Rosebud! Lunch at Citizen Cake

Now that I am bidding adieu to the wonderful City of San Francisco, I am making it my goal to patronize all of my favorite San Francisco restaurants for "one last time." One of those restaurants on my list is Citizen Cake in Hayes Valley.

Citizen Cake is the apotheosis of a "pastry chef's restaurant." In fact, that is the restaurant's slogan. The executive pastry chef of Citizen Cake, Elizabeth Faulker is one of the most renowned pastry chefs in the world. If you visit her restaurant, take a quick glance at the wall to see her "Iron Chef America" medallion hanging proudly in a frame.

Given the numerous accolades and vehement praise for Citizen Cake, I made sure to visit it on my "farewell to San Francisco" tour. I decided to lunch at Citizen Cake with a few friends. I ordered the crab cakes. The crab cakes came with a dipping sauce of tarragon cream and salad of fennel, arugula, and grapefruit. The creamy mayonnaise in the cakes acted as a thick adhesive, binding together the crab meat fibers and the discernable nubs of chopped relish. Quite good.

My friend ordered the Chinese chicken salad, which was dressed in a peanut emulsion and ginger-citrus vinaigrette and topped with wonton crisps. I did not taste it, but it looked gorgeous.

Despite these distracting lunch items, the main purpose behind our visit to Citizen Cake was to feast upon the visually-arresting desserts.

For dessert, I ordered the "black island," which was a black sesame crème brûlée enclosed in a bubble of sugar, and served over a frothy bed of mango-lychee tapioca and coconut-almond foam. When the crème brûlée arrived, our table let out a collective gasp of awe. It was beautiful. I used my spoon to gently touch the surface of the sugar bubble, expecting the bubble to be a stretchy latex-like balloon. Instead, my limp spoon was confronted with a glassy orb as impenetrable as the bulletproof windows in front of the teller at my local bank. When I eventually broke into the solid sugar patina, I was able to taste the light and cloud-like meringue encapsulated within. It was a complex flavor-extravaganza. There was also a liquid strip of sesame paste running across the plate, which looked as if someone punctured open a black sesame soup mochi (tong yuan) and vigorously squeezed out its contents. I found this tasty addition to go well with the theme of the dish. My only beef about my dessert was that the sugar shell was like rock candy, which uncomfortably amassed into the crevices of my sensitive molars. Otherwise, the dessert was great.

My friend ordered the "one-two sting," which came with a spiced pineapple shot, broken chocolate cake hazelnut mousseline, tonka bean ice cream. This dessert was not artistically as impressive as the "black island," but it was delicious. The chocolate cake tasted like a partially-cooked brownie with uncooked spots of gooey batter. Additionally, the flavors and textures of the ice cream were familiar and comfortable. However, I would have done a little bit more with the presentation because the cake looked like a smashed dog turd.

My other friend ordered with the "banana split now and then," which included two banana beignets, a tuft of chocolate noodles, a rotund scoop of raspberry hibiscus sorbet, sheets of peanut paper, and a secret emulsion. The banana beignets were delightful. The golden, crisp-fried exterior of the beignets were dusted delicately with powdered sugar and the airy and cakey interior was sublime. The dried strawberry chips and edible flowers were amusing compliments, and I enjoyed the peanut paper, which was a sophisticated version of peanut brittle.

However, this dessert was beleaguered with the collision of its conflicting flavors. First, the thick chocolate pasta did not taste at all like what I expected. The noodles were not sweet, but were bland and slightly bitter, like the outdated bar of unsweetened baking chocolate in the pantry. Second, although I enjoyed the individual elements of the dessert, when paired together, my taste buds were overwhelmed.

But the worst part of the dessert was the secret emulsion. When our server brought out the dessert, she coyly inquired, "Can you guess the flavor of the secret emulsion?"

Each of us lightly dipped our teaspoons into the foam for a diminutive taste. Hm. . . The flavor was familiar, yet odd and mildly repulsive. Based on the color, we threw out some guesses, including "green tea." Eventually, our server laughingly declared that the flavor of the emulsion was "asparagus." I screamed, "What?!?!?! You lying b-hole!" . . . Well, not really, but I was affronted that someone would sneak asparagus into our dessert.

Allow me to employ an analogy to explain my indignation. If you have ever seen the late-80s / early-90s movie, "Love Potion No. 9," you will remember the pudgy and bejeweled prostitute at the end of the movie. She was dressed in a classic 80s outfit: she wore neon eye-shadow, fishnet stockings, and dime-store bangles. (If you have not seen the movie, you can skip this paragraph.) Towards the end of the movie, the prostitute takes one lick of the highly-concentrated form of the syrupy love elixir, and immediately attracts the undivided attention of the male species and the angry wrath of the surrounding females. Old ladies dressed in their "Sunday's best" begin hurling sexist epithets at her and glare at her with eyes that look so evil, you would think they were possessed by demons.

The sentiments of the demon-possessed ladies in the movie communicate my anger. You cannot sneak asparagus into a dessert! It is a matter of principle!

