It’s Tricky

Posted on June 6, 2013 by ezealot

I’ve decided to like hipsters. It’s not because I particularly have much in common with hipsters. I don’t possess industrial-ultra-slim clothing, ironic facial hair, youth, tattoos. I don’t live in the Mission, slackline or hula hoop in Dolores Park, drink trendy coffee or date girls with thick-framed eyewear and colorful tights.

Photo Courtesy of FogandFoundry.com

In fact, for the past couple of years I’ve been known to ridicule hipsters. Not necessarily because I had anything against them, but more so that I bought into a covert trend unto itself. The anti-hipster club (kinda like the he-man woman hater’s club of Lil’ Rascals) is a prodigious movement that can be traced to it’s origins in the darkest corners of places like 25 Lusk, RN74 and Delarosa. I often think that nobody actually believes themselves to be a hipster. I’ve never met a person that has self-identified in this way.

Yet, there is no doubt that there is a citywide class war being waged between Mission hipsters and Marina types. Cute and fuzzy bunnies (points for the knowing the reference) and professionals of the North gaze somewhat scornfully at hipsters. I secretly think they desire or envy the hipster indifference, while at the same time loathing their fashion sense. Whereas the hipster looks towards those from the Marina with decided scorn. I don’t believe there’s anything about the Northern life that appeals much to the hipster, except maybe said cute and fuzzy bunnies.

Photo Courtest of Sf.FunCheap.com

I’m between worlds. I run with all crowds. I can hang with the cutest and fuzziest of them, doing my Mayurasanas, Adho Mukha Vrksasana and Koundinyasana B (don’t press me on hip-openers tho). But also spend most of my time Southside, with the exception of the essential Nopa late-nights (neutral territory), and SPQR, who equals my beloved F+W for pasta supremacy. Plus, I live in the Dogpatch where I prefer the sunshine and the shipyard views – and is also the neighborhood where aged hipsters go to nest.

To the point: One thing the hipsters and I do share is Trick Dog. The brainchild of the Bon Vivants (and decidedly hip) Scott Baird and Josh Harris, Trick Dog is a Gastropub that appeals to my sensibilities for Gastro-ing and Pub-ing (really, you went there?). And apparently it also appeals to those of the Mission-hipster species, because it’s teeming with them.

Photo Courtesy of SFGate

The aesthetics of Trick Dog are lean and modern with elements of Prohibition-era charm, mixed with some steam-punk accents. It feels very hip without being ironic or cliché. Scott and Josh themselves have formed a design business based upon the work they’ve done at the bar. There’s a cutting edge European sensibility to the layout, that reminds me of some of my favorite places in Madrid, Barcelona, Rome and Paris. You could easily find this bar tucked away in the Marais, The Born or the Chueca (yes they are all the gay neighborhoods – problem?).

But moreover, it’s about the food, the drinks and the intangible in the atmosphere that keep me coming. The crowd never gets too dense, and always feels upbeat with lots of engaged groups split between the upstairs in the downstairs. The upstairs being a compact sit-down dining space – the downstairs bar stacked a few deep with some open floor area to stand around. Flow is well considered. Noise is manageable.

Photo Courtesy of SFChonicle

The cocktails are exactly what you would expect from the Bon Vivants. Everything has been very, very well-considered. The drinks are incredibly balanced, often surprising in their subtleties: never sweet, never heavy. They go down easily, too easily. I love me some Baby Turtle, a concoction with Ocho tequila, campari, grapefruit, cinnamon, lime, egg white. And the bartenders themselves could be the most affable lot I’ve encountered in any trendy establishment in town. Just plain good-folk.

But it’s the food that really stands out to me. Not what you’d expect from a bar’s bar. The menu is not extensive – it’s very accessible. Yet, there are enough options, and it changes regularly, so that you could go a few times and still find surprises. Most things are functional for sharing – and share we do.

Some of the standouts are the Salt Cod Scotch Egg, which has a gooey yolk to balance the fishy crust and a lovely shredded beet salad underneath. The Fried Green Tomatoes they’re serving right now are outstanding – crispy, yet light with an al dente tomato center. The Radishes with Campari Butter and Smoke Se Salt are incredibly surprising in their simplicity, yet thrilling in their complexity.

Almost everything is good here but the real standout to me are the French Fries. They have an option of Manimal Style which emulates In-N-Out Burger with a tangy sauce and fried onions. And these could be the best french fries I’ve had in San Francisco and beyond. In fact, I was recently in Belgium and I’d put them up against the best I had there. They’re listed as thrice-cooked, which I assume means they’ve been boiled and then fried a couple of times. No matter, they got it right and they’re the most crispy delicious flavorful little piles of spuds you’ll find anywhere.

It took a few visits to slide into the vibe at Trick Dog and frankly, in the early weeks they were still cutting their teeth. After The Bauer gave them three-stars for food, the crowd settled in and the bar hit its stride. It’s too easy to pop in on a weeknight after some Tittibhasanas and Tolasana through to Vinyasa. I’m even thinking about getting a few tattoos and maybe reconsider my stance on dates with thick-framed eyewear – so that I can move freely amongst the hipsters as a regular.

Get Wise, Son.

Posted on October 30, 2012 by ezealot

There are a number of foods I claim to know a lot about. I can talk pizza with the best of them. Ask me about a good burger, I gotch-ya-back. Pretty much covered with most Italian, Thai and an assortment of other passion centers.

But the one cuisine of which I’ve made a practice…the one that I can profess superior understanding…the food that is programmed on my DNA… is deli. That’s right, Jew food. Old-school, East-Coast, Matzoh Ball soup, pastrami, latkes – deli.

It starts, as many of my stories start, on the milk crates in my mom’s restaurants. Where I used to sit in her kitchen, as a young boy, during summers, sick days and other days off. She had what we called a ‘coffee shop’ that I’ve explained is most like a diner, but has a lot of overlap with the world of deli. She house-made her corned beef, she had a mean matzoh ball soup on occasion, she fried up the matzoh brie and the blintzes. It wasn’t true deli, but it hinted.

Moreover, we were east coast Jews, so we ate lots and lots of latkes (and other such curios). I had a lot of family: grandparents, great aunts & uncles, cousins – old people. And old people love deli. So, anytime we gathered, we ate bagels, lox, lox-eggs-onions, smoked fish of all varieties, kasha varnishkes, pastrami, brisket, stuffed cabbage, gribenes, kishke, kreplach, kneidlach…

My closest friends and family don’t quite know the extent of my passion. I make matzoh brie weekly, I do matzoh ball soup monthly, kasha varnishkes on occasion. My interest is tolerated and not often shared by those that know me best (matzoh brie is an acquired taste). But the obsession goes deeper for me as I frequent the delis that dot the bay area and make pilgrimages to delis when I travel. I’ve conducted extensive tours of the major cities, often comparing my favorite dishes from multiple establishments in a single weekend (blintzes and pastrami in LA, whitefish, bagels and MB soup in NY).

2nd Ave Deli Matzoh Ball Soup

But San Francisco has always been a slight disappointment. I wouldn’t go the extreme like many who claim there is NO good deli here. Millers on Polk has decent fare (especially their egg/bagel breakfast sandwich) – the MB soup is satisfying, albeit a little busy, their chopped liver is a little dense, but tasty, the meats are solid – not anything to write home about, but it’ll do. Moishes Pippic in Hayes valley has even better soup and great Chicago-style hot dogs. They also do better pastrami, corned beef and a delightful brisket special on Fridays. House of Bagels has quite good whitefish salad and liver – their bagels are passable, considering the alternatives. Sauls in Oakland never did much for me, but again, it is passable for high holidays and occasional fare.

But then came Wise Sons. I was skeptical. Mission hipster jew-food? I went in with every expectation to be critical. On my first visit, I was somewhat disappointed. I ordered the Matzoh Ball Soup and was told they were out of the balls. I got some of the broth and noodles, but sat in sadness lamenting my missing balls. I love those balls.

Photo courtesy of Chow.com

The pastrami was redemptive. I had a reuben and was amazed by the balance of brine and fat, spice and texture. It was up there at the top of the canon of pastramis (Langer’s in LA still holds top position). Great rye, sauerkraut, dressing – there was hope.

I since returned multiple times and tested out most of the menu items. And I am here to say that San Francisco is finally not only a contender in the deli world, but a dominant force, thanks to Wise Sons. What Leo Beckerman and Evan Bloom have accomplished is nothing short of legendary. They have managed to take the recipes of old-school, proper deli and bring them into a world of local sourcing, farmer’s markets and high-cheffing.

