Yesterday, the first phase of a new California law went into effect, which requires fast food restaurants (chains with 20 or more locations) to disclose the nutritional information of their products. Thanks to Senate Bill 1420, spearheaded by Alex Padilla (D-Pacoima), restaurants such as Applebee’s and Taco Bell must now provide brochures containing nutritional information. This law becomes much more stringent in 2011, when these same restaurants will have to list basic nutritional data on their actual menus and menu boards. You can read the full details here.

I’m slightly skeptical of “chipotle” anything these days. To me, this pepper was arguably THE ingredient of the 1990s, as smoked red jalapeños began to officially hit the American mainstream. Not only did a burrito chain emerge from Colorado emblazoned with this very name, but television chefs such as Bobby Flay seemed to be infusing chipotle peppers into every recipe imaginable. These days, you can order a Chipotle Chicken Ciabatta at Jack in the Box or a select a packet of Ancho Chipotle Ranch Dressing for a Wendy’s salad. From my perspective, now that this ubiquitous pepper has successfully reached the drive-thru, its culinary cache is all but lost.

When I noticed that the shrimp po-boy at Brenda’s French Soul Food featured a chipotle remoulade, I was naturally a bit dubious, at least initially. On the surface, it all felt a bit gimmicky and slightly behind-the-times, the whole notion of a chipotle remoulade. But on the other hand, everything else about Brenda’s rang true, including the restaurant’s terrific word of mouth and its reputation for long lines of repeat customers. And then there is chef Brenda Buenviaje herself, a native of New Orleans and the product of a Creole-Filipino upbringing. All things considered, perhaps my issue with chipotle peppers was simply my own hang-up.

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I can understand how Brenda’s French Soul Food stays crowded throughout breakfast and lunch (the restaurant closes at 3pm everyday). The location itself is tiny, enough so that it’s easily possible to brush elbows with the folks at a neighboring table. The scene can be surprising for those who are not ready for it: a little dining room jammed with diners, with waitstaff heroically navigating the cramped quarters. The best thing to do in this situation, at least if you’re alone, is to simply park yourself at the counter and wait for a menu.

I certainly won’t be the first one to mention that Brenda’s French Soul Food is fantastic — I’ll just join the chorus of cheers. My doubts about chipotle remoulade were put to rest as soon as I tasted Brenda’s pitch-perfect chicken, andouille and okra gumbo. This soup (pictured above) is the genuine article in every way, and most likely one of the best you’ll taste outside of Louisiana. Quite frankly, it’s a dish with no potential room for improvement. About halfway through this cup of gumbo, I began to suspect that — chipotle remoulade or not — the shrimp po-boy would easily pass muster.

Fortunately, I was right. Brenda’s shrimp po-boy is a great sandwich, although po-boy purists might demand an actual Leidenheimer roll — which they allegedly serve over at Yats — in lieu of Brenda’s toasted French roll (pictured below). Although I do appreciate the distinct texture and characteristics of Leidenheimer bread, the shrimp po-boy at Brenda’s proves to be an admirable rendition of the New Orleans classic. The shrimp themselves are big, sweet, and perfectly fried. And as for the chipotle remoulade, it holds its own rather nicely.

In many ways, I feel like “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” is the companion reader to Eric Schlosser’s “Fast Food Nation,” a book that first sent a shockwave throughout the American food industry in 2005, by holding up a mirror to our current eating habits. “The Omnivore’s Dilemma,” written by Michael Pollan and published in 2006, raises the stakes by broadening its scope: although Americans can avoid the drive-thru if they so choose, our ability to avoid the litany of industrialized corn byproducts — such as high-fructose corn syrup — presents a far more daunting challenge.

Personally, I don’t have the energy for too much soapboxing within these pages, and besides that, both “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” and “Fast Food Nation” were bestsellers, so the word is already out, at least among the literate. I will point out, however, that both books share a grim undertone — to say the least — harking back to the great tradition of Upton Sinclair’s seminal 1906 meat-packing exposé, “The Jungle.” Unfortunately, the American food industry has developed an entirely new set of problems over the last 100 years.