Despite the ass-paragus surprise, I enjoyed my visit Citizen Cake, as I have enjoyed it before. As my friends and I polished off the rest of our desserts, we came to the realization that we did not just consume a meal at Citizen Cake, but we had also been entertained by the elaborate and painstakingly-created desserts. Going to Citizen Cake is better than going to the movies.

I highly encourage you to check out Citizen Cake if you are ever in San Francisco. And do not forget to check out the desserts in the glass case adjacent to the cash register counter. When me and my ogle-eyed friends went, we yearningly stared at the following panoply of items:

Strawberry tarts,

Chiffon cakes with buttercream,

Cakes with mousse and more buttercream frosting,

Shortbread cookies,

Chocolate cakes galore,

Lemon curd tarts,

And banana cream pies!

Now, if that is not enough to get you hungry, I do not know what is!

Midnight in the Jardiniere of Good and Evil

One of my boyfriend's friends just ended her job as a pastry chef at Jardiniere in San Francisco, and she invited a group of friends to celebrate her move to new horizons, and to enjoy the benefits from her employee-discount for one last time.

Given that it is directly adjacent to the San Francisco Symphony Hall, Jardiniere has the best "location, location, location" to cater to wealthy symphony-goers. It lies in San Francisco's Hayes Valley, which is within walking distance to San Francisco's Civic Center, and thus, it acts as the buffer (comprised of upper-end restaurants) between City Hall and the innards of the city. Another restaurant in Hayes Valley (that I have posted about before), is Absinthe. Although we not on our way to or from the symphony or the nearby performing arts theaters or ballet house, we were about to enjoy a visually-captivating performance, not by actors, but by the chefs of Jardiniere.

The entire experience at Jardiniere was indescribable. The night was one of excess. We overdrank, we overate, and we stayed out until the wee hours of the morning.

Because we were guests of a Jardiniere employee, we were able to dine in the exclusive "wine room," a room that had to be reserved with a $500 room fee--if you cancel and they are unable to fill the room, they keep your $500. In the room, we sat amongst towering shelves stocked with wines that cost more than a month's salary--meaning that "one bottle of wine cost more than a month's salary," that is. None of us dared to approach the wines too closely, or even lift the bottles to inspect the labels, for fear of the secret hi-tech security system that would laser off our corneas and two layers of our skin. (With vintage wines imported from the finest wineries in Europe, you never know what measures the owner will take to protect it.)

Although we sat in the "wine room," we actually brought our own wine to enjoy with the meal. By bringing our own wine, we'd get to reduce some of the cost of the final bill. Plus, because of the generosity of our Jardiniere friend, we'd also get to circumvent the $15 corkage fee per bottle of wine. Everyone brought wine, and it was fun to drink wines ranging from Robert Mondavi to Charles Shaw ("$2-Buck Chuck") at the restaurant.

The experience was a barrage of flavors, overwhelming at times. The food was fabulous, but not everything tasted terrific. Too much wine dulled my taste buds and my senses, but overall, it was a gourmet extravaganza--an experience of a lifetime.

Because we ate so many different dishes, it would be a tremendous disservice to try to describe some dishes and neglect others. Furthermore, given the deluge of tastes, images, and textures that I experienced throughout the night, I don't feel that I could adequately do justice to any of them. However, being the "obedient" food blogger that I am, I did snap plenty of pictures, so that you can still get a visual taste of the dishes I sampled that night. (The quality of the pictures varies based on whether I used flash, and unfortunately, I didn't use the flash consistently.) Also, although we all shared the appetizers, we ate our main courses individually. However, not everyone tried every appetizer. Consequently, I can't remember what I didn't try, so here is my "best" attempt at labeling the pictures:

First Courses

Maine diver scallops with sautéed mushrooms, smoked bacon, Italian parsley and toasted almonds

Salad of little gems lettuce with chioggia beets and parmigiano-reggiano and green goddess vinaigrette

Duck confit with salad of marinated le puy lentils and heirloom oranges, red wine-honey reduction

Duck liver mousse with garlic croutons and housemade pickles

Gnocchi (I don't remember the full name, but I remember it was "gnocchi.")

Mackerel (I don't remember the full name, but I remember it was "mackerel.")

(I have no idea.)

Arugula, endive and frisée salad with roquefort, grained mustard vinaigrette

(Again, I am dumbfounded. What is this?)

Tombo tuna “crudo” with olive oil poached cardoons, mediterranean cucumbers, crispy fennel and tonnato sauce (I think.)

Second Courses

Hoffman ranch breast of chicken with rapini, capers, chanterelle mushrooms and meyer lemon potato mousseline, natural jus

Red wine braised beef shortribs with horseradish potato purée and herb salad

Petrale sole with Pacific shrimp, artichokes, fingerling potatoes, tomato confit, and lettuce emulsion (This is my main course. It was "okay," but not great. The fish was a little overcooked, and the flavors were bland. But doesn't it look dee-lightful?!?)