Let’s start with the Chocolate Babka. It’s an easy target. It sits next to the cashier and taunts you: “hey, fatass, eat me. no, you won’t pass me by”. Then there are the breakfast call-outs. The semite is a tasty grilled sandwich with eggs, cheese and a crispy pastrami. Their matzoh brie is legit. I like mine cooked well, but they understand texture and salt (Evan told me he uses maldon, like I do with mine – instant props). On the weekends they have Beauty’s Bagels from Oakland (Montreal style, cooked in wood-fired oven) which are seriously the best we have to offer in the Bay Area. Pair these with the incredible off-the-charts smoked trout salad.

Photo Courtesy of Mission Local

There’s a dozen other breakfast dishes, all worth the visit. And here’s the thing…the place isn’t that crowded at 10am on weekdays. Go sit without waiting on line, like the weekend hoards do. You’re in the know now.

For lunch, it’s mostly about the Pastrami. Try the rueben, try the standard one double-baked rye. Get nasty with pastrami fries, smothered in russian dress (shut the front door!) Or go for the gusto with the Deli burger, ground with pastrami in the meat (i think about 1/3). Read the fine print to see the 1/2 sandwich and small cup of the matzoh ball soup.

They still set up at the Ferry Building Farmer’s Market on Tuesday. They cater so you can have Wise Sons at your holiday meals. So stop bitching about deli and bagels in San Francisco. Those days are over. We’re a powerhouse now. I only wish I thought of it first.

A Tale of Two Delis…

Posted on June 29, 2012 by ezealot

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

And so it is, we are faced with two new sandwich shops for comparison. In the summer of Aught’Twelve, a time of culinary bounty and impending depravity (we shall miss you dear foie), there lie two places – on opposites sides of town, with opposite sensibilities and objectives…and yet both are deeply satisfying.

PRIME DIP – 1515 Fillmore - http://www.primedip.com/

I heard of the legend of the Surf-N-Turf. It made it’s way around the blogosphere and I was intrigued. A lobster roll is an epicurean treasure, not to be taken lightly. Not to be slathered with mayo (in my book). Rather, it should be gently poached and dealt with in butter, on a roll. A simple roll. Not much else to it. It’s often expensive beyond reason. But it’s to be savored and relished and adored.

A good prime rib dip may not be as elegant, but can also satisfy in ways that calls one to travel for her pleasures. Give me au jus or give me death. Make it thin, pink and tender. Make her broth savory. Again, the roll is important. Horseradish is a plus.

Photo Courtesy of Localaddition.com

Bring them together in combination, half on each side of a serving vessel and one might gaze quizzically at first, but ultimately understand. The intersection of buttery lobster and horseradishy beef looks a little jumbled. I pushed them apart before I dug in. They weren’t supposed to mingle that closely. And they were delicious (and only $11, including a side of my choice).

Prime Dip is nothing fancy. I think I heard they are using rolls from Lee’s Deli. But this is definitely a step up from Lee’s. They have created some lovely, satisfying sandwiches that will bring me back. The sides are nothing to write home about. The atmosphere is uninspired. But on cross-town jaunts that hit lower Fillmore, it’s worth a stop.

SALUMERIA – 3000 20th Street - http://www.salumeriasf.com/

Occupying the realm of complete opposites to Prime Dip, Salumeria, the offshoot of her big sister Flour + Water, is a darling little gem of superlatives. The design and decor is painfully perfect. Apparently the space was an old sausage factory that was aptly repurposed for our deli delights. But the food is what really shines.

Where Prime Dip offers pedestrian sandwiches, Salumeria goes farm-to-table and brings some of the F+W soul along for the ride. Delights like a roast beef on house made pretzel roll will boggle your mind. Duck confit or any variety of house made salumi and charcuterie find their way into creative assemblies along side stunning salads / antipasti.

Everything at Salumeria can be enjoyed in the adjacent courtyard shared with Central Kitchen, the third project by the F+W guys (review to come later when I’ve been a few times). The whole space feels like you landed on a photo shoot for Sunset Magazine. It’s the epitome of NorCal style and grace, smack in the heart of Mission Gulch. And of course that means there will be hipsters.

Photo Courtesy of Eater.com

Moreover, you can purchase the salumi, cheeses, etc. as well as house-made ricotta and pastas from Flour + Water. To me, that’s a huge bonus. In fact, they just stepped up to Fatted Calf and said, yes we can. I recently hosted a dinner party including a number of their treats. And my guests claimed yes they did.

And so I declare that I am satisfied by both. I am a man of contradiction, but I follow my heart. And I shall always follow my heart. So I leave you with Dickens…

He knew enough of the world to know that there is nothing in it better than the faithful service of the heart.

Eat Shit!

Posted on May 15, 2012 by ezealot

My father just visited and it reminded me of a post I’ve been pondering for a while. This one is completely dedicated to him and the [very pleasant] childhood memories I have of his influence on my eating habits. Dad, I will always be proud to credit your for my joyous propensity to eat shit.

I grew up in a restaurant family. My grandparents and their siblings, my parents and extended family were mostly in the business. I was surrounded by food all of the time. In New Jersey in the 70s there wasn’t much more than diners, greasy spoons, coffee shops and luncheonettes. One could debate the actual classifications of our restaurants (as my father and I did this weekend) but they’re all really just variations on similar themes.

We’re talking breakfasts of bacon, eggs, pancakes, sausages, hash browns, omelets – and, because were close to Philly, scrapple and creamed-chipped-beef. For lunch it was soups, sandwiches with house-roasted turkey and corned-beef, meatloaf, steak-fries, beef stew, spaghetti & meatballs, pies, ice cream and milkshakes. Needless to say, I wasn’t exposed to many vegetables or healthy meals in my youth.

The other factor that influenced my love of all-things-crap was growing up at the Jersey shore. The staple of our diet was the sub (please don’t call it a hoagie, grinder or other such abomination). We ate subs. Serious subs. The “regular” or “italian” sub was a concoction of assorted deli meats, including mortadella, salami, ham, capicola and provolone cheese – slathered in oil and vinegar and stuffed into a hollowed out Formica Brother’s Roll (it has to be this bread – nothing else will do). There was also great meatball, cheesesteak and tuna versions. A “half-a-sub” was about 12″ – not the healthiest proportions or ingredients. But so fucking good!

The Zolot men are lucky, beyond compare. We are graced with a metabolism that allows us to consume ungodly quantities without gaining an ounce of fat until we hit 40 and even then it’s just plain unfair what we can get away with into our 70s. This leads to many interesting habits formed over a lifetime of indulgence. My son is clearly following in our footsteps as he consumes three breakfasts daily and remains a bean pole. This explains how things go even more awry. But I digress, so back to the tales…

I first started to notice my father’s monstrous appetite at a young age when, at any dinner table, plates would be shifted in his direction at the end of the meal. Anything not consumed by anyone present would be devoured and treasured by this champion eater. He’d laugh and joke as he consumed everything we’d leave behind. There were times where you’d have to protect your plate because he would be eyeing something across the table (before you were finished) that appealed to him, a defense you’d be smart to practice even today in his presence.

I started to come into my own as our family began taking regular trips to Boston to visit relatives. Here, our prized site was Quincy Market at Faneuil Hall. This was the holy grail of food courts in the country at the time. And we would eat our way from end to end. We’d order everything from pizza to sausage and peppers to seafood to bbq and on and on. My goal was to keep up with Dad. It was our bonding moment. We did well. I grew into a champion myself.

Fast forward. I am 43 years old and I still crave the foods of my childhood. So much so that I almost feel like I lead a secret life. Even the people that know me the best don’t quite understand the depth of my compulsion towards these sorts of foods. When I was working a job that required me to travel around all of the neighborhoods in San Francisco to call upon clients, I had a mental map of the places, these special places, that satisfy my deepest cravings. I’d relish the opportunity to visit my most miserable Pacific Heights clients because of the opportunities that bordered me by both north and south. The rare call in the Mission led me into serious naughtiness. Even today, my girlfriend lives just off Polk Street and I can do some serious damage within two blocks…

With all of this buried deep inside me, it is time that I expose my inner-map and share the wonders of shitty eating in our wonderful town. As it is past midnight when I write this, I will start with the obvious. When inspiration brings me to add to the list, I will update. Certainly bookmark if you share my obsession. And if you don’t, please refrain from judgement, as I am merely a product of my genetic disposition and environment. Thanks Dad!

Bob’s Donuts – Since I am sitting a block away and can smell the frying of the apple fritter [in my mind at least] let’s start here. This is old school donuting. Nothing fancy, but seriously good. The above mentioned fritter, the crumb, the buttermilk. Try those first.

Miller’s East Coast Deli – A 1/2 block in the other direction. Here you can do damage with Matzoh Ball soup, latkes and blintzes, but what moves me to post is the breakfast sandwich. A bagel (flown in from NYC), egg and cheese with bacon or ham? Get the eggs fried so the yolks ooze onto the bread. This is the closest you’ll find to the real deal.

