Have You Heard That One About Pizza? It Goes Like This...

Some of us associate the oddest, most humorous memories with certain foods. Pizza is one of those foods for me.

Example: May 28, 2004. AMC Theatres on Van Ness Avenue, San Francisco, California.

I remember it clearly. It was opening night of the blockbluster disaster flick, Day After Tomorrow. That evening, the silver screen audience was principally populated with residents from the nearby nursing home and the moviegoers were abuzz with excitement. Before the movie began, we excitedly watched the previews when I suddenly heard my beau whisper loudly into my ear.

"What is that smell?"

I faintly detected an oniony odor wafting in my direction.

Upon looking up, about two to three rows ahead, I saw a feisty gray-haired woman with her head buried in an open Styrofoam take-out container. I surreptitiously craned my neck upward and peered over her shoulder to view the contents of the container. I was amused to see that her container was heaped to the brim with a mottled orange ball of stringy chow mein noodles and sweet and sour chicken that was so radioactively red, it looked like the molten tip of a branding iron. Awe-struck and secretly jealous, I chuckled softly and feigned exasperation. "She has some guts," I muttered to my beau.

I then heard a rustling commotion and using my peripheral vision, I spotted a cluster of eager seniors huddled over a popped-open lid of a large cardboard Costco pizza box. Not to be outdone, they had snuck a whole pizza into a movie theater! Now those folks had guts to the N-th degree! In my heart, I immediately bowed in deference to them. If any human was worth worshiping, it was these cheapsters! I vowed to myself that one day, I would sneak an entire pizza box into a packed theater. And let me tell you, that day, will be the pinnacle of my achievement as a human being!

The moral of the story, is that one should have no shame when it comes to eating pizza. One of my favorite places for "shameless pizza eating" in the City of San Francisco, is Pizzeria Delfina. They serve pies there that are guaranteed to leave even the hardiest, most-resilient of adults in a garlic-induced stupor.

Pizzeria Delfina specializes in authentic Italian pizza: the kind with blistered, charred, and crackly edges and a supple interior. The kind with melted blobs of mozzarella and crushed tomatoes reeking of freshness. The kind that will make you wanna bring a whole pie into a movie theater! The pies of note at Pizzeria Delfina, are the classic Margherita and two, off-the-menu specials: (1) the Purgatorio and (2) the Gricia.


The Purgatorio is a traditional pie slathered with a spicy, tingly hot tomato sauce base which the chefs spike with red pepper flakes and layer with Romano cheese. The shavings of Romano will melt away on your tongue like salty flakes of snow and provide the perfect counterbalance to the entire pizza pie. However, the best part of the pizza is not the cheese, but the oozing and gooey sunny-side eggs, that spill forth on the pizza face.


The Gricia is made with guanciale (apparently, pig jowl) and panna cheese. This pizza is decorated with wispy tendrils of spring scallions and topped with a puddle of warm cream poured directly within the concentric circle of crust. The entire pie is sprinkled with crushed black peppercorns, which provide a spicy contrast to the creamy pie.


And hey, I would be willing to risk shame and ostracization in a movie theater for these fellas'! (I am an exhibitionist, what can I say.)

Bandwagon Jumper

What do you call someone who waits in line for more than two hours for lunch-time sushi?

Dumb as a rock?

Pretty close. The answer is "me." I am the punchline.

If you don't get the joke, after reading this post, you will.

At the beginning of this year, my husband and I noticed an explosion of Facebook activity about this new lunch place in the Financial District dubbed "Sushiritto." We had never heard of it, but around 20 of our friends did, and they touted it as the next big thing to hit San Francisco. However, none of these friends had personally tried the food there. Pretty much, they just saw long lines there and wistfully tweeted pictures of the line and something to the effect of, "Must be good! I want some!"

Since I was gainfully on maternity leave at the time, my husband decided that if anyone had a few hours to spare to wait in line, I did. Plus, I have told you before how my husband feels about long lines at eating establishments. So he dropped me off to pick up lunch there while he went to go run some errands in the City with our newborn in tow.

I would like to say this was the "wait of the century," but that would be a gross understatement. I am sure you know how long lines at amusement parks are. At the half hour mark, you are losing steam, but you believe you can keep going. By the time one hour has passed, you are too invested to leave the line. At that point, you convince yourself that "the worst part of the wait is over." At the one and a half hour mark, you tell yourself, "Oh what the heck, I already wasted my day, I might as well continue waiting." And as I waited in line, that is what I told myself. And like lines at the U.S. Post Office, it literally did not move an inch.

Given the pace of the movement of the line, I have no idea how I ended up at the front, but more than two hours later, I did. And since I was starving, half-conscious, and wholly belligerent, I ordered four of the items on the five item menu: the Three Amigos, Latin Ninja, Mamacita, and Crispy Ebi rolls.

