In a Golden State 2: Oysters

fig. a: simple pleasures

Quite simply the very best oysters either of us have ever had, and we had them in August, which, as you may have noticed, is one of those months that does not contain a letter "r." "They" said it couldn't be done. "They" obviously never visited Tomales Bay.

fig. b: TBOC HQ

When you find oysters labeled "Tomales Bay," there's a good chance they were harvested by the Tomales Bay Oyster Company in Marshall, CA, which, as you can see if you read the fine print, celebrated its centenary last year, in 2009.

fig. c: Drake's Bay, Tomales Bay

Not sure where either Tomales Bay or Marshall, CA are? Well, they're about 50 miles north of San Francisco, and just a few miles north of Point Reyes Station, in an area for its proximity to Point Reyes National Seashore and its associations with Sir Francis Drake.

fig. d: Tomales Bay

And if you visit the Tomales Bay Oyster Company, you'll see that it's still a very small operation perched directly on Tomales Bay, exactly as you'd expect it to be.

fig. e: TBOC picnic area

There are a couple of small buildings (huts, really), including the business office, but occupying center stage is a massive tank behind a counter where the catch of the day is kept in cool salt water. You sidle up to the counter, decide how many oysters you'd like to purchase, and strike up a deal. There's no restaurant, no table service. Just the counter, the tank, the oysters, a stretch of pebble beach, and a bunch of picnic tables and barbecues. You buy your oysters, ask for an oyster knife or some Tabasco sauce, if you need some, and make your way to the picnic table of your choice.  If you're a regular, you'll know that the smart thing to do is to make an honest table out of that picnic table by actually bringing along a picnic.  Some beers, a bottle of wine, a salad or two, a loaf of bread, perhaps, some charcoals and a charcoal chimney, and possibly some limes or lemons--that kind of thing.  Then you have the option of having your insanely delicious Tomales Bay oysters raw or grilled, and when you do, you'll have plenty of nice things to accompany them and/or wash them down with.  With or without a picnic, they're still going to be insanely delicious.  You probably won't have to limit yourself to six or twelve either, because the utter lack of a middleman means that these oysters are incredibly inexpensive. Hell, get 50.  It'll only set you back $35-$70, depending on the size you choose. Think about it: an oyster festival, every day of the year.*

Neither of us were regulars, which means it never occurred to us to bring a picnic.  It also means that we had our oysters pretty much straight-up, with just a dash of Tabasco sauce or a squeeze of lime every now and then to add a little something to oysters that were already the freshest, sweetest, most perfect oysters we'd ever had.  Easily one of the best meals of the last decade.

fig. f: surf's up(-ish)

And the fact that I'd gotten to swim with a sea lion off Stinson Beach just a few hours earlier,

fig. g: Golden Gate, golden light

and that we drove back toward San Francisco through a truly legendary sunset,

fig. h: Vladimir's

and that we had big steins of Pilsner Urquell in a "Czechoslovaki" pub across the bay from Marshall in Inverness, CA,

fig. i: Ms. Marek finds her dream house

and that Michelle found that the dream house that she'd first spotted in 2005 was still very much available, well, they all added up to the kind of overall experience Lou Reed once labeled a Perfect Day.

Tomales Bay Oyster Company, 15479 Hwy. 1, Marshall, CA, (415) 663-1242

Vladimir's Czech Restaurant, 12785 Sir Francis Drake Blvd., Inverness, CA, (415) 669-1021

Looking for "In a Golden State 1: Coffee"? You can find it here.

aj

* This being California, with cool, cool waters and temperate weather pretty much all year round, the Tomales Bay Oyster Company is open 365 days a year. But if you're planning on going there for a Thanksgiving Day feast, keep in mind that their hours will be shortened: 9 am - 2 pm. Plenty enough time to pick up a few dozen for your oyster stuffing!

In a Golden State 1: Coffee

fig. a: golden eagle, golden state

It seems like eons ago now, but in the month of August, at the height of summer, Team AEB found itself in Northern California for the first time in five years. Not for lack of desire. Our last trip had been a dream, jam-packed with all kinds of memorable adventures and discoveries. Probably the best AEB expedition of all time. Certainly one of the longest. If you had told us it would have taken five years to get back, we would have said, "Are you loco?" But that is in fact what happened. So when we finally got around to paying a return visit, we were more than ready.

