The Original Small Plates

Kiss Seafood

1700 Laguna St

San Francisco, CA 94115

(415) 474-2866

Before Tapas came to epitomize small plates there was Japanese food.  Two pieces of Nigiri nestled on a plate.  Little bowls of miso soup.  Monkfish liver, three ounces worth, in a little glass dish.  Of course, as with all things from the fast food soft drink to the double-tortilla burrito, Japanese food has been supersized.  Bento boxes, udon specials covered in tempura, "Oh My God" rolls triple the size of the serving dishes and accommodate a new appetite.  But there are still places to get small plate sushi.

Kiss Seafood is as small as its plates.  In the space inside unadorned white walls, the restaurant seats eight at two tables and six at the sushi bar.  Edith Piaf sang her dedication to France as we pondered the menu and the specials, written on a sticky in Japanese.  Eventually, the four of us settled on the Special Omakase, the Omakase, a sashimi, and two appetizers.  I cannot begin to recount every quarter-cup dish of steamed, fried or raw fish, tender cooked vegetables, or tofu islands in lightly salted soups.  One highlight was the hamachi collar, crisp, lightly salty and fatty, without being greasy.  The abalone special in abalone liver sauce looked as unappetizing as it sounds--cubes covered in dark green mess--despite the plating in an abalone shell on a pile of fine salt.  However, it tasted fantastic, fresh and mild, with the satisfying chewy crunch of jellyfish and sea cucumber.  Of course the sashimi was so fresh that even the salmon and tuna tasted like new species, and during the meal, I began to plot how to seek out more giant clam in the future.  The egg custard had the beautiful, even consistency of silken tofu; one was adorned with mushrooms, the other with fish and bitter ginkgo nuts.  While it was not my favorite flavor wise, the minute differences between the two similar dishes shows the chef's skill.  The only thing that wasn't promptly finished and cleared was my complimentary amuse bouche.  Grainy soybean porridge with glass noodles and dried scallops is very similar to a Korean breakfast that I always avoid.  The waitress left it on the table for the rest of the meal--I think I may have hurt her feelings.

Be forewarned that all the a la carte entrees are raw.  While two or three of the cooked appetizers would make a satisfying meal, they may not satisfy the 35$ minimum.  Yes, it is expensive, but overall, the meal was exceptional.  While people may complain of the price, eating at Kiss is closer to a prix fixe at Gary Danko than dinner at the neighborhood sushi bar.

The Not-So-Happy Hour

The Bar Room at Porta Via

424 N. Canon Dr.

Beverly Hills, CA 90210

(310) 274-6534

I've walked to Porta Via for a decent custom omelette or steel cut oatmeal, back before it was served at Jamba Juice.  I was excited to stroll down for an inexpensive specialty cocktail, or a nice bar night, but now that I've gone, I know it wouldn't be worth repeating.  We were led to The Bar Room at Porta Via by a particularly egregious error on TastingTable, promising half-priced drinks and free appetizers.  Instead, the Bar Room was celebrating its grand opening with two-for-one well drinks and full priced appetizers.

It has an ideal space, right next to Porta Via, and opens fully onto the sunny, fenced in patio.  Yet, it was so dark inside that we crept in thinking it wasn't open yet.  We asked to sit outside so we could see our food, and were put at a Porta Via table.  White table cloth and glasses were an upgrade from the pseudo-rustic, actually rusty chairs that make the ambiance of the Bar Room patio.

The well drinks were as expected, though my first gin and tonic was normal, and the second surreptitiously strong.  The sweet potato fries were sweet and crisp, but with an over vinegared blue cheese dressing.  The calamari was average, and got soggy.  Chef's choice flatbread pizza had mozzarella, basil and a hint of spice, but sat, essentially, on a cracker.  A similar creation is available at Palomino for half the price.

Though hunky, attentive servers did their best to make up for Tasting Table, and knocked 15% off the total, this is not an experience to recreate at full price.  

Seafood on the Pier part II

Pacific Fish Center and Restaurant

131 Fishermans Wharf

Redondo Beach, CA 90277

(310) 374-8420

Cruel death, part II.

