THE BEST SANDWICH IN NAPA VALLEY

It's been years since my last post. Life intervenes, you know? Travel, book writing, volunteering, politics, injuries and recovery. Sigh. But today, on perhaps my fourth visit to Contimo, I was moved to write. 

Contimo is located in Napa on Randolph just south of First St. You can't miss the name in big letters on the outside of the building. It's a simple place in layout, size and furnishings, but the food . . . oh la la! 

But first there is the friendly greeting you get from Ryan Harris, Kevin Folan and the staff. On my second visit, Ryan was trying to remember my name and we had a funny exchange of information about Edgar Allan Poe and the town of Lenoir, North Carolina, with the same pronunciation as Lenore. Today he knew me. What a great outlook to customer service: call them by name!

Contimo's sandwiches are utterly amazing. First there is the bread. Some of it comes from Model Bakery and some from other bakeries in Napa. They manage to warm it to the perfection of soft on the inside and crispy on the outside. The fillings are both ample and creative. The choices change from time to time, but one ham and cheese sandwich I had included shredded apple, which absolutely added the perfect tart/sweet finish. Other sandwiches of beef or chicken include such flavorings as lemon marmalade, dijonaisse, or horseradish aioli. They make a grilled cheese with broccoli sandwich that includes cheddar and chèvre on crispy sourdough. Hey, have your cheese and veggies at the same time!

I haven't tried the salads or the sides, but they all sound delicious. Contimo eschews the usual soft drinks, but today I tried their housemade turmeric soda and found it to be refreshing and not too sweet. 

And did I mention the biscuits? I have yet to try the breakfast sandwiches, but given those homemade biscuits, they all look fabulous. 

In addition to all these wonderful offerings for breakfast or lunch, Contimo offers a pantry of condiments, wines, their own cooking stock, and other additions to the home kitchen. And you can pick up prepared food so you don't have to cook dinner! I tried their beef bourguignon during the holidays. It was delicious with plentiful amounts of beef, just needing to be reheated. 

So I'll have to edit this post with a picture, which I forgot to take before my sandwich disappeared. They are currently open Tuesdays to Saturdays from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. and they do special events on occasion. Get on the mailing list to be first in line for special items like the butternut squash soup I picked up today!

Hog Island Oyster Company

        The oysters at Hog Island may be splendid, but I don’t eat raw fish, so you won’t find an oyster review here. No, this is about the best clam chowder I’ve ever consumed. Hog Island’s Manila Clam Chowder is not the flour-thickened mush with tiny canned clam bits and too many potatoes that most places serve--the kind that’s been sitting on the stove staying warm for hours. Instead, you get an exquisite bowl of clams in the shell, surrounded by cream with red potatoes, butter, a little bacon, and seasoning that is perfect, cooked up while you wait.

        Hog Island at the Napa Oxbow was busy at lunchtime, but this was not my first round of their chowder, so I ignored my hunger, summoned my patience, and watched cook Miguel do the honors. For each serving he grabbed from cold storage a couple of handfuls of clams and tossed them in a buttery sauté pan with a scoop of cooked potatoes, leeks and herbs. Once the mixture was nice and hot, he tossed it to blend, then added the cream and let that bubble up before placing all with great attention into a bowl. Since I’ve never had chowder like this anywhere else, including New England, I asked the very French chef Rémy where the recipe originates. He referred me to the restaurant chain’s website. 

      I exchanged emails with the folks at the farm in Marshall, a little over an hour west of Napa and heard back from Brenna, who informed me the recipe came from one of the founders, John Finger, more than thirty years ago. John was from Long Island and while planting his oyster beds in Tomales Bay, he duplicated the chowder his mother had made: clams from the sea and veggies from the garden. Hog Island still follows the philosophy of fresh produce and seafood. The recipe for their chowder can be found at hogislandoysters.com/oysters/recipes. And even if you think you’ve had superb clam chowder elsewhere, give this a try when you’re in Napa or San Francisco. You won’t be disappointed.

The French Laundry

As a Napa resident, I always have a response ready when someone asks about the French Laundry. “Yes, I was there once many years ago. All I remember is that it didn’t matter whether I liked or didn’t like each course, because it was just one bite.” 

After my second visit, I've changed my tune. “Wow! A true dining adventure—a chance to experience the chef’s brilliant combination of tastes and textures with service that is attentive without being annoying.”

How to begin? Well, with the amuse bouche which was a bit of raw salmon (my first taste ever) in an adorable “cone” of other ingredients I can’t name but that blended into some kind of perfection. Followed by nine courses. I usually don’t eat oysters, but wasn’t going to miss the signature “oysters and pearls” sabayon, a smooth blend with caviar and tapioca. It was served in the smallest of three nested bowls, just beautiful. Next came the ruby beet salad, a piece of art on the plate, which included several dots of a plum puree with balsamic vinegar that was so highly flavored I was sure there was a component of meat in it. Gorgeous and worth savoring slowly so as to absorb all the flavor.

Somewhere near the beginning the host was asked to select wine. He chose a Napa Valley chardonnay and a cabernet. We sipped the white during the fish courses and the wait staff swiftly removed our glasses and brought a set of red wine glasses for the cab as the first meat course arrived. The wine got better with every sip; I have never before noticed how much food and wine can work together, each improving my enjoyment of the other.

This was followed by tastes of sturgeon and lobster, then the bread course, another sensuous moment: the tomato brioche, about two inches across, was seated in a hollow, heated ceramic bowl. The waiter referred to the buttery layered pastry as “laminated.” It was served with a milky dish of burrata for dipping or spooning onto the bread. Delicate and delicious.

I was impressed by the sheer number of staff, all dressed in black, waiting on every table. When my water glass was half empty, it was refilled. Each course was explained, the regular and vegetarian versions. The wait people were pleasant, helpful, and not so serious as to make me uncomfortable to be getting all of this attention. They deftly assisted each other in placing and removing dishes swiftly without disturbing the conversation around the table.