Back in '05, when it came time to start typing up our field notes, we went a little overboard. We broke things down into a series of "revelations." Nine of them. Some were themed (burritos, dim sum, Point Reyes Station), but the overwhelming majority were profiles of specific places/people/businesses (June Taylor, Andy's Orchard, Tartine). This time we've elected to go a more consistently thematic route.

Installment #1, as I'm sure you've figured out, is on coffee. Few things about the Golden State helped to keep us in a consistently golden state as effectively as its rad coffee scene.*

And when we got back from California, one of our most prized souvenirs was this simple bag of beans.

fig. b: the other Michelle

Not only did the bag bear the name "Michelle" on it (never did find out why), but it contained some truly lovely beans from one of the irie-est of coffee-growing regions, Ethiopia, and it hailed from one of our favorite SF coffee establishments, Four Barrel.

It's safe to say that the coffee scene in the Bay Area has changed dramatically in just five years. There may be other cities in North America that have undergone similar coffee revolutions during the same period (Chicago? Portland?), but, if so, we haven't had the pleasure of visiting them. What we witnessed in San Francisco was entirely new to us, unprecedented in any of the coffee towns we're familiar with (Montreal, New York, Toronto, Vancouver). You see, not only had several hardcore, high-end coffee operations opened across town, transforming a town that was already coffee-obsessed into a town that was positively twitchy with meticulously sourced, carefully roasted, and expertly executed coffees using a wide variety of brewing methods, but many of them were sourcing and roasting their own beans (!), and most of these establishments housed their roasting operations on-premises in beautifully designed spaces that were oftentimes minimalist in style (lots of wood, exposed beams, etc.), but gargantuan in size. Think high-end, tech-friendly, funked-up loft style, then add some post-industrial industry back into the brew.

Take Four Barrel, for instance. Here's their selection of freshly roasted coffees:

fig. c: interior design 1, Four Barrel

And here's the coffee roasting operation that's housed just beyond their twin banks of espresso machines.

fig. d: interior design 2, Four Barrel

Add a turntable, a sizable collection of vintage vinyl, and a crowd of die-hard coffee aficionados, many of them with new media devices in tow, and you start to get the picture. This place was positively buzzing with Mission cool. And the buzz was addictive. Montreal likes to think of itself as a coffee town, and it is, but this was next-level.

Or take Sightglass, another of our favorite coffee joints.

fig. e: interior design 1, Sightglass

At the time of our visit, Sightglass was just a tiny hole in the wall in another gorgeous post-industrial space. Just a small counter, an espresso machine, a bench, and some basic appliances.

fig. f: interior design 2, Sightglass

Their roasting operation was next door, mostly out of view. But only temporarily. You see, they were busy transforming the warehouse space that surrounded the shop into another gigantic new-school café, and all indications were that this too would be a marvel of design.

(Again, to put this into local perspective. Take one of our favorite Montreal restaurant spaces, one that was created/renovated in recent years, and one whose design bears quite a bit of resemblance to a place like Four Barrel: La Salle à Manger. Imagine opening a space like La Salle à Manger, putting just as much care and attention into the reno, and then devoting it entirely to coffee. No food (okay, maybe just a few pastries), no alcohol, just coffee. Crazy, right? Well, that's exactly what's going on in SF.)

Most importantly, though, both places were roasting some truly mind-blowing coffees, like Sightglass' Blueboon Blend, and both had the chops to turn them into the headiest of brews.

