Extended Phenotype

I had a great dinner last Friday at Chez Panisse, with Bryan, his wife, and mother-in-law. It had been quite awhile since I’d been to CP, given everything that’s been going on over the last 18 months or so. It was definitely terrific to be back, and to find that the restaurant was as wonderful as one remembers. Critics who claim that it’s become boring are missing the point: Chez Panisse isn’t about novelty for novelty’s sake, or flash, but about amazingly subtle renderings of absolutely first-rate ingredients.

Case in point – the starting dish: an antipasto of eggplant caponata, slices of Parma proscuitto, and wild rocket (baby arugula) salad. Simple, utterly lacking in the novelty we often expect from “great” chefs, the dish was a triumph of simplicity and flavor. The caponata was the best rendering of the dish any of us had had (and my friend Bryan is quite exacting as a foodie-chef). It’s hard to explain — it lacked anything I can point to except that it was just amazing caponata.

The second dish was even better. A simple “ravioli al brodo” preparation typical of northern Italy, the “raviolini” were stuffed with a sheep’s milk ricotta with very subtle flavor and the pasta were floated in a sage-spring garlic brodo which was incredibly rich in flavor, yet utterly clear and pale. Bryan and I spent much of the dish trying to figure out how the broth was done — double stock, consommeed, etc. Again — it’s hard to explain, because there really were only a couple of ingredients here, and no flavor explosions, weird juxtapositions of preparations, or “deconstructions” that are so popular today. There was just amazing broth, and perfectly cooked subtle pasta with subtle ricotta cheese.

The main dish pleased everyone – Paine Farm squab with squab liver toast and a salad of endive, romano beans, and porcini mushrooms. Bryan’s wife Liza really likes liver, as does Bryan, so this dish was right up their alley, and I love grilled small birds.

I’d brought wines for the preceding courses: Raveneau 1988 Butteaux, and a 1991 Henri Bonneau Chateauneuf “Marie Beurrier.” The former was amazing — approaching maturity with lots of lemon cream, but still plenty of acidity and structure. Fortunately I have one more 1988 left — a Vaillons — which I’ll probably try in the next year or two. The Bonneau was incredible, especially for a tragically bad year like 1991. But then, Bonneau tends to do really well in many “bad years” due to ruthless selection and singular winemaking skill. The 1991 MB was beefy and dark, with barely hints of maturity in the secondary “spices” showing in the nose. Not even a hint of bricking or orange color even given the vintage. The wine had tremendous length and I could have sat much longer and just smelled its combination of beef, blood, and herbs. If this is the 1991, I can’t even imagine what the 1989 and 1990 MB and Celestins are like. Or when I’d open any of the latter. Fortunately, medical science is on the side of Bonneau fans.

The dessert was peach leaf, boysenberry, and nectarine ice cream “bombe”, presented in three stripes on a plate. Given the strict two-bottle wine policy (which we tried but were unsuccessful at circumventing), we were unable to try Bryan’s 1989 Chave Vin de Paille with this, but there will be other nights and other dinners.

Coi is the new project of Daniel Patterson and my friend Paul Costigan, located in a happening location on Broadway just east of North Beach. The name is pronounced (roughly) “kwahhh”, and I believe is an Old French word meaning “tranquil.” The restaurant certainly is that — superb and innovative food, mellow atmosphere, and friendly staff. I’d recommend visiting now before the reviews start rolling in and people “discover” Coi, because in six months it’s going to be tough to walk in the door and get a table.

Daniel Patterson is the former chef at Frisson, and Paul is coming from years of experience running Rare Wine Company in Sonoma, where I met him as a client. Paul also is an expert at jazz and blues history, and has an encyclopedic knowledge of both. His skills at creating atmosphere with the Jazz blend of structure, elegance, and yet studied casualness show in the casual yet beautiful decor, the music selections, and the wine list. Instead of aiming at the types of wine I’d typically purchased from Paul at RWC, the list is designed to present diners with wines which highlight the food but provide accessible prices. Paul is a master at explaining how the wines are selected to match the food, and if you’re wondering what to have you really should let him select a wine for your meal or course.

