It was a grueling process: over the course of a month, I had been through two phone interviews and two Skype interviews until they finally flew me out to headquarters in Mountain View…for five in-person interviews. 

By day’s end, I was exhausted and nervous to the point where all I wanted to do was ensure I milked my trip to the west coast for all it was worth in the event I never made it back to California.  As part of my interview, I asked each of my interviewees for activities in which to participate up in the city – after all, I wasn’t going to spend my pseudo-vacation in the South Bay.

Taking the advice of my soon-to-be co-workers, I drove my loaner across the traffic jammed US-101 (which, as I would come to learn very quickly would become a staple of my daily life), up to San Francisco and made my way toward Chrissy Field.

Golden Gate Bridge…yadda yadda...

Karl the Fog…yadda yadda…

Since I hadn’t been in the city since I was a teen, I figured I’d hit up the touristy spots for good measure, so I made my way to the Ferry Building.  After searching for an elusive parking space for the better part of an hour (which, as I would come to learn very quickly, would become a staple of my daily life), I found a meter, inserted every piece of change I could conjure from the cushions and cup holders of the car, jogged along the city streets, reach the iconic structure, and made my way inside.

Despite the fact that there were dozens of shops and restaurants, one scene in particular quite literally stood out: there was a snaking line emerging from the far end of the building.  Ignorant, I figured if people were willing to wait for whatever was at the line’s origin, it must be worth it.

Thus, I stood in line (which, as I would come to learn very quickly, would become a staple of my daily life), until I finally reached the counter of Blue Bottle Coffee Company.  I ordered myself a latte from the barista, Julius, and we chatted for a while about what I was doing in San Francisco, how my interview went, and he wished me luck in my quest for the job. 

But as I peered into the pastry case, something caught my eye. 

A few things caught my eye, actually.

A sucker for both granola and mason jars, I opted for the granola in a mason jar as the winner for my plane snack.  The shortbreads, too, seemed extremely appealing, and Julius nudged me toward the Parmesan-fennel variety. 

Outrageous!  Sweet, savory, buttery, delicate and hearty, I had never tasted any treat so complex, yet somehow comforting.  I almost went back for another, until Julius was kind enough to sneak me the last olive oil rosemary version on the house for my drive to the airport.

Not knowing if I’d ever be back, I email Blue Bottle:

“Hello Blue Bottle,

I was recently flown out to San Francisco for an interview, where I found the Blue Bottle shop in the Ferry Building.  One of the baristas cued me in to the Parmesan-fennel shortbread, and I was absolutely blown away.

I know this is a long shot, but I was wondering if you were able to share the recipe.  I'm sure that you aren't, but they were so amazing that I thought I would ask.  Either way, I'll be coming back simply for those.  They were incredible.

Keep up the amazing work.  You've made a friend from the east coast!

Best,
Josh”

The very next day, I received a response from a woman named Caitlin, which read:

“Hi Josh,

Thanks for your note -- it's so nice (and rare) to get such a nice email. I'm currently working on adapting some of our recipes (parmesan shortbread included) for the home. These recipes will be a part of the Blue Bottle book that will be coming out in a little over a year. It'll be a little bit of a wait but, I promise, they'll be super well tested and come out great at home. In the meantime, we make the shortbread at our Brooklyn roastery, too, which sounds like it's closer to you.

Thanks so much,
Caitlin”

Wow – a bit of a bummer that I couldn’t steal the secret, but how incredible that I received such a sweet response – from the head pastry chef, no less.

As luck would have it, I was offered the job, and when I went back to visit the Ferry Building shop where my journey began, happened to run into none other than the man himself: Julius!  With that look of, “I think I know you, but don’t remember from where…” he somehow managed to recall that I was interviewing for a job, and must have taken it. 

Impressive, sir.

He then introduced me to my next Achilles heel: the vanilla-saffron snickerdoodle.  So, as I do, I wrote another note:

“Caitlin,

I wrote a while back about the ridiculously amazing Parmesan shortbread that I fell in love with on my trip out to SF.  Well, I actually landed that job and have been here for a few months!  Needless to say, these have become somewhat of my guilty pleasure...

Until I found those saffron snickerdoodle cookies that are now served at Blue Bottle.  THOSE ABSOLUTELY BLOW MY MIND!!  They are so fantastic I can't even begin to explain.

I assume that you are the mastermind behind those as well, and just wanted to tell you that they are incredible, and you should be very, VERY proud of those!!!  I may be a little addicted.

Can't wait to buy your book when it comes out!  Hope all is well :)

All the best,
Josh”

This time: no reply.

That is, until over a month later, when I found the following in my inbox:

“Thank you so much, Josh! Feel free to send me a note anytime you have
something you love - it makes my day!
I'm sorry it has taken me such a long time to get back - constant
travel has my email inbox all backed up!

Have a great Thanksgiving week,
Caitlin”

Little did she know, I’d be sending her another note in just about a year…

When I was offered a writing position with SF Weekly merely two weeks ago, I had little doubt as to the subject of my first article.  Caitlin graciously sent me a copy of the book before its release, and invited me into her home for an interview. I was finally face-to-face with the woman behind the cookies over which I have been salivating. We spoke for over an hour, during which I had the opportunity to pick her brain about her inspirations, her background, and ask the questions that had been bottled up inside of me for months. 

In some ways, I had the chance to meet the woman who sold me on San Francisco.

And it all started with a single cookie.

Nosh on,
Josh

You can find my article on Caitlin Freeman and her fascinating, delicious pastries HERE.

State Bird Provisions.

So hot right now.

Yet before receiving the title of Bon Appetite’s number one new restaurant of the year, SBP hosted a few friends of mine and me on a random Wednesday evening.

For those unfamiliar with the concept, SBP offers two “sections” of their menu.  The first consists of a few items listed on the physical menu itself.  The second is an ever-rotating array of “provisions” which are rolled around on carts, dim sum style, for your sensory pleasure. 

As the four of us saw the portions passed around, we knew the dishes would provide each of us with about a bite each, with some left to spare.  So, we decided that every person would have a designated number of “Dick Moves” to use (aka kill off a dish), so that things would even out quantitatively. 

With the rules in place: off we went!

Perusing the menu, we decided to go for two staples: the “Cumin Lamb with Scallions, Figs & Zucchini,” and the “CA State Bird with Provisions.”  After all, how can you not order a namesake item?

What seemed like a simple rendition on fried chicken was elevated beyond anything I could have imagined.  Piping hot and fresh out of the fryer, two succulent pieces of quail sat atop a simple bed of onions and citrus.  Cooked to perfection, the bird practically fell off of the bone once you cracked through the crispy exterior and eschewed the often-dreaded greasy quality that plagues so many of its kind.  The lightly cumin lamb and fig dish was executed just as nicely, with an Indian flair and sweet California touch that complimented each other surprisingly well. 

Despite being teased by other items on the page, we found ourselves saying yes to items circulating the room that would ordinarily not even elicit a blink from any member of the table. 

Why?

Because they looked and smelled incredible.

For example, the “Calabrian Spiced Tofu, Cucumber, Mint and Fava Hummus” would normally do nothing for me, but as the aromas wafted our way, we were entranced to have our temptress of a waitress set it down in front of us.  Not as spicy as anticipated, the Italian-inspired tomato sauce lightly coated the silky chunks of soy that melted away in my mouth before crunching into a snappy cucumber.  

Two other lighter, vegetarian dishes were the “Marinated Vegetable Egg Salad, Nuts & Seeds,” with a strong sesame presence, and the “Beets & Rosemary Nectarine with Goat Cheese,” which found sweet stone fruit resting over a pool of creamy, rich, liquid goat cheese that acted almost as a savory sauce to balance the sugars.