In terms of sheer readability, I would argue that “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” becomes less of a page-turner as it progresses. The first section, based upon the vicious cycle of corn production, is a must-read for anyone who purports to care about what they eat. For me, this section is easily on par with the great chapter on McDonald’s in “Fast Food Nation” (the clear highlight of that particular text, in my opinion). To be fair, I also enjoyed the lengthy middle section of “The Omnivore’s Dilemma,” which highlights the über-sustainable Polyface Farm in Swoope, VA.

By the third and final section, however, “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” had begun to wear me a little thin. Ultimately, I attribute this situation to my own ever-shortening attention span, but since I have heard similar sentiments echoed by other folks, I feel that this criticism is noteworthy, if not petty. Although the third section remains relatively brief, it also remains less engaging than the earlier sections. After all, the message of “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” has already become painfully and depressingly clear by the book’s end: high-fructose corn syrup is basically evil, and the sustainability of “organic” farming has become debatable.

The calling card of a Squeezeburger is unmistakable: a skirt of crispy melted cheddar as big as a jukebox 45. The burger itself is as messy as it is delicious. Highly recommended. But not for the weak or dainty.

In the last few months, downtown Napa has seen the opening of two new restaurants, Neela’s Contemporary Indian Cooking and The Border. Both restaurants have received a fair amount of attention, although criticism tends to be the dominant theme for both places thus far. On one hand, you have Neela’s, which has a reputation for good food, but at high prices. On the other hand, there is The Border — an upscale take on Mexican cuisine — that has suffered similar, but even worse condemnations.

Although I eagerly anticipated the opening of both restaurants, I cannot say that my own opinion differs from the consensus in any significant way. I honestly expected more from both, but at the same time, considering the short history of each, neither restaurant has had sufficient time to evolve as a business and discover its niche. It will be interesting to see how these two restaurants can adapt in the near future (according to much of what I’ve read, The Border could establish a great deal of good will by offering free chips and salsa).

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In the meantime, Napa’s culinary landscape will continue to evolve on its own, spurred by the arrival of downtown hotels like the Ritz-Carlton, which was approved for ground-breaking just about 11 months ago. As anticipated, last year’s Ritz-Carlton deal has already begun to have a domino effect, with heavyweight chefs such as Masaharu Morimoto poised to set up restaurants in the vicinity (from what I hear, Thomas Keller is no longer headed for Napa, perhaps content to simply dominate Yountville).

Inked just a few weeks ago, Morimoto Napa (I’m not sure that this restaurant name is entirely accurate, but I’m going with it for the moment) will establish unprecedented credibility in Napa’s downtown culinary scene. In many ways, it’s as if Godzilla is coming to town, stomping out any competition that cannot win its share of local, loyal customers. Frankly, I’m all for this much-needed paradigm shift: Napa dining has long suffered from relative mediocrity, while towns such as Yountville and St. Helena have managed to flourish in comparison.

From a culinary perspective, Morimoto Napa should raise the bar within Napa’s city limits, at the same time becoming a natural destination for the Ritz-Carlton’s affluent clientele. The restaurant will also produce a domino effect of its own, and has already enticed another popular Food Network chef, Tyler Florence, to join the fray downtown. As a result, restaurants like Neela’s and The Border — those that aren’t backed by camera-friendly, nationally-known chefs — will have to rely more and more upon repeat local customers.

I wish Neela’s and The Border both the best, but right now, I have to admit, they’re not in my current rotation (for what it’s worth, my key downtown spots are The Bounty Hunter and Uva Trattoria). However, I’ll check up on Neela’s and The Border in a couple of months, to see if anything has changed or improved. In the meantime, if the ground around Napa happens to rumble, don’t assume that it’s from seismic activity. Godzilla is on the horizon.

