentino, he bolted towards another entry way and 2 seconds later I was staring into Cosentino's face...shocked and almost speechless. He snapped me out of it when he said, "How much do I owe you?" And I responded with an almost hostile, "What? No! What are you talking about? Nothing, you owe me nothing but to try the damn things on and see if they fit." Why is it, when I'm nervous, I start to carry the mannerisms of a pirate? Need help on that.

Sous Chef and Pastry Chef.

As he tried them on sporadically, bolting around the restaurant with lightning energy, attending to chefs and solicitors, I did my best to be myself. Ok, maybe myself with a little bit more charm. He spoke to me as if I were a long time friend, letting me in on inside jokes, laughing at my lame jokes and complimenting my shirts. He liked them and that is what makes me want to keep creating the damn shirts. He offered me coffee, which is a good thing because it helped him realize no one had ordered coffee beans for the restaurant. Whoops. "It wouldn't be a day at Incanto if we didn't forget something" he said. Instead, he took me across the street to buy me an espresso. In the neighborhood coffee shop he said hello to almost everyone, casually chatted and was just the most fucking down to earth dude.

Basically, he's awesome.

After talking shop with me and telling me about his son, it was time for me to go. He's a busy man with a restaurant to run, you know? And I'm off to Portland tomorrow. But, before I walked out he tossed me one of his own shirts and asked if I'd paint on that. "You mean, paint one of your own shirts? And then coming back and giving it to you?"

Not only do I have one of his personal shirts (which I sniffed), I also have an excuse to return into the warm lair that is Cosentino and his restaurant.

Fucking sweet!

Alemany Farmer's Market...

2010-10-10T22:26:00.000-07:00

Alemany Farmer's Market on a balmy Saturday morning. I tried to take photos. But, once again...my fatness got the best of me. Before I knew it, there was green salsa on my sunglasses, hanging from the collar of the shirt.

Oh well.

These tamales are damn good, some of the best I've had in the city. And for only $2.75 a piece, $5 for two, even better. I had the red mole pork tamale and me lad got the green pork, we shared each and topped them with red and green salsa. Enough heat to get the juices flowing, but not so much that you have to keep eating because the pain is so brutal. "Just keep eating it and it'll be ok."

Almost everyone was standing around this vendor, ignoring the poor Fava woman nearby, washing the tamales down with a Tamarindo Jarrito.

Definite mood improver on a freakishly hot Saturday morning at 9am.

Magnolia Pub and Brewery...

2010-10-09T22:48:00.000-07:00

After a pretty horrible day sweatin' to the oldies of yore at the Hand Car Regatta, this had to be the day something else happened. This could not be the day I spent $8 on the driest pulled chicken sandwich I've ever had in my life and a $7 snow cone.

Instead, today was the day I went to Magnolia for the first time in 6-years. I definitely have to say I was more impressed with Alembic, and I know they're not the same. No more Niman Ranch beef the industry is using, it's passé, now they're using Prather Ranch. Either way, the beef was good. The medium-rare burger was so damn juicy it jizzed on my chin when I bit into it. House cut fries have a certain charismatic character, lending themselves as crunchy (and some not crunchy from the non-uniformity) and salty bites. $13

Me lad got the fish and chips, which looked amazing. Unfortunately, he doused them in malt vinegar and by the time I got to take a bite, they were soggy as a newspaper left on your porch during a storm. I was totally sad.

And let's just admit their beers are superior. I mean, how many other places in the city do they have amazing beers on cask? Like a handful? Try the Cole Porter house beer, I did. Lighter than a stout with a backdrop of peet smoke, $6.

But, if you come on happy hour on Wednesdays, they're half off. Or, dish out the $6 for beer and come on Thursdays for their fried chicken night.

1398 Haight St
San Francisco, CA 94117
(415) 864-7468

MUNI: 71, 6, 43

The Alembic.

2010-09-04T09:26:00.001-07:00

Whenever I get excited to eat at a place, I forget to take photos. I mean, the camera is there...right there! But, good food is like kryptonite to a fat girl and I was definitely paralyzed by the ambiance of this joint.

"You know you love food when there's only 5 items on the menu, and you can't decide what you want."

I started with a drink called The Poop Deck. A drink that blends cognac, port wine, and blackberry brandy. Then, chucked into a vintage-esque booze shaker until the vintage-esque barkeep's arm is about to fall off. It was good. Really good. Sweet, savory and pucker-y.

We stared at the menu for a good length of time until we opted for the California Camelia cheese as a starter, very VERY similar to Camembert. An outside edible rhine, with a creamy and gooey center and a strong earthy flavor with a delicate salty taste, marcona almonds, on top of some fantastic bread that had walnuts in it.

Crispy pork belly with braised romaine lettuce, the smallest chanterelles in the world that were pickled, a creamy potato puree and black garlic jus reduction. It was my first hipster meal...and I liked it, no, loved it. The pork belly completely reminded me of the pig my nana makes on a spit, slowly roasted outdoors for big celebrations, the fat splattering onto the charcoals down below. The outside potato chip crispy and a perfectly fork tender and moist fatty flesh underneath. Hot damn! That pork belly turned me savage. And who knew braised lettuce could taste...good? A mild green taste with a satisfying crunch.

