Where to Eat and Drink in San Francisco

The Significant Eater and I recently returned from our New Year's trip to San Francisco, where we escaped from the snow in New York to 60-degree weather and a week of good eating and drinking.  Below are the highlights of our trip: 

Blue Bottle Cafe (66 Mint St.)  Nearly every one of our mornings began at this minimalist cafe dedicated to the art of serving a perfect cup of coffee.   I stuck to cappuccinos all week, aside from one foray to a sinfully rich mocha, while the Significant Eater went with lattes, but all drinks were as nice to sip as they were to look at.  It is the best coffee I have ever had.  The cafe also serves a nice selection of breakfast foods, including a mason jar full of excellent granola, a fluffy Belgian waffle topped with local butter, and several interesting egg dishes.  

RN74 (301 Mission St.)  We rang in the New Year at Michael Mina's modern American wine bar and restaurant. The crowd was lively, well-dressed and ready to party at the RN74 New Year's party in the lounge area post midnight. While enjoying pre-dinner cocktails of a "Pimm's 74" (made with prosecco and ginger beer) and a "La Femme" (gin, vermouth, apricot liqueur, fresh orange), we couldn't help but notice and enjoy the decor, inspired by the look of a classic European train station similar to that of Otto's in New York City. For a holiday prix-fixe dinner, the five-course meal was more than satisfactory. The highlights included a decadently rich crab and lobster salad, the pappardelle with duck and black truffle broth and the grilled prime beef with wine-braised short ribs (if you didn't get the end cut). But, be aware of the four percent "Healthy San Francisco Initiative" tax that some restaurants may charge--yep, we had to Google it, too.

A16 (2355 Chestnut St.)  Although Chef Nate Appleman has left the restaurant to open a new restaurant in New York (I can't wait!), I could not help but pay my respect to the rest of the team at the southern Italian-influenced A16, as I have nearly cooked my way through the A16: Food+Winecookbook, with nearly impeccable results.  I had never been to A16 prior to Appleman leaving, but I can't imagine it being much better than what we experienced.  We tried a squid ink cavatelli that was highlighted with strong notes of salt cod and the crunch of fresh breadcrumbs.  A lamb ravioli found the perfect balance between the richness of braised lamb filling and the delicate pasta sheets.  For our main course, we shared a plate of duck meatballs which consisted of ground duck bound by over-the-top yet oh-so-good duck pate.  Needless to say, A16 was well worth the 10-minute cab ride from our Union Square hotel. 

Bodega Bistro (607 Larkin St.)  Any trip to San Francisco should include visits to its ethnic enclaves.  While Chinatown may be better suited for tourists, Little Saigon should not be missed for its food.   Bodega Bistro, a restaurant celebrating the French influence on Vietnamese cuisine, is slightly (but only very slightly) fancier than the pho joints that dot Larkin Street, but don't let the wine list fool you; this restaurant serves up a mean bowl of pho.  Next time, I'll be more inclined to spend a few dollars less on my pho and choose some of the dingier places in Little Saigon, but Bodega Bistro is a good choice if you're looking for a slightly nicer looking spot for Vietnamese.

Heaven's Dog (1148 Mission St.)  If you're willing to venture out of the ethnic food districts of San Fran for Asian, Charles Phan's (owner of Slanted Door) new Chinese eatery is a good choice for a variety of dumplings and cocktails. Don't be fooled by the Asian-fusion restaurant appearance of the main dining room, nor be frightened by the desolate street this little gem is tucked away on, this upscale Chinese spot is sure to please palates craving rich flavors. Nearly every dish on the entree and appetizer menu contains pork, so vegetarians beware. While the curry vermicelli noodles were nothing to rave about, the shrimp and pork shumai and spicy wontons were superb. And if we can't have David Chang's Momofuku pork buns, the ones at Heaven's Dog will do. Overall, a great place for a simple dinner before a night out with friends.

Press Club (20 Yerba Buena Ln.)  While we would have loved to make a day trip our to Sonoma or Napa, mid-winter is not a very enjoyable time to venture out to California wine country due to its rainy weather, not to mention that it is not in season for the producing wine.  Press Club, a spacious underground wine bar in the Four Seasons Hotel, ended up being the next best thing.  Press Club is the urban tasting room of eight California wineries, serving only the wines produced by its resident wineries.  Don't let the posh surroundings fool you; the prices are perfectly reasonable.  My $17 flight of Cabernets included three nearly-full glasses of wines that were all over $50 a bottle at retail. 