As I checked out, the cashier rang up the total as ~$40. At first, I suffered a quick bout of sticker-shock, but because I had waited over two hours for those lil' mutha-effers, I made myself believe that it would be worth it. As I paid for the meal, my husband rushed in with our crying newborn and furiously asked, "What took you so long?" I shoved the rolls in his arms and stormed off to the car.

With a crying baby in the background, we gulped down the rolls in the car (I was so hungry, I could not be bothered to chew and there is no real seating area to eat at in Sushiritto, as it is just a take-out place). At that point, I woefully realized I could not taste a difference between Sushiritto's rolls and Americanized rolls from any ole' sushi joint. Basically, the rolls were like California rolls with one or two extra bells and whistles. Not even like a California roll on steroids, but like a California roll on a GNC herbal supplement. At one point, I tasted something that reminded me of Thai curry (I believe the mango in the Latin Ninja or the plantain and Sriracha combination in the Crispy Ebi roll), but I was too angered by the fact that I had waited two hours to even care.

To quickly recap our meal, we ordered the "Three Amigos" roll, which is sizeable sushi roll made with tuna, salmon, hamachi hiramasa (Japanese amberjack yellowtail fish), avocado, yuzu tobiko (fish roe seasoned with yuzu citrus), asparagus, cucumber, shaved red radish, scallions, and wasabi mayonnaise. Apparently, the "three" friends, are the three different types of fish.


We also ordered the "Latin Ninja" roll, which was made with salmon, mango, avocado, asparagus, daikon radish, Meyer lemon, pickled red onion, cilantro, scallions, and a ginger serrano sauce. The punchy cilantro leaves, the creamy mango and avocado elements, and the fiery serrano oils brought a punch of Latin flair to the Japanese roll.


The third roll we ordered, was the Mamacita Roll, which was made of tuna, Japanese gourd, Shiitake mushrooms, avocado, cucumber, scallions, daikon radish, tobiko (fish roe), crumbled rice chips, and Mexican kabayaki sauce.


Finally, we also ordered the Crispy Ebi, which sounded to be the most innovative roll of the four. The Crispy Ebi was made of tempura shrimp, melted pepperjack cheese, shredded crab, plantain, avocado, cucumber, and Sriracha crema sauce.

Now that you are at the end of this post, I am sure you are thinking, "Gee, I sense bitterness." Honestly, the rolls were pretty good and had it not been for the wait, I would have had liked this place much more. Indeed, my husband (who did not wait in line) went back with his brother and sister-in-law! Check out his sister-in-law's take on Sushiritto here. Also, the menu has undergone a dramatic overhaul and I heard that the lines have died down too, so if you are around the area, you might check it out.

Well, I can't say that I didn't learn a valuable lesson from this ordeal. Sushiritto helped me to realize that there is great value in having a "quicky" every now and then. "Quicky" meaning "quick lunch," that is.

Whoa, That's Deep. Deep Dish, That Is.

Before I visited to Chicago, I heard that the three best deep dish pizzerias in all of Chicago were (1) Gino's East, (2) Giordano's, and (3) Lou Malnati's. Knowing me, you can rest assured that I set out to test those assertions, and try the places out myself.

First, I stopped by Gino's East for a solo lunch, and eagerly ordered a small personal pan pizza. After a lengthy wait, my fresh pizza arrived steaming hot inside the cardboard box. I immediately noticed several things. The warm and buttery deep dish crust was chockful of yeasty air pockets and the thick pizza filling was evenly layered with (1) supple and explosively juicy chunks of fresh tomatoes, (2) an oozing and melted blanket of mozzarella cheese, (3) chopped pieces of crisp green bell peppers, (4) sliced mushrooms, and (5) moist crumbles of Italian sausage. Every bite was packed with flavor and an even distribution of savory Italian toppings. My substantial deep dish experience at Gino's East was a solid "A-," indeed, and left me wanting more.

Next, I visited Lou Malnati's and again ordered a personal pan pizza. When the pizza arrived a while later, I again was greeted by a beautiful sight of a tomatoey red deep dish pie. Unlike Gino's East, I found the deep dish crust at Lou Malnati's to be lighter and more crackery. The thin crust surrounding deep dish filling was surprisingly crisp with crunchy charred areas packed with a smoky and bready flavor. I ordered the same toppings that I ordered at Gino's East, including onions, green bell peppers, mushrooms, tomatoes, Italian sausage, and mozzarella and Parmesan cheese. Again, I was satisfied with the uniform distribution and consistency of the toppings, and the warm, savory, hearty, and fulfilling nature of the deep dish pizza.


It was a perfect pie, and deserving of a high "A-/B+" grade.