I normally don’t get excited about renditions of “cheesy bread,” but we found it impossible to pass up the garlic bread with burrata.  Soft pull-apart dough laden with cloves of garlic was formed into a round and topped with gooey, melty burrata and sprinkled spices (oregano, I believe), and the slightest drizzle of olive oil.  The entire dish was warm, heavenly, and just plain comforting.

Two grain-based dishes then came our way:

Bright pink hunks of raw tuna were tossed with nutty quinoa and formed a land-and-sea combination that ranked among the highest around the table. 

Dan used his "Dick Move" for that one.

The pork fried farro was SBP's take on the Korean bibimbop.  While the presentation was beautifully segmented, we were advised to crack the soft egg and mix the entire bowl's contents to create a creamy, dreamy, steamy plate of differing textures and flavors. 


I wasn't sure what to expect from the "Guinea Hen Dumplings with Aromatic Broth," and I'm almost glad it came as such a surprise.

The bird was braised and nestled between two al dente sheets of pasta, and looked to be lightly grilled before taking a dip in a savory broth that embodied the definition of umami.  When broken, the the dumpling innards spilled out into the liquid and created a version of "chicken and dumplings" that would make any true southerner proud. 


If I had to draw the line somewhere as to a highlight of the night, it would have to be the "Duck Liver Mousse with Almond Biscuits."  The mousse itself was so light, so airy, so fluffy; it was akin eating a rich cloud from heaven. Yet when it topped biscuits, which were closer to mini almond muffins, it formed an incredibly unexpected elegant, decadent, sweet/savory cupcake.

While that easily could have served as dessert, it didn't.  

However, the "Sweet Corn-Coconut Cake, Blueberries, and Buttermilk Cream," along with four "World Peace Shots," did.  Whole kernels of corn and flakes of coconut were studded inside the warm, griddled cake, and topped with whole chunks of fruit and freshly whipped buttermilk.  As for the shots: they were thick, creamy tiny peanut butter milkshakes - straightforward and delicious. 

In talking afterwards, we decided that this would be the perfect date spot.

Not with each other.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. 

A playful place where you and your significant other can explore a bevy of flavors and textures, old and new, executed perfectly, without fear of making a potentially disastrous decision that could ruin your entire meal.  Disagree on a accepting a dish when it comes around?  

Talk about it! Laugh about it! Find out a little bit more about it, and a little bit more about the person with whom you're sitting. 

I appreciate restaurants that open my palate to concepts that would otherwise have zero appeal to me, and State Bird fits that bill.  And the manner in which they do it is so enticing – upfront, before your eyes, no guessing games as to what will arrive before you, makes the entire experience all the more complete. With a range of influences from around the world and a revolving set of offerings, you can have a unique visit every time you walk through the door.  

That is, if you can make it through the line that is sure to grow longer thanks to their continued, highly-publicized success.

Nosh on,
Josh

Wednesday.  Hump Day.
 
My birthday.

In an attempt to be considerate, I refrained from enticing my friends into a night of debauchery and adult beverages in the middle of the week, and instead pondered a fun, tame, civilized event for my first anniversary of turning 23. 

Growing older in body but not in spirit, I wanted to turn the clock back and forget that I was a mere 365 days from reaching the quarter-century mark.   I wanted to bring back a childhood memory to offset my first full year of being a real adult.  

And then it hit me.

A welcome addition to Cole Valley, a quaint, 1920s-era soda fountain recalls the days of yore when a frankfurter cost a nickel and your grandfather had to walk to school uphill.  Both ways.  In the snow.
 
Barefoot.
 
Ice Cream Bar takes you back in time, and makes even those who weren’t around in the proverbial “day” feel like kids in a candy store.  This was precisely what I needed.  

So, as a few of my closest friends and I descended upon the shop, we were warmly greeted with cool samples of anything (and everything) our hearts desired.

Here, we sampled some of their signature ice creams, including cherry, butterscotch banana pudding, basil, and my personal favorite, honey buttermilk.  The cherry had whole hunks of fruit still inside and retained a tart quality, while eschewing the artificial flavor that plagues so many of its kind.  The banana pudding tasted as if it had little chunks of Nilla Wafers inside: a huge bonus.  The honey buttermilk was not for the faint of heart - heavy handed honey came together in harmony with the slightly sour buttermilk for a super strong honey-forward offering. 

The space is split up into two main areas: the standard ice cream case upon entry, and the more luring, neon lit bar toward the back, complete with stools, tinctures, and your very own jerk.

Chris was tending bar during our visit, shaking up all the goods before our eyes.  Since the menu is a tad more eclectic than is typical, Chris happily explained the subtle differences between latcarts and, phosphates (don't ask me to explain - something about imparting different favors.  They both turn the drinks fizzy: it’s science).  

Two such concoctions were “The Valentina” with strawberries, rosewood, rosemary and pineapple, and the “Stalk in the Park” with celery seed and mint.  Both fascinating in their own way – The Valentina with a bright strawberry soda flavor that was elevated with the herbaceous rosemary, and the Stalk in the Park with a pungent, unmistakably celery essence that almost made me feel healthy for having tasted it – they were both evened out by the cream and syrups as to not be overwhelming. 
 
Their milkshakes, for example, are made without ice cream as has become custom over the years.  Instead, these hold true to their name: milk (and/or cream), shaken with raw egg, house made tinctures, malts, flavors and syrups combine for a surprisingly lighter take on the creamy treats as we know them today.

I know, I know – cream, eggs and sugar hardly sounds like a “light” take on anything.  Comparatively, however, these creations are thinner and more easily consumed than the thick, dense, heavy milkshakes we’re used to, but not in the watered down kind of way. Full flavor, and rich to be sure, but silky smooth and easy doing down. By far, the crowd favorite was the "Too Good to be True."  Living up to its name, butterscotch and blackstrap molasses infused with the raw egg and milk to create a sweet, rich, caramel-laden drink that knocked my socks off.

But all of that "light" business went out the window come to the “The World’s Best Pistachio Milkshake.”  Claimed to be “made for two,” it was more accurately made for twelve.  Which was great, because there just so happened to be about a dozen of us. Pistachio ice cream buzzed with raw Sicilian pistachio syrup and cream to form a viscous, meaty behemoth of a drink which was deliciously pure in its own right.  The kicker here, however, was the hand whipped cherry whipped cream that topped the goblet, and dripped ever so elegantly down the sides.

As I do, I wanted to go off menu, and created a milkshake of my own with vanilla, cinnamon and nutmeg which turned out to be the most luscious horchata for which I could have hoped.  

If these oddities are too much, the traditionalists still have their say here at Ice Cream Bar.  Decadent ice cream sundaes and banana splits are piled high with all the typical fix-ins, though they will do you one better.  The bananas are lightly coated in sugar and torched for a crispy, caramelized shell atop the soft, warm fruit. 

An odd dichotomy exists at the Ice Cream Bar – the décor and ambiance turn back the clock, but the flavors and innovations draw you back into the present.  

Yet as we closed down the bar, what struck me most was how much everyone was smiling.

I’d like to think it was because everyone was so thrilled to celebrate my birthday with me.  Getting closer to the truth, it was probably the sugar-induced hyperactivity from the sweets of the evening.  

More accurately - I think - was that we too often fail to recognize the simple pleasures in life, like an old fashioned milkshake or a simple scoop of ice cream with friends in a time much less complicated than the present.  We always strive to arrive at the next stages in our lives so quickly – getting our drivers licenses, going to college, getting a job, marriage – that we forget to live in the present, or never realize how carefree it was to be a child.  

And maybe a dose of the past is just what we need.

Nosh on,
Josh

Whoever said that the bacon fad was over clearly didn’t get the word out to these people:

The third annual San Francisco Bacon Takedown (part of The Takedown Series) hit Pubic Works on Sunday as my foodie world came full circle. This event holds a special place in my heart for many reasons.  First and foremost, it is a competition dedicated solely to bacon. 
 
