 There seems to be a new trend in the East Bay restaurant business: it has to be hidden and/or without a sign. First it was embarrassing walking up and down the street to find Commis, and now the same thing happens with Plum. Is this some kind of scavenger hunt joke? Plum‘s menu is short and sweet like its name. However, the same thing can’t be said about the majority of its dishes, which either tip a bit over to the salty side (pate ciccioli and bacon) or stay way back in plaindom (crispy pig ears and trout). There are bright notes, too. The turnip soup with yuzu kosho, pear and cilantro is a light, heart-warming start. The short ribs with peanuts and sweet potato has a deep Asian flavor. The caramelized brioche with coffee ice cream makes a comforting finish. Ironically, the yummy dishes didn’t have good pictures. But here’s a small album to get a taste of Plum.
 Every year just after the winter holiday hustle and bustle, Mom and Dad let me choose a restaurant for my early birthday dinner. Last year it was Martin’s Place for barbecue. Dad never tells me no, but let’s just say that Mom didn’t feel too confident of my aesthetics since then. This year she gently insists on French. But I manage to sneak in a twist of Texas. 😉 After all, Chef Philippe Schmit dubbed himself the French Cowboy. His two-story Philippe Restaurant & Lounge opened last February just a mile north of The Galleria. Looking out to the Houston’s limitless horizon, the second-floor dining room is bathed in a warm chocolate hue of the furniture, accented with soft vanilla light and word decorations made of Chef Schmit’s quotes in watermelon red. In contrast, the menu is bold, extensive, spanning from Texas BBQ and cactus to foie gras and fish pâté, from the classic croque monsieur to the carefree duck confit tamales; there’s a little something for everyone. “The Moroccan”, beef tartare with raisin, almond and the Tunisian hot sauce Continue reading French and Texan intertwined at Phillippe of Houston
 The difference between a bowl of ramyeon at Gomnaru and a six-course dinner at Commis is the ratio of satisfaction to expectation. This is how I rank my foods, which allows me to enjoy a Cheetos just as much as any prime ribs done well, perhaps even more. There are certain extremes, like the cafeteria at Berkeley and LBL, no matter how low I set my bar, they manage to wow me with their ability to ruin everything, including fried rice. Anyhow, I figured that it’s only respectful to the chefs that I go to a well applauded, top ranking restaurant with high expectation. But for Commis, I think my expectation was a bit too high. The ingredients: fresh, interesting, nothing to complain about. The techniques: nothing I know enough to comment about. The combinations: hmm… An hour after dinner, Rob asked me: “How would you describe your dinner tonight in four sentences?” “Four?” “Three. Ask me again and I’ll say two.” The truth is I would rather sum it up in one: “I don’t remember”. I can remember vividly the banh mi a vendor sold […]
Continue reading I had high expectation for Commis
 … to my skinniness. If there’s a place I should frequent to quickly improve my willow look and strengthen my Texas tie, it’d be the House of Prime Ribs on Van Ness Avenue. I might have lived in the Bay for too long and hung out with too many vegetarian, environmentally conscious, ethical-eater friends that sometimes the thought crosses my mind; except I always feel extremely hungry on my vegan days so I don’t think I can give up cookies and ice cream. Thankfully, I also have a number of fleischliebend friends who keep me from straying by putting me face to face with a slab of tender, juicy red meat. All ethical thoughts begone, I helplessly grabbed the knife and fork. I actually got a gasp, a deep sigh and a disapproving look from my company when I asked that my prime rib be medium. The men asked for “as raw as possible” because they wanted to “taste the meat”. Men… I could taste my medium meat just fine. The second difference between their dinner and mine is the size. There are four sizes (and a kid size with milk and ice cream, which kinda sounds attractive to […]
Continue reading House of Prime Ribs is the solution…
 For a foodie, I dare say nothing beats dining with other foodies. Foodies want to try new places but have a fair assessment of the food, regardless of “the trend”. The food can be scraps and you’d still have a good time dissecting how that kind of scraps made its way into a diner. But more importantly, you’re not the only one taking pictures of food, your companions also remember what you got and write about it too. In his calm, knowledgeable, matter-of-fact way, Bob Fukushima beat me to writing about Hawker Fare today, which drives me to push this post ahead of the other thirty backlogged. First, the credit must go to Robert Bergstrom for recommending this lunch spot in Oakland. He and Bob are barbecue buddies. How I got to know Rob is another post. We sat and chilled over rice bowls, among other things, for more than 2 hours; I could almost feel the sneer from the line of customers waiting to get seated. Hawker Fare opened in late May, why they have such busy lunch time is probably because of their off-the-norm, concise menu […]
Continue reading The Hawker Fare take on Southeast Asian cooking