The sixth course was a small circle of rabbit prepared like chorizo served next to a tiny carrot on some creamed peas. Bugs Bunny might not get the joke. Then came the lamb course. I am not a big fan of lamb, but am glad I didn’t miss this. The circle of meat was positioned next to a rib, as if it might be attached. So tender and delicious, with rancho gordo beans and artichoke, an amazing flavor combination.

We were all beginning to feel full, when the cheese course arrived: a gougère filled with melted cheese and served on a cream with Australian truffles. It was so yummy I wanted to pop the whole thing in my mouth, but forced myself to use my spoon to break it into pieces and scrape up every bit of sauce.

As if six kinds of animal protein and all the rest might not be enough to satisfy, the dessert course blew us away. We were celebrating a birthday, so a special cake was brought on a board with a vase of flowers, candle and all, then whisked away and cut into two inch square slices for each of us. In addition? A tiny espresso cup with a creamy, foam-topped cappuccino ice cream, another dish with butter ice cream (like unbrowned caramel) and a tiny bite of cake, another with a different cake topped with some kind of meringue and fruit, and just in case that was not enough sweet stuff, two bowls to share, one with tiny macarons and twists of caramel candy, the other with house-made donut holes.

After three hours, as we sipped our coffee and began to sadly consider the necessity to depart, a server arrived with a box of chocolates, described each of ten different kinds and asked us to choose one. Oh, my.

If all three star dining is like this, I am ready for more. As long as someone else is paying the bill! This was not just food. It was an experience to be savored and remembered for a long time.

GLAM FAST FOOD

Does Yountville need another Michael Chiarello restaurant? Well, maybe, since this one claims to be fast food, in short supply in this foodie mecca. Platform 8 just opened in the space that used to be Pacific Blues. It is still a good spot to sit out on the deck and enjoy a beer or a glass of wine and a burger.

Visiting a restaurant that has just opened is always a bit of an adventure, as the kinks remain to be worked out. The first challenge is ordering. You order and pay at the bar outside, then sit wherever you want. The condiments and silverware are also only available at the bar outside. So I made more than one trip from my inside table to get what I needed. I didn’t know how I was supposed to get my soft drink and asked someone, who brought it to me. I suspect some of this set up will change. I asked one of the workers what the plan is for rain and he said they haven’t figured that out yet! It would certainly be nice to find ketchup and silverware indoors if that is where you are sitting.

That said, the ordering is being expedited smoothly, as my meal came quickly and was delivered to me hot. The menu is on the pricey side. Well, this is Yountville after all. The standard burger is $9, which is not bad, but the add-ons are all $2.50 each. The zinfandel grilled onions were tasty, but I’m not sure I would pay that much again for a little extra flavor.

The grass-fed beef burger was really tasty, cooked perfectly and full of juice, which is why they serve it with a paper “shop towel.” I liked the square shape, those yummy corners sticking out from the thin English muffin-like bun. The thin bread worked well, although I ended up with sesame seeds all over. The “grey salt” French fries, claimed to be shot from a cannon and cooked multiple times in olive oil, didn’t impress me. They were crisp, but didn’t taste salty at all. This probably depends on one’s personal preferences. I must admit I still think that McDonald’s makes the perfect thin, crisp, salty fry. The worker I asked about the French fry cannon didn’t know what I was talking about.

I took a walk after I finished my $20 burger, fries and coke but returned to try the Nitro ice cream. Chiarello says the ice cream can be made without eggs and without ice crystals because it is quick frozen with liquid nitrogen. The only memorable part, however, was the $5 tab for a tiny scoop of vanilla ice cream and a spoonful of tasteless chocolate pearls. 

HAPPY HOUR AND OTHER EXCUSES

I haven't settled into a lunch counter solo for months, but I've been to some new places. One day I was driving while hungry as I passed Biscuits in Napa and stopped to give it a try. Yes, the biscuits are light and buttery, but the menu in general is too grease-heavy for my taste. Lunch at Mini Mango with the vegetarian niece was a delight--put enough peanut butter sauce on tofu and it's pretty tasty.

Then there was the happy hour inspiration. Why not write an article for a local magazine about the best places to go for happy hour? I started asking friends for recommendations, checked online and made some phone calls. It required a lot of on-site research--tough, but someone has to do it! Over two months I found great deals at restaurants I already liked and at others I hadn't yet tried.

At BarTerra in St. Helena the duck liver mousse was creamy, almost sweet and served on the thinnest croutons I've ever crunched, but $60 for appetizers and drinks is over the top for me. Most of the other places I tried have half price drinks, coupled with specially priced appetizers at the bar. Starting as early as 3:00, I had weekly outings with friends to sit at the bar for a glass of something refreshing along with some great food. My favorite drink is the ginger mojito at Tarla. I inhaled the fried artichokes and onion rings at Grace's Table.  And loved the BBQ at Bounty Hunter. Condensing it all to 500 words was a challenge, and one restaurant closed after I submitted the piece, so I had to go back and revise. Check it all out in the July-August issue of Napa Valley Life.

So, article written, I'm back to thoughts of lunch. I definitely want to sit at the counter at Grace's Table. Chef Mauro was so kind to me during my happy hour there, he put together a special plate of several items for me to taste. I hope he'll be there when I go in for lunch. And who knows, there might just be someone interesting sitting at the counter with me! 'Til then...

         

TARLA

Tarla Mediterranean Grill is a tasty addition to dining in downtown Napa and my new favorite restaurant. When I first saw the menu online, I knew it would be hard to choose between the offerings. Flaming cheese, mussels stuffed with rice, currants and pine nuts. Then I saw Musakka and knew I would have to try Tarla's version of my favorite middle eastern dish.