The Cheesesteak Shop – This small chain (my outlet is on Divis) brings everything in from Philly. But you have to know how to order. Get the meal deal with steak fries (curly fries are for girls) and make sure to get the extra meat (they tend to be weak on it with a regular order – that’s the big difference in making this authentic). Don’t forget to order TastyKakes for dessert – my favorites being Butterscotch Crimpets (my father too) and Peanut butter KandyCakes.

Lucca Deli – The one in the Marina, not on Valencia. Big difference. Here you get deviled eggs. Crazy good potato salad – I’m serious you MUST try this stuff. Try a mortadella sandwich on acme sweet with imported provolone and olive oil and vinegar. Maybe a side of their meat ravioli (eaten cold with your sandwich).

Molinari Deli – Molinari lacks in the deli case compared to Lucca in my opinion. But not to be outdone they’e got a chicken cutlet that makes me do backflips. I’ll eat them plain, but to really go for it is to get a chicken parm sandwich. Get extra sauce so you can dip. I dare you to grab a cannoli from Stella Pastry up the street. I’m not dicking around here, people.

Gaspare’s – So, while we’re talking chicken parm, there isn’t a better one on the west coast. Or a better lasagna or veal milanese. All of them are heart stoppers. But you also come for the pizza. You knew that. It’s the most satisfying non-neapolitan pie in the city. Order it with pepperoni for sure, but if you’re me, you might add meatballs AND sausage.

Russian Bakery – Did you think you’d leave Geary & 19th (just next door to Gaspare’s) without some treats to take home? How about Russian meat-stuffed donuts, also known as piroshki? They also do them with cheese. Or maybe some blintzes, or pastry of all sorts. I couldn’t tell you the names, but the thing with the poppy seeds and the napoleon-type thing. Sublime.

Flower Market Cafe – You didn’t think there were diners in San Francisco that come close to New Jersey. Well, you’re right. But I do enjoy the [lack of] ambiance and [lack of] charm of the Flower Market cafe. And the food actually isn’t so bad. I come for the corned-beef hash. It’s old school. So not fancy. Smothered in ketchup.

Pork Store Cafe – The most satisfying breakfast for me is at this Mission or Haight eatery. I ignore the entire menu in favor of bacon, eggs and hash browns (yes, real greasy crispy HBs) and a biscuit with a side of sausage gravy. You try this and tell me your day won’t include a nap and a serious bout of deep moral regret. And smiles.

St. Francis Fountain – milkshakes & french fries. Nuff said.

Hamburgers – That’s right, it’s the name of the place. 737 Bridgeway in Sausalito. I will drive across the bridge regularly for these puppies. A rotisserie grill, spinning perfect, unfancy burgers with crinkle-cut french fries. Call your order in ahead. The line can get insane in the summer.

Da’Beef – I love a proper Chicago dog. If you don’t know what this means, you might not get it. For those who do, there are two places I know of to get them. This cart keeps sporadic hours on the corner of 7th and Folsom. It’s worth tracking them down. Their italian beef isn’t bad either.

Moishe’s Pippic – If you want a more regular shot at the Chicago Dog, this Hayes Valley gem does them perfect. Plus you can get a mean Matzoh Ball soup, corned beef, pastrami, chopped liver and brisket (on fridays) sandwich. Plus Abel and Joe and two of the most affable people you’ll meet.

Gorilla BBQ – Drive down to Pacifica so you can eat solid BBQ out of a train caboose. The novelty is fun, but the food isn’t so shabby.

Memphis Minnies – But if you’re looking for decent BBQ in the city, Minnies is my pick. I like the unencumbered meat and their sauce choices. The mac and cheese is respectable.

Ok, you’ve got a great start here. More to come soon, I promise. And show me some love if you like these. I want to hear your favorites.

And more…

Arinell is what a New York slice of pizza should be (on Valencia St). It’s greasy, it’s big, it comes with tattoos, meth heads and a ton of funk. And they’ve got a proper slice of Sicilian. That is real east-coast.

McDonalds – I’m gonna go out on a limb here. Piss off some people. But at breakfast time, the unholiest of chains has the deal of deals on a satisfying tidbit. The dollar menu. Hash browns and Sausage McMuffin or Sausage Biscuit $2.17 with tax – yes I know that. There, I said it. I do this sometimes and I’m tired of hiding it. And it’s really fucking satisfying in a way for which I should be locked up. Sue me. Take away my foodie creds. You’re all snobs anyway.

Speaking of satisfying, I have to mention, with no apparent benefit to anyone, that I tried to most amazing breakfast burrito last year at my friend’s annual party in Paso Robles and I cannot wait to have it again this year. The crazy woman who made these put eggs, sausage, crispy hash browns, bits of biscuits and sausage gravy in a burrito. Never had better.

Ketch Joanne – I failed to get enough deep fried action for you. And for that, I’m headed down to Pillar Point Harbor, right where I get my crabs off the boat. Fish and chips, fried shrimp – anything fried is good here, and also clam chowder. Run down, down home, home style – all good.

Tu Lan – Continuing with fried, their fried spring rolls are nom nom times nom nom. Sure, get some ginger chicken or other such nonsense, but a proper Vietnamese spring roll (done with lettuce, noodles, carrots, sweet sauce, mint) is a thing of epic beauty. Plus it’s 6th Street. And if something is going down, it’s going down on 6th Street.

Happy-Ness

Posted on January 30, 2012 by ezealot

We tend to go through our lives, head down, plugging away at the things we do to pay our bills, to entertain us, to keep in shape, to connect with our community and to stimulate our minds. This is the best way I can describe life in the modern era. We use technology to attempt to better our existence, but I believe in hindsight these will be seen as the dark ages. We’re suffering through inefficiencies in order to embrace the possibility of better living through technology, but we’re far from there.

Last year I had an idea. A clear vision, that made my heart race and kept me up at nights with child-like excitement that I may have found my way to contribute to the collective. A solution to a problem. A big problem. The right solution.

I shared my idea with a handful of my circle and it was deemed a great idea, for the most part. I enlisted my greater community to guide me is moving this idea forward and connect me to others that could help complete the vision. I sat in front of a handful of generous colleagues in the venture capital world who would help me to refine this idea and take steps towards building something.

One of my advisors put me in touch with a lovely and talented young lad named Ben. Ben is a rising star in the tech world and holds the attention of many people through his popular reporting and musings on the business of tech. Ben flipped for the idea and saw a better future as a result of it. We instantly clicked and decided to partner and get down to business.

I quickly learned that most technology startups need to be bootstrapped to create a product, any product, before any investor will talk to you. It’s the way things are done now. Ideas don’t float like in the days of bubble and bloat. You need a tangible representation of your ability to build and create. I leaned that a startup is best founded by the general personality types of a designer, a distributor and a developer. We needed a developer.

I soon learned that many of the great software developers are poached early-on to work for Google or Facebook. And those with experience often start their own projects. I went to “Founder Dating” events to track down engineering talent and realized that there are many many people who are trying to fulfill their dreams of better living through technology. I learned that most people don’t go very far with it.

Ben and I hit a wall. This idea was just too good to let it slip away, but neither of us were able to find an entrepreneurial-minded engineer co-founder. We had to pay our bills. We gently let the idea slip. I took the summer off to hang out with my son. Ben starting looking around for other things.

Whilst exploring the world of internet startups, two of my advisors told me about a similar concept that was under development by a team of young, enthusiastic and well-connected silicon valley / Berkeley minds. I was intrigued. Truth be told, after twenty years of doing the entrepreneurial heavy lifting, I was ready to consider a back seat. Perhaps my next pathway was on the shoulders of those smarter and more aggressive than I?

The idea that I had last year, the one that kept me up at nights and that offered better living through technology was essentially directed at this problem… The thing we lack most right now in our daily attempts to use technology to get what we want, is relevancy. We search, research, click, dig, read, review, filter, sort, gauge, judge, ask, refine, share, borrow, test, report, compare, and on and on. Then, after all of this, we decide. It all just seems like we’ve given ourselves information overload through the likes of Google and Yelp and we’ve complicated life rather than simplify it. Technology is not helping us.

There are a lot of people trying to solve this problem. Unfortunately, I think most of them have missed the target. I won’t get into specifics and only time will tell who floats to the top. Sure there are many ways to skin a cat (by the way, how much do I LOVE this phrase and hate cats at the same time!), so time will tell who has the secret sauce. Enter Ness.

Ness is short for Likeness (
http://likeness.com
) and is answering the problem in the exact way I envisioned, perhaps even better. They are using machine learning to predict human behavior and suggest solutions to the shit over which we obsess and waste time. The idea is that everybody has their own “Ness”. I have AdamNess, you have YourNess. It’s the thing that defines us. It’s what separates us from each other. Yet we overlap, we cross-pollinate, we share and influence and make similar choices. So, Ness understands who we are and who others are enough to recommend things we’ll likely like.