Finally, buoyed by the deep dish successes at Gino's East and Lou Malnati's and falsely thinking that my large stomach had conquered the deep dish pan pizza, I decided to go all out and order a small pizza (and not just a personal pizza). The menu indicated that the small pizza fed one to two individuals, so I was confident that I could consume a whole pie by myself.


However, I was entirely unprepared for the excess that lay ahead before me.


Unlike the smaller personal deep dish pizzas, the tremendous slices of Giordano's pan pizza expanded significantly in my stomach, quadrupling in volume after just a few minutes. The pizza literally crippled my entire body, overwhelming and overloading my senses. Furthermore, the center of the dough was slightly uncooked with a gluey and gooey consistency. While I loved the quality of the bell pepper strips, button mushrooms, and substantial pieces of sausage, the sheer quantity of the deep dish pizza was a little too much for me.


Because of my gluttony, I only would rank Giordano's with a "B," but only for the sheer fact that I simply do not remember much about the pizza because of my overeating and inability to take it like a real woman.

However, overall, my deep dish experience in Chicago was a fantastic one, where I really got to enjoy Chicago hospitality and amazing pizza pies in these famous pizzerias. If you go to Chicago, definitely check out out these places.

Where's the Beef? The Best Chicago Beef? Right Here, Baby.

Chicago is known for its three signature food items: (1) stomach-expanding deep dish pizza; (2) savory Italian beef sandwiches piled high with beef galore and soaked in au jus; and (3) Chicago-style 'dogs, loaded with special toppings and condiments. On my recent visit to Chicago, my quest was to try the "best" of all of these types of food, and weigh in with my own opinion. After some guidance from Dylan of Eat, Drink, and Be Merry, who recently visited Chicago, I set out on my quest.

First, where are the best hot dogs in Chicago? I attempted to answer this question by visiting four reputable hot dog eateries, in less than two days.


THE WIENER CIRCLE
My first visit for hot dogs was The Wieners Circle, where you can allegedly get a serving of "sass," banter, and attitude with your hot dogs. Rumor has it, that if you give the female cashier $20 and ask for a "chocolate (or vanilla) milkshake," depending on the race of the server, she will "flash" you.

That is terrible for so many reasons.


Now, I did not ask for a milkshake, but I did order two "Vienna red hot" dogs, one with a slathering of melted nacho cheese.


While the wieners tasted like classic hot dogs, I loved the Chicago touches of (1) the poppy seed encrusted bun, (2) the fresh relish made with chopped onion, (3) the fiery and acidic banana peppers, (4) the elongated wedge of dill pickle, (5) the cooling slices of beefsteak tomato, and (6) a sweet dusting of celery salt.

Also, Wieners Circle's fluffy fries were steaming hot, and had a golden-brown and crispy shell.

Overall, the hot dogs and fries received a "B+" in my book. A respectable grade for a respectable hot dog establishment.

SUPERDAWG
Next, I visited SuperDawg, a drive-in fast food joint from the bygone period of yesteryear. Upon arriving, I was immediately entranced. I loved the assembly line of industrious workers, the animated hot dog mascots, the amazing variety of 1950s soda shoppe drink selections, and the whimsical hot dog packaging and decor. Similar to Wieners Circle, SuperDawg's crinkle cut fries were perfectly fried, with a crisp and seasoned shell and soft potato interior.


The dogs from SuperDawg came with all the Chicago fixings, including a dill pickle wedge, mustard, and banana peppers. As for the relish, I was truly impressed by the zesty, fresh, and bright flavors of their homemade version. Were there bell peppers in the relish? It certainly looked like it, and it tasted heavenly. Along with the classic Chicago hot dog ingredients, I enjoyed the large wedge of brined green tomato. I found the quality of the hot dog to be far better than the Vienna red hots served at Wieners Circle, for I could taste heavy undertones of beefiness and there was more of a substantial and hearty texture to the hot dog.


Although I was a little disappointed by the way my hot dog and fries were mashed inside a small brick-sized box, I would say, "A" for this super dog.

PORTILLO'S
Third, I visited Portillo's, and enjoyed the hot dog there, as well. Portillo's is a fun restaurant, with a unique and old-fashioned style of service and decor. As for the meaty dogs, I found them quite similar in flavor and in topping ingredients to Wieners Circle, with the right proportion of condiments and fixings, and a warm and delectable meat wiener. So a healthy "B+" for Portillo's.


(As you can tell, I am running a little low on words to describe the hot dogs.) But I do want to note with jubilation that Portillo's has opened two locations outside of the State of Illinois and in Southern California, so if you live in So Cal, go forth and take advantage of this Chicago eatery!