It was raining, it was cold, it was windy and I was wearing a skirt.  My uncle, big eater and consummate racist that he is, recommended this place.  It fulfilled our criteria: large amounts of seafood served tabletop, and his: it's Korean.  

First came our live shrimp, a complete mistake as my dad, who insisted on having them, thought they were live when they were cooked.  Not live when the were skinned and brought to the table.  We initially tried to cancel the order and were a little put off when the woman said the order was already in, but it made sense when, still writhing, our shrimp arrived a moment later.  Again, I thought they would die quickly, as you, or I, or a chicken would die pretty quickly after being skinned, or "depantsed," and severed torso from legs.  But not shrimp.  Shrimp are perfectly happy to lay on a plastic platter, all facing the same direction, and have their bodies cut off with plastic utensils.  They did not attempt to bite the hands that gripped their sides and pulled their tails; instead, they fought each other.  Seriously.  Two turned on each other and started chomping until Julia picked one up and moved it down the row towards its more docile compatriots.  It was a little inspiring.

And not entirely worth it.  Though the shrimp tails were tender, fresh and sweet, they really just tasted like mild shrimp and weren't worth the, you know, eternal damnation.  On the other hand, the shrimp heads were worthy, carted off still wriggling, and returned ten minutes later deep fried.  This was inspiration.  The remaining legs and tentacles were as crispy as potato chips, tender, slightly fishy and a little salty.  They looked capable of cutting our mouths, but instead buckled easily in our unrelenting mouths.  The meat inside was barely fishy and so sweet and delectable that I licked little bits of shrimp guts from the inside of the shell.  My sister ate the eyes and face, I left mine on the paper plate.  Unbelievable.

The cooked shrimp went unfinished, a significant event in my family.  They were tough, overcooked, and though they had a nice aroma, didn't taste great.

The dungeness crabs were well cooked, full of the clean orange goo that I love, though the protein in the carriage was really thick and tough.  The meat was tender and fresh, and though it was delicious, it wasn't worth the premium over making our own at home.  At $16/lb, as opposed to about $6/lb at the grocers, I'll stay home.  

The finale was Mae Won Tong, a spicy seafood soup with daikon radish, tofu, fish collar, zucchini and shrimp.  We had to order it mild because my father can't handle heat anymore and it came disappointingly beige after watching pot after pot of bright red soup pass.  Despite lacking the main flavor, the stock was rich, flavorful and clean.  The fish and shrimp were unspectacular, but the broth alone made for a great finish.  Well, except for the little bit of kimchi and rice I had, you know, just to settle my stomach.

Seafood on the Pier

I think I'm going to hell.  I ate part of an animal while it was still alive.  Two, actually.

The first was a sea urchin, a faceless, echinodermatic training ground for animal two.  Don't worry, it wasn't a monkey (never eat primate, or you'll get spongiform encephalopathy, aka Mad Cow).  It was a shrimp.  An ugly, dumb crustacean closer, as Alton Brown often insists, to a cockroach than to us.  In a way, though part of it was alive, the part I was eating was thoroughly, thoroughly dead.  And yet, I turned in shame from its glossy eyes, its fighting maw, and the premature end to its armored head as I bit into its severed tail.

Quality Seafood

QualitySeafood.net

130 Internatl Boardwalk

Redondo Beach, CA 90277

(310) 374-2383

Quality Seafood is barely visible from the parking lot, an unimpressive lettering job at the end of a long boardwalk of tchotchke shops and bars.  As we got closer, as we saw the men in waterproof overalls and the rows of water tanks, I knew we had followed our bad Google directions to the right place.  First are the rows of crab and lobster, not just dungeness but spiny and spider.  Next are the oysters, maybe 18 types, largely local, and the rows of steamers, clams and mussels.  There's the bar for the beer and butter (all but the most minimalist sauces are 50cents-$1), then the area for platters: display cases of fried food and crates of ice and the newly dead.  A friendly counterperson helped us choose a whole tilapia for $10, cleaned, mostly, fried up and served with three sides.  We went back to the live stuff and from a less friendly but no less helpful counterperson, got 12 oysters, a pound of savory clams and green mussels pressure-cooker steamed in wine sauce, and, of course, a whole live sea urchin.