Anchor Brewery (1705 Mariposa St.)  All beer lovers should make the trip over to Potrero Hill to tour San Francisco's beloved Anchor Brewery.  The brewery is one of the oldest microbreweries in the country, so the tour provides some interesting history of how the brewery went from near bankruptcy to delivering beers to all 50 states and internationally.  The entirely free tours also include a "tasting" of six of the brewery's beers.  These tastings are in fact 8-ounce glasses of beer, which left our entire tour group noticeably buzzed as we departed. The tours are capped at about 15 people, so I encourage you to book well ahead of time and to use public transportation to get to and from the brewery.

Bourbon and Branch (501 Jones St.)  If cocktails are more your thing, be sure to give Bourbon and Branch a try.  Its strict adherence to the speakeasy vibe--admittance to the reservations-only front room is only provided by repeating a password--may be on the cheesy side, but its drinks, especially those made of bourbon, are exceptionally prepared.  To avoid the crowded and hot hidden "library" backroom, be sure to make reservations on the website to get the password to the main room.  As a bonus, the front room has a larger drink menu.

The Pheasant Phlop

Isn't it frustrating when you have all the necessities of a perfect dinner, but the outcome is awful? Let me tell you about my latest failure: The Pheasant Phlop.

It all started on my recent trip to London to visit my brother and his family. On my first day there, my brother took me out to the English countryside for that quintessential English sport of clay pigeon shooting.

My mind rarely strays from food, even while holding a shotgun, so I began to think of how I should try cooking a game bird when I returned to New York. I was not a very good shot, so didn't begin to contemplate the possibilities of hunting my own game bird; yes, my hunting fun would begin and end with clay pigeons.

A few days later, my girlfriend and I visited the adorable London neighborhood of Notting Hill. Full of boutiques and food shops, it's no wonder that Notting Hill was our favorite area in London. I especially loved the Books for Cooks shop, a store selling only cookbooks.

This shop seemed to have nearly every cookbook imaginable, from antique titles to books on molecular gastronomy. It even has a cafe that cooks up daily specials made from recipes that appear in the cookbooks it sells.

Still in need of a souvenir for my trip, I asked the Books for Cooks saleswoman for a cookbook on modern British cuisine. She suggested Matt Tebbutt's Cooks Country, which she claimed is "what Britain is cooking now." I flipped through the book and saw that it was exactly what I was looking for: modern takes on traditional British food. I came across one recipe for "pot-roast pheasant pheasant with smoked bacon and cream" and I was sold. I bought the book.


So now, I had my inspiration to cook a game bird from the clay shooting and I had the perfect recipe to carry out my the inspiration. I returned to New York on a Thursday and my first task that weekend was to find a pheasant. I knew that Quattro's at Unions Square Greenmarket carried pheasant, but was unable to make it out to Union Square. Instead, I made a visit to Citarella, pointed to the sign for pheasant and asked the butcher for one. Alas, Citarella was out of pheasant, so I had to wait one very long week to make what I knew would be one terrific and incredibly inspired dinner.

The next Saturday, I woke up promptly at 7:30 and made my way to Union Square to buy a pheasant. Quattro's had pheasant, so I purchased one for $20, knowing full well that it was money well spent on the perfect dinner. I purchased the rest of the ingredients for the dish and returned to my apartment.

That night, I prepared the recipe. The recipe seemed too simple for me to be getting so excited about, but I knew it would be delicious. I seared the seared the pheasant in butter, browning the skin beautifully. I tossed in some chopped onion, celery, a head of garlic, and bacon. Then I added a cup of wine, a couple bay leaves, a few springs of thyme, and a cup of cream. I put the pheasant back in, and tossed the pot into a 400F oven. The cookbook recommended an oven time of 15 minutes, but this seemed on the low to me, so I eagerly waited for 20 minutes while the aromas of the braising liquid filled my apartment.

After twenty minutes, I removed the pot from the oven and let it sit for another ten minutes. The braising liquid was perfectly creamy; it had all the makings of a great dish. After letting the dish rest, I excitedly cut into the bird. It was completely raw. What gives? Maybe the pheasants in England are smaller than the one I had bought at the Greenmarket. I calmly put the pot back into the oven. I knew it would still be a great dish, it just needed some more time in the oven.

It would take another 20 minutes before the pheasant was cooked through. Finally, I would be able try this dish with perfect inspiration and made from the perfect recipe. The result? Rubber. The pheasant could hardly be cut with my sharpest knife, and chewing it was a workout. To add insult to injury, cooking it for another 20 minutes had caused the braising liquid to separate, so that it was no longer creamy. The meal was an utter disappointment.

So there you have it: The Pheasant Phlop. How could a meal so inspired, be so awful? Was it a bad recipe? Was it poor execution on my part? Or was it just not meant to be? I'll never know.