The counter is a great place to sit in Tarla to watch the precision grill team at work. While waiting for my Musakka, I thoroughly enjoyed watching the four focused men move swiftly and silently around each other in a small space. One mixed greens with salt and dressing and with a flourish, scooped them onto a waiting plate. Another cook scraped thin slices of beef off the hunk on the rotisserie and piled it onto huge pieces of crisped pita; he then topped those with dressed greens and added some fries to each plate. That's the Beef Doner--it's on my list for a future visit.

Many diners that day were lunching on the $12 specials--a skewer of chicken, lamb or beef accompanied by greens and a cup of butternut squash soup. Such a delicious deal! While waiting for my lunch, I was presented with a bread basket and some fragrant olive oil with bits of pink olive. The bread, which they told me is called "Turkish bun" is an egg-based, buttery bread something like challah. Let's just say it would melt in your mouth even without the delicious olive oil to dip it in. I shamefully admit to eating all but one piece.

My Musakka took a while, which told me they were not just nuking it, but actually baking it in an oven. It came with a crispy browned top of bechemal sauce, layers of beef, lamb, thin sliced potato and eggplant, and some dabs of a tomato puree so light and sweet-tart, they must have just made it. The best thing about a great Musakka is the hint of cinnamon and nutmeg. This was top notch.

I did  not have dessert, but would like to try the apricot and Chardonnay sorbet. Tarla serves breakfast on Saturday and Sunday. You can have various egg dishes, Greek yogurt, spanakopita or a bagel with cream cheese, smoked salmon, capers and onions. I'd also like to go back for Happy Hour, which starts at 3:00 p.m. and features a long list of appetizers including the stuffed mussels and flaming cheese, along with wine and cocktails at $5 a glass. Ginger mojito anyone?

<a href="http://www.urbanspoon.com/r/6/1642331/restaurant/Tarla-Mediterranean-Grill-Napa"><img alt="Tarla Mediterranean Grill on Urbanspoon" src="http://www.urbanspoon.com/b/logo/1642331/biglogo.gif" style="border:none;width:104px;height:34px" /></a>

BRASSICA

Cindy Pawlcyn has transformed Go Fish on the St. Helena Highway into a Mediterranean dining paradise named Brassica for the mustard family which includes broccoli, kale, and cabbage.  I have been here recently with a friend and know when I sit down at the counter that I have to have the eggplant fries. Bartender/waiter Dan says he loves the appetizer, but is miffed that the Chronicle review singled it out as one of the "best things on the menu." Dan would give this honor to the Moroccan Lamb Shank or Seafood Risotto.

I start with the eggplant anyway. How something breaded and deep fried can be so fragrant, light and crisp is amazing--Dan says rice flour has something to do with it.  I decide to skip the wine, wanting a clear head for my afternoon meeting. It's difficult to pick another course. They serve hummus and baba ghanoush, pizza, salads featuring persimmon or artichokes, as well as roast chicken, braised beef and lamb kebabs, all of which sound delicious. There are many small dishes on the menu, great options for the diner who wants a light meal and/or a small check at the end of the meal.

I decide to go with the Grilled Lamb T-Bone-Ettes with red pepper and pomegranate glaze. Dan explains the meat is sliced thin--bone and all--before cooking. I love the sweet and spicy glaze and the thin slices of lamb are easy to cut and chew. The only trick is figuring out where the little slice of bone is under that yummy sauce.

The restaurant is attractive, but almost empty at noon on a Wednesday. I have Dan to myself at the bar for most of the meal. The service is so quick, I am afraid I'll have to kill time before my meeting by browsing the St. Helena shops, which could turn this into a very expensive lunch outing. Instead I look at the dessert menu. On the last visit I tried their affogato, so I could compare it to the one that I love at Bottega. Theirs was pretty good, but I want something more adventurous, so select Five Easy Pieces, a dessert sampler which changes daily.

In order of increasing pleasure, I eat my way through an apricot-pistachio nougat, a coffee cookie, a tiny lemon tart, zabaglione ice cream and a caramel--filled chocolate truffle. Nougat is not my favorite candy, although this homemade bit of chewy sweetness is pretty good. The coffee cookie is crisp and buttery--a stack of them with a cup of coffee would be delightful. Lemon tart is always a pleasure, even just a  mouthful or two of tangy lemon curd on a slice of piecrust. The ice cream has  wonderful flavor from the Marsala wine that I know is critical, along with a lot of egg yolk, to creating zabaglione. Yes, only in Napa Valley can you have wine-flavored ice cream. The pièce de resistance is the truffle. I think of truffles as round and mostly chocolate, but this candy has a square hard shell. The homemade buttery caramel inside has just the right consistently to be a little chewy and melt in your mouth at the same time. The perfect way to end another wonderful Napa Valley meal.

Next time, Dan, I promise to try the Moroccoan Lamb Shank. For those who like their  middle eastern spices, sesame, thyme, artichokes, pomegranate and yes, brassica, there is a lot to like here.

ANGÈLE



I don't pretend to be a culinary expert, but I know a few things about French onion soup--Soupe à l'Oignon Gratinée. I've made it for years from Julia Childs's recipe, beginning with a ton of onions which cook down and caramelize into a little brown blob which produces a very fine flavored soup. The only place to order onion soup is in a good French restaurant, where you know it will be served hot from the oven with a large crouton and bubbling cheese melted on top.

What better way to start lunch on a chilly December day at Angèle? Located in Napa's riverfront area among the newest shops and some of our most prestigious dining establishments, Angèle is like a short visit to France--several brands of pastis  behind the bar, French titles on the menu, and French music in the background. Despite the chill of the day, it is warm enough in the sun that some diners are having lunch outside. I sigh to see another empty counter but pull up a stool. Even at the bar diners get a cloth placemat and napkin. Memories of previous visits whet my appetite--I had a great birthday party here a couple of years ago in their private room. The wine list entices, but today I am saving my alcohol consumption for an evening party, so choose water for my beverage.