Dry aged New York steak with slow cooked broccoli, garlic and lemon, fingerling potatoes, niçoise olive jus

Wild mushroom and potato pavé with local chanterelle salad, caramelized onion and red wine-mushroom sauce

Third Courses

Apple pie à la mode

Carrot cake à la mode

Bonne bouche platter

Creme brulée

Housemade ice cream

Lemon meringue “Napoleon” with passion fruit sauce, macadamia nut tuile

Bittersweet chocolate cake with port-sour cherry ice cream

It was an hour-and-a-half past midnight when we left the restaurant, as the sole stragglers in the building. We had arrived around eight o'clock. Our "lengthy" meal at Jardiniere was diametrically opposite from our reception and treatment during Dine About Town. (When we dined at Rubicon, we were literally in an out in about an hour.) However, at Jardiniere, although we left late, we left with stomachs full with a memorable meal and with hearts full of happiness.

Dine About Town 2006: Part One, Absinthe Brasserie & Bar

Dine About Town for San Francisco is here for 2006! For those of you who haven't heard of Dine About Town before, it is a perennial, city-wide promotional program, where upper-end restaurants offer prix-fixe, three-course meals for either lunch, dinner, or both. Lunch is $22.00, and dinner is $32.00. Plus tax and tip (but without drinks), it evens out to be around $29.00 for lunch and $41.00 for dinner--a fabulous deal if you select a restaurant that is otherwise exorbitant.

My colleagues from work and I made reservations for lunch this past Thursday at Absinthe Brasserie and Bar. Before we were seated, one of my co-workers informed me, that the Los Angeles Times recently sent down a travel columnist to report back about her Dine About Town experience. The columnist actually had a "negative" Dine About Town experience, because of the "regular price" paying customers who complained about the wave of uncouth who swamped restaurants, and the supercilious restaurant staff who acted condescendingly towards Dine About Towners.

I wanted to test out these allegations, and make sure they were just isolated and deviant experiences. Unfortunately, they did have some truth--and I actually already knew that from my previous Dine About Town experiences.

I'd be a liar if I didn't tell you that I was a tad disappointed in Absinthe's Dine About Town menu. The three-course meal consisted of: 1) the "soup of the day" or the "salad of the day," 2) the "entrée of the day," and 3) a choice of three citrus sorbets. In my experience, sometimes when menu offerings are appended with the notorious "of the day" phrase, it means that the restaurant is serving the leftovers that it couldn't sell yesterday. However, I couldn't complain too much, because some restaurants don't even give Dine About Towners any options. At least we had that.

While we were placing our orders, my co-worker kindly asked if she could have the French onion soup as the "soup of the day," and our waitress's reaction was classic. She raised her arched brows (not quizzically, but with a look of profound haughtiness) and dryly replied, "Umm . . . No."

Okay Los Angeles Times, I agree.

Given our waitress's succinct answer, everyone at our table decided to start with the "salad of the day," (rather than the creamy mushroom "soup of the day"). The salad consisted of sliced fennel with blood orange which was drizzled with a light citrus vinaigrette. The flavor of crunchy, licorice-tinged fennel was heightened by the sweet and sour tang from the blood orange and the lovely bites of pitted and chopped dates.

Our choice for the entrée was limited to fettuccine pasta with rich cheese sauce, toasted bread crumbs, and chopped nuts, but I wouldn't have had any other entrée--the fettuccine was amazing. The pasta was perfectly cooked until al dente, and the crispy bread crumbs crackled like fireworks inside my mouth. The sauce was silken, and not too heavy.

Finally, our three-course meal concluded with a frosty sorbet, and the ladies at our table ordered every available flavor: blood orange, tangerine, and lemon. I ordered the tangerine sorbet, and it was artfully presented in a dainty martini glass. The sorbet was cool and refreshing, and it wasn't overpoweringly tart--even though it was ice-cold and had slightly sour kiss. However, I felt that the cinnamon dusted butter cookie that accompanied the sorbet was a little out of place. The taste of cinnamon reminds me of warmth and sweetness, so I was taken aback by it's presence next a chilly sorbet with a sour twang.

After the conclusion of our meal, my full belly and dazzled taste buds thanked me profusely for participating in the Dine About Town program. Okay, we did have a brief encounter with an "annoyed" waitress, but I'm not going to a restaurant to make friends with the waitstaff. Instead, I am pursuing an incredible meal at bank-breaking prices. I'm sure that other San Franciscans heartily agree with me. My co-workers and I are all trying at least two new restaurants through this 2006 session of Dine About Town, and many others will too. We count ourselves as being fortunate to be able to live in San Francisco and sample some of the cities best restaurants through the Dine About Town program. As long as they have the program, I know I'll be a repeat customer.

Post Note: After spending $31.00 for lunch, you may want to first give your lightened wallet a break before hitting the three-course meals again. Although our lunch selection was affordable when compared to Absinthe's $70.00 prix-fixe lunch offering of caviar and oysters, I had to let my wallet rejuvenate at a cheap pho restaurant, where I was able to pick up a two-course dinner for under $8.00. Nice!