Self-explanatory. 

More importantly, this was the springboard for my culinary adventures in San Francisco, after which there was no looking back. 

It was exactly one year ago that I attended this event as a spectator thanks to a tip from my sister (best sister EVER, by the way), and ever since have kept in contact with many of the participants and organizers.  So, when Takedown creator Matt Timms needed a judge, my connections paid off in dividends.   A mere twelve turns of the calendar and I found myself on the opposite side of the event that started it all. 

This year, fourteen bacontestants, all local and from the Bay Area, went belly to belly for the Takedown crown.  The only rule: use 15 pounds of Hormel Bacon.  

Go.

First up – Krista (who works in software) served the ‘Lil’ Squealer’ – a meatball composed of mostly bacon, with some ground pork and ground beef for texture, gently sauced with her mother’s marinara and sprinkled with a bacon Parmesan bacon crumble.

The texture was phenomenal  - the little nuggets of bacon stuck out while the ground meat kept it on the traditional end of the spectrum.  The marinara sauce has clearly been passed down from generation to generation: rich, deep tomato flavors burst through with an underlying basil note and a nice salty bite from the tons of Parmesan cheese.  Personal preference, I like my sauce to be a little thicker, and while this was on the smoother, creamier side, I enjoyed the balance it struck with the chunky meatball that crumbled under my tongue.  A spectator referred to this as the “unsung hero” of the day – the dish that was not overly complicated but perfectly executed.  

Next came last year’s champion, Ivy Something!  An artist developer by day, Ivy was inspired by a desire to take her first ever trip to Hawai’i, so she topped a bacon waffle with coconut-dusted chicken and drizzled a creamy ginger pineapple key lime sauce.

The chunks of white meat chicken were incredibly moist.  The toasted coconut crust was light and simple, and the ginger pineapple key lime sauce that I assumed was going to be overly complicated actually managed to elicit each flavor subtly enough to strike a wonderful balance.  With one bite I was whisked away into a tropical paradise.  The bacon waffle, however, was light on the bacon, a bit soggy and just seemed out of place.

No stranger to the Takedown was three-year veteran Dontaye Ball – who many of you may know as the mastermind behind Good Foods Catering, offering some of the best damn barbeque this side of the Mississippi.  Bringing his famous pork belly sliders, Ball built belly, bacon barbecue sauce, and bacon mayo between buns. 

(There were cherry tomatoes and greens, too, but that threw off my alliteration.)

Having experienced his cooking before, I knew I was in for a treat.  The only word I have for the barbeque sauce is, “Bangin’!” I can’t tell you why, but that is the only one that comes to mind.  Smokey, salty and sweet – it struck every perfect chord I could have fathomed possible.  I could happily eat this by itself.  Hell, I'd brush my teeth with it and you would enjoy my breath.  Seriously, this was by far and away the best barbeque sauce I have ever had.  Ever.

Unfortunately, the belly was a little bit too tough, the edges not crispy, and the ratio of bun to filling was not in the meat’s favor by a long shot.  

But that sauce…

Gerald and Ed of B. Street Waffles warmed their signature maple-bacon varietal for their entry.  

Having returned from a trip to Belgium where he witnessed happy-go-lucky pedestrians enjoying handheld waffles while roaming the streets, Gerald wanted to bring the concept to the States, which he has done over the past year.  

“Fresh baked waffles with your choice of topping baked in!” Gerald explained.

“Well, if they’re baked inside, you can't consider them toppings, can you?”

"No no no - the toppings are baked INSIDE the waffle."

"...right, but...never mind." 

Despite not comprehending the joke, he handed me a waffle with a smile.  While others incorporated waffles into their dishes, this was the only one that made the cake a centerpiece.  The sweet maple flavor dominated, with the bacon coming through lightly at the end.  And while I appreciated the hunks of pork inside, I found the waffle greasy - mushy on the outside and extremely chewy and dense, even a bit hard, on the inside.  

Elaine and A.J. attempted a healthier take on the otherwise artery-clogging dishes of the day - a nearly impossible task.  Quinoa was tossed with bacon, black beans, celery, orange bell pepper, scallions and herbes de provence.  A cool, summery salad with bright fresh notes would have been ideal for a picnic in the park.  The bacon itself had been cooked with chili flakes, giving the whole salad a warmth that  contrasted the otherwise cold mixture. 

It was a good dish, to be sure, and probably the only one that I would eat on a regular basis.  It was seasoned extremely well and the quinoa was cooked to fluffy perfection.  But given the fact that this was a bacon competition, after all, I really needed some more bacon. 

A lot more bacon.

Much respect for trying to up the healthy standard, though!

‘S’more Bacon Please’ was the creation of Facebook employee Joyce and her fiancé Kevin who is the first elevator salesman I have ever met.  Home made from the bottom up, a crumbly yet soft graham cracker served as the base for a sliver of candied bacon, hand-crafted torched-to-order ooey gooey marshmallows and a squirt of salted caramel sauce for this open-faced campfire delight.

I loved how the graham cracker had substance but wasn't too crisp - it toed the line between cookie, cracker and cake.  The candied bacon and salted caramel sauce each had the right sweet/salty balance, and the marshmallow, while delicious and smooth, should have had a better shell on it from the blowtorch.  Instead, it essentially melted the mallow into a paste.  

Stephanie spent three whole days making mini sourdough bread bowls for Thomas' bacon, potato and cheddar soup.  The presentation was awesome, and freshly baked bread was phenomenal - a true San Franciscan sourdough.  Unfortunately, the 'soup' was thick and gritty, relatively plain, and caused the whole dish to turn into a sloppy mush.  Not a huge fan, here.

As a bonus, they served a scoop of not-quite-set rum bacon, which was a huge savior.  Sugar, rum, bacon.  That is a recipe for success!  It was super salty in the best way, and the rum came on strong without having an alcoholic bite to it.  If that had set fully into a brittle or caramel, I might have passed out with joy.  

The would-be sous-chef of Stephanie and Thomas, Dennis, decided to go rogue and enter his own creation into the fold with his partner Nina. 

Pancake-esque balls, deemed “Baco-Yaki,” were done two ways: the German style mixed potato, caramelized onions and bacon, topped with an apple fennel slaw and mustard aioli, while the Asian twist featured extracted kimchi juice.  The fritters have their roots in the Japaneese takoyaki, which are ball-shaped snacks generally grilled or fried in a special pan. 

Crispy outsides gave way to silky smooth interiors that captured the essence of each region.  The German variety took me back to the beer hall meals I had in Munich, though in an infinitely smaller portion.
The Asian version tasted almost like a mini sushi balls, sans rice.

I can honestly say this was the first time I've ever complimented another man on his balls. 

One contestant snagged two entries.  Christy Canida’s goal in her culinary efforts is to make food that people find so odd that they might simply pass over – and boy did it show!  I can honestly say I have never seen anything like her two dishes.

After reading the name "Bacon Pixie Stix," I had no clue how to prepare for what was to come.  Would it be sweet? Salty? Sour?!  Canida managed to replicate the exact texture of the childhood candy (using molecular gastronomy, I can only assume) that melted away as soon as it touched my tongue.  As for the taste?  Incredible.  Smokey bacon powder dissolved in my mouth and was gone as quickly as it had arrived, though I longed for it to return.

Her second submission was bacon Jello strip.  I've never been a fan of gelatin-based desserts.  I often find them to be flavorless and plain.  This was no exception - while there was  bit of artificial apple wood bacon essence, it was mostly a watered down jiggly rectangle.  Though I was impressed with the presentation as a bacon strip! 

A duo of Bulleit Bourbon Bacon caramels (one with nuts, one without) were a solid entry.  Sweet caramel, spicy bourbon, salty bacon.  A no fail combination that was aided by the crunchy bacon bits (and nuts, in some) contrasting with the soft caramel, it was great.  Nothing mind-blowing, and nothing too out of the ordinary, but the execution was spot-on and I would happily have these replace the Werther's Originals filling pocketbooks of grandmothers everywhere.