Even the french bread at Angèle is excellent. It's an Acme bread made to their specifications with lots of crunchy crust. The soup arrives in an individual tureen hot from the oven, the rim overflowing with browned cheese. Just delicious. Although     the broth has salt, the combination of onions and cheese lends an earthy sweetness. A spoon of the broth-soaked crouton dripping with cheese makes my mouth happy.

Onion soup is very filling but the occasion calls for something more, if not a full entrée. I decide on the Salade Lyonnaise, which is on the appetizer menu, but is large enough to be a main course. Frisèe covers a bed of warm De Puy lentils and carrots in a vinaigrette with lardons, another French staple--Julia recommended them for many of her dishes. In America we would just use crisped bacon for flavoring, but the French use salt pork. You buy a slab of what is mostly fat with a thin strip of meaty rind. You cut it into pieces the size of a short french fry and sauté them to render out some of the fat. Then they go into your dish to add a chewy bit of flavor. The lardons in my salad are meaty and accent the dish with their familiar smoky taste.

The intrigue of this salad is the "crispy farm egg." The bartender explains the eggs are cooked in the shell sous-vide until they have the perfect runny yolk and firm white. Then they are peeled, coated in panko and deep fried quickly until brown and crisp. I easily cut the warm egg with my fork and the yolk runs onto the greens, a perfect complement. I could eat a lot of eggs served this way!

A couple enters and sits at the end of the bar for drinks. I think about asking if they are visitors or locals, but they're engrossed in their own conversation. I manage only a smile in their direction. No social encounters today--it's a good thing the food is so wonderful.

In the past some of my post-lunch-encounter feelings of bliss could be accounted for by the wine consumed with those meals, but today I have had no wine and am still feeling pretty wonderful at the end of my meal. I walk around the area, looking into the shops I haven't seen before, grateful to live so close to such bounty and for my mini trip to France thanks to Angèle.

BRIX

BRIX

Brix rhymes with "sticks" and is named for the scale used to measure the amount of sugar in grapes. This October, with a late harvest, someone is out there with a hydrometer most days hoping the level is right. The restaurant, on Highway 29 north of Yountville, has a great wine shop, with small production wines not available elsewhere. Remodeled since my last visit,  Brix still focuses on farm-to-table. My favorite thing at Brix--aside from the food-- is suspended from the ceiling. I first saw wine bottle chandeliers in an artsy shop in Austria, but now I know they were in Napa Valley first. Made by JeAnne Ettrick of San Mateo, they reflect ambient light and remind one to order a bottle of something divine.

Despite tourist season in high gear and the approaching noon hour, Brix is not exactly busy. It looks like another solo hour at the counter, just the bartender and me. A group of diners sits   outside in the sunny garden, which extends to rows of vines receding into the hills. My hemoglobin must be low, because I'm in a mood for meat. Mulling the choice between a cheeseburger and a sausage and pasta dish, I consult Dustin the bartender. He recommends both and isn't sure which he will choose for himself later on. I pick the cheeseburger along with a glass of Groth Sauvignon Blanc.

While sipping my wine and waiting for lunch, I ask Dustin to show me the bar menu. This bar is rumored to be a great place for a late afternoon bite to eat with happy hour prices for wine and mixed drinks. Dustin confirms that most afternoons after 4:00 there is a crowd of winery folks at the bar. The bar menu has a lot in common with the lunch eats--the same cheeseburger, vegetable tempura, pizza, flatbreads and cheeseboard. There are also oysters, mussels, and a salmon carpaccio. I make a mental note to come back with a girlfriend when there may actually be some men to meet here, then shift my focus to lunch.

The best thing about the burger is the choice of cheese--brie, cheddar or blue. Blue sounds just right, and the flavor it adds to the succulent beef is sublime. I am especially impressed by the glamorous slice of heirloom tomato and fresh crisp lettuce that I slap onto the burger and struggle to keep from falling out onto my lap. Dustin explains much of the produce is from their garden in the back. He praises the lavender they grow and use in desserts.

Every bite of my burger and almost all of the fries have disappeared, and I'm pretty full, but the dessert menu beckons. Have I ever eaten anything made with lavender? If not, it's time to try. The lavender and honey panna cotta,  a two inch round, comes on a plate with a tiny lake of honey caramel, and across the lake, a forest of fresh berries and cream gratinée. The flavor is delicate and, well, lavender. A bit of panna cotta, a tad of honey and a berry or two makes a delightful mouthful of flavors. I continue on to my writing class feeling fat and happy. What more could one want in Napa Valley, aside from a handsome beau with whom to share the pleasure?

Next time I'm hungry in Yountville, I'll avoid the tourist crowd and head for Brix.

  

OENOTRI

         A week ago I peeked into Oenotri, a little bit of Italia in Napa.  It has a long bar open to the kitchen, with a rack of pots and pans overhead. Arriving for lunch, I saw that one person had taken the two lone seats at the long counter. I moseyed over to the real bar, that is where liquor is served. Unfortunately the restaurant and the patio were nearly empty, so my only conversation was with Steve, the young bartender. Oenotri just started serving lunch in June--perhaps it hasn't caught on yet.

          Before I get to the food,  I  have to laugh about constant references to this recently developed area of First Street as the "west end." It isn't even a quarter of a mile from First and Main--it's three blocks.   If this is the west end, then what is Browns Valley, some three miles west of here but still in Napa?

          I started with the wine list and despite the price ($13) had to try a Slovenian wine.  Steve, who clearly enjoys his job and is proud of the restaurant, gave me a taste before committing me to a glass. Its name is daunting: Ribolla Gialla by Edi Simcic, Rubikon, Goriska Brda. At least the Rubikon sounds familiar! Wikipedia tells me Brda is a region of Slovenia and the grapes are commonly grown in Italy.  A pale gold medium-bodied white, it  lacked the strong oakiness of the chardonnays I avoid. An excellent choice and a generous serving.