Thin women spend their time fantasizing about their new issue of Vogue, envisioning themselves in the size 0 runway dress that no one should wear on the street. Some spend their whole checks on Blahnik's and other designers I can't pronounce the names of. And that's fine. However, for me...food magazines are my fashion magazines. I spend time reading them and fantasizing about all the hip new restaurants that I'll never get to try because I'm an unemployed culinary student/bum. Alembic was the first restaurant that I read about in several different magazines and walked by several times, looking in from the sidewalk at all the people eating away. Those bastards. Last night was finally my time to shine, I basked in the ambiance (and they've got great ambiance, albeit loud up in this mofo), and paid a hefty price.

Literally, a hefty price.

Oh, but it was so worth it.

1725 Haight St
San Francisco, CA 94117
(415) 666-0822

MUNI: 71, 7, 33

Farmers Market...how you figure out a city.

2010-08-29T20:07:00.000-07:00

Sam Wo.

2010-08-25T21:08:00.000-07:00

If you’re like me, as a kid you found yourself fantasizing about being a character the quintessential action film. Kicking tukhus, secret hideaways where you needed passwords to gain access and almost always running from the cops through a Chinese kitchen.

Sam Wo’s provides you a bit of that fantasy quenching experience, the back door essentially becoming the front. Entering through the kitchen to the sound of cooks shouting, puffs of steam rising from woks, the clanking of cooking tools in an industrial kitchen and all of it being a rushed blur to your eyes. Climbing up a dim and narrow stairwell, at the top you’re introduced to a handful of small marble-topped tables. The service is fast, before you blink an eye a plate of steaming morsels appear on your table. One server whizzes past you and returns with a plastic container of water and Dixie cups. The same one your dentist gives you to rinse the sour taste of concrete flavored toothpaste from your mouth.

The food is phenomenal. Chinese-American fare that’s hot, affordable and delicious. BBQ pork rice noodle, sweet and savory pork bits inside of a naked and chewy chow fun noodle. Glistening pork with the perfect fat ratio and crispy bok choy sautéed and served over rice, the rice capturing the dishes sauce. Dry chow fun noodles with bean sprouts, pork and various greens tossed together into a heaping pile that seems almost recognizable to the eyes. But, not unrecognizable to the mouth. Is anyone noticing a pork addiction here?

There’s no Ralph Lauren paint on the walls, or Ashley modern furniture to create a generic form of ambiance. And with the History channel shooting here on this particular day, I had to sign an appearance release, I’m guessing the ambiance has served this place well. Sam Wo’s silently promises you what it represents, a sincere meal, by sincere cooks, in a sincere environment. All behind a clubhouse that I gained access to for under $15.

813 Washington Street
San Francisco, CA 94108
(415) 982-0596

MUNI: 30
BART: Montgomery Street Station, walk to 3rd street-turns into Kearny- walk West to Washington.

Tacos in the ghetto...

2010-08-23T14:37:00.000-07:00

It might not always be a pleasant neighborhood, but it’s my neighborhood.

I’m a runner. Trying hard to forsaken the impoverish environment I grew in and end the cycle of generational ignorance; I hide my working poor roots within my boyfriend’s middle class background. However, today is different.

As I walk down the straight and narrow road contains front yards burdened with shady trees bearing walnuts, almonds, peaches, figs and grapes. Why did developers stop planting fruit trees? They chose instead to plant trees that produce flowers that instigate severe allergies in humans and animals. On one road, I have eaten my weight in produce fresher than anything that the supermarket has and gratis. This road so fertile in nourishment and food is now left to decay at the hands of renters, property managers and landlords that could care less about the aesthetics of their cash cow. The road that leads me to...

A taco truck. I’m hungry.

In a city that discourages fresh food trucks, Sacramento’s missing the profits it could be making. Tacos El Sinaloense sits on one of the busiest streets in Sacramento and is popular amongst the Latino workers in the neighborhood. $1.25 per taco, give me a break! Show me a taqueria that has that deal (all day, everyday) and I’ll buy you a beer. Seriously. Tweet me: EatGordaEat

I stood under the shady awning and devoured a taco de cabeza (braised cow's head and cheek) and a taco de carne asada (grilled thin beef). The tacos topped with the most amazing salsa and not that watery and sometimes bland pico de gallo. One picante avocado based salsa that’s perfectly acidic with a slight tropical aftertaste. The other salsa tomato based, with cilantro leaves floating on inner tubes of slices of jalapeno. Tacos come with traditional accountrements: radish, cilantro, onions, pickled carrots and jalapeno and a lime wedge. The cabeza, cooked down into a most tender, and somewhat sticky, shredded roast texture. Unnecessary garnishes pushed aside, no benches to sit down, no accoutrement bar standing next to the stale tortilla chips. Just downright, honest, and affordable tacos.

Walking to my mom’s house from this business, my senses become aware of my surroundings. A cauldron of Southeast Asians, Russians, Ukrainians and Mexicans…they make this neighborhood. When it’s time for the cows to come home and the blue-collared men to walk through the door from a day of busting their tukhus mowing your lawns and picking up your dog’s excrement…it all brings wonderful smells that linger on the horizon. It’s the smell of baked bread, fried potatoes, chorizo, charred chilés, curry, onions, garlic and pride.

Pride in what we create. Pride in how we live our life. As my face is sunbathed in that pre-autumn sunset, I don’t consider all the wrought iron fences on this block barricades anymore. I consider them protectors of childhood memories. Protectors of heirloom recipes. Protectors of a sense of self...a sense of pride.

Yes, this is the ghetto and it might not always be a pleasant neighborhood, but it’s my neighborhood.