HOT DOUG'S
Finally, I visited a gourmet and more upscale version of a classic hot dog stand in Chicago, Hot Doug's, which is self-entitled as "the Sausage Superstore and Encased Meat Emporium." Hot Doug's does not only serve hot dogs, but gourmet sausages. Doug Sohn, the owner and namesake of the eatery, took it to a whole 'nother level. And actually, Doug of Hot Doug's is really hot.

Everyone and their mama has likely heard about Hot Doug's, especially after Anthony Bourdain featured Hot Doug's on one of his No Reservations episodes. Because of its immense popularity, you must be prepared for a long wait in a long line. And you will likely have to brave the relentless Chicago weather. For me, after torturously waiting over an hour in the sleet and frostbite-inducing and skin-shredding Chicago wind, I arrived inside, drenched with rain and sporting raw and chapped skin lesions.

Doug runs the counter and the cash register. Based on Doug's recommendation, I ordered three types of "encased meats." I enjoyed (1) a bacon and cheddar elk sausage with Goose Island Pere Jacques mustard and Madrigal cheese, (2) a chardonnay-infused rattlesnake sausage with sweet Peppadew dijonnaise and green peppercorn Montsegur cheese, and (3) a jalapeno and bacon duck sausage with blood orange mustard and Chaubier cheese drizzled with honey.



Okay, I am going to be vulnerable with you all, and admit to a sin that I committed that no food blogger should ever do. I wolfed down the delicious sausages and did not adequately document the sausages. By the time I eventually reviewed my pictures, I was pretty flabbergasted as to which sausage was which. I also ate so fast, that I do not actually remember that much about my wonderful meal. I do remember, however, that it was "wonderful." Finally, I ordered "to go," and took some messy pictures because the sauce from the 'dogs had smeared all over the wrappers. But I know you will forgive me. If not, I guess I will have to eat there again.

Nevertheless, I do remember some key characteristics about the sausages and their toppings. The elk sausage was surprisingly tough, dry, and resistant to the bite. Because of the texture, I thought that Doug did a particularly good job pairing the elk sausage with strong spices, a potent mustard, and a robust cheese. I thought the rattlesnake was interestingly tender and sweet, and I loved the spicy, fiery aroma from the peppercorns. Finally, the duck sausage possessed a penetrating cumin aroma, and really stood wonderfully on its own.

Best of all, on Fridays and Saturdays, you can partake of Doug's duck fat French fries, which are light, airy, and ethereal. They taste just like regular fries, but have a uniquely light feel to them. French fries deep-fried in duck fat? Oh man, I am in heaven (or will die and go to hell soon)!


The interestingly gourmet twist on the classic Chicago dog was very convincing for my palate. Hot Doug's scored an "A" from me on its report card.

Now that I finished my excellent hot dog adventure, and have emerged with a clear victor in mind, I will share about my journey in seeking an answer to the baffling question of where to find the best Italian beef in Chicago. That question led me to two places.

PORTILLO'S
My first experience with Italian beef was at Portillo's, the same place where I also ordered an enjoyable hot dog (see above). I actually visited Portillo's with a few Chicago natives, and they gave me a few pointers on how to order Italian beef sandwiches in Chicago. First, you must order them with peppers. Second, you must also order them dipped in the roast beef jus. And that is exactly what I did.  (Oh, and check out this great Italian beef website for more tips on how to order.)


When I unwrapped the soggy foil-lined paper, I was quite overwhelmed with the amount of beef stuffed inside what was once crusty bread. Everything was in disarray. However, one bite, and I was smitten.


I loved (1) the rich oregano-flavored beef broth which had been soaked into the bread, (2) the soft pieces of celery, onions, and carrots that had been slow cooked and shoved inside the beef sandwich, (3) the slippery and tender slices of beef, and (4) the giardiniera relish made of pickled sport peppers and carrots. The toothsome slices of roasted beef were full of flavor from the Italian spices and coated with a perfect amount of jus (and grease). Definitely an "A" grade.

AL'S BEEF
After my experience with the Italian beef sandwiches at Portillo's, I had high hopes for what was lauded as the "#1 Italian beef" in the City of Chicago, Al's Beef.


But my hopes were not to be realized. Unlike the slices of beef from Portillo's, I found Al's sandwich to be lacking in inherent moisture. The meat seemed to be cooked beyond recognition, and was more akin to an overcooked chipped beef sandwich, than a nicely sliced roast beef sandwich. It seemed as if the juices had been completely drained from the beef, and Al simply dunked the beef in jus, hoping to reconstitute it. Also, the mushy bread was saturated with the oddly flavored jus. I found the jus to be overpowered with the strong essence from cloves. Sorry Al, but you are a distant second to Portillo's according to my experience at your place. I hate to be harsh, but I would give you a "C."