          A glance at the menu told me the fare here is not what usually makes me salivate. Of the twelve items on the daily changing lunch menu, seven included sausage or pancetta. Then there was steak, lamb and rabbit. So if you're not into meat or eating cuddly animals, Oenotri might not be for you. The menu hails from the southern parts of Italy's boot.  Steve explained they smoke and cure all the meat themselves. They butcher a pig once a week on site and sell a large variety of in-house salumi (salami). The chefs, Curtis Di Fede and Tyler Rodde,  source their food supplies locally, including the gardens at Copia.

          I ordered the Nadia eggplant parmigiano panini, which included basil, tomato sauce and mozzarella. A comforting and delicious sandwich. Rather than that flattened toasted bread most folks call panini, the sandwich was served on a warm, crunchy roll. The eggplant had been lightly breaded and fried--crisp on the outside but soft and smooth on the inside. It was like the best meatball sandwich you could imagine only with eggplant instead of meat. On the same plate came simple garden lettuces,  with a mix of oil and vinegar which couldn't have been more perfect. I nearly inhaled this sandwich, pausing once in a while to sip my wine.

          Steve informed me that oenotri  means vine cultivators and goes back to before ancient Rome. The portrait on the wall above the brick oven is of  Curtis Di Fede's great uncle. There is a very authentic feel to the  Oenotri experience. The pizza oven was imported from Naples. The space itself is simple--high ceilings, brick walls.  The kitchen staff were easily observed cutting meat, and one held up what looked like a bag of sous vide vegetables. I would have loved to try their polenta, served at dinner, with your choice of parmigiano-reggiano, crescenza or gorgonzola cheeses. I bet it's fantastic.

          The honey panna cotta   was my choice for dessert, served with kadota figs and croccante dolce. I usually don't go for desserts that shimmy like jello on the plate coming towards me, but this panna cotta's  flavor was absolutely heavenly--it made me think of an infant dreaming of mother's milk. It had just the right amount of sweetness from the honey, divine with the beautiful pink fig slices.

          So meat eaters, check this place out. And if your date is into meat but you're not, you could be happy with the pizza, salmon, pasta, or eggplant.







THE GREENS OF HOME

I'm not talking about green fields--here in northern California, fields are brown in July--or even the wonderful San Francisco vegetarian restaurant Green's, but greens purchased at the Napa farmers' market and made into a salad, accompanied by locally grown lettuce, radishes and low fat dressing. Most of my lunches in the months since I returned from Europe have included a homemade salad. But I miss blogging and don't want my readers to give up on me; hence this update.

I hate to admit that, although I maintained my weight while slurping cider and chowing down quiche and macarons in Europe, I gained a few pounds after I returned. Graduation parties, weddings, barbeques, wine tastings abounded and I seemed to have rediscovered my need to eat everything in sight. I have pushed myself back into diet mode.

Not that I've totally stayed away from restaurants since May. Went to Las Palmas on Yajome for Mexican food with a friend. He declared their chili verde to be authentic; my taco salad was good too and the extensive menu included everything from banana enchiladas to filet mignon.  

Pierre, a French university student, stayed with me for a few weeks and I took him to the Kitchen Door at the Napa Oxbow. They have an eclectic menu and quick service, but I haven't liked everything I've ordered. We tried their Flammekueche, a regional dish from Alsace, where Pierre lives. It looked and tasted like pizza; Pierre said it lacked the signature cream topping, which makes it a dish for Alsatians who are thin or have a cardiologist on call. Cooking for Pierre got me back into entertaining mode and I found myself preparing things like crème brûlée, tasting it before dinner and then finishing whatever remained when the guests had left.

I have also been working harder at meeting men in the traditional way, that is via the Internet. After encountering Europeans who were interested in the arts, literature, and me, I decided to mount a search here in Napa. I advertised on Craig's List for a  culture buddy and got a good response. Many coffee dates later, I have met some nice fellows who are potential symphony partners, but none I really want to date. I spent Pierre's first week in the U.S.  working furiously to introduce him to other young people. Recognizing that I rarely apply this much effort to my own social life, I signed up on Match.com and followed up diligently on all the connections who seemed even vaguely promising. More coffee dates. Some follow up. No sparks. The search continues.

So I'm back on track eating my veggies and will plan a lunch encounter soon. I understand Oenotri is now open for lunch. Eiko's too. And there are some old favorites I haven't blogged on: Angèle, Bistro Don Giovanni, Cindy's Backstreet Kitchen. So many places to eat and meet. 'Til then!

La Parisienne

If you know I've been to Paris and are waiting on the edge of your computer chair to hear the juicy details, this is for you.  Exhausted from walking and waiting in long lines at every museum and attraction, I couldn't be sure I'd find the energy to write anything but a diary of whining, as opposed to wining. Jet lag did, however, provide  time in the middle of the night for writing, exhausted or not.

With the pathetic value of the dollar in Paris, I didn't pursue any fine dining, unless you include lunch at the Paris Rotary Club, which was delightful, but cost me sixty euros, or $90. The club of  250 meets at the Port Dauphine Pavilion, which is a lovely tent-like place, also used for weddings, on the edge of the Bois de Boulogne. Of the 250, there are only fifteen women, so I was surrounded by attractive men in suits and ties. I joined a round table of eight and truly enjoyed the conversation--some of them spoke English--until the food was served and the start of the business meeting demanded silence. On my right sat a gent who spoke no English, but proudly told me in French he was eighty-five years old--and in pretty good shape, I would say. On my left a charming middle aged fellow arrived late and regaled me with stories of his vacation in southern California, when he tried to rescue an injured pelican, keeping it in the hotel bathtub while he exhausted all known sources of rescue. He found it painful, because his young daughter was with him, when the SPCA told him they could only put the bird out of its misery. So he left the pelican behind in the bathtub to be dealt with by hotel staff.