Tacos El Sinaloense
Corner of Fruitridge Road and 44th Street
Sacramento, Ca 95824

Sac RT: 61 - front truck service.

SF Food Fest. Bah.

2010-08-22T09:58:00.000-07:00

You go into a restaurant and hurry to wait, right? You sit and wait. Wait. Oh, and did I mention you wait some more? But, when your food comes it's exactly what you expected and sometimes exceeds your expectations. You're in bliss.

SF Food Fest did none of this for me, except the waiting part.

If coming into a crowd with a minimum of 10,000 people, all cramming their way into a 4 block radius, and facing an event that resembles a third world disaster rescue situation by the National Guard, is your thing...this was definitely for you. It was impossible to get to any of the vendors that were at this event. The air smelled wonderful and there was a sense of community in this part of the Mission where I once resided and dodged bullets on a regular basis some 5-years ago. Mothers pushing their tots grasping at corns of cobs like they were born with an addiction, the strollers nicking you in the back of your ankles more often than necessary.

You spent at least 15 minutes navigating your way through the crowd that grew immensely by the millisecond, and another 30 minutes standing in line of the food stall, only to approach and find out they didn't have what you wanted...or have anything at all! The main drag had set prices, $3, $6 and mostly $8. Until you got to the food trucks on Treat and the prices decreased slightly.

I managed to grab myself a $3 Piroshki at Anda Piroshki. A chicken and mushroom piroshki encapsulated in a whole wheat pocket. This was not the soft and potato-y piroshki of my childhood, from the lunchrooms of elementary school, or from my nana's Russian next door neighbor. The Anda piroshki was a baked, HARD crusted, wheat dough folded like an empanada. The chicken and mushroom filling resembling that of steamed white Chinese baos. And bland. I cannot say it enough...bland, bland, bland. The sour cream that they placed on top did not help. Disappointing.

After fighting my way through the crowd, still hungry, we decided on El Tonayense. $2 cabeza, carnitas...oh, what's that? You don't have carnitas today? Oh, you only brought pollo, carne asada and pastor for the gringos at this festival? What the flying fuck and a half, man? I was looking forward to a cabeza taco when my dreams were shut down. And after seeing the size of these $2 tacos that me lad had on his plate...well, they were good. Small, but good. The pastor was perfectly seasoned and not overdone, tender, greasy and messy. Salsa on top? Fantastic. Heavy on the cilantro and a perfect heatful balance of tomatillo and jalapeno.

That was all I managed to ransack at this fest. No $8 Guinea Hen Poutine from Kitchenette SF, no $8 grub from Slanted Door..nada. It was mayhem I was not prepared for on a Saturday morning. You really have to either get into a zen mode, or play the Rocky theme music if you're going to come to this event. I'm glad I got to experience it, but I will not be returning. I'd rather chase down each individual truck on a busy freeway with strategically placed, experienced military snipers using me as their target for practice.

San Francisco Street Food Festival 2010

2010-08-17T01:28:00.000-07:00

Saturday, August 21st is your chance to sample the street food from many of the mobile food carts that roam the streets of SF at one place, as well as food from a few established restaurants. It's a family-friendly outdoors event. There's no admission fee, open to the public. The only cost are your food purchases. Proceeds help fund non-profit La Cocina. Check the website for more details.

This time they're taking the lessons learned last year to make improvements. The event will occupy 5 street blocks and a park: 2 blocks on Folsom street between 24th & 26th streets, 2 blocks on 25th street, and one block segment on Treat street including Garfield Square athletic field.

I'll update details as more info is available. For now you can sign up to be a volunteer, vendor or sponsor at the website above.

Courtesy of Luis C. -- Yelp.com

Bread Bakin' in a Bike Kitchen?

2010-08-13T23:46:00.001-07:00

"Come join us for a hands on class where you will make bread from start to finish. Learn about gluten, mixing, kneading, proofing and baking. While the bread is rising we'll make cream scones to demonstrate the opposite side of gluten. You'll take home two loaves of bread and scones. Bring your own lunch or buy sandwiches from New Roma bakery or the local deli."

Apparently, in a warehouse along the railroad tracks, down an alley, they're baking bread next Saturday morning. It will be interesting to see how this class goes down, unfortunately, I'll be in San Fran. Rats.

When: Saturday, August 21, 2010

Where: Bike Kitchen - 1915 I St, Sacramento, CA 95811 - (916) 538-2725

Cost: $25

Beeloved Farm.

2010-08-12T22:22:00.000-07:00

With all the traveling and running around I've been doing lately, it's easy to become overheated. There might be times when you feel spasmodic, but not in a productive way, more of a frantic way. You might feel agitated by every noise that's man made. Today was definitely one of those days.

I escaped to a farm 45 minutes east of Sacramento, in a town called Shingle Springs. Off the main road, I drove along a bumpy road, the tread of the tires quickly becoming bare. It wasn't until I was greeted by a calm black Labrador with an old soul at the wrought iron fence, pulled a sunbathed plum off a tree and ate it...that I felt...relaxed.