Their first demonstration of this technology is in the Ness Dining Guide iPhone application (link to iTunes). Check it out. See how it does for you. I’d love to hear what you think. Why? Because the Zealot is entering the workforce again. Yes, so you’ve probably figured out that this post is a pitch in support of my current employer (currently as a consultant). But I don’t shill for just any company. These guys are the real deal and I believe in this thing. So, I’m giving you the inside scoop. Go get yours.

There are many ways this technology could help us beyond food: books, movies, events, travel, etc…Ultimately Ness can change the way we make decisions. In theory, if something knew us well enough to narrow our choices, technology would actually make our lives easier. It’s a simple concept with a complicated solution. It’s the current tech holy grail.

So off I go into that goodNess. I shall continue to muse to you, my loyals. And perhaps one of these days I’ll get back to talking about restaurants or food. Or, maybe, you won’t need me anymore if Ness does its job.

The Secret Sauce

Posted on December 13, 2011 by ezealot

I’ve lived a fine life. When I was 16, as many young American Hebrews do, I took a trip to Israel to explore the motherland and deepen my connection to the religion. For me it worked in the other direction. I saw so many secular Israelis, seemingly fulfilling the Zionist mission, yet absent of piety and reverence. They just were. People connected to their history but not wrapped up in god or dogma. I never looked back.

Then came college. Somehow, I cannot recall how I wound up doing my final year abroad in Italy. Seriously, I don’t know what led me to this decision. I knew nothing abut the place, had no connection (other than my mother’s half-Italian heritage, which merely meant good spaghetti and meatballs in our house). But there I was, deep in the experience of learning Italian history, culture, language, art, archaeology… I never looked back.

After I graduated college my first and only job was in the travel industry. I stumbled upon it while looking for anything I could do after moving to Boulder, Colorado on a whim. I was planning to study nautical archaeology at CU, as there was a professor who focused on Roman ports in Israel, the perfect marriage of my passions. To pay the bills, I took a position with a tour company specializing in adventures in Southeast Asia. I was a Mac guy that could work magic on their Filemaker database. Soon I was spending months a year in Asia building their sales division and becoming a noted expert on travel in Asia. I never looked back.

I’m fortunate to say that travel is my greatest passion that I’ve continually fulfilled. It’s my familiar. I slip it on easily. Throughout the ups and downs of life, I always seek to create new experiences by discovering new lands. In fact, I really live for the next trip. No matter what I’m doing, I want to know that I have two or three weeks in the not so distant future that will recharge my batteries. It the only way I know how to accept and manage the doldrums of normal life (ok, it’s not so bad, really…but you get the point).

Now, on the road in Argentina, discovering a new place, yet again, with a life very different than my last trip to Spain in 2010 and Greece in 2009, I’ve noticed a trend. First, it doesn’t matter where life has taken us, when we travel we reconnect with ourselves. Without the pressures of our daily grind, the expectations we set for ourselves, the routine…it’s easier to get to the root and be present. Moreover, when we experience another culture a traveler will relinquish his predisposition, ignorance and fears and become more receptive to what the universe offers. We let go a little easier, we experience a little deeper.

On this trip I’ve already found a deep connection to Argentina. I know it, even after just a few days. The formula adds up – they have the secret sauce. It’s not hard for my readers to see that my favorite places in the world are Thailand and Italy. I speak both languages passably and have returned time and again, something I haven’t done in many of the other lands I’ve visited. When I look at the commonalities between the places, and now add Argentina to the mix, there is a pattern: I like places that have a broad geographical diversity, Thailand’s north and south couldn’t be more different. Italy’s have practically seceded from each other. Argentina has Patagonia and wine country and Buenos Aires and more. There’s a casual elegance about everything here. Its not Europe, but it’s got the same charm. Then there are the people, friendly and welcoming all across the board. In each of these places you really feel like you can get a sense of their true experience. They welcome you to participate.

But most importantly, and I wouldn’t be the Zealot if it weren’t so, each country reigns supreme on their continent for food. Sure, you can argue that Vietnamese is better than Thai or French is superior to Italian or the Brazilians or Chileans outdo the Argentines. But this is my blog and I’m the one ranting. So, I’ll say it. Thai, Italian and Argentine food sensibilities speak to me and I consider them the best. I dream of Thai noodles and curries. I lust after handmade pasta and regional Italian cuisine. And so far, I’m quite impressed with Argentine seafood, empanadas and of course the beef. I’m looking forward to two more weeks of exploration.

I love that there are common threads in these places. I am glad to be uncovering this secret sauce of my own. I’m positively certain we all have our own secret sauces. It helps me to understand me a little better. It gives me joy to have places that I can return and feel at home, so far away, yet so familiar. I’m loving being present. And, I’ll never look back…

It’s The Ingredients, Stupid!

Posted on December 11, 2011 by ezealot

I’ve reached the ass-end of the world, and it’s actually quite lovely! No joke…after a three hour flight to Dallas followed by a ten hour flight to Buenos Aires, then a fourty-five minute bus ride to Aeroparque and a four hour flight to Ushuaia, you just run out of room. There ain’t much further you can travel.

In fact, when looking at the expansion patterns of early man, starting in the Rift Valley, across the Bering Strait land bridge, through the Americas – this was the last place they landed. 10,000 years ago, when civilizations were starting to develop in earnest (good morning Mesopotamia!), the last place mankind reached was here. Tierra Del Fuego. Cape Horn. Bumfuck Argentina.

There’s a barren windswept quality to the place. Rugged mountains, frigid seas. Big ice-breakers and Antartica-bound cruise ships. Yet it is still Argentina, which means really-charming, European (almost), civilized, and… well-fed. Stunning, actually. And who would expect, a place to find a really good meal. Really good.

I’d read about the quality restaurants in Ushuaia, but that’s very relative and subjective. I certainly can’t trust Yelp or Tripadvisor for relevant reviews. Ness, the only recommendation resource of any worth, hasn’t expanded outside of the USA, so I’m left to my own devices. Tales of legendary fish at a place called Kaupè lured us to try, even though prices were more in line with Danko than Ushuaia. Lonely Planet ranked this place the #4 restaurant in South America. Here? Really?

We entered a lovely house-like dining room where the chef-owner was standing in his whites, talking to guests. The place had a hush to it like many temples-of-food I’d visited in the past. Not as quiet as French Laundry, but that similar anticipatory reverence. The view is lovely, with large windows opening up to the Channel Beagle. There were large hunks of pure white fish on most plates, blinding white, impossibly white. There were few accoutrements.

We ordered from a small food menu and a massive wine list of argentine varietals. Katia would have a Sea Bass in black butter. She was craving fish, singing about it, dancing at the thought after our two days of travel and airplane food. King Crab in the chef’s sauce for me. Carpaccio and scallop appetizers. Malbec.

Hot yummy house-made bread was delivered with a spinach cream in lieu of butter. Heavenly. The wine was sublime. Scallops were fresh and tasty swimming in a light interpretation of Lyonaisse. The carpaccio was outrageous, topped with a local cheese and large capers. Everyone talks about the quality of Argentine beef. My first taste was raw and it was magic.

But it was the white brick of fish we wanted. When it came to the table we nearly needed sunglasses. Did I mention it was snow white? One bite and Katia melted: “best fish I’ve ever had”. The sauce was excellent, but it really just complimented the moist and tender sea bass. It didn’t need much. We plowed through it with abandon, almost treating my wonderful king crab as a side dish.

A quick non sequitur. The one side dish we did have were some potatoes with a light mustard sauce. Any time I travel, potatoes are extremely different than home. Small in stature, deep in flavor, the non-US potato is a treat. Most US potatoes leave me flat. Why can’t we figure this one out. Even the best farmers market potatoes seem to lack that non-US depth of flavor. Maybe it’s the water?

Which leads me to the title of this post. After our meal we sat and talked with the chef until closing time. He was quiet and affable, self-taught…a local, in fact. This left me quizzical. what was his preparation of this fish, what was the technique? How did he accomplish what our trained chefs in SF seem to miss so often with fish? He smiled and said “it’s the ingredients” (I’ve added the ‘stupid’ part to reflect my own snarkiness). The fish, the beef, the potatoes – he gets them every day from the source and they happen to be very good sources.

I’ll give the man more credit for his handling of these ingredient, but as we all quest for perfection in our culinary goals it’s not a bad mantra to keep in our heads: As we murder, molest, marinade and mangle our food sometime we need to just step back, get to the root of flavor and remember that “It’s the ingredients, stupid”.