Back to the pricey food. First the waiter delivered a lovely and substantial salad--a wedge of tender lettuce leaves decorated with crab and a few tiny shrimp, then covered with a tangy pink dressing. I was so busy talking, I had to quickly finish mine as my tablemates' plates were whisked away. I noted that every one of them cleaned his plate--a hungry bunch,  or maybe they were trying to get their 60 euros worth. The main course came, a piece of chicken, nicely cooked, but just chicken, and some rice studded with something red--chopped pepper or pimento. Boring! I couldn't identify the dessert, but it was muffin-shaped and mocha-flavored, partly frozen, served with a slice of kiwi, raspberries, caramel sauce, shaved chocolate and what I thought was a tiny cherry dipped in chocolate, waving some dried green leaves like a flag. Pretty tasty. And of course the wine flowed freely, both red and white from Bordeaux.

For the rest of my Parisian food consumption, I relied primarily on cooking in my tiny apartment, a challenge considering the only cooking utensils were two small pots without lids. I also lunched in various cafes.  I had a delicious Soupe à l'Oignon one chilly afternoon at the Victor Hugo café,  close to the house where the writer lived in the Marais. Before tackling the horrendous lines at the D'Orsay museum, I fortified myself at the Buci Cafe in St. Germain, just down the street from my apartment. Their quiche was rather unrefined--two inches tall, dense, and filled with chunks of salty ham. Another day,  after waiting in line to see St. Chappelle--only to discover that the main room with the glorious stained glass was closed for renovation, as it was on my last visit, I dashed across the street to another café to soothe my soul with a simple but perfect plate of salmon, boiled potatoes and spinach with crème fraȋche. Do you hear the whining coming through?

I had some yummy take-out desserts, including the macarons from Ladurée. I managed to cut in line at the famed patisserie without knowing it, making me feel like a real Parisienne. I bought two cookies without gasping at the price of over eight euros. Cookies at $6 each--that's twice what Bouchon charges. They were pretty amazing cookies, one filled with an intense  high percent cocoa cream, the other oozing with caramel. However, I had no desire to deposit any more euros at Ladurée.

I warmed my cold hands with a rich cup of cocoa in a crèpe place late one afternoon after a long walk in a chilly wind. Most nights at home, I refreshed my spirits with a dry, slightly alcoholic cider that I brought home from the grocery store and carried up six flights of stairs. Then one night I  dropped one of the bottles and, happy it didn't break, removed the cap to have the bubbly stuff explode all over the walls and ceiling of my tiny kitchen. I also visited the Starbucks in St. Germain, where the latte was four euros, and the cute baristo told me Parisians love Starbucks because "they love everything American." He also said their fare is the same as in the U.S. "but we have pancakes!"

Most of my contacts in Paris were with indifferent waiters and ticket sellers. A few lovely gentlemen came to my rescue as I struggled with my luggage on stairs. I would have liked to grab the rugged gray haired fellow coming out of the Metro who skipped up the steps to pick up my monster bag and then carried it all the way down several sets of stairs to the turnstile. But I was on my way to the train station and the mysteries of eastern France, Germany, and Austria. New adventures awaited, of both the social and culinary varieties.

BOUCHON

Yountville, California, with its population of less than 3,000, boasts some of the finest restaurants in northern California, three of them owned by famed restaurateur Thomas Keller (French Laundry, Ad Hoc and Bouchon). With its adjacent bakery, Bouchon is a place to celebrate French food.

Bouchon's cookbook is on my shelf, but I make my first visit on a dreary March Friday of pouring-down rain. The L-shaped counter is adjacent to the oyster bar, taking up about a quarter of the space in the room; for all its fame, this is a small restaurant. Bartender Chris presents the brown paper menu wrapped around a cloth napkin. The counter is a busy place at 12:30, and I suspect whenever the restaurant is open. A group of three young women sits to my left, and soon two couples are to my right. No single guys, but cozy!

The menu offers many dishes I would like to try--onion soup, Croque Madame (fried ham and cheese sandwich to soothe the soul), mussels, steak frites, pâté, escargots--all so very French; how does one choose?  Trying to keep it simple so there's room for dessert, I select the Salade de Betteraves as a first course, followed by Truite Amandine. And my signature Sauvignon Blanc--from Napa Valley. Bouchon is known for its baguettes shaped like stalks of wheat and served with delicious sweet butter.

I taste the salad and study all of its fascinating parts. Small red beets (betteraves), pieces of poached rhubarb, leaves of roasted lettuce from Bouchon's garden, a sweet white cheese called Tomme Dolce and roasted hazelnuts. Sprinkled on top are some tiny yellow flowers that look a bit like the wallflowers I just planted in my front yard. With a light vinaigrette, this salad is an edible work of art. I'm thinking the diet is safe so far.

I ask the young woman to my left if she and her friends are visiting and learn that although she has spent the last year in Boston, Clemente is from Paris. All right! An expert at the table. I tell her plans for my upcoming trip to Europe and she gives me the name of a Paris bakery to visit for Macarons. I suggest she try Bouchon's amazing cookies of the same name. Clemente judges her quiche as not the same as a quiche in France, but good nevertheless. Her friends aren't able to finish their Croque Madames slathered in mornay sauce and accompanied by  mounds of French fries. Before they depart for wine tasting, we chat about local wineries.

The couple on my right has finished their steak tartare and saffron mussels. I have no interest in raw beef, but find the mussels are plentiful and look yummy--maybe next time. My trout arrives as the seats to my right refill. I meet two more young women--one is from the Bay Area and her visitor is from North Dakota. The trout is served butterflied, head still attached. The "body" is covered with beautiful buttery haricots verts (in English--green beans) and slivered, toasted almonds. Quite tasty, and except for the butter, I'm still in diet territory.

A little chocolate seems to be in order and I go for the Marquise au Chocolat, a thick, dark slice of chocolate mousse, with a dab of whipped cream and some burnt orange cream on the plate for contrast, and a couple of pralines for crunch. A true chocolate transfusion--heavenly! Yeah, forget the diet.

Bouchon has daily specials, so one could have a nice meal for under $50 with wine. Today's dessert special is  "bouchons," their special cork-shaped chocolate brownies, which are also available in the bakery. Once "uncorked," the French cuisine at Bouchon is to be enjoyed again and again, certainly by moi!