Beeloved Farms is not a big farm, but they do raise rabbits, heritage turkeys, ducks and chickens for meat. There's a modest garden, bee hives for honey, several cows and a week old calf (that I got to feed). The owners Kelly - who will be teaching this fall at a nearby college because of her recent wrist injury -and her husband Bill, a contractor turned farmer to help out Kelly, are amazing. Advocates for the consumption of raw milk and various other radical ideas that go against the practical ideals of society, are energetic and calm. Bill's easygoing demeanor reserves conversation like a starving lost trekker conserves energy. The words are far and few, but profound and soft spoken. That made this city slicker nervous, with my constant sarcastic chatter and relentless need for witty dialogue. I learned to just shut the fuck up.

I couldn't imagine myself living this far away from the city when Kelly invited me to become the farm's ranch hand. But, after sitting on the porch of the cedar shingled house Bill built for he and Kelly, drinking beers and sharing very few words. There are no neighbors. Just quiet, with the occasional sound of the windchime as the background music. A moo. A quack.

I think I could easily get used to the lifestyle of content laborious tasks and silence. Oh, and good beer.

Eat Real.

2010-08-11T13:12:00.000-07:00

Who wants to go to Oakland? Not me. Yes, it’s in the process of being gentrified, and I’d much rather be amongst the former residents on the fringe of Oakland than hipsters and yuppies. Nonetheless, something else is pulling me into Oakland the last weekend of August, and it’s the 2nd annual Eat Real Festival!

This year’s festival will take place in Oakland’s historic Jack London Square, where sustainable and affordable food will be celebrated by all walks of life. Friday kicks off with a quiet day of deejays and a countless list of food trucks that include: Adobohobo, Chairman Bao, Curry Up Now and Kara’s Cupcakes. Saturday will be a full out brawl of the same food vendors, but with music by Beat Beat Whisper! Beat beat and a brawl? Count me in and give me a black eye to brag about.

Here’s a link for more information. http://www.eatrealfest.com/

Eat Real Fest – August 27th-29th
Jack London Square, Oakland.

18th Street Block Party: Mission Dolores

2010-08-10T23:26:00.000-07:00

It’s the season of warm weather, sweaty pits and talcum in every nook and cranny of your body. Block parties!

Saturday, August 28 is the 2nd Bi-Annual full on boot-scoot’n-boogie Party on Block 18. Brought to you by BiRite Market, Delfina Restaurant, Tartine, and the other businesses of 18th Street between Dolores and Guerrero. Tons of craft brews brought to you by the SF Brewers Guild. The party runs from noon to 5pm. All proceeds from the party will be donated to 18 Reasons, Women's Building, BuenDia Family School, 826 Valencia, Next Course & Pie Ranch.

Admission is free and tickets for food and drink on sale at Bi-Rite Creamery ($20 for a book of 10).

La Bonne Soupe Du Jour.

2010-07-28T00:27:00.000-07:00

Marinated pork loin, tri-tip, proscuitto, brie and apples...all under a perfectly compact and crunchy baguette!

This one chef has 28 delicious items on his menu, on any given day, and he's a one-man-band playing ma-cheen. The line that sprawls out the door does not move until that one person orders their sandwich and that one person receives their sandwich. Yes, it's cramped...that's part of the fucking charm. So stop your bloody complaining.

La Bonne Soupe is all charm and prose, but more importantly, practicality. Everything from le chef being the sole employee, to his sandwich boat mold (the foil lined mini-casserole dish that holds the sandwiches while he stacks), self-service bus station, 5 tables and simple ingredients. It's all simple, but when executed with care...timeless. My marinated pork loin was fantastic, chewing through crusty bread and hearing that crunch. So often our sense of sound gets left out of the dining experience. Getting a little hit of black pepper...and then the garlic aftermath from the creme fraiche mayonnaise. All of your senses are alerted.

Watching his hands move with lightning speed and then in slow motion, when he carefully stacks the warmed brie on the brie w/ apples sandwich. Is there a better vegtarian sandwich than strawberries and warmed goat cheese with Balsamic vinegar and strawberry creme fraiche? I don't think so. These are some of the reasons his tip cup was OVERFLOWING with greenbacks. Not a leftover coin tossed in the plastic cup as an afterthought in sight.

920 8th St
Sacramento, CA 95814
(916) 492-9506

Lightrail: K street @ 8th street stop.

Photos by: Austin S.

Dynamo Summer.

2010-07-27T12:15:00.000-07:00

It's not abnormal for the Mission to get hot during the summer and this Saturday afternoon was a perfect example of that. Some lie in Dolores Park and fry, some are blinded by the reflective light from sweltering sand beneath their feet at Ocean Beach and others eat under trees. Specifically, they eat donuts.

I dragged a few friends to Dynamo Donuts on the third of July, in search of what I thought would be Maple Bacon heaven. I couldn't have been more wrong, because it was 4 o'clock on a Saturday afternoon, there were no maple bacon donuts. What were left were star anise, chocolate donuts...everyone was disappointed. I had almost gotten over my disappointment when I bit into the chocolate donut, with its ultra thin layer of chocolate icing. The chocolate flavor was intense in my mouth, with the texture of devil food's cake and that distinctive slight crunch from frying. The anise flavor was subtle. Instead of chocolate sprinkles, you get cocoa nibs, which offer their presence as texture and whimsy.

Although I appreciate the creativity of this donut, I have to say I'm not really a fan. And $7.50 for three donuts? Hot dayum! I have to return, at 7 o'clock in the morning, to get my damn bacon maple donut. Nothing else will do.

2760 24th St (Between York and Hampshire)
San Francisco, CA 94110
(415) 920-1978

BART: 24th Street Station and walk 10 blocks East.
MUNI: SouthWest corner of 24th Street @ Mission, 48 Quintara

Most photos by Olivia Loo.