The Five Course Thanksgiving

Posted on November 25, 2011 by ezealot

I’m just scraping myself up off the floor. Literally. Last night I slept on my couch, in my bed, on my ottoman, on a storage bench and, yes, on the floor. You see, I think I’ve been very vocal about our Thanksgiving tequila tradition. Last night was no exception. In fact, it was epic. There were loving, heated discussions at decibels that can crack ear drums. There were torrid hookups and meltdowns, singing, crying and vomiting. There was also a lot of love. My family and friends came together and weren’t shy about expressing their feelings. Aided by the tequila, it was a true love fest. And I got shitty drunk.

Now, as a look back on the day, which began at noon and ended around 10:30pm, I can’t recall any stress from cooking or the flow of the night. Everything went nearly perfectly. I’ll blame the tequila for the slightly overcooked bread puddings and definitely for the full-on-burnt-croutons. Imagine how I could fuck up BOTH dishes with Tartine Country Bread? Oy.

So, I’m standing by my previous post. My preparations were spot-on and the food exceeded my expectations. Which leads me to another topic on Thanksgiving that is post-worthy. How do you plan a day of food, with a lot of attendees without suffering from cacophonous plate syndrome? Typical Thanksgiving just doesn’t work. Sweet potatoes AND mashed potatoes on the same place? Turkey, stuffing, cranberries, vegetables, bread rolls side by side? Sorry – it’s just doesn’t work. Yeah, I know, it’s your tradition – you look forward to it every year. But from a foodist perspective, it’s just plain wrong.

So, for the past ten years or so, I’ve been doing Thanksgiving in courses. Start early, plan to include some of the typical flavors in the starter courses, but eliminate some of the clutter from the main course. All tolled, I probably cook 3-4 starter dishes, small plates, lots of flavor. Then comes the main course, typically with Turkey, potato, stuffing, veggie. It’s still a lot, but works a lot cleaner than the norm. Then we have two or three dessert options.

I typically reinterpret sweet potatoes. This is a food that can have many faces and has shown up as Sweet Potato Risotto, Sweet Potato Tortilla Espanola, Sweet Potato Gnocchi and this year’s Sweet Potato Agnolotti with Browned Butter Sage Cream. I used a Thomas Keller Recipe ‘to the letter’ and it was drop-dead amazing.

This year, the menu looked like this:

Guests arrive at noon. Cousin Amy rocked a charcuterie ensemble for the ages. AND she made Gougères, straight outta Julia Child. They were stunning.

1. (1:00pm) Crab-Cake-Style Shrimp Cakes with Poblano Greek Yogurt Puree
2. (2:00pm) Sliky Celery Root Soup with Black Forest Bacon
3. (3:00pm) Sweet Potato Agnolotti with Browned Butter Sage Cream
4. (5:00pm) Cider Glazed Turkey with Lager Gravy
Savory Bread Puddings with Green Onion, Sage Sausage and Goat Cheese
Marsha’s Mashed Potatoes
Dirty Girl Farm’s Radicchio Salad with Pomegranate Vinaigrette
5. (8:00pm) Amy’s Pear Crisp with Bourbon Cream
Tartine Coconut Cream Tart and Assorted Cookies
“Baked” Red Velvet Layered Cake

The timing went off without a hitch. Because everything was prepped, it was just a matter of minor finishes and assembly for each dish. After we finished a dish it gave us a chance to clean up and mingle. It feels like you really get to catch up with people this way.

I’m happy to share most of these recipes, but frankly, you can google or search foodandwine.com to uncover many of them (my crab cake recipe is on this site). I do a lot of interpretation and adaptation of the base recipes, but it’s a good start. Some day I should share the soup recipe – I kinda rocked it.

So ditch the traditional nonsense. Go for Thanksgiving in courses. Your guests will appreciate it and soon forget the messy plate piles of portions past.

* Note: Crab season didn’t happen this year. The fisherman are in dispute with the buyers over $.50 per pound. It’s a shame, as this is our favorite tradition each year. The substitution of shrimp was a game-saver (they were quite good), but it just isn’t the same. A big shout out to Tom Borden for paddling his surfboard out in epic swells to drop traps. Unfortunately he on came up with two crabs (he believes the traps were poached).

The Four Days of Thanksgiving

Posted on November 23, 2011 by ezealot

By choosing atheism I have taken the wind out of a lot of holidays. I could easily get bogged down in a defensive posture to rally against the inconsistencies and fairytales that comprise the pandemic delusions we call religion. Ebenezer Scrooge ain’t got nothing on an atheist. With all of our crazy ‘logic’ and silly ‘reason’ we approach the holidays with skepticism and sensitivity that can suck out the joy and the merry.

Some could argue that we don’t deserve to celebrate many holidays and we should just leave the praising parties to the pious. Historically, I call foul. Atheists love to point out that many of the holidays celebrated today are actually poached from pagan traditions. Your Christmas was really winter solstice. Your easter was a fertility festival. And we all know that Hanukah is just an excuse for Jews to give presents, not to be outdone by their Christian neighbors.

Thanksgiving, while decidedly non-religious, isn’t without exception. In my twenties and thirties I would call it “the rape and pillage of the Native American homeland day”. Today, that just seems douchey. In my forties life is all about acceptance, awareness and balance. Moreover, I’d rather focus my energies on being a foodist and a hedonist. A Holiday centered around food. Sign me up!

Plus there’s this whole idea of giving thanks – what a novel concept! In the past few years I’ve undergone a deep exploration of the nature of appreciation, giving and receiving. A dear old friend and mentor, Jim Freedom recently told me “If you ask yourself what you really want from life, would that not include what we call the ‘light’; appreciation, joy, love, gratitude? And that comes with practice. The quality of our life experience is reflected in how we emotionally react to what life is offering.” Damn, that’s some good juice!

So what better way for me, the zealous epicurean, to offer thanks & appreciate to my community – to the universe, than through food! Thanksgiving is the perfect holiday for me and mine. As a child I loved visiting my relatives in Boston for Thanksgiving, who now live out here in California. We’ve re-dedicated a tradition to celebrate together with my friends and extended family here. Through college and beyond I developed many of my current Thanksgiving practices (tequila, in particular) with the Colorado contingent of my family. I miss celebrating with them and hope someday we can join forces again. And, for the past decade, I’ve become the host. I own Thanksgiving. It’s my hold-it-now. It’s my rhyme.

I hear many people get nervous about preparing the annual meal-of-meals. Like New Year’s Eve is for partying, Thanksgiving is amateur night for cooking. It’s the one time a year many people will host a dozen-twenty people and they’re stymied. The problem is in the preparation. Many people don’t allow themselves the time to tackle turkey-day tenderly. It’s a four-day event, people. No more, no less. You don’t need full days, just a few hours each to get in stride for cooking on Wed.

DAY 1 – Monday
You should have planned a menu a while ago. In my next post I will share with you my 2011 menu. I like to reinvent traditional dishes and sometimes tackle a theme. With the right preparation you can actually get creative. Go to foodandwine.com or saveur.com or epicurious.com – narrow down your choices and print out a stack of options. Plan to enter Monday with recipes in hand, raring to go.

Create your shopping list today. I find the best way is to take all of the recipes and go through them one by one, listing the ingredients on a spreadsheet. Then put the amounts of each item in the row (for example butter might have 8tbs + 2 sticks + 4tbs for multiple recipes). Then I’ll add up the amounts and round them up to cover my butt. I’ll add a column to identify which store to obtain the item (I often hit 3-4 stores for Thanksgiving). You could even break it down by sections within the store (produce, dairy). This makes it easy to tackle the shopping tomorrow.

Day 2 – Tuesday
Get your shopping done today. Everyone else is going to be clambering at the stores on Wed. go early when the shelves are stocked and the staff aren’t burnt out.

I also use Tuesday to do my most advance preparations. Anything I can cut, prep, chop or prepare and freeze today, knock it out. The more you finish today, the easier tomorrow will be.

Day 3 – Wednesday
This is your big day. If you want to actually enjoy Thanksgiving, get it done today. It is important to think about execution tomorrow and how you can utilize the available oven and stovetop space effectively. Remember, the turkey is going to take up the entire oven for most of the day. If you can prepare the other oven dishes to near finality, you can heat them up while the turkey is resting. We often plan our meals in multiple courses to avoid the major crush of turkey time. It allows us to space out the day and relax a little bit, enjoying each dish on it’s own (of course you want to have your turkey and it’s sides together, but try to keep the plate piling to a minimum).