So there you have it, my take on the best hot dogs in Chicago and the best Italian beef sandwiches in Chicago. What are your thoughts about Chicago's best? Also, stay tuned for my take on the best deep dish pizzas in Chicago, next!

The Anti-Food Blogger

You are probably thinking, "What's up with the fugly food pictures in this post?"

Yes, they are less than attractive and yes, they are old (from September 2008). For a while, I was debating whether to delete them forever, but a recent sequence of events involving two trips to Southern California in the last week, encouraged me to post them.

These pictures are from a wedding I attended in Los Angeles. My friend's wedding was set on the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA) campus and she held her rehearsal dinner in Westwood, at Palomino on Wilshire Boulevard. It was a sweet and intimate wedding, complete with swing dancing, a breathtaking view of the sun setting on the architecturally stunning red brick buildings on the UCLA campus, and fun guests. But, I hesitated on posting these pictures in part because of my interaction with a certain type of person during the wedding events...

The anti-food blogger.

Allow me to explain the entire story. I don't usually try to publicize my blog in public circles, but if I meet someone who is really into food, I will often casually say, "Hey, it seems like you love fine dining/cooking/eating in general. I do too! I even have a food blog!"

Well, at the rehearsal for the wedding, that's exactly what happened and exactly what I did. But instead of the usual response of, "Wow, you do? What's the address? I will check it out" response, I was greeted with his, "I hate food bloggers" line.

After hearing his response, I was taken aback. After I asked him "why," he explained to me in a Mario Batali-type way, that food bloggers generally don't fact-check their sources or research their recipes, and often pontificate their unsubstantiated assertions to those who regard them as credible sources who espouse reliable facts. I responded to him that while the web is flooded with bad information and spam garbage, the internet as a whole, has increased the availability of good information, valuable opinions, and entertaining multimedia (images, video, and sound recordings) to the public and food blogs have done that as well. Also, internet users and blog readers are cognizant that not all information on the web is 100% accurate, and most people know that information on Wikipedia is not gospel or like the contents of a university textbook.

I don't think he was convinced by my answer, and I wasn't really swayed by his opinion either. But we continued our conversation about food blogs, and eventually, we simply agreed to disagree. Thankfully, by the end of the night, we both realized that we were both opinionated people, who actually did share quite a lot in common.

Nevertheless, I was a little riled up, and thus, neglected to really pay attention to what was on the special menu that Palomino has given to our wedding rehearsal party. But here are the pictures and the menu descriptions of what I "think" the dishes were, and some food pictures from the wedding itself.

In clockwise order, these pictures are from Palomino: (1) braised beef short rib with mascarpone polenta, white beans cooked with rapini and pancetta, and gremolata; (2) capellini pomodoro, dressed with extra virgin olive oil and chiffonaded basil, and cooked with chicken, plum tomatoes, garlic, and Parmesan; and (3) prawn scampi cooked in a citrus-herb butter with capers and white wine, and served with garlic crostini and herb capellini.

And here is what I had at the rehearsal dinner and at the wedding, in clockwise order from the top: (1) ravioli made from fresh saffron pasta filled with lobster, bay scallops, and tarragon with herb mascarpone, from Palomino; (2) coconut shrimp and a selection of tea sandwiches, breads, and tapenades; (3) ahi tuna teriyaki encrusted with two types of sesame seeds; and (4) tapenades and breads.


After my discussion with this anti-food blogger friend, I gave a lot of thought to the purpose of my food blogging. Admittedly, I don't have a culinary school degree, but I love eating, and that is why I blog. What do you think about food blogging? I would love to hear your thoughts!

Recreating Europe #1: Pizza the Wrong Way

If you are a reader of my blog, you may remember that I vowed to the world that I would try to recreate some of my memorable meals from Europe. My beau adored the pizza in Italy, so for the first entry in my "Recreating Europe" series, I wanted to try my hand at making Italian-style pizza.

Although I have regularly made homemade pizza, my pizza has never, ever come out tasting like Italian pizza. My dough is dense, heavy, and bready, rather than the light, chewy, tense, and elastic pizza dough of Italy. Therefore, for my first "Italian pizza," I was going to use semolina flour, instead of using all-purpose flour and plain ole' yeast from the supermarket. I went to the specialty food purveyor in the mall and bought a tiny $6.00 box of semolina pizza flour. After my purchase, I had completed step one in my "Italian pizza" mission.

Following the instructions on the box, I added water and kneaded the flour and water mixture until smooth. I immediately noticed the difference in the "feel" of the dough. The semolina dough was much moister and far more pliable than pizza doughs I had made in the past. Based on the silky and stretchy texture, it seemed like everything was going well.