Humphry Slocombe

2010-07-26T19:43:00.000-07:00

We had a bacon maple debacle at Dynamo the previous day. There were no bacon maple donuts left by the time we three reached the counter. So, the following day we three set sail west in search of a secret. The line was expansive, it was Saturday, and it was roasting...give me some damn ice cream! We approached the cobalt awning of Humphry Slocombe and cringed at the thought of standing in a line for an hour, but the line moved quickly. It took no time to get near the door, where we attempted to sneak a peak at the list of flavors on the chalkboard, although I already knew what I wanted.

The secret? Secret Breakfast.

Secret Breakfast is a creamy, rich and dense ice cream with an intense Bourbon flavor and an unforgettable mouthfeel. It has the perfect balance of sweet and savory and those cornflakes that retain their crunch, somehow. All of these factors assault your senses like a red-haired bully that kicked your sandcastle in a textural playground. It’s like gelato, but…not. This was definitely an immediate mood improver for us three, no one was speaking, but our bodies were dancing.

There were comments that the Salt and Pepper flavor tasted like a "bag of Sea Salt and Pepper Kettle chips." The Balsamic Caramel tasting too "vinegary." We also had the Tahitian Vanilla, with its almost beige colour and tiny specks of vanilla bean running a’muck throughout. It was so unpretentiously earthy and not cloyingly sweet. The sugar cone was fantastic and never got soggy, I wonder if they make their own cones. That question is worth another trip.

2790 Harrison Street
San Francisco, Ca 94080
(415) 550-6971

BART: 24th Street Station and walk 6 blocks East.
MUNI: SouthWest corner of 24th Street @ Mission, 48 Quintara

Some photos by Olivia Loo.

Squat and Gobble

2010-07-25T11:26:00.000-07:00

Eating at this Squat and Gobble made me self-reflect. I asked myself a series of contemplative questions, "Do I really appreciate fine dining?" "Wait, is this fine dining?" and "Where the fuck AM I?"

I'm not sure if Squat and Gobble considers itself fine dining, if they are just targeting the myriad of tourists that crowd the sidewalks of the Haight (me lad lives around the corner from this eatery), or if everything...EVERYTHING really is just that much more expensive in SF.

Because I have to tell you, $10 for a breakfast burrito and $7.75 for a Belgian waffle? I'm not feeling it.

The burrito had some major bulk and a lot of fresh ingredients, as it sat in the center of a black bean circle of truth. It was topped with two types of fresh salsas and on the inside: chorizo, eggs, avocado and some other medley array of ingredients. The Belgian waffle was just that, almost eight bucks for just a waffle. Nothing else. Am I emphasizing my disappointment here? A waffle that could have been a bit more crunchy, it was topped with whipped cream, fresh strawberries and frozen blueberries. The blueberries hadn't thawed completely, every so often you'd get a burst of ice in your mouth. And a little side of pancake syrup, not to be confused with maple syrup. I was full, but mama was feelin' a little anemic from the lack of pig products on my plate.

The coffee was strong, just the way I like it. Shines out girlie-man coffees with a little bicep to punch you in the face on an early Sunday morning. You know, when drum circles on Haight are encouraging marathon runners to keep up momentum on their journey to happiness? Meanwhile, ruining your happiness by waking you up to the sound of trustafarians on djembes.

1428 Haight St @ Masonic
San Francisco, CA 94117
(415) 864-8484

MUNI: 71, 7, 6

Fifteen.

2010-06-27T09:06:00.000-07:00

Some people travel to London to see the Thames, Big Ben and Westminster Abbey. My trip to London was driven by two things. Van Gogh at the National Gallery and Fifteen. I just crammed a bunch of other activities around those two things.

For 25 quid, you get a three course meal that's prepared for you by young people that are accomplishing a hell of a lot more in a short amount of time than I did within my first year in culinary school. So, although there were a few minor details about my meal I didn't care for, they're apprentices and if those are the only mistakes they're making...they're geniuses.

1st -- Handcut Pappardelle with pork, beef and lamb Bolognese and pecorino -- This was the lightest pasta I've ever devoured. It was nicely seasoned. The Bolognese had an ever so slight kick towards the end, which I like. And the pecorino just kept melting as I kept shoveling it in. Oh, I wish I could have had just a big bowl of that!

2nd -- Leg of Pete Gott's Cumbrian rare breed pork with braised fennel and agretti --Let me tell you, that agretti was cooked to damn perfection. Those kids really used restraint when it came down to it, it was cooked just enough, but still had a crunch. The fennel was sweet. However, the pork had been braised for around 12 hours and it was delicious, don't get me wrong. But, a ribbon of flabby fat surrounded the outer layer. And fat is my friend, when it's crunchy. But, when it's been braised and boiled down...it just becomes rubber. No bueno.

3rd -- How did the server know I wanted chocolate before I even opened my mouth? Either he's really good, or he knows that almost everyone woman adores chocolate. Amedei chocolate mousse on a shortbread base with raspberry compote.

I woofed it down in no time flat. The sort of tangy sour raspberries offset with the rich and luscious chocolate mousse. Oh, my goodness. And they even put a little happy birthday message on my plate. Awww. For some reason my camera decided to take a dump and misstep the dessert.

All in all, I'd have to say Fifteen is a success. I can only hope that the youth getting a fantastic opportunity here don't take it for granted.

