Poor(i) Behavior

Back from SF. Delfina on Monday was delicious. Started with fava beans with Pecorino and olive oil. The least successful of the dishes I tried. I'm more in the Fergus Henderson camp regarding favas. To quote, "restaurants peel off the grey-green skins, leaving a little bright green kernel with nothing fava bean about it. Leave the fava bean alone." It's true they're beautiful when doubly peeled but the removal of the skin does remove the slightly bitter low notes the bean has. I'm not just saying this because I don't want to pay a prep person to do a case of favas. Try a side by side tasting and you'll see. Next course of nettle ravioli also sang of spring but with a little more oomph to it. Finished with the tripe. Everyone should try this. Many chefs would like to see more offal on the menu but most are afraid to put it there because most diners are afraid of ordering it. After they ate something like this dish they might be more adventurous. So go there, get the tripe and branch out from there.

Tuesday's lunch with Shuna of Eggbeater at Vik's Chaat Corner in Berkeley was great. I went with her recommendation of cold lentil dumplings and an order of poori with garbanzos. The poori warrants a digression.

As a young (14 or so) punk rocker my band got a gig playing at a young woman's birthday party at a very tony Indian restaurant on Central Park South called Nirvana (it's still there, I'm glad to say. As a restaurant owner I feel quite guilty still). She told us she couldn't pay but there would be free food and alcohol and we could invite as many people as we wanted. We proceeded to invite everyone we even marginally knew, and we knew everyone in the CBGB's-Max's Kansas City nexus, and they invited people they knew and the promise of free liquor and aloo gobi masala lured 200 plus free-loading louts to venture north past 14th street.

When we arrived to set up earlier in the day we were told the free liquor part of the deal might be off. This was extremely distressing to me so I immediately started taking bottles from the service bar and hiding them around the room, under carpets, behind brass elephants, near the fish tank. Once the guests started to arrive I watched the horrified Hindus talking with each other and by their furious gesticulation divined there was definitely a hitch in the free food part of the deal. Now, of course I realize when you are expecting a party of perhaps 50 and approximately 250 arrive, you have a problem. As a drunk 14 year old however, this concept was lost on me.

The deal was we were to perform and then the food and drink was supposed to flow. By this time so many people had arrived we had very little room to stand. The bass player was perched on a rattan stool, the drummer had lost his sticks and had somehow ended up with sharp kitchen knives. In retrospect I'm sure they were hoping we'd stab each other with them. We started. A lurching, shambolic squall which delighted the assembled lunatics, particularly those whom I had let in on the secret of the hidden booze. Of course the drummer managed to slice open his fingers and which only spurred them on to dance even more wildly, which encouraged further mayhem from us. The singer was hanging on to one of the rugs tacked to the ceiling (he was also standing on a stool, not swinging like an ape) when the tacks gave way, the rug came down along with about two decades worth of dust. When the choking subsided it was determined it was time to sit down to eat.

We were starving. I didn't eat regularly then, having moved out of the house at 13 and my sole source of income the proceeds of this band. After a conference with Stacey (the birthday girl) the staff were persuaded that at least some food should be forthcoming because this obnoxious crowd had already been denied the promised free drink. No food could lead to a full scale riot. As a small shower of appetizers arrived we agreed that it was turning out to be a good party, despite the lack of liquor, after all. However, it became apparent that a small shower of appetizers was all it was going to be and we were longing for something more substantial. Then the poori arrived.

If you've never seen one picture a golden fried bread about the size of a small pillow. With our scanty knowledge of Indian food we reasoned "this must be the main course" when we saw them being carried through the room, assuming they would be filled with an amazing assortment of delightful things. As soon as the plate was set down 8 hungry hands grabbed at the poori, only to find a mild implosion and a wee bit of dough. Thus ended our banquet.

I'll spare you the other details, except on leaving I passed a huge brass avatar of one of the Hindu pantheon who was sporting cigarette butts between every finger of of every hand of his many arms.