Prepare everything so that the dishes that must be cooked tomorrow (turkey and mashed potatoes are the only ones I leave for Thursday) can be done with ease and focus. Brine or season your turkey and put it aside. Start your gravy with the neck and giblets and put it aside to add turkey juices tomorrow. Get all of your side dishes completely done and ready to finish a la minute. Your fridge should be stacked high with everything labeled and a schedule in hand of how you will execute. Moreover, you should prepare your serving dishes (with labels) and serving utensils. Don’t leave anything to chance.

Day 4 – Thursday
I put my turkey in the oven early. I cook it low and slow. Real slow. Potatoes go along side. Everyone else is busying setting the tables and decorating so I can focus on basting the bird, pulling things in an out of the oven and executing dish after dish with minimal effort. When my guests arrive (we start at noon), I want to be able to mix and mingle and only return to the kitchen to put the final touches on something before it is served.

So, on this day of Thanks – I wish my best to you and yours. Many of my readers are part of my family, my community. We’re all connected in one way or another. I revel in the glory of connection. I am thankful for the wonderful people in my life and for the opportunity to share my views and be heard. Enjoy your Thanksgiving, hopefully with some organized calm. If not, next year. Now you know.

Where to…Eat, Now?

Posted on August 22, 2011 by ezealot

Life in San Francisco is hectic enough. Between our jobs, zumba-pilates-yoga-triathalontraining, family life, friends, fetishes and foundations who really has the time to keep on top of the restaurant scene? Obviously this is one of my greatest passions and I still find myself getting scooped or unawares of the next great food truck, pop up or dining hot spot. I can only imagine how daunting it is for people with normal time or interest.

Still, we’re a food obsessed town. Everyone wants to try out the latest Beard-nominated phenom. When your friends come to town from Paris, you just want to give them that insider experience – don’t you? But where to begin? How can you keep on top of things without spending days combing the interwebs looking for relevant information. And who can you trust?

Following is a breakdown of my favorite ways to get information about dining in San Francisco. But frankly, I think most of the resources I use are national, so if you find yourself in New York, Chicago or LA, this could easily be applicable.

THE LIST
For the aforementioned ‘friends in town’ scenario – the best place to start is at our dear old friend sf.eater.com. On the “38 Essential San Francisco Restaurants” page, superstar editor Carolyn Alburger painstakingly updates monthly the “in” places in the Bay. She even comments on why places are added or removed. It’s really the greatest resource we have for knowing where you ‘should’ be eating. There’s even a handy map if you’re trying to zero in on a neighborhood. Her list requires that a restaurant be open at least six months, so I don’t consider this the cutting edge I often seek. It’s more of a safe bet.

THE HEAT MAP
For more of the cutting edge, Ms. Alburger has created the spectacular, indispensable “Eater Heat Map” where “More often than not, tipsters, readers, friends and family of Eater have one question: Where should I eat right now?” The question is deftly answered with the places that have buzz. While this list might cause debate amongst die-hard obsessives, it’s a great resource for most enthusiasts.

THE NEWSLETTER
Tablehopper is a newsletter that is published weekly by Marcia Gagliardi, the queen bee of the Bay Area food scene. A subscription to her newsletter is an essential part of being-in-the-know. The minute something opens Marcia is there and reporting. She also keeps an updated list of 10 Places to Eat at Now that comes in handy on a search. In fact, if you compare it to the eater lists, places with overlap are a sure bet [wink wink].

NO RESERVATIONS
Opentable is not only good for getting reservations, but in many cases, I prefer the reviews here over Yelp. They tend to be concise and trend in directions that can help you make choices (I’ll comment about Yelp below). But most importantly, we often don’t plan enough in advance to score reservations at places like Flour+Water and Frances. With Opentable, you can see what is available as you comb the lists above. I will often plug in my date / time and scan the available reservations before making a decision.

MESSAGE BOARD
Chowhound is daunting. Unless you are prepared to navigate miles of message boards to find the pearl of wisdom you seek, you might want to try a different approach. If I am looking for something specific, like “Best Pizza in San Francisco” I will add “chowhound” to my google search and scan the lively debates. What I’ll often find is that a thread will go on forever, but clear consensus forms, from which I can make a pretty solid decision. This has been my savior when seeking whitefish salad in New York, Deli in LA and hot dogs / pizza in Chicago.

NO WAY, JOSE
Time to Yelp bash a little. I don’t see much value in Yelp. When people are moved to post to Yelp, I question their motivation. I’m guessing it is typically when they have an experience that moves them to action, whether positive, negative or neutral, depending on the person themselves. But, what do we know about these people? And how are their opinions relevant to us? I could try to glean information from their profile or previous posts, but thats simply too much work. I often find that I don’t get much help out of Yelp in actually making decisions. Sorry for the non-sequitor here, but I think it’s relevant.

BLOGS, GLORIOUS BLOGS
Lastly, the Bay Area is littered with media outlets and blogs, like my own, that can help you find some solid information. Here is a list of some of my favorites:

7×7 Eat + Drink
San Francisco Magazine Eat & Drink
SFGate Food
SFBG Food & Drink
SFWeekly Foodie
Bay Are Bites KQED
Grub Street SF
Cooking with Amy
Bay Are Foodie
YUM SFStation
KelsEats

Now that I’ve added to the inundation of your life, I leave you with my favorite Dr. Suess, as it relates to seeking restaurants, from “Oh, the Places You’ll Go”:

You’ll look up and down streets. Look ‘em over with care.
About some you will say, “I don’t choose to go there.”
With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,
you’re too smart to go down any not-so-good street.

Taste of Potrero

Posted on March 24, 2011 by ezealot

I’ve been a busy bee. Unfortunately I’ve neglected you. It’s not that I don’t love you. I do. Very much. It’s just that something suddenly came up (props for getting the Brady reference).

Well, lots of things came up. Divorce. Hanging with my son. Lots. And loving it. Single life. Working for the man after selling my business. Scheming and planning the next great business things (more to come on this soon, I promise). And…trying to flip the script on our neighborhood school as the PTA fundraising chairman.

That’s right, the Zealot has a warm fuzzy center and is a big community guy. I live in Potrero Hill (actually I am in the Dogpatch now, but we still own our house on the Hill). Back in the day when my little’man was a nubbin, we struggled to find a preschool. When all hope was lost and we nearly ended up in a corporate droid factory, we stumbled upon a group of parents who were saving an Elementary School slated for closure. They had a mission to create a Spanish Immersion program at Daniel Webster Elementary and open a bi-lingual preschool to act as a feeder. While we weren’t certain we wanted to be guinea pigs, the people associated with the project seemed to be determined and competent. With few options, we jumped in feet first.

The first year was rough. Teachers got sorted out. The partner organization proved to be incompetent and we decided to go independent. Our son was frustrated by having teachers come and go. But, at the same time, we were part of a community of people experiencing the same frustrations and working together, and hard, to change things. In fact, this group transformed from meetings, dropoffs and playdates to real friendships and a deep connected bond. We created a real neighborhood vibe, unlike anything I’ve seen in an urban setting. The school improved drastically in year-two and we got into a groove.

Then it was time to find a kindergarten. We were warned that getting into a San Francisco preschool was harder than getting into college. If that’s the case, then getting into a private K program is like getting into the Ivy League. Getting into your public K of choice is like…well, winning the lottery. Well hike my skirt and call me Shirley. The process just sucked. We went on interviews with all of the elite schools and made friends with the admission directors. We put on the best face possible and sought out any conditions that might help us get one of the coveted spots. But we weren’t gay, ethnic of any sort, newsworthy, notable or needy enough to pass muster. We got ‘waitlisted’. As for the publics, we were put in our neighborhood Starr King General Ed program. Ugh.

Then, in the second round of lottery in the public system we received the good news that we were accepted into Daniel Webster Elementary’s Spanish Immersion program, the very project that our preschool was built to feed. And so it was fed. Now, you might think we were ecstatic about this, but DW is no peach. Remember, the school was slated for closure and this dog has fleas. I’ve heard of schools turning around due to parental involvement, but DW was at the start of its turnaround. It looked like we were going to be guinea pigs again. But this time, I decided to step up and get involved. I volunteered to be the fundraising chair.

So, here were are, a year has nearly gone by. My son speaks Spanish, well. He’s getting awards at school and I’m the proudest dad alive. Our teacher is dedicated to her students and while there is chaos around them, the Kinders are in a warm nest of support, nurturing and learning (who knew that there was homework in K? lot’s of it. in Spanish). We’ve raised more money so far this year, than all of last year and our big event is yet to come. And so it comes…

TASTE OF POTRERO was the brainchild of a few of the parents in the school who wanted to up the ante of the bakesale fundraisers. We’re real people, with real jobs and real connections. Why can’t we have a real food event that would make the city stand up and notice. We’ve got event planners, winemakers, restauranteurs, admen and adwomen, pr types and on and on… So, on May 12th, we’re going for it. We’ve got the recently Beard nominated Flour + Water and Bar Agricole. We’ve got neighborhood gems Contigo, Piccino, Skool, Grand Pu Bah, Serpentine and Slow Club. And…we’ve got the exciting stylings of Kitchenette, Tacolicious and Hapa Ramen. Clearly not your average bakesale. Click the logo for the official website:

There will be a dozen wineries, including Spain’s best from Potrero’s own Vinos Unicos and wine with a cause Greater Purpose Wines. Batiste Rhum Agricole is going to be pouring hand-crafted cocktails.