15 Westland Pl
London N1 7LP
UK
+44 20 3375 1515

TUBE: Old Street

Kentucky Fried Chicken in Paris.

2010-05-06T10:06:00.000-07:00

Yeah, so what? I'll admit to visiting the American phenomena that is known as the fast food joint. I was too curious not to! Yes, I ate there too. Look, if you want to get the guillotine out, by all means, do. But, hear me out before it happens.

Fast food here is nothing like the fast food back home. I mean, politically it is with the disconnection of the farm to table mentality. However, not in quality, the employees actually have some respect for themselves...and you! The food tastes different, like...it's real. It's hot. It's fresh. There are no biscuits or fucking two chicken breasts with cheese and ham stuck in between them. No wedges, just frites, delicious and perfectly cooked frites. A simple menu with maybe 10 items tops.

Please American KFC, hear me out. Although I will never eat at your establishment, as I am anti-fast food, you have got to stop with the foolishness that is gluttony. Disgusting, childish, sinful, corn, mashed potatoes, chicken pieces thrown into a bowl and doused in gravy disgustingness.

The French sure do love fast food, this place was packed everytime I walked by. The organization to the chaos is interesting, there aren't any real lines. Just an overwhelming massive crowd of people standing around in front of the registers and then you squeeze through the crowds to get to the front, but somehow, the employees know who has ordered and who has not. If you want an adrenaline rush, visit a fast food joint...it's pretty intense.

31 boulevard Sébastopol
75001 Paris
France
+33 1 40 26 61 14

Marché Bastille

2010-05-02T10:30:00.000-07:00

This outdoor market is also known as the Richard Lenoir Marche, just to avoid any confusion.

About the only thing opened on a Sunday, other than church, I got onto the Metro 4 from Clignancourt and made my way to the Richard Lenoir Marche at 8 am. One thing I noticed from being up entirely too early, is that the morning light in Paris is spectacular. The light in Paris is always beautiful, but something about a morning where the streets are scarce with the usual encroachment of people, makes it even more beautiful. Another thing I noticed, the market is church...for gastronomes.

When I got to one of the biggest markets in Paris, the light casted a romantic shadow over the sprawled out rows of Technicolour treats. They were all taunting you to commit sinful activities on a Sunday along the Boulevard Lenoir. Most of the vendors had just finished setting up, wandering the aisles blessing you with their goods like a monsignor waving his thurible. In fact, most vendors weren't entirely finished, like the Pain A L'Ancienne Boulangerie that weren't finished stacking up their menagerie of crusty breads and pastries. One of the men, I assume the owner, was getting his work out of squats, twisting, and pulling things out of a myriad of yellow baskets and not irritated by the fact I was clearly being obtrusive and indecisive. Too overwhelmed to choose what I wanted, too early to get my mind in the game, he asked if I needed help and I said I wasn't sure, he winked at me and kept on with his morning squats. Ok, that probably never happens in church. That's when I got the courage to walk up to the platform and receive my communal wafer: one baguette, one pain au chocolat and two croissants.

The Marche was the first time I had seen rotisserie chickens out in the open, that scent of their viscous juices dripping onto frites. Since its Sunday, if you don't feel like cooking you can choose between other pre-prepared meals, the smell of Moroccan cooking on Bunsen burners, stuffed cabbage rolls, stuffed pastries with various meats. The seafood was so fresh, so vivid, everything was crawling, bubbling and speaking in tongues (or soft lulling chants if you're Catholic)...and smelled of the sea. Endless pews of brightly coloured in-season fruits and vegetables, cheese and meats out in the open and are I insane for remembering no flies around? Even the flies respect the architect. With my rudimentary French, if you can even call it that, I still managed in this market. A cheese maker, middle-aged woman with pale platinum hair laughed as I held out my hands far apart to symbolize a lot...and my fingers close together to symbolize a little amount. Hey, when all else fails, use sign language. I walked away with quite the holy picnic: Salami, aged cheddar, grapes, pears, baguette, croissants, pain au chocolat and an apple.

As I sat along the Seine and watched the water, my meditative moment of silence (with the occasional crunch of baguette) and the blue sky washed away all my worries and sins I accumulated back home, giving me the strength to make it another day.

Bd Richard Lenoir entre les rues Amelot et Saint-Sabin
75011 Paris
France

Metro: Bastille or Richard-Lenoir

Monoprix

2010-04-28T09:30:00.000-07:00

The first thing that hit me when I walked through the automatic doors was the smell, reminiscent of wet dog. Perhaps it's a cultural smell that I'm not entirely used to?

Large department stores do not romanticize me, I've gone into too many of them. However, I wanted to visit this one just to see if they were similar to the ones back home. Yes, they are. It's like a super walmart, but smaller and in a basement.

They had cooking tools that were affordable, like a few micro-sized glass bowls I bought for souvenirs for my fellow food industry workers back home. It helped that they said, "Made in France" on the bottom. Plus, for 1 euro, you can't beat it. I also went and bought a few jars of Dijon mustard and while you may be thinking, "What the?" When Dijon is used so frequently in a lot of recipes, it costs a whopping $5 in the states, when I can buy it for 1 euro in Paris. So, I bought a few jars. It didn't help that they confiscated all but one at the Montreal airport, but managed to miss one jar I had at the bottom. Ha! Delicious contraband mustard tastes much better.