Next, after using a rolling pin to roll out a wide crust, I judiciously spread a thin layer of marinara sauce on the face of the exposed dough surface and nestled a few slices of mozzarella cheese into the sauce. I didn't shred the cheese or blanket the entire pizza in a snowstorm of mozzarella, like how I usually do. Just a few slices, here and there. I then excitedly slid the picture-perfect pizza into the preheated oven, and victoriously wiped my soiled hands on my apron.

When the pizza came out of the oven after 10 short minutes at 400 degrees Fahrenheit, I picked off verdant leaves of basil, and placed them decoratively on the pizza. Also, I grabbed a bottle of olive oil and drizzled a bit over the basil leaves. I was ready for the taste!

Unfortunately, as I bit into the pizza slice, I instantly felt a huge letdown (in my stomach and my mind).

The pizza was far too sugary to taste anything like authentic Italian pizza. In Italy, the only sweetness in marinara sauce is from the natural sugars in the tomatoes. In fact, Italian pizza sauce tastes saltier, than it does sweet. For my pizza sauce, I lazily used a glass jar of Chunky Ragu, "Tomato, Garlic, and Onion" flavor. I knew in advance that Ragu, Prego, and other American brands of marinara and spaghetti sauce are loaded with corn syrup and other cloying sweeteners, and yet I used Ragu on the pizza anyway. Mistake number one.

Also, the dough from my pizza even tasted sweet, and straight-up generic. In fact, it tasted like Costco pizza crust, which was a disconcerting reality for me, given that I paid $6.00 for a box of the pizza flour, and a whole, cooked Costco pizza only costs $10.00. Man. Mistake number two.

Finally, the instructions on the box of pizza flour didn't say anything about oiling the baking sheet before placing the pizza on the sheet. I read the instructions twice, but thought maybe the olive oil inside the dough would prevent the crust from sticking on the baking sheet. Trusting the instructions without question, was my mistake number three.

Well, my pizza night wasn't a complete failure. The pizza was decent, though it still tasted Americanized, and therefore would have been substantially benefited by extra toppings, such as pepperoni, sausage, artichokes, pineapple, peppers, mushrooms, anchovies, onions, zucchini, and more cheese. Also, I learned several valuable lessons for the next time. For instance, for my next Italian pizza, I will make my own dough with semolina flour and salt, and make my own marinara sauce, without any help from the American spaghetti sauce makers.

Gellin' Like a Felon at Gelato Pazzo Caffe

School is just ready to start and the sweltering New Orleans summer is winding down to a muggy end. Therefore, now is the time--more than ever--to languish at home, and enjoy a few more seconds of this summer. Pull up a lawn chair, and a tall and refreshing glass of brewed sweet tea, and turn up the Olympics swimming competition on television.

One of my favorite summer time treats here in New Orleans, is homemade gelato from Gelato Pazzo Caffe on Carrollton. It is a casual, university-friendly, breezily air conditioned place, where you can bring your school work (or newspaper) to relax while enjoying a frosty cup of their lip-smackingly delicious Italian gelato. They have a nice variety of romantic gelato flavors, including an intense, deeply-flavorful chocolate-cherry and limoncello.


My personal favorite, is their limetta gelato, which is thick, creamy, and drizzled with a sticky syrup that resonates with the tartness of fresh lime zest. If you are in the mood for a tall glass of ice cold limeade, the limetta gelato is your answer.


At Gelato Pazzo, they don't just cater to your sweet tooth. Check out their panini sandwiches, where you can choose from their nice selection of cured lunch meats, imported straight from Italy.


Also, you can purchase other imported specialty Italian goods there, such as canned Italian tomatoes, balsamic vinegar, semolina pasta, jarred capers, and other pickled vegetables.



What are you doing still at your computer? Go out and make the most of summer, while it is here!

Café Tiramisu at Belden Place

Disclaimer, preface (or whatever you would like to call it): This is the absolute last of my pre-NOLA San Francisco posts. It will be New Orleans restaurants from now on. Promise. Like cross-your-heart-hope-to-die-or-stick-a-needle-in-your-eye promise.

I’ve expounded at length about how I absolutely adore the little alleyway hidden near San Francisco’s Financial District endearingly named, Belden Place. (See my previous posts regarding the Spanish restaurant, B44 and the French restaurant, Café Bastille.) As I’ve said before, Belden Place offers San Francisco locals a taste of Europe, and now, with today’s exchange rate, it does so at a much more affordable price.

Just to give you a flavor of how Belden Place really is a bit of Euro-utopia in a crazed U.S. city, according to its website, the investors and proprietors of Belden Place converted an ubiquitous urban alleyway in San Francisco (once chockfull of dumpsters, litter, and probably, the smell of urine) into a successful and fledging real estate enterprise consisting of multiple Italian, French, and Spanish-themed restaurants.