The first sea urchin he dropped, sparing its life and saving it for a later day's suffering.  Ours was a sprightly fellow, all healthy, long, roving spines.  He bashed in its oral surface with a serving spoon, pulled out long dark purple insides with his bare fingers, rinsed it quickly with water and plopped it on a styrofoam plate.  I really didn't expect it to still be moving.  But it was.  And after my sister carried it to our table, I really thought it would stop when she removed its first orange ovary.  Not yet.  I decided I'd wait until it died.  Out of respect.  But after five minutes I couldn't stand its suffering, and begged my sister to put it out of its misery.  She removed the rest of its ovaries and pushed around its insides a bit.  She's going to be a doctor.  And it kept moving.  So, allowing my morals to become secondary to hunger, I took a bite.  The sea urchin was sweet and creamy, only salty because of the milky fluid sloshing around in the funk.  It was a completely separate thing from uni sushi, which often tastes like river water and is slightly tougher and more orange than this delicate tongue of flesh.  It was delicious.

The tilapia was crispy and lightly salted, though the remaining deep fried scales curled into creepy spikes around the tail and fins.  The oysters were cleanly shucked, though not a gourmet experience served on a styrofoam tray with packets of Tapatio and lemons.  The only disappointment was the steamer plate.  Though the savory clams were surprisingly different, flavorful and tender, the sauce was not especially flavorful, and pulling the beards from the green mussels was unpleasant.  One bonus was the miniscule crab I found inside one of the clams, each orange appendage jutting up through the clam's membrane.  Creepy.

Bon Appetit Banh Mi

http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Pork-Meatball-Banh-Mi-356790

Banh Mi ("bun me") may be the best thing to come from colonialism.  In general, these eclectic subs are fantastic.  Inexpensive cuts of flavorful meat, fresh vegetables and a little heat on a lightly toasted roll.  Though these homemade Banh Mi can't compete with the sandwiches available for $2.50 in downtown Oakland, they offer an easy alternative to the meatball sandwich at home.

I followed the recipe fairly accurately.  The meatballs were savory, very moist, and though the basil was not perceptible the first night, it became more pronounced in the leftovers the next day.  There's no fishy taste despite the fish sauce, and the Sriracha adds more flavor than heat.  The only adjustment I'd make would be to skip the sugar.  I know that, like pork buns, a lot of Vietnamese meats are sweet, but these were too sweet.

I added some shredded romaine (I like my sandwiches crunchy) and more Sriracha to the sauce because, and I know this shreds my credibility, I forgot to buy jalapenos.  Regardless, the sauce as it was portioned, had way too much mayo and not enough flavor.

I could see making these for an outdoor barbecue--an unusual foil for hotdogs and hamburgers that is still neatly enclosed in a bun--however, I don't think I'll repeat this recipe for a dinner at home.  The cheap ones on International, with the cracked linoleum floors and imported durian products, are just too perfect and too cheap to waste my time on a lesser version. 

Joy of Cooking Peanut Butter Cookies

Along with the Chocolate Chip Cookies from the Joy of Cooking, these Peanut Butter Cookies did quite well.

I used MaraNatha unsalted creamy peanut butter.  It is wetter than most peanut butters--it doesn't set up in the fridge, and can even be a bit too runny for a PB&J.  But it worked well in this recipe, making a wet dough that I spooned onto the cookie sheet, hoping to spare my hands.

The cookies were unusually moist.  They had a very fine crumb and a consistent texture (no gooey mess in the center) and baked up to proportionally engorged versions of what went into the oven, including homey hatch-marks and rough edges.  They were also uncommonly sweet: not cloying, but with an almost Reese's-like sweet peanut butter taste.

These were very good and gone quickly.  I would definitely refer to this recipe again.

Gioia Pizzeria

Let the Pizza Battle begin.