Jim Angelus needs no introduction, though you may know him better as the Bacon Bacon Truck guy.  No stranger to experimenting with bacon recipes, his Chicken Fried Bacon Bombs were indeed explosive – bacon wrapped belly, beef and bleu cheese, battered in a bacon, pepper and sriracha mixture and deep-fried with a secret sauce.

I feel terrible for those who didn’t have a chance to experience the glory that was this morsel from heaven.  Deep frying anything makes it better.  Deep frying bacon causes double rainbows.  Deep frying bacon that is wrapped around tangy blue cheese, pork belly and ground beef, and you'll have world peace.  Somehow, I could taste each and every element - none stronger than the next.  The crispy outer shell gave way to the smokey and fatty bacon and belly, while the cheese provided some tang.  The beef added texture and a "meatiness," though I could have done without it.  

Speaking with him afterwards he did mention people already tweeting him requesting he bring these to the truck.  

Keep an eye out. 

Back for her second year was Chef Trace Williams.  After initially being denied entry into the venue, due to the fact that her assistant and son was under age, Chef Trace generously gave away nearly half of her entry to the homeless and passers-by, until she was finally granted access.  What she did produce was a Baconnoli – a bacon lace cookie with a bacon and mascarpone filling.  

It was difficult for me to not to be biased, but her stuff still rocks.  The lace cookies were nice and chewy, the kind where a little bit gets stuck in your teeth and you can save it for later (which I love...).  The mascarpone filling could have done with some more salt (and by salt, I mean bacon...) and perhaps a touch more sugar.  This wasn't overly sweet, and could see myself having more than one of these - something I can't say for many of the others. 

Finally, we were given a deconstructed wonton.  Consisting of a wonton wrapper fried in bacon grease, filled with bacon jam, topped with whipped avocado cream and sprinkled with lemon zest and smoked salt, this reminded me of a mini taco salad of sorts.

The avocado whipped cream was airy and wonderful.  No lie, I could happily put that on top of ice cream or a  for a pudding for dessert.  The wonton shells, despite being fried in bacon grease, came across a little plain and the bacon jam, while good, was very typical.  

As for the awards, the judges and the people’s choice were both extremely close. 

The judges awarded:

Honorable Mention: Bacon Pixie Stix
Third Place: S’more Bacon Please
Second Place: Chicken Fried Bacon Bomb
First Place: Baco-Yaki

The People’s Choice:
Third Place: Potato Bacon Cheddar Soup with Sourdough Bread Bowls
Second Place: Lil’ Squealers
First Place: Chicken Fried Bacon Bomb

I guess it comes as no surprise that the man who has made a brand entirely based around bacon took top overall honors, but nonetheless it was well deserved.  

The important thing to remember here, is that most of these chefs are just home cooks with a passion and a desire to experiment when they arrive home from their day jobs.  Tech, art, sales - every one of these chefs put up some mighty fine food in an arena that was somewhat foreign.  I, for one, was extremely impressed. 

After congratulating Thomas on his award, I asked him if he had fun.  He explained that competing [and winning] against professionals, amateurs, and those in between, was a blast! 

Cooking is fun.

I used to think that there was a limit to bacon's potential - but the chefs today proved once again that there is always room for innovation and creativity (BACON PIXIE STIX?!).   The same can be said for any type of cuisine, and it is those that push the boundaries of what food currently is in order to explore what food can be that keep us on our toes and excited about the adventure.

As for me, I may take a shot at entering as a contestant next year and complete the trifecta of possible roles at the Takedown.  Either way, I've made some new friends, recognized some old faces from last year, and if they'll have me, I'll be back (bacon) in 2013.  

Be sure to be on the lookout for more Takedowns in a city near you.  Rumor has it that "Ice Cream and Hot Sauce" may find its way to the Bay Area soon.  But you didn't hear that from me...

Nosh on,
Josh

Call it bread, call it pita, call it dough.  Or, if you are willing to embarrass yourself in front of Chef Boris Portnoy, try to call it by its real name.

If you can pronounce khachapuri.  

A native of Moscow, Portnoy has pulled from his childhood influences, as well as his experiences at The Restaurant at Meadowood, to create Satellite Republic – a moped outfitted with a tandoor oven for crafting made-to-order breads for sandwiches, snacks and street food. 

I had the opportunity to find him at his San Francisco debut in front of No Shop on Valencia (next to Four Barrel).  Judging from the line that had formed by the time I arrived, there was no doubt in my mind that his was going to be a successful San Francisco institution.

The oven was a sight to see.  Covered with a black iron disc, the tandoor measured approximately a foot and a half in diameter, a foot deep, and reached a scorching 800˚ F.  To bake the bread, Portnoy lightly stretched the dough onto the end of what looked to be a flattened cloth-covered sand bag, bravely reached his hand inside of the inferno and slapped it against the wall – removing his hand and the paddle safely out of harm’s way.   

As I waited, watched, and pondered the menu, it struck me that I had no clue whatsoever what my options were.  Of the eight words on the menu, I understood three: ‘lamb,’ ‘sandwich,’ and ‘with.'

Luckily for me, no one else seemed to speak Russian/Georgian either, so plenty of explanation came forth as Portnoy multi-tasked from behind the cart.

The first item confirmed my best guess - an open-faced lamb sandwich.  Fresh, warm, hot bread straight out of the oven served as the base, and was topped with delicious slices of fatty lamb (cooked perfectly medium-rare at the bottom of the tandoor) from Don Watson in Napa, raw onions, cilantro, and a sour plumb sauce called tkemali.  

Despite being so thin, the bread had a great crisp on the bottom where it had stuck to the inside walls of the tandoor, and a still fluffy top upon which the filling rested.  The sour plumb sauce was truly unlike anything I’ve ever had – a really nice balance of sweet and tangy that complimented the lamb extremely well.  My only gripe was the mound of fresh cilantro, which overpowered the other flavors.  A few leaves would have done the trick – I got a small shrubbery.  


That didn't stop me from scarfing it down, mind you.  The melding of flavors and textures made for a perfect, elevated light lunch on the run.  

Then came the menu item of which I could comprehend only a single word:

Imereti, Portnoy educated, was the region in Georgia from which this dish originates, while khachapuri (pronounced ka-chee-poor-ee) was the bread itself.  Stuffed with a thin layer of feta and mozzarella, it fell somewhere between pita and naan.  Thin but chewy and surprisingly moist, it was the Georgian version of cheesy bread.  Instead of warming inside of the tandoor itself, however, the cheese melted as the bread crisped atop the tandoor cover (as seen in the Menu picture as well as the final photo of this post).  Over the high heat, the layers puffed away from each other, expanding like an oblong balloon before Portnoy flipped it and quelled the rebellion of tiers before the pocket burst at the seams. 


But the kicker here was the final word around which I couldn’t wrap my lips.  Adjkia, a deep red, mole-colored spread made from chilies, basil, garlic and marjoram, among other components, graced the top of the khachapuri.  It had a smoky/sweet quality I equated to harissa, which cut through the gooey, salty, creamy cheese without dominating it.  


Awesome.

This was his first day, so there was plenty of room for trial and error.  The tandir bread was a little burnt, and the wait was long – really long, and for made-to-order breads I can understand some of the delay.  But if this is to become a viable, long term, feed the masses type of venture, something is going to have to give.  

In terms of quality, flavor, and uniqueness, there is no doubt that this can be a huge hit - and I for once sincerely hope it is.  The ingredients were fresh, the tastes were different yet friendly, and the concept is one-of-a-kind.  But if Satellite Republic is going to succeed, Portnoy is going to have work out some of the logistical kinks - which I have no doubt he will.  