SOLBAR IN THE RAIN

If you're only interested in the yummy food at this Calistoga restaurant, skip to the third paragraph. I must begin with an update on my mission in writing this blog. I began with the intention of meeting interesting men while eating delicious lunches at the counters of Napa Valley's upscale restaurants. More often than not, my only lengthy conversations have been with bartenders. The focus of my blogs has increasingly been the delicious food I have happily ingested while waiting for Mr. Right to sidle up to the bar and order lunch.

Please understand that I am not a food critic. I don't know enough about  ingredients or styles of cooking, and don't wish to be held accountable for my guesses about what's in the food and why it tastes good. I leave that to those who are capable of taking just a bite of many dishes and leaving the rest. But some of you have really enjoyed my food descriptions and have told me you're going to visit that restaurant because I made it sound so tasty. For that the eateries should be giving me some kind of kickback...free dessert? The bottom line here is that I am having a blast doing the research and the writing, and I'm going to continue, romantic possibilities or not. Just make sure you remind me to go to the gym more often.

On to Solbar. I reluctantly drive up Silverado Trail to Calistoga on a rainy day, knowing I am unlikely to find a crowd of single guys hanging out at the restaurant of the Solange Spa. More likely couples on vacation and ladies of leisure getting a spa treatment and having a bite. This determination comes from my embarrassment when my girlfriend from Sonoma (Sonoma, for God's sake!) recommended this Napa Valley restaurant I didn't know. The same week the Napa Valley Register wrote about several area chefs up for an award--one of them is Brandon Sharp from Solbar. It's Food and Wine Magazine's "People's Best New Chef" for 2011. It's a public popularity contest, but I figure I'd better check it out.

Solbar's ambiance is hardly plush--more streamlined and minimalist. The spa buildings are unremarkable, although fountains and fireplaces are scattered around the property, including a fountain with flames in the center. The dining room seats about fifty people, has a concrete floor and a stone bar--very simple, but cold on a damp day. Yellow tulips on the dining tables add a nice touch.      

Of course there is no one seated at the bar.  Kat, a Calistoga native with lots of restaurant experience who loves working at Solbar, waits on me. I skip the wine and order two dishes. Solbar's menu divides the offerings between "light" (for the spa crowd, I guess) and "hearty." I choose one of each. The spicy shrimp lettuce wraps would serve as an appetizer for three people--large shrimp with glass noodles, avocado and pickled carrots on lettuce leaves.  I also order the maitake mushroom pizza, thinking  I'll take some of it home.  It has a very thin crisp crust covered with mushrooms, caramelized onions and gruyere; I don't want to stop eating.

Kat and I chat while I indulge. One other diner sits down at the far end of the bar. I hear him tell the staff he's worked out for three hours, so I guess he's one of their local "club" members who uses the gym, pool, and other facilities. Kat tells me they get a mix of tourists, locals and winery folks out for a business lunch.

I ask Kat to box the remaining pizza and am ready to skip dessert, but agree to look at the menu--always a mistake. I mean I'm doing research, right? Got to try as many dishes as possible, right? Kat tells me the last item on the menu is new: fried rhubarb pie with rosemary caramel and white chocolate ice cream. I can't imagine passing on fried pie, so decided to give it a try, even if it means another half hour at the gym. The pie, molded like one of  McDonald's apple pies, sits on a wide band of caramel that connects it to a scoop of ice cream. Warm pie, cold ice cream and sticky caramel make a nice combination.  The pie is nothing special and I can't taste the chocolate in the ice cream, but I have no problem cleaning the plate.

On a sunny summer day, Solbar would be a great place to hang out. The outdoor dining area with that mysterious water-enclosed flame, looks out on a brilliant blue lap pool. The indoor atmosphere is a bit  more clubhouse than fine dining, but the food is delicious and ample. So where are  all the single guys having lunch?



A EUROPEAN ADVENTURE IN YOUNTVILLE: BOTTEGA

Who says you can't buy happiness? My lunch at Bottega couldn't have been more satisfying; this Yountville bistro is my new favorite Napa Valley eatery. Michael Chiarello, owner and food celebrity, made a brief appearance shortly after I seated myself at the empty bar. A little before noon, the restaurant was about as lively as yesterday's champagne. I was greeted by bartender Fabrice, a transplant from Grenoble, France. Fabrice proved to be my perfect lunch companion, as I am gearing up for a trip to France this spring. He knows French and Italian food and could handle my few French words mixed with Spanish, since he is married to a Mexican woman. It felt like I was already in Europe, listening to him chat amiably in three languages with the manager and other staff.

To start the conversation, I brought a bag of lemons from my overflowing tree, wondering, if  they were offered to the kitchen, would they decline for security reasons or accept them graciously? The lemons never made it to the kitchen, as Fabrice and his fellow workers snapped them up to take home for lemon tart and lemonade. My adventure began with a carafe of Fumé Blanc--thank you, Robert Mondavi, for giving your Sauvignon Blanc this special name, making it easy to pick out from the competition. It is my favorite white wine--light, crisp and not too fruity.

The lunch menu is full of tantalizing items--in the Italian style, antipasti, paste and secondi courses. I started with the Shaved Artichoke Salad Two Ways. The lemon olive oil braised artichoke pieces had rich flavor and the roman fried slices on top, with shaved parmigiano reggiano offered a crispy contrast. The balance of the oily artichoke and bitter greens was perfect. Airy, warm bread with a crunchy crust came with a dipping sauce of olive oil, parmesan, garlic and herbs--oh so delicious, and great for one's breath too.

Fabrice talked about his years working in the Côte d'Azur, then as a pastry chef in Puerto Vallarta, where he met his wife. He seemed too young to have three children, one of whom is in the Spanish immersion program at Napa Valley Language Academy, where I have friends on staff. His wife speaks Spanish to the children and Fabrice, bien sûr, talks to them in French.  

