As I navigate this world I have encountered many words to describe myself – I am a man, an entrepreneur, a friend, a traveler, a chef, a community activist. I am passionate, capable, smart, generous, creative. I am stubborn, reactive, opinionated, disorganized. But no words, no descriptions, no associations or character traits can compare to this – I am a father.

Every moment of every day, I am grounded by the fact that this person and I get to navigate the world together. I guide him the best I can but he often teaches me more than I could ever envision. His intuition, strength, pure emotions and fearlessness serve to guide me to become a better man, and hopefully a better father.

There is rarely a day that goes by where someone does not tell me what a great person Judah has become. They don’t have to say it, he just inspires it. My pride as his father is only exceeded by the joy that I get to be a part of his continual development as the world unfolds. Son, I look forward to experiencing it all together. Son, I am proud to be your father.

Happy birthday Judah.

Tis’ the season where my world is consumed with the spirit of giving and good will to man. That’s right children, it’s Xmas in May, better known as Taste of Potrero.

You all know the story by now… My kid goes to public school. The system is in the shitter. We need serious shekels to keep the thing going. So, we do what every poor school would do, we put on a serious food event. Duh!

First year brings in $40k. Second we hit $93k. But this year is different. The school has grown by small bits, which puts us in a different bracket for district funds. So, get this… we are in an even deeper hole. We barely were able to get PE, art, computers, literacy and supplies last year and the funding drops out so we’re short two (that’s 2 not 1 but 2) teachers for next year. We’re nearly $200k behind in our budget. We’ve got some fundraising to do.

Taste of Potrero always had great talent. Restaurant owners and chefs are rockstar heroes for this sort of stuff. First year we led with Flour + Water, Hapa Ramen, Bon Vivants, Tacolicious. Next year we brought in Ame, Comstock Saloon, Nojo, Hog & Rocks. There’s never been a question that this event is top-knotch.

But we’ve just completely outdone ourselves for 2013. Make no mistake about it – we have the best lineup of restaurants of any event in the city. Add to that the fact that tickets are all-inclusive this year (meaning taste and drink to your heart’s / liver’s delight / demise). VIP ticket holders will get exclusive access to Trick Dog, Smitten Ice Cream, American Bao Bar, Commonwealth and, get this, State Bird Provisions.

Not to be outdone, general admission will add in the likes of HiLo BBQ, Wise Sons Deli, Lolinda, Roli Roti (yes, the ones with the lines) and Beretta, Comstock, Homestead pouring their devilish elixirs. There’s nearly 30 vendors this year and EVERY last one of them are high quality. Check out the full list here. 

We’ve also got a sexy little video here.

So, if you like food and are a human living within a driving distance to San Francisco, you owe it to yourself, the kids, your holy maker and me to get you’re butt over to Taste of Potrero. Details follow. Tickets on sale now.

Taste of Potrero
May 9, 2013
SomaARTS Gallery
934 Brannan St., San Francisco
6-7pm (VIP Exclusive Preview)
7pm – Midnite (Main Event)
Tickets Here

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.

Over the past year I’ve been transitioning my career. I’ve made it known that I am leaving behind the brick-and-mortar lifestyle of the mom and pop entrepreneur and am throwing my hat into the technology ring. Reinventing myself suggests I get to be/do whatever I want, so I’ve decided to marry my greatest passions, food and technology as I travel down new paths. The entrepreneurial skills I’ve amassed over 20 years allows me some flexibility to hone in on where I can best contribute.

I recently landed as a consultant at a company called Foodspotting. They’ve asked me to help them reach the next level in the evolution of the company. They started as a vehicle for food enthusiasts to take photos of food, dishes specifically, and share them with the world (on Foodspotting itself) and throughout your social networks. As a result of the millions of photos they quickly amassed, Foodspotting morphed into a serious discovery tool for people who are looking for something to eat. By browsing the best dishes nearby or searching for particular dishes, FS became a top player in connecting hungry people to yummy food. Looking forward, we believe there is an opportunity to help restaurants connect more closely with their patrons. I’ll be sharing more on how later.

But today I am sharing the news that Foodspotting launched their new website. And as jaded as I have become about much of the food and technology scene, I’m blown away by what you can do with this site.

So let’s say you’re someone who likes Unagi. Go to http://foodspotting.com and search for Unagi and you’ll get a stunning photo wall of the most popular unagi dishes in the world. Enter a destination, say San Francisco, and get the most popular (or latest if you prefer) unagi dishes in San Francisco.