Apologizing for the wait, he explained that not only was his first trial run for the public, but that he was not used to working in such a small space.  However, when I asked him if he was having fun, a wave of joy spilled over his face and smile stretched from ear to ear. 

“Oh yeah!  This is great!”

Nosh on,
Josh

On June 29th, fewer than 24 hours before the Kickestarter deadline, Iso Rabins’ Forage Kitchen became a reality.  

Rabins, the brainchild behind Forage SF, The Underground Market, and The Wild Kitchen, had just raised the requisite $150,000 to fund his most recent venture, Forage Kitchen.  

For those not familiar with any of the buzzwords above, you can check out the Forage Kitchen website.  For those of you too lazy to even go that far, here’s the gist:

- A shared kitchen and shared office space, equipment rental, and business support center that will enable small, artisan producers to build their businesses from the ground up
- All of the above, but for a home cook to jar those preserves he/she has been dying to make with abundant fruit in the yard, can the veggies growing in the garden, create gigantic dishes for that Chanukkah feast he/she been meaning to throw.
- Classes, tips and tricks of the trade from those who have been through it all, and best of all, no red tape through which to cut in regard to permitting and licensing

While Rabins was undoubtedly the driving force behind the project, it was by no means a solo effort – to the tune of 1,605 backers on Kickstarter, countless promotional tweets, and the brave Bay Area chefs who auctioned themselves off at The Underground Market celebration.  

Backing a Kickstarter is one thing, but a collaborative effort to raise over $150,000 is an entirely different ballgame that speaks volumes about the people invested.  So just who are these people, and why do they care so much about some social kitchen?

The decision of the various pop-ups and pseudo-professionals to donate to this cause is obvious: they want a home.  They want a place where they can not only hone their craft, but also share it with the entire community without taking on the burden of start-up costs associated with small batch projects.  They want a shelter that will offer them advice, support, and opportunity.  

Yet it is evident that these are not the only people who made this endeavor a success.  Home cooks and everyday, normal people contributed as well.  Why?  Well, I can only surmise, but here’s my theory: people want to cook.  We enjoy feeding others, but are often times too overwhelmed with the demands of our work, family, and social lives that the art of food gets shoved to the back burner.  

How many recipes have you clipped, pinned, bookmarked, and never touched again because you didn’t have the materials?  The time?  The space?  I can think of dozens of challenges I let pass by because I was unwilling to invest in a piece of baking equipment I knew I would only use once and then stow in the back of my cupboard, or was too intimidated by a particular method and didn’t want to waste my time, money or energy on the very high probability I would screw up. 

Back in “the day,” going out to eat was far and away the exception, saved for special occasions and random acts of romance.  Now, it has become so commonplace to let others cook for us that many have lost an essential life skill.  Why spend the time and effort to buy ingredients and materials when we can simply walk down the block and have a delicious meal there?  

By no means am I saying that we should boycott restaurants and only make meals at home.

Seriously, I would have no website.

But I am saying that Forage Kitchen will give us the opportunity to expand our horizons, step out of our culinary comfort zones (or lack thereof), and feel empowered to take that leap of faith – whether you want to follow that dream you’ve always had to market and sell your grandmother’s super secret recipe, or to finally host that elaborate murder mystery dinner party you’ve been planning since college.  

This venture says a tremendous amount about the values that San Franciscans (and those who contributed from afar) hold.  Sure, we’re all foodies and will consistently wait in lines for brunch and pony up the dough for virtually anything “artisanal.” But something about this particular movement made me stop and look a little bit harder.  

It means that we support a culture of entrepreneurship, and despite the “win-at-all-cost” mentality that pervades our society, we are not only willing, but have a desire, to help each other succeed.  It says that we want a place to do all of these things but have always been too scared, too intimidated, too inundated with which to follow through. 

Sure, we’ll all reap the benefits of the incredible food that will no doubt emanate from the Forage Kitchen by way of the extremely talented Bay Area chefs, but we might also find that we do have the desire to try something out for ourselves.   And now we have a place to do it.  

The success of Forage Kitchen says that we believe in our community, but more importantly, that we also believe in ourselves.  

Nosh on,
Josh

I had my first mudslide when I was 22 years old.

At least that's what I tell my parents.  

Back home in Florida, we had this neighbor - Gregg "Mud" Lewis - and every time I returned from college for the holidays, he would invite me to have a drink with him at his favorite bar, J. Alexander's.  

Gregg was a regular at J's.  On almost any given night, you could walk through the door, hang a right, and there he was at his table; the last round booth on the left.  Surrounded by his loving girlfriend, neighborhood friends, or the staff smiling at his presence, Gregg recognized essentially every face in the place.  If he didn't, he must have made it a point to change that as quickly as he could, because he had the uncanny ability to converse with just about anyone within the establishment walls. 

The table was "his" for a plethora of reasons, not the least of which was that he tipped more than a gang of bored country derelicts in a pasture at dusk.  More likely was the fact that he treated every single server at that bar as though he or she were royalty.  At times, I was hard-pressed to distinguish the patron from the employee.  Always a please and thank you, and sure, sometimes a 'sweetheart' or 'my man' thrown in there for good measure, but never in a derogatory manner.  There was constant playful banter - Gregg could take it as well as he dished it, and each party partook in plenty of both. 

It's pretty easy to become a regular anywhere.  Step one: show up.  

Repeat. 

But Gregg wasn't just any 'regular.'  Instead of calling a cab for him after one (or five) too many, bartenders offered to drive him home themselves to make sure he arrived home safely - four minutes away.

This went well beyond "Cheers" where everyone knew his name - everyone knew as much about him as anyone possibly could.  Even more impressive, Gregg knew just as much about each and every one of them. 

He even has is own drink - and not just in theory or in the way that people generally know what he's talking about when he orders, but an actual, programmed in the electronic register drink that, when the bill arrives, reads "Gregg Mudslide."  Which is where this story begins...

My first "of age" experience with Gregg began like any other - I drank whatever he ordered, and first up was his signature "Gregg Mudslide."  Instead of the traditional one part Bailey's, one part Kahlua, one part vodka and a splash of cream, this was closer to half top-shelf vodka and half Bailey's in an old fashioned glass with some ice cubes.  As the sweet liquor hit my lips and went down as smooth as silk, I figured this would be a piece of cake.  

"This is what he's drinking? This tastes like chocolate milk!  I can do this all night!"

And then came another.  

And another.

And another.

And then Patrón. 

Needless to say, his "experience" certainly outlasted mine.  

Back from college a year later, with my proverbial alcohol training wheels removed, we sat in for another round.  Eerily similar to the last, I was able to hold my own this time, though certainly a little worse for wear.  I did, however, bring him to a point where he let me pay for one drink, and that is something to which I will hold on dearly for the rest of my life.

Tuesday morning, Gregg lost his battle with a cancer that should have put him away almost a decade ago.  We often joked that he was able to survive for so many quality years for two reasons: first, because he possessed the most incredibly positive attitude toward life and living, and even during the most uncertain times, he projected a confidence that good things lie ahead - no matter how far.  

Second - all the booze.  

And sure, both of those probably had a little to do with it.  But if you ask me, it was the people with whom he surrounded himself that truly gave him the will, the drive, and the desire not only to live, but to live happily.  Each chemotherapy session seemed to be worse than the last, putting him out of commission for longer stretches of time.  Yet as soon as he felt up to it, he was walking his dog about block, chatting with the neighbors and inviting them to J's that very same evening.  

He even got my mother, who gets tipsy from smelling a wine cork, to take a few shots with him: that's how much admiration we had for this man. 

When I heard the news, 3,089 miles across the country from J. Alexander's, the only thing I could think to do was make myself a Gregg Mudslide; and I wasn't the only one.  

My parents each ordered one that night.   

My sister texted a picture from a bar in Boston - she ordered one that night.