I was happy to watch Fabrice work the espresso machine, pour wine and wait on three tables near the bar, bending to scoot under the counter each time one of his tables needed something. Definitely a job for a young man. The dining room began to fill up, but I was still alone at the bar.

The pasta menu provided my main course, crispy potato gnocchi mixed with tiny shallots and onions, a Valley Ford Montasio, a cheese similar to asiago, served on a layer of brilliant orange Kabocha squash. Beautiful to the eye, flavored with a touch of nutmeg, the dish had just the right amount of sweetness. What a great way to eat potatoes, onions and cheese.

While I was enjoying the gnocchi, a man seated himself at the end of the bar. I was having too good a time to pay much attention to his newspaper, smart phone and wedding band. Fabrice greeted him, as he had greeted me, "You are having lunch with me?" He then scooted under the counter to clean up a spill at one of his tables, with the kindest demeanor, enticing the embarrassed customer to laugh. What a sweetheart. Maybe I should be looking for a guy in the food service business!    

The wine carafe held a glass and a half, more than enough for me, however my pal Fabrice managed to top it off at least once, so I needed some caffeine to finish the meal. I'd never tried an affogato, but decided it would provide a little ice cream for dessert and some espresso to put my head on straight for the drive home. Bottega's affogato is served with a marcona almond cookie, nothing special by itself, but perfect in combination with the rest. It came on a petite tray; a stainless steel cup contained a scoop of caramel sea salt gelato, over which the server deftly poured an espresso shot. My mouth is watering now, remembering the exquisite blend of flavor and sensation--sweet gelato, bitter espresso, crunchy cookie. I was in heaven.

I gave Fabrice my card and told him Bottega's food is better than my memories of the food in France; he couldn't choose between the compliment and defending his homeland, so shook my hand and wished me bon voyage. I'll be back to see him again for some food bliss and another taste of Europe.

ICEBREAKER AP

Now don't think this piece is about a huge ship trolling around the Arctic. Au contraire, it's the story of an amusing lunch encounter at Fumé Bistro in Napa. On a frontage road east of Highway 29, it is easily missed by the casual observer. I know it has a bar and serves lunch, and I like the idea of staying close to home on a rainy day.

The maître d'/waiter/bartender makes me feel welcome. He is a charming young man wearing a striped shirt and a short beard. He recites the off-menu items, advises me on the wine, and has a friendly and relaxed manner, unlike the staff in my last posting.  I'm alone at the counter until after I've ordered.

I am soon joined by one fellow and then another: a bald, bespectacled man my age and a younger fellow with a big smile whom the bartender greets warmly, seeming to know already what he is going to order. Both men take out their smart phones and become engrossed, despite the two television sets tuned to different sports channels and, of course, moi.

The salad special with grilled salmon sounds tasty, or I could try the veggie burger with fries. I choose something more exotic off the appetizer menu, a pear salad and spring rolls with duck confit. Here I must pause to sing the praises and defects of duck confit. Ignorant of its charms until I attended chef Eric Maczko's lunch demonstration at Pine Ridge Winery, I had the immense pleasure of watching him do the preparation, then consumed every bite of a confit of duck leg cooked by his staff. Absolutely wonderful flavor and texture. Of course that is no surprise, given that it is cooked in duck fat for hours.  While planning my holiday menu, I visited The Fatted Calf charcuterie at the Oxbow Market to examine the duck confit for sale. Cold, the legs don't look so appetizing, as they lie there slathered in lard.

Back to Fumé Bistro. I sip my Roth Sauvignon Blanc, knowing  the wine will oil my jaw. I start my salad and spring rolls and observe my two male barmates as they study their screens. The dipping sauce is very spicy and I'd prefer to just taste what's in the crunchy roll--a mix of crisp shredded vegetables and the sweet duck. Bald guy asks the bartender if the restaurant has wifi and what's required to "get on."  He mentions he has an iPad he might want to use.

This fellow is several seats away from me, and the other guy is farther, but I shout down the line, "I'm just curious, are you checking email or playing games?" That starts a conversation. The first diner tells me he and his wife have been in the high tech business for twenty years. They both have iPads. They split their time between homes in Silicon Valley and Napa, are investors in Sweetie Pies, my favorite Napa bakery, and as a news junky, he uses his electronic devices mainly to read. He's reading a blog while waiting for his lunch to arrive. He informs me the average teenage girl gets 150 texts a day. The research says so. I wonder how many of those are read while she's sitting in a classroom.

The other fellow, Luis Robledo, has been checking his email. He works for his family's winery in Sonoma. We chat about restaurants. It's so hard to get a dinner reservation in Napa Valley on weekends, Tech Guy's wife will only go to restaurants that use Open Table. I recommend Farm and Boon Fly on the Carneros Highway. We talk about multi-tasking; I say it doesn't really exist. People who think they are multi-tasking are simply in training for permanent hyperactivity as they jump from task to task.

I purchased an iPad two days ago and am afraid to remove it from the box. Although it's already set up with my email and an Amazon "ap," thanks to the lovely sales folks at the Apple store, how steep is the learning curve going to be? How crazy is this new device going to make me? How soon will I drop it on a hardwood floor and break it?  Tech Guy tells me how much he likes his, how he's never needed the 3G upgrade that we both paid to have included, just in case there's no wifi around.  

When I'm asked if I am a visitor to the area, I fess up, not only to being a local, but also to the fact that I'm writing a blog and they're both going to be in it. No objections, so I ask if I can take their photo. I go out to the car to get my camera and upon returning hand them both my card and a standard model release.  I don't recall the fine print, but apparently by signing, they're giving me permission to totally alter their image in any way I choose. I show them the photo I've taken and promise that is all I will post.  Only one of them signs the release.

Fumé Bistro is a neighborhood place I will definitely visit again. Good food and service, reasonable prices, and interesting company around the bar, even if they had to be pried away from their electronics.