Gioia

1586 Hopkins Street

Berkeley, CA

Up the street from Monterey Market

http://www.gioiapizzeria.com/

I love pizza.  As has been quoted by me in a few too many awkward situations, pizza is like sex.  When it's good, it's really good.  When it's bad, it's still kind of good.  Gioia is really, really good.  I can't attest to its New York authenticity, having only had the real stuff twice.  What I can say is that the crust is thin, crisp and really chewy, without a hint of char, and I find myself enjoying the plain, bready, bubbled, end piece as much as the middle.

And the middle is good, too.  My boyfriend, Jesse, loves anchovies, a culinary adventure catalyzed by an episode of Futurama ("A Fishful of Dollars"), and doomed to end with a trip to Porky's Pizza Palace in San Leandro.  There, the anchovies were one per slice and still so salty that I picked mine out, resenting the silvery residue left on the cheese.  Not so at Gioia.  Here, the anchovies are soaked, or rinsed, or something, to make them mild.  The bones are unnoticeable, and each creepy, elongated silver bite can be mistaken for a creamy cheese.  Ever the pizza purist, Jesse asked why the anchovies weren't baked into the pizza, but laid out, ever so carefully, after the oven.  Art Kinsey answered that putting them on later made the flavor milder.  Accompanied with chiles and less-than-pungent fresh oregano, the Acciughe has a little bite, a little salt and that eat-the-first-piece-on-the-bench-outside-even-though-you'll-be-home-in-twenty quality.

My only complaint?  A little too much cheese.  Heresy?  Maybe.  But I grew up on a faux-New York pizza that showed its tomatoes through the cheese, and the thick, greasy layer at Gioia is unpleasantly chewy.  It hides the chile spice and produces an unpleasant fount of orange grease.  Eat over a table or the pavement, not your lap.

 The seasonal Pomegranate Lemonade is a spritzer of fountain Sprite and hot pink liquid from an agua fresca jar, and it is delicious.  Almost tasted a little too tart  on the first sip, but as I ate my pizza, and the ice mellowed the drink, it became the perfect accompaniment.  Like champagne and fried chicken.

Next Time: Maybe I'll mix it up and get something other than the Acciughe.  But that's not likely.  I'll also try the cannoli.

Joy of Cooking CCCs

Thus begins the Cookie Battle.  I am on the hunt for the best recipes for various staple foods: roast chicken, biscuits, flourless chocolate cake.  It's a matter of taste and authenticity, making sure that the recipe speaks to what we've eaten and liked in the past.  And what better place to begin than The Joy of Cooking: Chocolate Chip Cookies

Forgive me for my blatant disregard for copyright, (Simon & Schuster Inc., 2006) but who's reading this blog anyway?

yield: 36 2 1/2 in. cookies

1c + 2T all-purpose flour

1/2 t baking soda

1 stick unsalted butter, softened

1/2 c sugar

1/2 c packed light brown sugar

1 large egg

1/4 t salt

1 1/2 t vanilla

1 c chocolate chips

opt: 3/4 c chopped walnuts or pecans

375 F

-Grease 2 cookie sheets.

-Whisk together flour and baking soda

-In a large bowl, beat butter, sugar and brown sugar

->Add egg, salt and vanilla

->Add flour mixture

->Stir in chocolate chips and pecans

-Measure out heaping teaspoonfuls, 2 in. apart.  Bake one sheet at a time until slightly colored on top and edges are brown, 8-10 minutes.  

This recipe yielded about 22 3 1/2 in. cookies.  They were the flat, chewy kind with crisp edges, with little chocolate chip islands surrounded by dark cookie moats.  They have a nice caramel flavor that is rich but not too sweet.  

Next time: I'll refrigerate the balled dough before baking to reduce spreading (the chocolate chips were stranded in the middle of each cookie).  I also added pecans to half the cookies, and probably won't next time: they stick out and don't really add anything texture or flavor wise. 

Delicious Twist: Making the cookie without chocolate chips, then sandwiching them with melted chocolate to make florentines.

Bar Night

I don't go bar hopping, bar crawling, bar going, really.  But, I went on what, for me, is a major bar outing last Saturday, February 6th, to The Graduate and The Avenue.

