As I’ve been dining out these last few weeks, I’ve decided to place my decisions squarely in the hands of the waitstaff much more often than I usually would. What I mean is, I’m inquiring about favorite dishes and house specialties these days, and then going along with whatever recommendation is proffered. It may seem obvious, but it’s actually a much different approach than my typical routine, where I might become fixated on, say, chicken and waffles, and then attempt to sample every option available in the Bay Area. Since beginning this [... read more ...]]]>

Crispy Shrimp with Ginger and Onions.

As I’ve been dining out these last few weeks, I’ve decided to place my decisions squarely in the hands of the waitstaff much more often than I usually would. What I mean is, I’m inquiring about favorite dishes and house specialties these days, and then going along with whatever recommendation is proffered. It may seem obvious, but it’s actually a much different approach than my typical routine, where I might become fixated on, say, chicken and waffles, and then attempt to sample every option available in the Bay Area. Since beginning this blog two years ago, I’ve embarked on these highly-focused “food missions” with everything from pizza, cheeseburgers, falafel, po-boys, or whatever else seemed interesting at the time. At its core, it’s an approach that lends itself to a cohesive narrative, which is the big silver lining to driving around the Bay Area and eating all kinds of fried chicken (as if that really requires a silver lining). Basically, this focused approach addresses the simple, yet compelling questions, such as: “Who makes the best chicken and waffles in the Bay Area?” These are the questions that warrant thoughtful consideration, repetition, and legwork.

Of course, with this business-like approach to dining out, it means that I’m usually headed to a restaurant with a very specific agenda. Sure, I might peruse the menu for a moment, but only out of curiosity. In many cases, I never need that “few more moments to decide” because I had already settled upon my order long before I had even walked through the restaurant’s front door. Sometimes, dinner might even feature the same entree as lunch, just at a different venue. For food writers, this culinary monotony may be unavoidable at times, although for me, it had gone on for long enough. The day I thought I had grown weary of fried chicken was the day that I had begun to question who I’d become. Which is why I decided to adopt a new approach to dining out, something geared towards greater variety: These days, I simply scout out any restaurant that’s bustling with business, I grab myself a table, and then I ask the server to bring out his or her favorite dishes. It’s a leap of faith, maybe, but not if your instincts are sound and you adhere to the all-important “bustling with business” caveat. Lousy restaurants don’t bustle.

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I noticed the crowds at Huong Tha a couple years back, while heading north on San Pablo Avenue after an Everett & Jones session. For the record, I did visit Huong Tha shortly thereafter to sample their banh mi sandwiches (at one point last year, banh mi was just about the only thing I was eating, and I covered all of San Pablo Avenue and then some). However, after barely skimming the surface of Huong Tra’s culinary options, I regrettably moved on without delving any deeper into their menu, most likely being lured down the road by a competing version of banh mi. “Who offers the best banh mi in the Bay Area?” is a question that I really needed to answer at the time, and so I remained single-minded in that approach, for better or worse. But that was then. This week, I finally returned to Huong Tra in order to finally discover what I was most likely missing.

At the recomendation of my server, I began my lunch with the green papaya salad (pictured below), which really captured the essence of fresh, clean flavors. Although I’ve certainly tasted versions of this salad at other Vietnamese restaurants, I found that Huong Tra’s version proved particularly satisfying. As a starter, the green papaya salad is fantastic this time of year — vibrant and refreshing — and quite fitting for the summertime. For my entree, my waitress recommended the crispy shrimp with ginger and onions (pictured above), a dish that actually trumped the green papaya salad. The crispy shrimp were beautifully fried, lightly coated with a delicate batter that featured just a hint of sweetness, which complemented the shrimp’s natural flavor. The aromatic tandem of sauteed onion and ginger added depth to the dish, while the cut jalapeños contributed a spicy element. I tend to view these flavor combinations not as simple, but as elegant. Or in other words, positively addictive.

Green Papaya Salad with Shrimp.

The Brown Sugar Kitchen is a great little breakfast-lunch spot located in West Oakland, a vibrant little oasis flanked by imposing industrial buildings on every side. The restaurant is hardly a secret these days, and it seems to be flirting with “destination” status — a place that bustles with regular neighborhood-type business, despite being so far removed from any actual neighborhoods. Every time I’m there, I tend to wonder where most of the patrons come from, although by the looks of them, I’m pretty sure [... read more ...]]]>

Oakland Booty: The apple cider syrup can almost make you forget about maple.

The Brown Sugar Kitchen is a great little breakfast-lunch spot located in West Oakland, a vibrant little oasis flanked by imposing industrial buildings on every side. The restaurant is hardly a secret these days, and it seems to be flirting with “destination” status — a place that bustles with regular neighborhood-type business, despite being so far removed from any actual neighborhoods. Every time I’m there, I tend to wonder where most of the patrons come from, although by the looks of them, I’m pretty sure they’re either trekking down from Berkeley, or else heading west from Rockridge and Piedmont. As for me, I drove 40 miles from Napa, just in time to catch the restaurant’s last hour of lunch. My trip, of course, was motivated by chicken and waffles, and my obsessive compulsion to suss out every single effort in the Bay Area.

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Chicken and waffles has a special place in my heart, and the version at the Brown Sugar Kitchen warrants some considerable praise. First things first: The chicken, always the main event in this line-up, was perfectly cooked through, not remotely dry in any way, and with crispy skin (although not quite as über-crispy as the fried chicken at Gussie’s or the Boon Fly Cafe). Beneath the skin, I’m not sure if the chicken at BSK spends any time in brine, although I suspect that it does not. I will admit, however, that BSK’s fried chicken does seem to get by on its own — brine or no brine — even at the risk of appearing under-seasoned (but really, considering that I’m prone to douse the bird with hot sauce anyhow, it may all be a moot point). What I really need to rave about, however, is the Brown Sugar Kitchen’s waffle, which is easily one of the best waffles that I’ve ever eaten. Made with corn meal and served with apple cider syrup, the waffle features a terrifically crispy outer texture, but at the same time, remains impossibly light in structure. This contrast is profound in the same kind of way that great pizza dough is profound (and like truly great pizza dough, perhaps just as rare).