The store wasn't anything to brag about, I mostly wandered around, one thing that stood out was the Weight Watchers duck pate in the cold area. Monoprix had tons of pre-prepared foods to go, including sandwiches and very affordable. I grabbed bottled water and a chicken mustard salad sandwich. It turned out to be one of the most disgusting things I ate in Paris. But, if you're pushing the budget, like I was, I'm sure you'll have a much better chance of picking a tolerable sandwich or another pre-prepared foot item and re-energizing on one of the benches of the St. Paul Metro to people watch.

71 rue Saint Antoine
75004 Paris
France
+33 1 42 74 13 73

Chartier.

2010-04-18T09:50:00.000-07:00

An establishment where food is affordable, Parisian and has been an institution for over 100 years? Oui, si'l vous plait. I don't know how this place manages to keep its charm when it's bombarded by a sea of tourists, they're dropped off by the hop on/off tour bus. Ridiculous.

I took off walking from the Garden of tulips and randomly hopped on a public bus that was going in the general direction of my neighborhood. As I stood up on the bus and turned my neck attempting to look at everything, I saw the red neon lights that read "Chartier." I couldn't find this place for two days and when I wasn't looking, I finally found it. I pounced off at the next stop and walked my way up to the restaurant.

The restaurant is in an alcove and easily missed if you don't know it's there, but you can sense the permeated warmth before you even walk in. I was seated in less than 2 minutes. How lucky was I this day? The inside looks like an old bank or library, with a west sidewall covered from floor to ceiling with, what looks like, wooden index compartments. The entire interior is covered in deep mahogany wood and cream crown molding. Ornate chandeliers with bulb light fixtures hang from the ceiling, mirrors that seem to crawl their way up like a bougainvillea and stereotypical French waiter attire. The waiters write your order directly onto the paper table covers and toss it when you're finished eating. To my surprise, because I was a solo diner, they seated me at a table with a Parisian mother and daughter. They were surprised as well because the look on their faces said it all. We said our polite niceties and nothing else, which was too uncomfortable for me to fathom. I was insecure about ordering steak and frites, until I saw the daughter eating the same thing, I was in the clear. I also ordered a small 250ml of house red wine that was about 2 euros. Things were looking up. You can hear the sound of air in movement as the waiters and Maitre D' whiz past you during the rush, and not pay any attention to you until your order is ready. Even in their organized chaos, they still managed to be cordial and give a smile when you ask for a carafe of water.

My steak was cooked perfectly to medium rare, with parsley butter mid-melting that create oxbows of sauce. The parsley gives a slight acidic note to the natural sauce that's created from juices of the meat, parsley butter and all of that co-mingles with the crispy on the outside and lush inside frites. The vin ordinaire was deep in colour, full-bodied, fruity and didn't make me want to send home Dear John letters. When they sat another solo dining American gentleman across from us, he struggled to please his women diners and when he ordered a Pepsi and excused himself to the restroom, I didn't need to speak French fluently when our dining mother shook her fist in the air in disapproval. They didn't need to speak fluent English when they stared at me and understood my guilty chuckle. Until she started telling me her story about coming here since she was in college, over 30 years ago, and the prices always being affordable.

When I finished my meal, I bid another set of rudimentary niceties and worked my way through the chaos out the door. When I walked out of the revolving doors, the crowd of tourists dressed in various J'taime Paris gold lamé and sequin shirts, wrapped around the corner onto the sidewalk. Had I been in there that long? Or, had I barely missed the first rush? Either way, I'm glad I came when I did and I hope to return.

My lunch and wine was under 13 euros.

7 rue du Faubourg Montmartre
75009 Paris
France
+33 1 47 70 86 29

Blinded by the...Hooters.

2010-04-01T13:25:00.000-07:00

My mom was insistent that we go to Hooter's Wing Wednesday and cram our perfectly round faces with a gluttonous amount of chicken wings. And there's no secret that I'm fat. And I like to eat. So, what could I do but nod in agreement with her? I mean, I was really put in between a rock and a hard place here people!

Looking at the menu and all of their items with all of their caloric value next to them (1,107 calories in curly fries? Good lord), it was getting a little depressing. But, then I saw the prices and I was officially depressed. I'm not a fan of their hidden rules and addendums when it comes to all you can eat Wing Wednesday. You can only get the special if you buy a soda (I order water, always) or TWO ranches or TWO blue cheese. What the fuck? It doesn't come with your wings? Since when? Oh, since they charge your dumb ass blinded by squished up to her neck titties $1.49 for one ranch dressing and one blue cheese "sauce." And don't offer me no french fries or curly fries, woman! That's just taking up real estate, I need wings!

And I say blue cheese sauce generously. In fact, it doesn't have one remnant of blue cheese essence. It tastes rancid. And when I asked my bubbly and attentive waitress what they put in their "sauce," she went down the list of her guesses: Buttermilk, ranch dressing, heavy duty mayonnaise and blue cheese crumbles. She forgot to mention horseradish, there was clearly horseradish in there.

Bring me my first round of boneless chicken pieces, which were all white meat, breaded to perfection and hold the damn sauce. I'll get to the sauce during my second round, think I didn't get to second round? Psh. Have you SEEN my photos?

The wings were smoking hot in temperature, crispy as sin and moist on the inside. They really were good wings. And since you can't take home any wings after you've finished 15, I had to cram some into my bag. Bring me the second round and make it medium. I don't like their heavily induced vinegar based "hot" sauce. Right after I finished that plate, I went back to the original. Oh yeah, there was a third round. But, I crammed most of them in my bag.