Some pictures from two weeks ago, but in a new slideshow format. The produce looked great that day, and the overcast skies provided terrific lighting…

Although I have covered pho somewhat extensively within these pages, rarely has this popular Vietnamese soup ever been readily available here in the Napa Valley. A few months ago, I had the Martini House “family meal” version of pho, a dish which seems to be out of the rotation at the moment. But as much as I do enjoy the Martini House for many things — including the mushroom soup and the Kobe burger — charging more than $7 for a bowl of pho is clearly pushing it (if I recall, the pho at Martini House might have been $13 or $14).

Fortunately, I can always get an honest bowl of of pho in Vallejo at Pho #1 on Sonoma Blvd (located well behind the Burger King, which is the place that you’re most likely to see from the road). The soup at Pho #1 is based upon a terrific beef broth, perfectly seasoned, with just enough grease for character. Like the best pho houses in the Bay Area, Pho #1 serves its soup just a shade below boiling, with the requisite side plate of basil leaves, bean sprouts, sliced jalapeño peppers, and lime wedges.

Many people have their own ritual and routine regarding the pho accoutrements, and I am no different: I always use two jalapeño slices, the three biggest basil leaves, and all of the bean sprouts (the latter provide an added textural element, while they also help to cool the broth). Although I will gladly squeeze lime juice all over a carnitas burrito, for some reason I can do without it in a bowl of pho. For me, pho is more of a wintertime dish, but the cravings can appear at any time. So, although I do not count on Vallejo for much, at least pho is covered. Ramen, however, still requires a drive into San Francisco.

Ubuntu’s vegetarian menu is something that I always viewed with a decent bit of skepticism. For this reason alone, I had postponed my visit, knowing that I was certainly obliged to make a visit at some point. It’s just that I’m a bit tepid on the whole vegetarian concept (and I don’t think I’m in the minority here). Ultimately, it took a visit from a friend to prompt my first reservation to this much-discussed Napa restaurant.

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Arguably, Ubuntu has the most creative food within the Napa city limits, and I have heard plenty of glowing first-hand reviews from chefs who I’ve worked with. The restaurant also has a fair amount of culinary pedigree, with executive chef Jeremy Fox at its helm. A transplant from Atlanta, Fox is a disciple of chef David Kinch, the unique talent behind the two-Michelin starred Manresa in Los Gatos, CA (a farm-to-table concept in the purest sense).

On the other hand, I’ve also heard from many different sources (many of whom are professional servers) that Ubuntu has somewhat iffy service. Although it may sound like petty nitpicking when one professional server derides the efforts of a colleague, I have found that professional servers actually tend to be very patient and sympathetic diners, keenly aware of which missteps are the kitchen’s fault, versus which ones are the server’s fault.

I discovered that my experience at Ubuntu clearly reflected my expectations: the food was good, but service was only so-so. Although this was not an isolated incident, a great example was dessert, where my friend and I ordered three items to share (I know this sounds gluttonous, but she’s a pastry chef, so this actually falls under “research”). We requested that they bring out all three desserts at the same time, but the server told us that we would receive each dessert whenever it was ready. Really odd, to say the least.

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On the positive side, those three desserts were great (even as they arrived willy-nilly from the kitchen), and they really did go a long way to salvage the meal. My friend, who had spent the past year working at The Fat Duck in the UK, felt that in some ways, the selections at Ubuntu trumped the desserts at the French Laundry (where she had staged all week). She felt that Ubuntu’s strength was in its innovation, and I must agree, the restaurant does offer some clever twists on some fun themes.

The dessert that has remained in my memory was just $6 — and a nod to cold cereal — the “bowl of frosted feuilletine.” The dish featured brûléed banana slices, vanilla ice cream, and Kafir-lime infused milk. The latter component put an interesting spin on things, but it worked. Quite frankly, it left me wanting more (I could easily eat a large bowl of this, but my affinity for cold cereal was once legendary). For me, the nostalgic element was profound.