Any visitor to Belden Place will be enraptured with the restaurant storefronts, the glowing metallic heat lambs, the dangling web of outdoor string lights, the summery outdoor umbrellas, and the overall European flair unique to Belden Place. Sitting on the outside terrace at any of their restaurants, you could easily get lost in your imagination, and envision yourself sitting in an outdoor bistro and gazing wistfully at impressive and intricate architectural details unique to Europe. Unfortunately, if you crane your neck, open your eyes and direct them upwards, you will inevitably be greeted with a cold, harsh reminder you are still in San Francisco. Cold concrete skyscrapers tower overhead and smoky billows of fog obscure and blanket the skies.

Knowing how I love the pleasant Euro-vibe at Belden Place, my beau decided to take me to celebrate my last birthday in San Francisco at Café Tiramisu, an Italian restaurant at Belden Place.

For our starting course at Cafe Tiramisu, my beau and I shared two hearty appetizers, the first being steamed black mussels marinating in a shimmering saffron-fennel broth. The soup was liquid heaven, for it was both light and free from impurities, but also laced with invigorating and powerful licorice and turmeric-like flavors. The mussels were stripped of their tangled beards and sat in open shells in a shallow bowl, alongside jutting slices of bread, artfully drizzled with sharp scribbles of herb-infused olive oil. The entire entrée made for a beautiful presentation.

Next, we also shared chewy Monterey calamari. The rubbery squid bodies were stuffed taut like swollen balloons with a simple mashed potato and crab mixture, and served over a crusty slice of potent garlic bread. The bruschetta-like bread had been moistened with herbed olive oil and what tasted like a rich tomato or roasted sweet red bell pepper sauce.

For our entrees, the beau ordered ahi tuna encrusted with fresh black pepper, and served over a spicy shrimp risotto. While the tuna was well-prepared and executed, the gluey risotto was saturated in an overly concentrated sauce, which, I daresay, had an overpowering shrimp essence. The excessively shrimpy taste redirected the entire focus of the entrée from the subtle tuna flavors and the elegant simplicity of crushed peppercorn crust, to the almost putrid shrimp flavor.

Unlike the tuna and risotto dish, my entrée was a resounding success. I ordered thick and chewy sheets of gummy gnocchi, which were served with a chorus line of diminutive pork meatballs, and a jellied, custard-like goat cheese zabaglione. The density of the potato pasta squares were so hearty and substantial, I originally thought that our server accidentally served us ravioli instead.

Finally, the server brought out one last treat to end our evening: a lone slice of tiramisu with a flickering candle on the top. The chocolate, the coffee, and the dense ladyfinger cookies all came together as one deliciously moist cake, which made my birthday ever the sweeter.

Thank you for the birthday wishes, beau. Here’s to many more birthdays together (hopefully at the restaurants in Belden Place)!

Chip In to My Stomach! Cioppino's on the Wharf

Before I left San Francisco, I made it my goal to savor every second I had left in the City.

Thus, I spent several afternoons laying in Golden Gate Park, gazing longingly at the full-bodied cumulus humilis cloud formations in the pristine sky. . .

I rode the MUNI bus line across San Francisco, peacefully listening to the soft humming, buzzing, sputtering, and zipping noises common to the electrified MUNI buses. . .

And I visited the place where most journeys to San Francisco begin, Fisherman's Wharf. My goal there was to enjoy two foods that epitomize the bounty of San Francisco's waters: (1) cioppino (pronounced "chip-ee-no" or "chuh-pee-no") and (2) clam chowder.

Cioppino is a hearty fish stew that originated in San Francisco. Legend has it, that after a tiring morning in the rough waters of the bay, the fisherman gathered their catch and congregated on their fishing boats to eat lunch with one another. Each fisherman contributed or "chipped in" their "catch" for the shared meal, be it fish, crab, clams, shrimp, scallops, squid, or other delicious morsels from the sea. The ingredients would be combined and cooked in a communal pot, with wine, tomato sauce, and a smattering of different herbs and seasonings. As the dish evolved, so did the name, and the Italiano-fied pronunciation of "chip in" became the fish stew, "cioppino."

Usually, the seafood in cioppino is served in its unadulterated glory, meaning, it is served with shells and everything. Therefore, an authentic cioppino will be served with a disposable bib, mallets, crab crackers, metal picks, and a wet-nap. Cioppino is generally cooked in a thin (very liquid) fennel-infused tomato soup diluted with white wine, so expect a significant amount of messy splattering during your eager consumption.

In San Francisco, you will find a dozen or so restaurants with Cioppino in their names, and although I haven't tried all of them, I believe if they serve cioppino, they have to be good. If you order the cioppino at Cioppino's on the Wharf, expect a bountiful seafood extravaganza of braised dungeness crab, clams, mussels, rock cod, calamari, and shrimp in a steaming fennel and tomato stew.