His girlfriend, who hadn't had one in ten years - ordered one that night. 

As I did my best to concoct my own, I toasted to a man whose zeal for life far exceeded that of any person facing a more certain future.  I toasted a man who made me a better person for causing me to realize just how possible it is to live life to the fullest, even when facing the darkest hours.  I toasted a man who made everyone around him feel important, special, happy and loved.

The first sip I took of my very own attempt at a Gregg Mudslide wasn't as sweet as I remembered it being back at his table at J's.  Perhaps I just had the wrong proportions.   Perhaps the cheap vodka I bought was a shock in comparison to that with which I was previously spoiled.  

Or, perhaps a drink simply contains more ingredients than those which are present in the glass.    

Gregg, this mudslide, and every mudslide, is for you.

Nosh on,
Josh

Tomorrow, I begin training for the New York City Marathon, and as I mentally prepare myself for the road ahead, I find myself focusing a lot on food.  

Then again, why should this day be any different?

Back in 2009, I had my first run at a 26.2 mile journey as I looked to tackle Chicago.  Always in relatively good shape but without the desirable “six-pack abs” body to show for it, I decided this would be the perfect time to seize the opportunity and lose some weight, change my body composition, and take on a figure that would leave me unashamed to go shirtless as much as possible.

Even during the brutal Michigan winters.

During my six-month campaign, however, a combination of ignorance, self-consciousness, and information overload left me ignoring common sense and proper nutrition in favor of weight loss.  Increasing miles and decreasing calories, combined with the low-carb craze was a perfect recipe for shedding away that belly I once possessed and despised. 

When all was said and done, I finished the marathon in a time of 3:16:11, but at the cost of about 30 pounds: more than half of which I couldn’t truly afford to lose. 

This mentality stayed with me for quite some time thereafter.  I had already lost the weight, and feared that if I changed something, anything, that I might revert back into my previous “mediocre” physical state.  Decisions on food consumed my life and altered my daily routine.  Fortunately, with the help of family and friends, I can happily report that I’m right back on track to where I need to be.

This time around, I plan to do things a little differently.  A lot differently.  Completely differently. 

Which is why I’ve recently been pondering my own eating habits.  Since moving to San Francisco, I’ve definitely partaken in more than my fair share of Tartine pastries, Bi-Rite ice cream and Pliny the Elder.  Excited to explore my new city through food, I may have floored it a little too quickly. 

I regret nothing. 

But it did lead me to ask the question: What comprises a “healthy” lifestyle?

One of my closest friends recently took up the Paleo diet, which in short, attempts to mimic the lifestyle of those living during the Paleolithic era.  Tons of lean meats and leafy greens make up the vast majority of his intake, with the occasional handful of nuts and even more scarce nibbles fruit, limited to dark berries.   No dairy, no legumes, no grains.  He, and many others, have expressed the wonders that this change has done for them in terms of both weight and overall well-being. 

While I by no means contest their claims, I do have some qualms with the adoption of such measures.  Personally, I am vehemently anti-diet, and have always been a firm believer that your body knows what it wants.  Cravings are merely signals to alert your body that it requires something – nutrients, vitamins... – and that which you desire is the way in which your personal history remembers how to attain it.  A craving for ice cream may not be as much be a hankering for junk food as it is your body yearning for calcium. 

Diets by their very nature are restrictive, and it is this sort of self-imposed limitation that causes people not only to “relapse,” but also to overindulge when the time comes (and it will) to cave in.  And when the stresses of ensuring you adhere to an arbitrary set of rules and regulations overpowers the joy you may receive from happily indulging in the occasional (re: occasional) sugary delight, what are you really sacrificing? 

People often times underestimate the value of the psychological benefits gained from indulging from time to time.  By no means am I advocating eating an entire pie in the name "emotional stability," but in evaluating the decision to indulge, the negatives (unhealthy, fattening...etc.) generally focus in the forefront.  The mental benefits, however, are often put on the back burner. 

Besides, it is a much more social (and healthier) venture to share a dessert than it is a salad. 

More importantly, we have the ability to condition ourselves to recognize other sources, healthier sources, to achieve that same missing puzzle piece.  By diversifying our food sources with a variety of fruits, vegetables, proteins, fats and carbohydrates, we can discover better ways to reach the desired goal of providing ourselves the nutrients we desire.  As a result, the decision to reach for a bundle of kale to quench that very same calcium deficiency becomes just as turnkey as polishing off a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.

Well, maybe not that easily. 

Yet this diversification comes with a qualification – it has to be real, honest to goodness food.  We genetically modify and manipulate food so that people are able to have something similar to genuine fare, just so that it complies with the latest craze.

Comedian Lewis Black (crudely - NSFW) explains:

With so much uncertainty about what is and is not “good” for us, combined with the dominance of processed provisions in the supermarkets, convenience often takes precedence over health.

But look around – never has there been a time where organically grown fruits and vegetables are so ripe for the picking.  Farmers’ markets abound!  Natural, real food in such a variety of brilliant colors, shapes, sizes, tastes and textures are all so close at hand that it seems almost irresponsible to choose anything else.  It is not difficult to appreciate all that nature has to offer us. 

My consumption habits will almost certainly change, as the demands of pounding pavement for 40 miles a week will take a huge toll on not only my caloric needs, but my nutrient needs as well.  Still, there are still questions to be answered and decisions I have to make:

Will I give up beer and bread? 

You must be joking.

Am I going to skip out on my latte and saffron snicker doodle cookie at Blue Bottle on Saturday mornings?

No chance in hell.

Will I do all of this with a greater degree of restraint?

Absolutely.

For me, it is all about having everything in moderation; junk food included.  Those who propose any sort of diet subscribe to the notion that at any given point, a particular item’s detriment outweighs its benefit.  However, this is merely a short-term snapshot.  Over the long haul, I submit that the wider range of nutrients taken from various sources will improve our overall health by exposing us to a more in-depth spectrum of possible sources for life's essentials, while simultaneously increasing our ability to resist disease and allowing us to enjoy the food we eat that much more.

Economics teaches us not to put all of our eggs in one basket, and that diversification in the market is ideal.  This is my philosophy when it comes to the foods I choose to eat.  There is just so much uncertainty out there that I hesitate to entirely eliminate (or conversely, only consume) a singular set of anything.  For every study that proves that a vegan diet is ideal, there are twenty more just like it showing that a strip of bacon a day keeps the doctor away.  

That’s my kind of doctor!

Our bodies are all so unique and with different needs that I refuse to accept the fact that there is one specific method of dieting that is the end-all be-all solution to consumption.  It just isn't possible.  But by keeping processed items to a minimum, enjoying a blanketed menu of naturally occurring fruits and vegetables, and ultimately enjoying the food we eat, we'll all be just fine.  

Nosh on (in moderation),
Josh

My first crack to check out Craftsman and Wolves was at their grand opening...attempt.  Unfortunately, they ran into some classic bureaucratic red tape and were unable to sell last week.  As a result, they had all these pastries baked and ready for business yet no ability to sell.  However, in a brilliant strategic move, they decided to give them away. 

For free.  

Slips of white paper on which was written the names of menu items filled a glass fishbowl.  Upon entering, each patron had the opportunity to reach inside, pull out a card, and claim his or her prize.  

For free.

It was akin to that crane game at the arcade where you could play until you won at least a little bit of candy - but classier.  And much more delicious.  

AND FREE!

Excitedly, I reached my hand into the depths of the vessel, wondering which pastry would feel the wrath of my tastes buds...

Croissant.  

Only a little disheartened, I gladly accepted my treat with open arms and went on my merry way.  This wasn't what I was after, however.  There was something else calling to me.  Screaming my name.  Beckoning from the case of goodies locked so seemingly far, far away and speaking to something within the very depths of my soul.  Or my stomach.  Whichever. 