 There is this quote of Anton Ego that I heard again tonight and is still ringing in my head: “In many ways, the word of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer their works and their selves to our judgment.” That is true: the critic (or the self-proclaimed critic, aka the food blogger) goes to a restaurant, eats the food, and writes about the food with respect to his expectation of what it should be. The expectation usually comes from a long list of preset rules that he goes through with check marks and x’s: beef is tender, vegetables are crisp, bread is crusty, truffles are included, lobsters were kicking the tank minutes before they turn red. But every so often, his expectation might come from friends’ recommendations. The judgment then includes not only the subjected restaurant or dish, it also indirectly includes the friend’s credibility. Whatever the (self-proclaimed) critic puts down in writing, be it positive or negative, he risks a part of his friend’s and his own credibility in his friend’s eyes, which is not a “very little” thing. As such, I feel […]
Continue reading A Green Lunch
 I wish I could be like Hikaru, eating 20 cakes in 3.5 hours. Then I could go to cake shops like Masse, ask for every beauty of the day and not worry about missing out on any flavor. Wouldn’t life be so sweet then? But maybe I don’t have to be like Hikaru. Minus the pastries and the cookies, Masse has only about 10 cakes on display, most of them are available in small size (because they don’t sell by the slices like Crixa Cakes); if I skip dinner and invite a friend, we could easily bring down all of them in one sitting, don’t you think? Danielle and I tried only two this time, though. Five bucks each, round and pretty and screaming “Got your spoon ready?” The mocha walnut chocolate cake was a fun little one: I thought about peeling off its white, woody patterned wrapper but it turned out the wrapper was white chocolate. 😀 The caramelized walnut base proved a mild and coarse complement to the thick, creamy layers of dark chocolate cake, chocolate Bavarian cream and espresso mousse. Its richness is […]
Continue reading Cheesecake overload: Masse’s versus Reuschelle’s
 San Antonio sleeps in on Sunday. It may be the seventh largest city in the States but it acts like either a college student or an old man who can’t sleep at night and frequently doses off in the day: Saturday night – cars, tourists and horse carriages packed Houston, Commerce and the streets about, Sunday morning – there may be 50 cars on the freeway and 3 people wandering downtown: us. The plus side for walking the pavements at 6 am is you can pose for pictures without being embarrassed about acting like a tourist. The downside is the restaurants aren’t opened, actually, they remain closed for the rest of the day. Just when we thought about settling for the hotel breakfast, the internet came to rescue: the Guenther House in Arsenal, an 1860 old-house-turned-museum with a late Victorian styled parlor, German-imported porcelain and a terrace looking out to the river, serves breakfast all day. The pancakes are fluffy. The white gravy is thick like melted cheese. The pineapples and oranges are sweet. Continue reading Breakfast at the Guenther House
 We dive into the briskets and ribs at Martin’s Place for my birthday in 2011. That’s their 86th year. I was born in ’86. I like to think Martin’s and I share some common destiny to cross path, beside the appreciation of good ribs. There is one flimsy door to the side of the red brick building, facing the supposed parking lot, which is just a flat pebble-and-dust land free to park wherever convenient. Crack open the flimsy door, we turn the knob of another, more solid door to the interior, and with it being our first time, we awkwardly stand there looking at the few customers who are in for an early lunch, not sure whether we should wait or just pick a table ourselves. The only hostess of Martin’s Place points us to a table next to a window with broken blinds. The menus stand ready by the side of sugar, salt, and hot sauce. At first she seems a bit indifferent to us, the opposite of her cheerful friendliness to the likely long-term acquainted patrons at the other tables, but as I tell her that it is […]
Continue reading Martin’s Place – BBQ for nine decades and counting
 Reading in your room with music is one thing, reading in a restaurant by the sea with romantic golden oldies and the wind is simply indescribable. Because I am not a fan of the sun, the waitress seats me in the shade in the middle of Seaside Grill, where I can look out to the parachute rising up from the beach but not the beach itself, and I can see Engelbert Humperdinck’s Spanish Eyes in the 70s music sweetness floating in the wind, but not directly feel the sticky salty wind itself. How can you read there? Well, when you sit alone in a restaurant (or anywhere), the best way to naturally observe your surrounding is by having a book in front of you. Also, being busy as they are at peak lunch hour, the waiters wouldn’t feel as bad leaving you unattended if they know you can get through the second chapter of Dodelson‘s Cosmology while waiting for the orders’ arrival. So the wait is not at all unpleasant, in fact I even hope for a longer wait just to be more productive; after all, I’m […]
Continue reading Dreams & Conference – Day 3, Seaside Grill and in room feasting
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