As a chef and now as owner I believe I have paid my karmic debt for this and our gig at the fabled 21 Club (the restaurant, not some downtown noise palace) by dealing with many an obnoxious party, and many years later was able to clear the air with Stacey (whom we actually didn't really know, she was a fan). She ended up dating a friend and one evening in conversation I found out it was her party we had ruined. Amid my profuse apologies she let me know she had a blast and never had a better birthday. I'm sure her parents and Nirvana felt differently.

Back to Vik's. The food was great and I was happy to have found an Indian place which seemed to pay more attention to sanitation than some of the others we've been to recently. The GM will be happy. Shuna was wonderful as well. I had a great time getting to know her a little bit. If you haven't read her blog, do so.

The next day I met cedichou from Le Blog de San Francisco at Canteen, Dennis Leary's (formerly of Rubicon) new place. I feel sorry for these guys out there doing it all by themselves. He's open for breakfast, lunch and dinner, I think he said 7 days a week. When we were there he was also waiting tables which he clearly hated. I understand the desire to keep payroll in line and whenever I'm in my dining room, I'll bus tables, bring water, etc but I don't make a habit of being a waiter because I don't have the temperament for it. Dennis doesn't either. I wish him well but hope he is able to stop before burnout sets in. Before the GM decided she should quite her day job and start running the place I was a literal zombie trying to manage everything. Thank god she did when she did or we'd probably be closed now.

The food was good, I'd return, but nothing earthshaking. I liked the marinated anchovy starter the best of all. The asparagus salad with poached egg was perfectly executed, only the halibut ceviche disappointed. Too much celery and the whole coriander seeds were a little jarring. The chocolate tart we shared was dense, rich and satisfying. Ced was fun also. Much different than his blog led me to believe. Gentler, more down to earth. On the blog he seems a bit more sardonic. I look forward to meeting his wife and son.

Had a solo dinner at Kiss on Laguna and Sutter. My omakase was a little similar to what I'd had there before, we'll see what happens if I go again. Tofu, seaweed and potato salad, a sashimi course of squid, giant clam, baby striped bass, tuna and tai snapper, broiled bbq mackerel, halibut in broth with potato, carrot and snap peas, marinated abalone with its liver, sushi course of marinated tuna, halibut fin, surf clam another I can't remember, and a mushroom-miso soup.

Came home to a GM still in pain from an inflamed toe joint and nauseated from the medication needed to combat the swelling. Then a round of meetings all day yesterday and back to work with renewed purpose and vision today. Talking with Shuna and some other friends in Berkeley really helped clarify some things for me.

Comments

[Sam]

I really have got to get me to Delfinia one of these days, then I am planning a visit to your restaurant some time. I just have to work out where it is first.

Btw, some fellow bloggers and I were trying to guess, over dinner a couple of days ago, which 2 x SF bloggers you would be meeting on your trip this time and we guessed 100% correctly.

[molly]

I love everything I've had at Viks and could drink a gallon of the mango lassi. It is a real treat and at incredible prices!

Sam - I haven't been to Delfina either and it's top on my list of places to go. Maybe I can come up with a special occassion!

[Kudzu]

Been laughing myself silly over the antics of the drunk adolescent chef and his way-too-many cohorts at Nirvana (albeit a little ruefully, since I have yoots in my family about that age!)

A young friend of mine claims that Vik's must put crack in their food, she is so addicted to it. You've almost persuaded me to drive to the East Bay to try it, something akin to crossing into another country from where I live.

And you're right about the favas: they need that element of dusky funk to be authentic.

[shuna]

if you can believe it I worked at a restaurant (Y'all get one guess) that blanched, peeled, removed the germ, split and brunoised the fava!!! Very different from the Italians I knew long ago who taught me to eat raw artichokes with the first pressed virgin green spicy olive oil, cracked black pepper and dry aged cheese! Bitterness is yummy!
I had the bestest time sitting there with your piratey self, eating a giant puffed fried dough, drinking tea and amazing ourselves by uncovering more and more that we had in common. Even though I had no idea what you looked like, your "real name" or age.
What I have come to find as of late is that if I open my mind, more can fit in it.
XO
S