Overall, the hallmark of Ubuntu (aside from its iffy service) is its interesting flavor combinations. Reading the menu at Ubuntu often involves imagining — and even trying to predict — what these dishes might taste like. For me, the watermelon and lemongrass soup was reminiscent of carrot-ginger soup, both in flavor and with its beautiful coral appearance. The chilled soup was pleasant, although the watermelon component was more subtle than I had hoped.

The English peas with white chocolate was a wildly creative dish that somehow worked (my friend felt that it smacked of elBulli, and suspected that Ferran Adrià did it first, although this is mere speculation). Little sprigs of chocolate-mint provided a link within the dish, riffing on the classic combination of English peas with regular mint. However, the chocolate element took the dish in a slightly different direction, one where white chocolate was the next logical step.

Rounding out my selections, the fresh corn polenta with strawberry sofrito was another typically engaging dish, and something that most people would never dream up. The sweetness of the strawberries helped to augment the sweetness of the corn (as an aside, watch for a lot of corn-themed desserts this year, I think there is a definite trend taking shape), and I enjoyed the dish, even more so as the flavor combination slowly won me over.

The bacon banh mi sandwich at Banh Mi Ba Le can be a curious specimen for those who might be expecting a more Western approach to bacon. To be sure, most people in America have probably never seen this Vietnamese take on the almighty pork belly, which at Banh Mi Ba Le features a bright red tint, immediately reminiscent of Chinese barbecue. The bacon itself — known as Thit Nuong (just order the #6 sandwich if your Vietnamese is rusty) — resembles a technicolor pastrami more than it resembles the classic smoked and cured versions of American slab bacon. It’s different, but good. Best of all, the banh mi sandwiches at Banh Mi Ba Le are just $2.50 each.

I have often said that being a chef is much more of a lifestyle than it is a profession. Working in a kitchen is far more demanding than most jobs, and I don’t think that there is any career that combines high stress with low pay so seamlessly. But the most demanding element of professional cooking is actually the schedule: even when the pay begins to improve, the odd hours remain mostly the same. As far as I’m concerned, this willingness to consistently work nights and weekends remains the job’s biggest sacrifice.

Of course, at the very foundation of professional cooking, there are the elements of creativity and craftsmanship that originally draw people into the business (I don’t think that any professional chef entered the business simply because of the long, stressful hours). The idea of travel can also prove appealing, moving to France or Italy to hone your skills for a year — it all sounds pretty great. But even though cooking certainly contains a lot of romantic ideals, in reality, few of us are truly cut out for a nomadic lifestyle.

Personally, I admire anyone who has the drive and the dedication to see what’s out there. For many in the restaurant business, experiencing the world’s cuisine requires working during your vacation. But for any chef who is truly serious about living the life, this type of sacrifice is de riguer, and I know plenty of folks who have taken time off from one kitchen job, just to spend this hard-earned vacation time by working a stage (for free) somewhere else. This approach shows a passion above and beyond mere professionalism.

With this fact in mind, I gladly accepted a house guest last week, someone who was slated to do a week-long stage at The French Laundry, having already spent the last year employed at The Fat Duck under Heston Blumenthal. For me, anyone with this much culinary insight is someone I want to meet, and since she was also a friend-of-a-friend, I felt pretty comfortable playing the host. As a result, I’ve covered a fair amount of local cuisine recently, as I’ve done my best to deliver the full Bay Area experience to my guest.

I haven’t blogged much lately, since I’ve been out and about so much, which means that I have a lot to catch up on in the next few weeks (last Tuesday’s photos from the farmers market are the only things that I’ve had time to post). So far, I have reviews in the works for Ubuntu, Pizzeria Delfina, and a few other places. I also have a couple book reviews on the way (all food- and wine-releated, of course), along with all kinds of other odds and ends. The list is long.