Jane Wiedlin from the GoGos, who is always up to support a good cause is going to spin a DJ set. Some of the kids from Top Chef will be stopping by to shake hands and share some insights. There’s even an aerialist acrobat scheduled to perform.

Tickets are $50 for general admission from 7-10pm and $100 for VIP, which gets you extra tastes and exclusive access from 6-7pm. A silent auction will feature city-wide treasures so bring your credit card or check book. Buy your tickets here:

There are only 400 tickets and they’re selling quickly. Come join us for a night in support of better education. The San Francisco Unified School District projects massive deficits next year. That means already bare bones budgets will be even tighter; “non-essential”/ non-classroom teachers will be the first to go and students are the ones who will suffer most. Without outside funding from donors like you there will be:

No Art, No Music, No Dance, No Physical Education, No Computer Specialists, No Field Trips, No Literacy Specialists, No Nurses, No Librarians, No Learning Support Professionals.

We hope to see you there. And I promise I’m coming back strong, soon. You can’t keep a good zealot down.

Sons & Daughters Doesn’t Suck

Posted on December 14, 2010 by ezealot

The other day really sucked. Colossal, epic, universe is fucking with you kind of suck. Mind-numbing, are you serious, can it get any worse – yes it can suckity suck suck. Yet, looking back, I can’t help but feel like it turned out to be pretty good.

It started with the fog. Did you guys see that? Pea soup, snow-blind fog at 8am. My view is what energizes me each morning. At the worst I can see boats in the dry dock – massive creatures my son claims are “bigger than whales”. Not today! Cold, clammy and dense.

Now I love every second I spend with my son. He is the light of my world. I am guilty of being totally gay for my 5-year old boy, stealing wet kisses from his shayna punim every chance I get. He can do no wrong by me and I spoil him like crazy with divorced-dad-guilt….But the thought of another playdate at the Academy of Sciences (like the 5th time in 2 months) just wasn’t screaming fun to me that day. There’s the albino alligator, look! jellyfish, oh here’s the rainforest. Again.

I know, I suck. We are so lucky to have such an amazing museum nearby and to share it with my boy is a treasure. So, as a result of my discontent, I got karmic bitchslapped. 4:00pm we’re about to get in the car to go home and I discover my key fob has fallen off my Schneider bundle (huge points for getting the reference). Done poof, gone. Enter the mind of the 5-year old existential crisis. Quivering lip: “Daddy. If we can’t get into the car, does that mean we can’t go home and we’re homeless?” No son, we just need to go to mommy’s house and get the spare I left. “But if the cab doesn’t come, how will we get there?”.

An hour later and dozens of more questions we’ve journeyed from GGP to Potrero and back in a vomit-inducing cab ride (it was the Gypsy Kings music as much as the driving). During which, at some point, I receive text message from the sitter that she cannot come tonight. Really? Really? Mistake in her plans, so my plans are toast. I was supposed to have dinner at Sons & Daughters, a place I had already cancelled twice. I’m really not supposed to eat there.

Still during all of this, I am calm. I keep my center. I don’t lose my cool, in fact, I welcome the challenges. How can I learn from this? What am I gaining? I shit you not! The Zealot is growing up people. I’m thinking about how the little man and I are getting some amazing mind-fuck-bonding going on. We’re answering real questions. We’re getting ok with the world. And from out of the blue, a family of fairy princesses and princes decided to invite my booger to sleep over, thus solving the sitter conundrum. Right with it all. Karma restored.

So, I’m back on track and the world is pretty wide open to me. I arrive early and walk around Union Square. And I cannot stop thinking that I never go to Union Square. But how festive! Yes, I must take the boy. Ice skating. Shopping. I feel like a tourist. When we sit down to eat it turns out that my companion also had a pretty shitty day. So we’re both in the need of a drink and an experience please. In fact, I receive an “order for me” and “yes, I’d love to share” – which are two of the greatest phrases an Epicurean Zealot can hear. Why thank you, I will.

So we get the tasting menu x 2, different paths with four courses, plus amouses, totaling a bazillion dishes with wine pairings x 2. Now, mind you, I know nothing about this place. I keep up on the scene, but it escaped me. Maybe it’s the generic name. Maybe it’s the humble pedigrees of the two chefs. Maybe because it’s in Union Square (though Opentable insists this is Nob Hill). So, I consider this order a risk, having been disappointed by Commonwealth on a few occasions and, while loving Frances, not feeling the backflip-enducing praise it gets. But give it your best shot fellas.

And so it was. Course after course after course. Without a misstep. You heard me. Everything was perfect. From a celery root soup with maitake, trumpets, enoki & cauliflower mushrooms to an abalone with burdock root and castelvetrano olive (say it three times – I made the waiter) to the finest wagyu zabuton steak I could imagine. We had foie and sablefish and none of the savory courses were less than outstanding. My only complaint was that the desserts didn’t live up. The chocolate was ok and the foie seems contrived. But it was excusable in the grand scheme.

Frame of reference: I just returned from a 10 day sojourn to Basque Spain to eat. I ate. A lot. In really really good places. This region is the epicenter of modern food. And I tell you… that the best meal I’ve had in months was at Sons & Daughters. In San Francisco. My hometown. As we left the restaurant the cold didn’t seem to matter. Strolling Union Square was even more charming with the glow of 8 wine pairings and a belly full of foie. The suckfest day was a distant memory and my faith in San Francisco dining rejuvinated. Turned out to be a pretty good night afterall.

Quick Review: 25 Lusk

Posted on October 19, 2010 by ezealot

$13 meeellion dollars. For reals, yo. Pimp-ass fools spent $13m on a restaurant. So much for the recession.

Last night I had the opportunity to dine at the spanking new 25 Lusk. The restaurant is housed in a former brick-n-timber smokehouse and is tres sexy. I’ve read a lot about this place, mostly regarding the design and the team of partners that include an Emeril alumn and some seriously rich dudes.

Photo: Jennifer Yin - Courtesy of Eater SF

First let me talk about the space. The place is clearly designed. To the hilt. Every detail is covered, with interesting sight lines and textural contrasts, insane lighting and nooks-n-crannies to get lost. There will definitely be a cocktail crowd here and they plan to serve the full menu in the smokehouse / bar area (which has low ceilings, a lot of exposed concrete, reinforced steel and conduit). There are various lounge settings with ski-house looking floating fireplaces. I wish that this place would attract the food obsessed and laid-back sorts, but I fear the douche factor could take over easily. This space has FIDI ‘play-ah’ written all over it.

Photo: Jennifer Yin - Courtesy of Eater SF

Upstairs the vibe is more open. There is an amazing private dining room encased in glass that will certainly attract celebs and the SF elite. The main dining area is lovely, but it didn’t give me a wow moment like downstairs. That’s a lot of money for ‘meh’. And, while the bathrooms are lovely, I think the material choices were based on form and not function. The stone floors show the drops of water as you reach for your towel and the sinks get trashed after a few washings. The men’s urinal seems to have some technology that creates an artistic pattern out the impact of your stream. I could have peed all night.

Photo: Jennifer Yin - Courtesy of Eater SF

The menu is currently limited to a dozen or so items and each thing we had was good to exceptional. Standout was a cauliflower creme brulée. It’s the real deal and surprisingly incorporated truffles with success. The arugula salad was salty and uninspired but the pork cheek terrine more than made up for it. It was a little crispy on the outside and moist in the middle with a hint of sweet. A lovely cube of well-handled animal flesh. The only main we tried was the braised short ribs. There was a nice fat ratio and the sauce was a sublime wine demi that brought me back for dipping. Other mains looked solid – not a lot of risks here.

Cocktails continue the trend of innovation, and outshining the food. A lineup of playful, yet well-crafted drinks should make for some happy houring. The dessert menu didn’t scream, so we passed. I’m wondering if they’ll step it up when the menu kicks in full gear. I think desserts could really shine in this environment.

In general I think 25 Lusk is destined to establish itself in our dining landscape. While they play it safe on the menu, the food plays well off the decor. My concern is how could they possibly live up to the money they invested. They opened on Saturday and I suppose word is still getting around, as the place was fairly empty on Monday night. I’m guessing nobody is in this to make money.