And now to San Francisco's ubiquitous clam chowder. Although San Francisco serves "New England" clam chowder, the one thing makes the thick calorie-laden cream soup distinctly San Franciscan is that it is served in a crusty and chewy sourdough bread bowl. You can't get that in New England! Okay, my friends and I didn't get the bread bowl for the clam chowder we ordered at Cioppino's on the Wharf (as shown in this picture), but you know what I mean.

If you are in the tourist-infested Fisherman's Wharf, I encourage you to stop by the tourist magnet Cioppino's on the Wharf, to try two of my favorite San Francisco seafood dishes.

I'll Be Back to Bacco's

Since I’ve moved away from San Francisco, my lunchtime options have changed considerably. Gone are the places I oft-frequented. Gone are the bronzed roast chickens at Seller's Markets, the organic salads with golden beets and marinated hearts of palm at Mixt Greens, the royal chicken roulade at Lightening Foods. . . And gone is the majestic Ferry Building.

But I can't complain. Now, in New Orleans, I can eat at a place that sells lunchtime martinis for only $0.25.

And thus illustrates the number one reason why I love New Orleans.

Bacco (the $0.25 cent martini place which I am referring to) is owned by the illustrious Brennan family, a restaurateuring presence in New Orleans. When a San Francisco friend came to visit last month, we decided to visit this $0.25 martini place, and were in for an incredible surprise.

When we were seated, our server described the specials and the signature items. However, the part that caught my ear was her explanation of how of the Zagat editors indicated that the lobster ravioli was better than heaven on earth.

"'Lady, you had me at 'lobster ravioli,'" I told her, with the look of enamor in my eyes.

My friend and I started with a truffled egg, which as the menu describes as, "[a] flash fried soft boiled egg served on bruschetta with truffled gorgonzola cream sauce and baby arugula."

As we divided the dish, my friend and I marveled at (1) the symmetry of the egg and (2) how the egg white had solidified, leaving nil a trace of any slippery uncooked white, while preserving the gorgeously runny yolk. Every flavor asserted its presence independently and every element was elevated beyond an artform. The toasted bruschetta retained its crunch while simultaneously sponging the sunny yolk that had exuded and oozed forth from the flash fried egg. The crisp, breaded skin of the egg provided a welcome contrast to the gelatinous and springy egg white, and the tangy cheese flavors from the gorgonzola had permeated into the dish and left a green marbleized vein across the ivory sauce. Finally, the thin truffle slices possessed a light, gritty texture and robust woody, nutty, and earthy flavors. As my friend and I took turns cleaning off the plate, we expressed our concern that the main course could not possibly live up to the truffled egg. Thankfully, these concerns went unrealized.

For my main course, I ordered the housemade lobster ravioli which was stuffed with Maine lobster and gulf shrimp and served with caviar and champagne butter sauce. The ravioli pasta sheets were firmly sealed together with the crosswise imprint of a pasta roller and the raviolis were generously filled with lobster and the native gulf shrimp. Gargantuan chunks of supple lobster flesh and tense little beads of caviar danced upon the ravioli and into my mouth. Best of all, the raviolis were served in an elegant and rich champagne butter sauce that consisted of the purest and sweetest form of liquefied butter known to man. Yes. It was better than heaven on earth.

My friend ordered the roasted chicken and stracci, which was described by the menu as "[h]ousemade pasta rags tossed with roasted chicken morsels, fresh spinach and basil in a light tomato sauce and garnished with parmigiano-reggiano cheese." The humble pasta rags were best al dente pasta I have ever eaten in my life, and I don't throw around the word "best" lightly. The pasta possessed a firm resistance and the delicate chewiness that had never been as well-executed in any other pasta dish I have had. Furthermore, the rich tomato sauce was filled with warming herbal flavors and the comforting (and not overpowering) aroma of cheese. I felt like I could pour the rest of the sauce into a mug and sip on it in front of a cabin fireplace with mittens and my earmuffs on.

Finally, as a conclusion to a fabulous, awe-inspiring meal, we ended our meal with Mr. Ralph's ice cream sandwich which was made of spongy chocolate gingerbread stuffed with a dulce de leche ice cream, dusted with powdered sugar, and served with chocolate and caramel sauce. It was fine dessert, but I find that personally, I tend to shy away from dishes that combine flavors like cinnamon and ginger with cream. The ice cream was firm and frosty, and the dessert was presented well.

As my friend and I finished our meal, we talked and laughed until we had tears in our eyes. Although the majority of my tears were due to my joy at seeing my wonderful friend, I think our tears were in part due to the amazing meal at Bacco.