I went to Coi on two consecutive nights, to sample both the fixed-price dining room menu and the more relaxed (fuzzy pillow cushions!) lounge with its ala carte menu. I recommend doing both (especially if you’re local) because there are gems on both menus. In the dining room, a deconstructed ratatouille soup (with concentric rings of eggplant, red pepper, tomato) was excellent, but the highlight for us was the coriander-crusted duck breast, cooked sous vide and then finished off, with a reduction sauce. In the lounge, I strongly recommend the grilled vegetable bread salad, and the signature pork cheek stew. The latter went well with a Burgundy selected by Paul, and I finished with a Spatburgunder eiswein that was glorious — tart, sweet, with massive acidity on the palate.

Both evenings were terrific, and they’re just getting started. If you find yourself in San Francisco (or are a local), try Coi while it’s still possible to get a reservation!

I’m down in San Francisco for a couple of days, having a few meetings and seeing some friends. While here, I’ve had the pleasure of a couple of great meals, with more to come.

After arriving, I checked on Jardiniere, the French/Californian restaurant by Traci Des Jardins. Traci is probably familiar to fans of Iron Chef America, where she appeared in a battle this last season (and did some very interesting dishes). I’ve been going to Jardiniere since shortly after it opened, having experienced her cooking at a private dinner party and Chave Hermitage tasting back in 2000. I wasn’t disappointed – the food is still excellent at Jardiniere, and the wine list is superb: four separate Raveneau Chablis selections are available, for example. I was a little less thrilled by the signature short ribs, but I think this is mostly my issue: braised fatty meats, which can be incredibly tasty, are now the French equivalent of fugu for me — it may be a delicacy, but it can also kill me. So I tend to eat very small portions of it, and feel guilty the whole time. I suspect if I’d ordered the risotto I’d have been happier.

Tuesday I stayed with a friend up in Sonoma, who (despite a full-time career in the software industry) is one of the best Chinese cooks I know. He writes Soup Noodles, an occasional journal (with pictures) of his attempts to interpret and perfect various dishes. If you’re not hungry by the time you read his essay on Chicken with Red Pepper Shreds, there’s not much hope for you. His kitchen was recently remodeled to provide massive BTUs in the stove and dedicated wok burner, and to give him an excellent work flow. We relaxed a bit with the remainder of Monday’s 2003 Raveneau Butteaux from Jardiniere, and then he made a superb spicy halibut with ginger, garlic, hot peppers, and a simple soy/vinegar/rice wine mixture. Gorgeous despite its simplicity. He also marinated cornish game hens (knowing my weakness for small birds) in a big pot of “master sauce” (a topic about which I’ll be researching!), finished with some organic chicken livers to give the sauce body. We drank a 1971 spatlese with this (which regrettably I forgot to write down), and the dregs of the Raveneau.

Tonight, he and I, his wife and her mother are going to Chez Panisse for downstairs dinner, accompanied by a couple of wines I brought for the occasion: 1988 Raveneau Butteaux and a 1991 Henri Bonneau Marie Beurrier Chateauneuf. The latter is a weak (to say the least) vintage in CdP, but in the hands of Bonneau we’ve had great wines and more to the point, they’re actually ready to drink — unlike his 1989 and 1990. The official menu for tonight at Chez Panisse is as follows:

An apéritif

Antipasto of eggplant caponata, Parma prosciutto, and wild rocket

Raviolini with ricotta, pecorino, basil, and yellow tomato sauce

Grilled Paine Farm squab with squab liver toast and warm salad of curly endive

and porcini mushrooms

Peach leaf, boysenberry, and nectarine ice cream bombe

We’ll see what last-minute modifications arise but altogether it looks like a terrific evening.