The Graduate

Claremont x College Ave (across the street from the Safeway)

The Graduate wanted to be a dive bar and failed.  Sure, it has student specials for $1.50 PBR and $3 well drinks.  Sure, it has a cheap boilermaker.  But the dive-ness ends there.  They have specialty drinks, for one: on Saturday they offered a fresh fruit margarita and a "Salty Snoop": well gin, grapefruit juice from a 5.5oz can, and a salted rim in an old fashioned glass.  And it was tasty.  Simple, not particularly special, but a nice beverage altogether.  The Ace cider was what it was right out of the bottle: it's not sweet like Wyder's, it's adult cider for adults.  My friends got strong whiskey cokes and gin and tonics from the nice bartender in the "Bartenders Are Gods" t-shirt, a proficient multi-tasker.

But The Graduate is plagued by a bad bartender.  She stood in the midst of the bottles, staring off, looking confused, when I walked up to the bar.  After a few minutes watching her walk around, serving one drink, counting bills, I said "Hi."

"Hi," she said, and walked away.

Hmm.  Eventually she took our order, in shifts because she didn't seem willing to take the whole order at once.  In the end we got our drinks.

Later my friends ordered Chili Bombs, an abominable combination of Whiskey and Tobasco in a Red Bull.  The first time, two and a whiskey coke cost $19.  The next time, three chili bombs cost $27.  Well thanks, lady.  That is a cheap whiskey coke.

Enjoy the free popcorn with Sriracha, an exceptional combination.  Enjoy the one bartender, the ever-louder jukebox, the clean cut, Cal t-shirt and hoodie wearing clientele.  Enjoy the people who walk by every 20 minutes and clean off the table.  Dive bar?  I don't think so.  But the Avenue is.

The Avenue

4822 Telegraph Ave x 48th

Much older clients, duct tape on the ceiling.  Granted, we didn't arrive until 1am, but the crowd was thin and unenthusiastic.  I think there were two other females in the room at the time.  The pool table was soon unattended--where does that happen?  We enjoyed a quick drink in the stained arm chairs around the fireplace, keeping quiet so as not to disturb the man sleeping contentedly at the table next to ours.  Lovely.

Isa Restaurant

Isa

3324 Steiner St.

San Francisco, CA 94123

(415) 567-9588

http://www.isarestaurant.com/

Isa is a predominately French, family-style, small-plates restaurant with a fully weather-proof patio, an uncommon batch of middle aged, male servers, and fantastic food.  We ate there on Monday, February 1 and, arriving at 6, had no trouble getting a table, though the restaurant was filling when we left.

We were led past the open kitchen (noticed a shelf of celebrity cookbooks and bottles of Sriracha) onto the back patio which, despite feeling like a backyard deck with planters and strings of light, is fully covered, and replete with heat lamps and antique sconces.  Happy Hour doesn't end until 7 so we each enjoyed a $5 glass of wine (specialty Soju cocktails also available).  A 2-course selectable prix fixe is $24, 3-course is $28 and includes much of the main menu, including the daily special.  On the other hand, items on the menu range from $7-23, so I would advise  you to do the math, especially because everything is served family style.

Prince Edward Island Mussels: The mussels were something classic, almost common, done exceptionally.  The mussels were tender, almost like the bellies of raw oysters.  The steaming liquid was unusually rich, with a little tang of wine, and far surpassed the normal parsley and butter.  The grilled bread served with the mussels was in fact burned, overpowering and inedible, but the warm sourdough baguette already on the table was a nice substitute.

Baked Laura Chenel Goat Cheese: This dish didn't seem that exciting, but, like the mussels, was pleasantly surprising and unusual.  Served on tomato concasse (peeled, seeded and chopped...I learned something new today) with basil, pine nuts and olive oil, the baked cheese didn't have breading or crust.  Instead of being dolled up, the goat cheese remained a strong flavor with a delicate whipped texture.  It, too, went well with the warm bread and I plan to attempt to replicate it at home.  Being a small and light dish, I think it should have come before the mussels, instead of just a few minutes after.  The restaurant's philosophy of serving lightest to heaviest seemed to be offset by kitchen timing.