It's every servers job in the food industry to serve with a smile, coax their customers and be attentive to the point of annoyance, but with a good balance of restraint. And I have to say, these girls have it down. Even if they are doing it for male chauvinists who have no idea what their server's face looks like because they're staring at the ass cheeks hanging out from micro-sized safety cone orange shorts. I have yet to decide if these women are using their youth and sexuality to their own advantage, I sure as hell gave a big tip, or if this is just two levels up from stripping.

Wings were good, but not worth a return trip for that kind of environment.

1785 Challenge Way
Sacramento, CA 95815
(916) 927-9464

Taylor's Automatic Refresher.

2010-03-18T13:16:00.000-07:00

Apparently, this place is now called "Gott's Roadside Tray Gourmet." Let it be noted, the sign still said Taylor's Automatic Refresher when I ate there.

I like the little creek that's hidden on the side of Taylor's next to the sunfaded benches that sit on green grass. You can hop the 2-foot high wooden farm fence and just watch the clear water flow over riverbed rocks. I also like the fact that Taylor's trash bins and recycling containers are not on the back end of their restaurant, they're about twenty feet away in a closed off area. Even the trash area seemed pretty organized.

And why hadn't I thought of using half-sheet metal baking sheets to serve food on? Duh.

The onion rings were well executed, especially since I'm not a fan of battered rings. But, as the rings got cold, they still weren't oozing grease. Sweet. These battered rings could possibly convert me from being a cornmeal breaded lover. I appreciate them making the executive decision of cooking my hamburger medium-well, unless I ask for it burnt to a crisp. Much respect. And who could resist the brioche bun, that they throw on the flattop to give it a nice crisp on the edges? That brioche bun was killer.

Here's my biggest gripe. Why douse Niman Ranch beef in special sauce to the point where you can't even taste the meat? Why charge me $8.00 for a cheese burger with Niman Ranch beef...when you're just going to liberally slather it in special sauce?! Goddamn that special sauce. The $3.99 garlic fries (what?!), would have been fucking fantastic if they weren't underseasoned. Dude...seriously? Add some salt!!! There wasn't even any salt on the premises to be found! Some people think that underseasoning brings more focus to the ingredient, and I'm all down for that. But, this can't be a place like that considering the amount of special sauce on my NIMAN RANCH BURGER!

Suggestion: Put some salt and pepper shakers on the self-service station outside.

933 Main St
Saint Helena, CA 94574
(707) 963-3486

All photos by: Chan N.

Delfina.

2010-02-10T15:49:00.000-08:00

Our meal was finished with a walk on a warm night down Valencia. And I finally understood why eaters like to finish their meals with a cigarette, or if you're not a smoker, coffee. If you're not a coffee drinker, a night of down and dirty rompin' in the sack. And if you're celibate, settling down for a long winter's nap. And if you're an insomniac, just go ahead and shoot yourself now. You suck.

Delfina is, what the real estate market has coined, "cozy." There is a large wooden bench that spans the entire back wall, it doubles as a seat for the tables, and you'll eventually touch the hand of the person who's sitting next to you. Not necessarily sitting with you. It's intimate, romantic, modern and every bit of what you envision when you hear the term, "San Francisco fine dining."

Tiefenbrunner's LaGrien - - This is the first time I have known what a good wine tastes like. Reasonable price, a beautiful, deep garnet colour. You could smell the red fruit and the wood tones, rather than just alcohol. Damn you $10 bargain wines of Food Outlets!

Salt Cod Mantecato w/ walnut oil and toasted fennel seed flatbread - - This was basically nothing more than a bacalao paste in a ramekin that came with lots of crispy pieces of flatbread.

Insalata di Campo - Bitter Greens with Pancetta, Walnuts, Parmigiano Reggiano and Balsamic Vinaigrette - - The parmigiano reggiano was addicting. It tasted earthy. Like the sea. And like a green pasture flooded with soft pink flowers, earthy.

Wolfe Ranch Quail w/ Anson Mills polenta, house-made fennel sausage and a Vin Santo sauce. Hey-sus almighty, I tell you...this was amazing. At first, this dish was kind of a salt shock to my system. But, it elevated the natural flavor of the quail. Tender pieces of Quail quarters on a bed of creamy polenta. And that killer sausage, bits of it all throughout my dish.

Mint Tagliatelle w/ Chanterelles - The mint was kneaded directly into the dough. However, my dining partner is a vegetarian, so they didn't cook this dish with their normal chicken stock which made the dish very bland. Not their fault, it's his fault for being a lame anemic non-carnivore. No wonder he's so sensitive and laid-back. EAT SOME MEAT!

Dessert. That's right...I said. Any self-respecting baker is going to try out the damn desserts, right? I'm probably just making excuses for being fat.

Profiteroles w/ espresso gelato, warm chocolate sauce and candied almonds.

Red Cow Parmigiano Reggiano (Emilia-Romagna cow's milk) with saba. Saba is a syrup made from the must (a process in wine making) of Trebbiano grapes. It's like a high-quality balsamic vinegar. It was delicious!

One of the best meals I've had.

3621 18th St
San Francisco, CA 94110
(415) 552-4055

MUNI: 33 (18th @ Guerrero), 14 (Mission @ 18 - walk 5 blocks West), 49 (same as 14), J-line (Church @ 18 - walk a few blocks East)