Given my last post, I suppose that a fried chicken theme is emerging here. It’s what I’m into at the moment. That said, I decided to head to Berkeley to catch a movie and to see about the oddly-named “Demon Lover” at 900 Grayson. I’m really not too sure about the name of this particular dish, although I do recall a movie named “My Demon Lover” from 1987. The film starred Scott Valentine, perhaps better known as [... read more ...]]]>

Whole Lotta Beige: The Demon Lover (also known as fried chicken with a waffle). Shoestring onions are pictured in the BG.

Given my last post, I suppose that a fried chicken theme is emerging here. It’s what I’m into at the moment. That said, I decided to head to Berkeley to catch a movie and to see about the oddly-named “Demon Lover” at 900 Grayson. I’m really not too sure about the name of this particular dish, although I do recall a movie named “My Demon Lover” from 1987. The film starred Scott Valentine, perhaps better known as Mallory’s obtuse biker boyfriend, Nick, from the television series “Family Ties” (later episodes only). “My Demon Lover” was a classic slice of 80s cheese, and a movie that I always associate with “Once Bitten” and “Mannequin.” What an unfortunate era.

The Demon Lover at 900 Grayson tastes like it looks, which is to say, it could definitely satisfy a general craving for chicken and waffles, although it wouldn’t supplant my specific cravings for Roscoe’s in Southern California (Gussie’s in San Francisco still comes the closest in that regard). Frankly, for $12 I would’ve been happier if there was one more waffle on the plate, and I much prefer my fried chicken on the bone (the menu does acknowledge that the chicken is in “paillard” form, however, so I knew exactly what to expect). All in all, it’s a perfectly palatable version of chicken and waffles. Like an 80s movie, just take it for what it’s worth.

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 [... read more ...]]]>

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.

Lots of barbecue places tend to be hit or miss, at least here in California. Everett and Jones is no different, although their misses are few and far between. I always get the pork ribs alongside the beef brisket, which is the “Two-Way” pictured above (typically, I request to have the sauce on the side, since they will go heavy, by default). Not pictured: baked beans, peach cobbler, Welch’s Grape.

The fried chicken sandwich at Bakesale [... read more ...]]]> Bakesale Betty is one of those word-of-mouth, lightning-in-a-bottle lunch spots that might as well have a license to print money. Ironically, you might never even realize that the place was there, if it wasn’t for the line of people outside waiting to order their fried chicken sandwiches. The good news is that this lunch line moves rather quickly, and there are enough ironing boards parked out front for everyone to have a table (even though the restaurant has an Oakland address, Bakesale Betty feels like Berkeley through and through).

The fried chicken sandwich at Bakesale Betty is honest, but not transcendent. A busy crew behind the counter assembles the sandwiches with two pieces of fried chicken breast, which are beautifully battered, and a generous helping of coleslaw, which is dressed with oil and the slightest tinge of vinegar. The sandwich is served upon a small French roll, which can also be the vehicle for an egg salad sandwich or a brisket sandwich (the latter being a recent menu addition). These sandwiches are sold at an impressive pace, until they are finally sold out altogether.

For me, the Bakesale Betty’s fried chicken sandwich cries for a squirt of mayonnaise, or even more preferable, a slathering of simple remoulade. Perhaps these are my own New Orleans biases, but I believe that whenever you put something that’s deep fried between two pieces of bread, some type of sauce always helps to restore succulence and offset dryness. The coleslaw definitely helps in this matter, but it simply cannot carry the entire sandwich. However, if you can get your hands on one the small bottles of Frank’s Red Hot that are lying around, this fried chicken sandwich takes one giant leap closer to ideal.

Pizza is important, and it’s imperative to know which places excel, and which ones fall short. At its very core, pizza is a simple food, [... read more ...]]]> Being from California, I’m not obligated to swear my allegiance to any one particular style of pizza. It’s a bit of a relief, really. The Chicagoans and the New Yorkers can wage their apples-versus-oranges debate for as long as they wish — that tired routine will never be resolved. In the meantime, I’m happy to mind my own business, so long as I continue to have access to the pizza itself.

Pizza is important, and it’s imperative to know which places excel, and which ones fall short. At its very core, pizza is a simple food, so any shortcomings are always going to be on clear display. In the Bay Area, the best places tend to offer New York style pizza, which seems to suit Californians like me. After all, thin-crust pizza complements a fast-paced lifestyle: just a quick re-heat in the deck oven, and it’s ready to go, out the door. Even at the most popular places, the lines always move fast.

In terms of New York-style pizza, the best slices must be held with two hands. The crust should be crispy, yet thin enough to bend under the slightest layer of cheese. In the ideal scenario, the first three bites should also be a race against total frontal collapse. The first bite, in particular, is never quite voluntary — it’s often more like a knee-jerk reaction, an attempt to prevent the cheese from sliding right off the front.

More often than not, this is the kind of pizza that they serve at Gioia Pizzeria in Berkeley. Of course, this restaurant is hardly a secret — every time I visit, Gioia has a line that backs up to the door. There’s usually four or five pizzas to choose from, which always includes such staples as sausage or pepperoni. Naturally, Gioia also betrays its Berkeley roots with a rotation of more esoteric choices, such as butternut squash with Gorgonzola, or broccoli with ricotta.