Artisan & Audiophile

Posted on September 18, 2010 by ezealot

Una Pizza Napoletana is open. This is good news for San Francisco, bad news for New York City (you can have Nate Appleman, we’ll take Anthony). Yet, considering how many Neapolitan style places have popped up in the past few years you’d expect enthusiasm to be fairly low. We’ve got Flour + Water, Boot & Shoe, Zero Zero, Tony’s Pizza Neapolitana (please read my review) – not to mention the tried and true Pizette, Pizzaiolo, Delfina, Pico, Piccino, A16….Still, there was feverish anticipation of “the one” and I suspect there will continue to be a cult-like following for these pies.

Story goes… Anthony Mangieri had a coveted outpost in New York and decided to pull up the tent stakes and head west. He is lauded as a prodigy and obsesses over the details on a very simple line up of true Neapolitan pizza making (for details check out the wiki). His reputation is pretty pristine and I heard the term ‘artisan’ thrown around a few times last night.

Again, we hit wiki for clarification:

An artisan (from Italian: artigiano) is a skilled manual worker who makes items that may be functional or strictly decorative, including furniture, clothing, jewelry, household items, and tools. The term can also be used as an adjective to refer to the craft of hand making food products, such as bread, beverages and cheese.

That seems very appropriate for Anthony, as you will decipher from my experience.

Anthony Mangieri Una Pizza Napoletana

The corner of 11th and Howard has an appropriate amount of funk for a destination restaurant. People who eat here won’t live here. There is a line. It will create controversy, but who cares. Stand in the line and wait till a table opens. Talk to your date (but don’t read every yelp review of the place out loud to her like the phlegmy guy behind me). Yes, they should just have a list so you can go get a drink. I don’t think Anthony is stubborn enough to force this forever. There was an attractive hostess greeting people, chatting about the pizza, the history, the process. Unfortunately, she’s just helping out temporarily (and she’s taken, boys). I suspect they’ll figure this out over time and get someone to manage the flow.

The design is very clean, very simple. Soaring high ceilings with beams as the sole contrast. Nothing to distract. A small collection of tables and a lot of open space. My guess is that the layout reflects the speed at which an artisanal product can be produced properly. He could have more tables in here, but he probably couldn’t keep up (or would he want to).

Anthony hovers over a simple station with a few bowls of his ingredients and a stack of trays of his pillowy dough (Note that when the dough runs out so does your luck). It’s a clean station for a single-minded task. This guy makes pizzas. 4 kinds. All fairly similar. No meat – no veggies – no soup for you! I kept wanting to liken this guy to the Soup Nazi – but when you speak with Anthony he is so damn nice and smiley that the comparison ends at his work station and limited offerings.

Photo Courtesy of Grub Street

So for two people we ordered three pies, expecting to take home leftovers (we didn’t). We tried the Marinara, the Margherita and the Bianca. Now here’s where I go off a little… For the past 7 years I owned a high-end audio, video and home automation business. As a result, I often come in contact with types deemed as “audiophiles”. Truthfully, I hate the fucking term. It’s so elitist and pretentious and almost always self-prescribed and inaccurate. But what it boils down to is someone who has a sensitive enough ear to be able to hear the subtle differences between way-too expensive equipment, with the ultimate goal of perfecting sound reproduction. What always impresses me about true audiophiles is their ability to do this, free from a side-by-side comparison. It’s as if there is a reference standard imprinted on their brain, which they can recall at any time to compare.

As a food critic and chef, I would say I have a fairly refined palate, trained over many years of tasting the things I love over and over and over. There are a few items where I actually may approach the reference standard. Pizza is one of them. What I am getting at here is that like an audiophile, I can recall the landscape of pizza I’ve tasted throughout my life and generate an opinion of the requisite components (dough, sauce, cheese). I sat down this morning to do a side-by-side comparison in my head. And then I realized how pretentious and elitist it was (the phlegmy guy behind me was doing it out loud, in line). Sure I could compare this pizza to all the others but I’ve decided to give that up. Here’s my take on UPN on its own:

The dough is the star. Anthony uses a process of natural leavening (you can actually see a video of his entire process here) which produces the perfect balance of crisp on the outside, chewy in the middle. He’s also not afraid of salt. This is simply the way dough should be. Combine it with the smoke, ash, burns from his obsessively-maintained oven and you have something exceptional. The cheese and sauce are also very spot-on – not too sweet, just the right fat content.

All three pies were great, though I’d probably pass on the Marinara in favor of the Filetti. Generally I like a Marinara pizza on its own or along with a salad. But standing next to the other pizzas, it was a little lost. The cherry tomatoes on the Filettis we saw looked fantastic. The bianca started out as the surprise shining star. Fresh out of the oven there were hints of garlic, salt. The richness of the buffalo mozzarella popped in combination.

Una Pizza Napoletana Pizza Margherita

Moreover, I had an epiphany while eating the Margherita. It came after the pizza had a few minutes to settle. I often dive in while it is hot from the oven – cheese sliding around – roof of my mouth on fire. Yet, I confirmed last night that when a great pizza has time to settle a little (not too much for the cheese to harden and congeal), it actually gets better. The sauce intrudes slightly on the dough. The cheese distributes its fat and oils, the salt permeates everything. Try your pizza (just Margherita) after 8 minutes or so and you’ll see what I mean.

Una Pizza is a great place if you want to worship at the temple of pizza. Italians do this all of the time. Pizza is often consumed in the evening, by itself, over wine and conversation. The big meal is at lunch and takes hours with many courses. At UPN you get pizza, wine, beer – basta. And the pizza is near-perfect. I would wait in line any day to share with my good friends something that clearly contains so much artisanal skill, devotion to traditions, process and (yes the zealot is going to get cheesy) love.

New Skool!

Posted on June 29, 2010 by ezealot

For years I’ve driven up and down Potrero Hill, De Haro St. to be exact. Up to 22nd St. to my home. Down to Division St. for work. Back and forth, day after day. For the past two years there has been a curious sign on a showroom building at the corner of Alameda St. “restaurant space available”. It was an odd location, but seemed to have a patio and from what I know of this neighborhood, a lot of potential. We’ve got Adobe, Advent, Zynga and every designer worth his salt within 4 blocks. And, we’re dying for a real restaurant. I’ve dreamed often about selling my business and opening up something in that spot, who-knows-what, because I sensed this was a gem.

Grand Pu Bah tried, but it proved to be niche rather than the next Slanted Door. Pizza Nostra, from the Chez Papa gang, was a step up, but still didn’t have the ‘it’ factor. There’s a ton of adequate places nearby, from Patisserie Phillipe, Chez Papa, Sunflower, Aperto, Umi Sushi – but nothing would turn the heads of your garden-variety foodie. They’re just neighborhood joints. Enter Skool.

The “space available” turns out to be a sexy spot for the next hot restaurant. I had lunch there today and got a lowdown from the owner. Apparently the landlord had a vision when he built the building years ago. He was willing to wait for the right people to come along to realize his vision. He built out the space with a designer’s eye and the attention to detail is clear. The place just feels good.

The people he chose were the couple behind Blowfish, Andy Mirabell and his fiancée Olia Kedik. Moreover, they teamed up with another couple, Toshihiro and Hiroko Nagano in the kitchen. There’s a definite young- entrepreneur vibe about the space, as the busy themselves to make your experience exceptional and to connect with their potential regulars.

Well, spank my ass and call me Sally, but I’m sold. The menu is loaded with healthy fish-forward options. There is a clear sophistication behind the cuisine and enough to keep me occupied enough to become a regular. I’ve only had the Aji sandwich with a side of fries and a cup of carrot-ginger soup, but I’m ready to go back for more. There’s a coffee-marinated steak sandwich, flatbreads and a bunch of creative fish mains. I’ll work my way through and offer a proper review top to bottom later.

What really has me sold is the idea of maximizing the sunshine of Potrero out on the patio, once they finalized their liquor license. Even on the rare foggy day the inside bar is a really appealing place to swill and they plan on some fab cocktails, designed by a Rye alum (I didn’t get her name). Can you sayz happy hour?

Currently only open for lunch. Opening for dinner on July 9 415-255-8800 | 1725 Alameda Street, San Francisco, CA 94103 | Skype SkoolSF | SkoolSF | SkoolSF

The Epicurean Zealot

An opinion-laden guide to San Francisco's culinary culture.

Category Archives: Inside Scoop

It’s Tricky

Get Wise, Son.

A Tale of Two Delis…

Eat Shit!

Happy-Ness

The Secret Sauce

It’s The Ingredients, Stupid!

The Five Course Thanksgiving

The Four Days of Thanksgiving

Where to…Eat, Now?

Taste of Potrero

Sons & Daughters Doesn’t Suck

Quick Review: 25 Lusk

Artisan & Audiophile

New Skool!

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