So the following week, I arrived bright and early to quench my insatiable cravings.  

These two items look simple enough: a nice chocolate cake and a savory muffin of sorts.  Or are they?  With pastry chef William Werner, there is a bit little more than meets the eye.  My pastries had been...INCEPTED!

Let's start with The Rebel Within: you know, because breakfast comes first.  This is everything I could possibly want in a complete breakfast (or lunch, or dinner...): an egg with a beautifully runny yolk inside of a savory muffin dotted with nuggets of pork, cheese and scallions all wrapped up into a portable package.  It was my very own edible Russian nesting doll.  Clearly, I didn't take this to go, though I could easily see myself noshing on this from the top corner down, and having the excess yolk run down into and be soaked up by the muffin itself.  

Or, just stick a straw down the center. 

As for the flavor - lights out.  The buttery, cheese tough dough had significant substance without being overly dense.  Pork pieces salted the batter and threw in a nice contrasting crunch to the otherwise fluffy muffin.  The cheese and scallions held down the fort to keep it on the savory side, but it was clearly the egg that took this recipe from good to great.  The whites were set and bouncy while the oozing yolk dripped liquid gold onto the plate below.  All of this paired with an expertly pulled Sightglass cappuccino and I was practically in heaven.  

The Devil Inside was devilish indeed!  Layers of chocolate cake were filled with toffee-chocolate ganache and, wait for it...

Foie gras.  

Some may ask, "Why would you put fat liver inside of chocolate cake?"  To which I respond: 

Why the hell not!

For me, it comes down to decadence.  The liver wasn't overly present, but there is no doubt that it gave that dessert an extra layer of creamy richness.  As for the cake itself, I can only say that I'm not generally a fan of chocolate and this was fantastic.  The outside was a bit dry and had a rough texture, which I think worked in its favor.  It almost created a shell that housed the otherwise moist interior.  The ganache, which had more of a mousse consistency, made me want to spread it with a knife over the rest of the cake as a frosting.  The smoked almond brittle atop the cylinder tasted burnt, though, so I left that alone.  

Just then I heard the tiniest whisper of a voice.  At first, I thought it was merely a figment of my imagination: a audible mirage.

"Ooh, we should have gotten that!"

It happened!  It finally happened!  For the first time since I began my culinary expedition around San Francisco, someone else ogled at ME!  

Well, my food.

Regardless, Chris and Jess were the instigators of our conversation - not me.  Elated beyond my wildest dreams, we chatted for a while and described our process of finding Craftsman and Wolves, other pastry passions of the city, and an analysis of our respective choices that morning.  They shared the passion sesame croissant, which had mixed reviews.  On the one hand, they gushed over the passion sesame paste that filled the layers of dough inside, yet they compared the icing on top to that of a Pop-Tart or Toaster Strudel.  Flavor-wise, they loved it, but said they could have done without the topping.  

More food recommendations, discussion of where to celebrate 'foiemageddon,'  and general San Francisco chatter later, they exited stage right.  Enter stage left another couple: this time, Alisha and her partner, Sharon Ardiana - owner of both Ragazza and Gialina.  Having both been out here for a while, our discussion focused primarily on earthquakes and how much the city has changed over the past two decades.  I was learning a tremendous amount until they had to flee, though not before eying my Devil and taking one to go. 

After pictures for posterity, I took a nice long cycle about town until I found myself in the park with a hankering for muffin.  Lo and behold, I had one waiting for me. 

Never before have I had a muffin so brimming with blueberries.  And these weren't your Little Debbie tiny BB sized blueberry pellets.  These were huge, fresh, gushing, juicy blueberries that were packed into the unfathomably fluffy, airy muffin.  The dough had an unexpected fresh lemony brightness without being a dominant flavor, and while the brown butter topping was tasty, I was hoping for a lot more crunchy contrast.  A muffin top needs to have that signature "top" quality.  As Elaine from Seinfeld so eloquently put it: "It's where the muffin breaks free from the pan and sort of does it's own thing."

The only disappointment in my C&W pig-out was the croissant stack: 

In theory, this is a phenomenal idea.  The worst part about chocolate croissants is that the filling is hardly ever spread out through the entirety of piece.  Rather, it gravitates toward the center so that over the course of croissant consumption, maybe three or four bites contain chocolate.  The stack attempts to solve this problem by piling three layers of flaky pastry atop one another with sheets of the sweet stuff tucked inside.  Sadly, the whole cube was too soft with none of the crispy, shattering quality from the regular croissants.  For lack of a better term, the levels just smushed together.  

There is no doubt I'll be back.  In fact, I believe my pictures have convinced a few of my friends so much so that we are going for breakfast this Saturday.  I'm excited to venture into the realm of Werner's cube cakes, financiers, and eclairs as well as his more savory items such as his pain au cochon and market fresh sandwiches (he serves lunch as well!). 

But it is hard to ignore that which is in all of us: be it a Rebel or a Devil.

Nosh on,
Josh

The day had finally arrived, and as I walked around the gardens of Sunnyside Organic Farms, I couldn't help but be reminded of how lucky I was to be here.  Surrounded by beautiful scenery, produce, and people, there was an electricity in the air as my Twitterverse began to materialize before my very eyes into something tangible: something real.

As the events inside of the greenhouse began to take shape, we were serenaded by the angelic sounds of Kim Kenny and the Otherlys.  The lead singer (I'll give you one guess as to her name...), actually made me do a double take as she began to wail: her soulful vocals filling room, all the while Boccalone and 4505 Meats were generously providing some tasty salty pig parts on which the guests could nosh.

At last, the real festivities began: ten chefs, ten dishes, and a lot of hungry people.  Each chef had his or her own station from which they prepped, plated and served the guests who arrived in front of them.  Judges however, had a separate table.  I felt like royalty!  And, to ensure that we received each dish and that nothing ran out, we were served rather than going to each station.  What a luxurious life I lead...

Yet as I sat there, tasting these incredible dishes and loving life, I couldn't shake this unexpected, overriding thought from my head:  

I feel like a dick.  

Seriously, who am I to cast judgment upon the food of chefs who have been pouring their hearts, souls and talents into their food for just about as long as I've been alive (sorry...)?  Learning the ropes of the restaurant business from the ground up, from dish-washing to culinary school to head chef honors, these people come from backgrounds and experiences the likes of which I can only venture a mediocre guess - all to be evaluated by a kid with a food blog.  Sure, my palate has expanded tremendously over the past year, but it doesn't hold a candle to the knowledge and skills that these chefs possess.  

In talking afterward with one of the chefs, he explained that it is all part of the handshake they make.  The deal they strike.  The bargain.  It's part of the business, and each of these chefs entered into the Throw Down willingly with the understanding that this was the scenario.  Additionally, he pointed out that our choices could have easily changed with something as simple as the weather - five degrees colder, rain, or a heat wave would have made me enjoy a completely different dish.  "Food is as subjective as art," he added. 

That only made me feel slightly better.  

So chefs, take away from this what you will.  But on this particular day, at this particular venue, at this particular time, with my particular tastes, the following is what I know to be true from my culinary point of view:

Chef Alli Sosan undoubtedly put together the most attractive dish of the night: chicken salad with beet paint, pea shoots, kumquat and wasabi powder.  I can honestly say I've never had chicken cooked quite that perfectly - tender, juicy morsels seasoned beautifully, and the pea shoots added a perfect crunchy counterbalance.  Overall, a light and fresh plate, perfect for a summer picnic.  The kumquat seemed almost like an afterthought, which was a shame because the salad as a whole lacked acid that could have been achieved with the addition of more citrus.  The one bite I took with every element was glorious, but it wasn't sustained throughout the dish.