One of my favorite dishes, as I illustrated previously, is Cacio e Pepe. Or how about Roast Pork Sandwich in Philadelphia, or Pizza in New York, or Naples, or even Bangkok! Search on anything, anywhere, and you’ll get serious food porn that you can share on your networks (the share icon is next to the search bar). I’ve spent the past few weeks playing on the beta site shooting links to all of my food friends.

Moreover, this is an amazing way to really drill down on what is good in a place. The truth is that the more people shoot photos of any particular dish, the more popular it is within the food crowd. I’ve found no other resource for democratizing food discovery than this.

Try it and you’ll see. If you know an area and you search for the most popular dishes, it’s going to be spot on. For example, in the Mission District of San Francisco, you can’t argue that Salted Caramel at Bi-Rite, Secret Breakfast at Humphry Slocombe, Morning Buns at Tartine and Pizza Margherita at Delfina aren’t the must-have’s in the neighborhood. Dig deeper and you’ll find the secret gems that only foodies know about (can you say bacon-wrapped hot dogs?). It’s the perfect food-crazed travel tool.

I look forward to utilizing this more as a blogging tool. Any time I talk about a dish, now I can show you with other people’s (mostly great) photos. Now go spot some food and share it with me. What is the coolest search you can do on the new Foodspotting?

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.

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.

To me, the Tortilla Espanola shames all comparisons with it’s casual elegance. There is a rarefied space in the world of cuisine where certain dishes can achieve such elegance with only a few ingredients. It is the sum of their parts that becomes transcendent.

If there were a national dish of Spain, I’d look to the Tortilla. It’s everywhere. Pull in to a gas station in Rioja and there’s one cooling, fresh from the oven. Every cafe in Madrid has a line of them. North, South, East, West – the Tortilla is ubiquitous. Even in Basque country, where they posses their own cuisine, the Tortilla shines amidst all of the magnificent Pintxos.

In my obsession to elevate simple foods by focusing on the ingredients, I’ve crossed the Tortilla’s path many times. Anyone can make the dish. Most will be pretty good. But, in my opinion, to do it right, you’ve got to start with the finest components. Here’s how it goes.

Eggs, onions, potatoes, oil, salt and pepper. That’s it. Easy right? Yes, actually. But break it down a bit. We’ve talked about pastured eggs before. Here is one of the perfect places to let those eggs shine. The deep yolk egginess goes perfectly with the potatoes and onions. The salt takes it higher.

For the potatoes, I’m spoiled. Our farmer’s market has a stall with the most insane varieties of deeply flavored, well-cared-for spuds of all shapes and sizes. I particularly like these banana fingerlings I picked up last week. But any flavorful potato will do. Avoid waxy or watery varieties. A good yellow would do the trick. Peel and cut them to about 1/4″ thick on a mandolin or in your food processor. Make sure the pieces aren’t bigger than 3/4″ in any direction. It helps with layering the final product.

Some nice sweet yellow onions are next, sliced thinly. I picked up Dirty Girl farms onions this week. This is my favorite farm. They can do no wrong. For salt, I’m partial to Maldon Sea Salt. Oil is mostly always Bariani in our house.

Sauté the onions and potatoes slowly in a non-stick fry pan with some olive oil. Use enough potatoes to fill the pan about half way. Cover them and toss them frequently to evenly cook. Do not let them brown. They’re done when the potatoes are fork tender, al dente and the onions are golden. You’ll get the feel.

I prefer to let the mixture cool down before combining with the eggs. Salt them to taste. Whisk up the eggs with a splash of milk until fully combined. Use enough eggs to envelope the potatoes and onions, but not so much that it is soupy. Think stew’y, like 40% egg 60% potato. Mas or meno. Salt again. You’ll get the feel.

Clean out the fry pan and re-oil. Make sure it is clean so the Tortilla doesn’t stick. Return the mixture and cook on low-medium heat until the sides start to form. Run a spatula around the edges to keep from sticking. Add more oil if necessary. When the circle starts to set about 1/4 distance from the edges, transfer the pan to a 350° oven until the eggs are fully set. Just before pulling it out, turn on the broiler for a minute to lightly brown the top.

Remove from the oven and run the spatula through again. Shake the pan to loosen the Tortilla. When you’re certain it is free, place a plate on top so you can flip it out. Let it cool down to room temperature or cooler before serving. This dish is definitely better at cooler temps. Too hot just doesn’t do it justice.

Not sure how I got to 700+ words on Tortilla Espanola already, but that speaks volumes about the dish. So, stop calling this a Frittata, place it in the pantheon of your best, most trusted dishes. Serve it once a month at a dinner party, with the cheeses as a starter. Pair it with a crisp white wine and live like a Spaniard! You’ll get the feel.

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.

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…

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”.