Daily Special: Grilled Hamachi:  Hamachi grilled to a slight char like a steak, served with olive tapenade, clams and calamari.  A little much, no?  And it was, especially after cheese and mussels.  But I cannot fault them for how I ordered and the dish was good.  I am not partial to fish, but it was really nice and pink on the inside, and the tapenade covering it was mild.  The calamari was unbelievably tender, really, like custard.  But what I really enjoyed were the clams.  Like the mussels, they were tender, and each had its own little pool of buttery jus.

Dutch Valley Veal Sweetbreads:  The last thing to come, and by far the heaviest, was the veal sweetbreads.  The varied, wild mushrooms were all good, but mostly overpowered by the really overwhelming scent of truffles.  The sweetbreads were tender, creamy, and, thankfully, were cut to small pieces that looked less like brain.  This is my second time having sweetbreads and I'm really just not all there  yet.  The potato was smooth and soaked up the delicious, rich mushroom broth that turned to a proteinous blob in my refrigerator overnight (a good thing, despite the image).  Unfortunately, the potato pancake was very dense and not crispy, and didn't help allay the weight of the rest of the dish.

They recommended that we order two dishes per person which was really too much (as exemplified by the sweetbreads I just had for breakfast.  mmm) as both the hamachi and the sweetbreads were more than generous entree portions.  As a duo that usually tempers our appetites by perhaps sharing an appetizer, four dishes made for a giant doggy bag of food that doesn't necessarily reheat well (potato pancake).  I also feel that the dishes would be better served as courses taken away at completion, rather than a conglomerate of dishes.  At one point, all four were on the table at the same time which, besides being cramped on a two person table, did not showcase the food well.  Lastly, we ate no vegetables.  Most of the menu items had a base of mashed potatoes or mushrooms, and I'm all for umami.  But next time, I'll make room for a salad.

Overall, the food was exceptional, the service attentive but not obsequious, and, the highest compliment I can give: I would take my parents here.

-Arrive before 7 for Happy Hour $5 drinks

-Double check the Prix Fixe menu for prices

-Grab a mint on your way out.  They are anise flavored and each cellophane wrapper says "Bye."

This Blog

I don't like writing about myself.  I'd much rather write of a thinly disguised foil, someone like me, but who can walk in heels, who flirts or lies, who wears many hats.  The closest I got to the truth was a story in which a girl pines and pines for an almost lover who is far away (true) only to find out later that he has died tragically coming back for her (not true), and that he loves her, too (still a little ambiguous).  And still, despite the guise of fiction, every day I fear that someone will make the connection and call me out on my wimpy revelation.  Or ask me why I killed him off.  My creative writing professor published a novel involving characters uncannily similar to herself and her husband who engage in a severely pathologized sadomasochistic relationship.  You can bet that every one of her students is wondering if they really string each other up on a decorative iron wall decoration in their  bedroom.

But there's a greater risk in writing in the first person.  It isn't just the opinions, embarrassing stories or the incredibly nit-picky way I think about restaurants.  My character is instilled in the way I write, it is my tone, my point of view, my pitiable grammar.  Even though I write about chicken, a reader is meeting me for the first time.  Not Rebecca and the cat she's left with when her true love up and dies; this is me.  I am a writer, and I am an eater, and I am out to graze.

Top 5 Things to do with Leftover Chicken

5) Stock

boil bones with celery, carrots and onion

simmer, salt and skim

4) Curried Chicken Salad

cut meat into cubes or shred

add mayo, sour cream and a bit of mustard

add diced cucumber or celery and a couple of raisins

add a few teaspoons of curry powder and a hefty pinch of cayenne pepper

3) Cobb Salad

cut meat into cubes or shred

mix with any variation of the following ingredients: romaine, mixed greens, hard-boiled eggs, bacon, blue cheese, sliced celery, avocado, tomato

2) Pizza

thinly cover a premade or homemade pizza crust with barbeque sauce

top with chopped chicken, red onions and cilantro, maybe some corn

Also good cooked inside a biscuit

1) Chips

place a skillet over medium high heat

add a little vegetable oil

trust me

pan fry the chicken skin

tell your friends