Rabbit was the protein of choice for Chef Marcel DeGrosse.  The fingerling potatoes were out of this world - crispy cheese on the exterior with a fluffy center made these tubers irresistible.  The flavors were spot on, as the rabbit paired nicely with the sweet dates and pearl onions.  I loved the texture of the Brussels sprouts: soft outsides with tender centers, but they were a bit bland.  My biggest gripe with the dish, however, was as a result of the rabbit itself: I wanted so much for the meat to fall off the bone, but it was simply overcooked and a bit tough.  

As some of you may know, I'm a man who enjoys my pig parts, so when 4505 Meats brought this puppy to the table, I knew I was in for a treat.  A 20 pound porchetta was carved into thick slices and served alongside a spicy stone fruit chutney with an arugula salad and a small block of head cheese - all topped off with a square of crispy pork skin.  The porchetta was flavorful thanks to the fantastic seasoning along the edges, but a little bit dry.  I wish they had served the chutney in layers between the slices of porchetta so that it formed its own sandwich of sorts, because while the components alone were good, the combination was killer.  The sweetness from the peaches and nectarines balanced the spice of the jalapeño therein as well as salt of the pork, while the juice from the fruit created a pseudo-sauce when slathered across the top.  The greens added a peppery bite, but the head cheese seemed to be out of place and didn't add too much as far as I'm concerned.  Though it was not unwelcome.  

Snake River Farms provided the Caliente Sisters with the Wagyu beef that anchored their harvest greens salad with avocado sauce, bleu cheese, radishes and toasted pepitas.  The Wagyu was marinated with Serrano pepper which gave a decent kick, though not one so intense that even a spice-wuss such as myself could appreciate it, especially with the creamy, tangy avocado dressing to offset it.  The steak was cooked to perfection, and the fresh harvest greens were a great bed on which to rest the heavy protein.  This was a solid dish, to be sure, and is something I would happily order at any restaurant multiple times, but there was nothing that stood out and wow-ed me.  A delicious, perfectly executed, staple of a salad.  

Savory crème brûlée - a bold choice from Chef Grant.  Skeptical, I figured I might as well crack the surface and dive in spoon first.  The torched cheese on top mimicked the traditionally "brûléed" sugar, but with a stringy finish rather than a solid break.  The "crème" had the lightest, fluffiest, pillowy mouth-feel I could have ever imagined, almost akin to whipped cream with a pudding-like smoothness.  Yet in each bite, that otherwise soft interior was broken up by gigantic chunks of crawfish.  The flavors were distinctly Cajun, but not overpoweringly so, even a bit subdued by the extraordinary creaminess.  

We were treated to an extra dish thanks to Chef Pampuch.  For his main course, we were treated to a medium-rare slice of veal with a panzanella salad, radishes and tomatoes.  The meat was ideally pink, and disintegrated as I took each bite.  The bread in the panzanella salad was soft and wet yet sill maintained some of its interior texture, which I quite enjoyed.  Overall, the judges concurred that the entire dish was just too over-seasoned, and masked the delicate flavor of the veal itself.  

As for dessert, we were all blown away.  The smoked fig cake contained nuggets of walnuts and served as the base for an incredibly unique morel and chanterelle mushroom ice cream made with liquid nitrogen.  I think we got this a bit too late, as it turned into more of a foam by the time touched it.  Regardless, the flavor was spectacular: a salty, earthy flavor brought out the sweetness in the figs, which married perfectly with the olive oil and sea salt drizzled over top in true Italian fashion.   

Chef Alex Tamburro from right here in the Bay Area gave us agnolotti (which, as he explained, is essentially ravioli made from one sheet of pasta, hence only three crimped edges) with braised Snake River Farms Wagyu beef in a tomato sauce with thinly shaved cheese and basil.  This dish made me truly understand what it means to layer flavors.  The sauce first gave off a fresh tomato essence, followed immediately by a savory unctuousness created from what I can only assume was a veal or beef stock, and finally tailing off with a buttery finish.  While pasta was a little too al dente, the filling was superbly tender and juicy.  As you cut into the agnolotti, the interior spilled out into the sauce to create a beef and noodle soup of sorts, which was a fun little activity.  

Well butter my behind and call me a biscuit.  This was the definition of southern cooking.  A cornmeal dusted oyster, Cajun sea bass, root beer braised greens, cheese grits and a watermelon gastrique courtesy of Chef Jeremy Enfinger.  This was by far and away the dish to which I was most looking forward, and it delivered on almost every level.  The oyster practically melted in my mouth after my teeth cracked the crispy cornmeal crust, and the braised greens had a sweetness from the root beer that balanced out the Cajun spices.  Unfortunately, the sea bass was overcooked, and I didn't get a whole lot of cheese in the grits.  

I think Chef Trace may have been trying to bribe me here.  Knowing my undying love for her bacon jam, its addition was certainly not going to hurt.  The dessert was lovely - the chèvre was sweetened yet had a distinctly savory aspect, all the while holding a smooth cheesecake consistency.  The sweet/salty bacon jam mirrored the sweet/savory cheesecake, and the chicharrones added crunch for texture.  The crust could have been a bit thicker and with more of the spicy cayenne, which was muted among the creamy cheese.  

When all was said and done, we were left stunned by both the quality and the quantity of food before us.  After a deep breath, I took a quick look around our table, only to observe this:

While it is completely against my nature to "give everyone a trophy," I do want to hand out some special honorable mentions:

Best Plating: Chef Alli Sosna
Best Single Bite: Chef Jeremy Enfinger's Oyster
Most Innovative: Chef Scott Pampouch's Morel and Chanterelle Mushroom Liquid Nitrogen Ice Cream
Best Pig Part: Crispy Skin from 4505's porchetta

Ultimately, the judges had to choose a single dish.  So, after much deliberation, arguing, push-back, and a much needed walk around the venue to ease ourselves out of our respective food comas, we chose...

Two.

Call us chicken. Say we ducked out. Cry foul!

We just couldn't do it. 

See, there were no rules in place, so we had to establish our criteria on the fly.  Was the winner supposed to have the best complete dish?  The best bite?  Sweet or savory?  Lunch, dinner, snack, appetizer?  The possibilities were endless.  In the end, we agreed on our two dishes: the first was our favorite in that we would seek it out specifically to have it again.  It was so unique and irresistible, and we all found ourselves coming back time and time again for another bite. 

Congratulations to winner number one: Chef Chris Grant and his Crawfish Crème Brûlée!

However, we could not justify that as a complete meal.  It was so rich that the ramekin sized cup was the perfect amount.  So, our favorite "entree" went to:

Chef Alex Tamburro's Wagyu Beef Agnolotti!

Some people think that a tie is 50/50: an even split.  But that just isn't the case.  A tie is two wholes.  It is two dishes that are each, in their entirety, the best of the best.

Without sounding cheesy, the real winners were those who experienced the food.  These chefs told their stories through food: their cultures, their backgrounds, and their passions all came through in the dishes they prepared.  And we all had the honor to take part in that journey.  

This event was about so much more than competition.  It was about teamwork...

...friendship...

...and working toward the goal of making the world of food a better place - not only for ourselves, but for future generations.  As a society, we have lost our sense of culture when it comes to the foods we consume.  We take for granted the fresh fruits and vegetables that we can grow sustainably and organically in our own backyards in the name of processed convenience and mass quantity.  

When I look around at the chefs who comprised the inaugural Throw Down on the Farm, I see more than just cooks.  I see more than just aprons and knives in the kitchen behind the scenes.  I see more than just phenomenally crafted dishes.

You know what I see?

I see a group of men and women who are willing to stand up and fight for what they believe.  A group that is willing to showcase ingredients as they were meant to be.  A group that is unwilling to take shortcuts for the sake of making a buck.  A group that loves what they do so much so that they are willing to invest their every being into it, and wishes to share their gifts with the world for the benefit of the greater good.

In a food competition such as this, someone will take home the crown.  But when talented people join forces for the betterment of society, everyone wins.  

Nosh on,
Josh