Four Barrel Coffee, 375 Valencia St., San Francisco, (415) 252-0800 (Mission)

Sightglass Coffee, 270 Seventh St., San Francisco, (415) 861–1313 (SoMa)

fig. g: Ritual mobile unit

Other recommended SF coffee establishments:

a) new school

Ritual Coffee Roasters, 1026 Valencia St., San Francisco, (415) 641-1011 (Mission), plus two other locations

Another of the pioneering new-school cafés/roasteries, and the only one I can think of whose beans are available here in Montreal (at Myriade)

b) "hand-made"

Philz Coffee, 3101 24th St., San Francisco, (415) 875-9370 (Mission)

you know full-well how much we love Philz (Philz's?) original location on 24th--Philz has franchised widely since 2005 (they now have 7 locations!), but the original store still has all the old charm, not to mention those killer Philharmonics

aj

* to use the local parlance

p.s. Way to go, Giants!

Escape to L.A., rev. ed.

fig. a: L.A. by night

It took about 18 hours, but, suddenly, there I was, in Downtown L.A.

fig. b: continental divide

I'd had a particularly scenic transcontinental flight, one that provided stunning views of the Rockies, and an equally stunning sunset descent over L.A. county and into LAX.

fig. c: Standing Rib, 1962

I didn't fully realize it at the time, but a print by Roy Lichtenstein that I saw in the Museum of Contemporary Art's 30-year retrospective on my first day in L.A. proved to be emblematic, as you'll see.

fig. d: Cole's by night

For my very first meal, I walked from my hotel on South Grand to Cole's on 6th to have my very first authentic L.A. French Dip sandwich. Cole's is one of the two Downtown L.A. establishments that claims to have invented the French Dip sandwich over a century ago now, back in 1908.

fig. e: Cole's by Cole's

Cole's is definitely the hipper of the two, and the joint was jumping when I arrived: the stereo was cranked up, the drinks were flowing, and the crowd was young and happening. Despite their insistence that the City of Los Angeles authenticated their claim to being the "originators of the French dip" back in the 1970s, Cole's definitely comes across as the challenger at the moment. This isn't a bad thing. It's made them hungrier to assert themselves. So the place was given a loving restoration a few years ago. And they also picked up an executive chef. But, more importantly, it's made them very assertive with their menu. Their house mustard is a potent, horseradish-laced, "Atomic" concoction. Their pickles are homemade, half-sour, and chili-laced--not for the faint of heart. They, too, have been given the (well-deserved) "Atomic" moniker. Their beef French dip sandwich is a hefty, freshly carved number that comes with the jus served demurely on the side. In other words, here you dip the sandwich yourself, according to your whims. Beer selection is good, with three Germans (Bitburger, Spaten, and Franziskaner) and Anchor Steam (on tap) being among the highlights. The bar is an early-20th-century classic and it's fully loaded to boot.

fig. f: neon market

The Grand Central Market has been a Downtown L.A. institution for roughly 90 years now. My camera might have been attracted to the China Cafe and its iconic, Edward Hopper-esque

CHOP SUEY
CHOW MEIN

sign, but I was on the prowl for tacos--fish tacos, quite specifically--so I made a beeline to Maria's Fresh Seafood. The majority of my compadres were having seafood caldos, and they looked and smelled delicious, but I went with the fish taco special: two fish tacos, salad, salsa, crema, beans, and rice, all for a fiver. So simple, so satisfying, so good.

fig. g: all aboard!

Later that day was the splurge of the trip: dinner for three at the Pacific Dining Car. At 89 years old, the Pacific Dining Car is another venerable L.A. institution. The Pacific Dining Car has a reputation for being one of the city's finest steakhouses, but it's also known for its main dining room, which simulates the interior of an early-20th-century railway dining car, as well as its associations with the writer James Ellroy. The Pacific Dining Car is something of an anomaly among high-class restaurants: it's open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, and it has a special late-night menu that's made it popular with the city's nighthawks. Dinner consisting of a 16-ounce ribeye (cooked a perfect medium-rare), creamed spinach, a salad, a nice bottle of wine, and some impeccable service was pricey, but, man, did it ever hit the spot. The only disappointment: no sign of the "demon dog of American crime fiction."

fig. h: the big and the small 1

Bottega Louie is an oddly named restaurant with a choice Downtown location, a fancy Italian pizza oven, a full-size, open-format kitchen, an open-format pastry kitchen, a bar/café area, a massive, sprawling floor plan, towering 50-foot ceilings, and a veritable army of waitstaff. How they've managed to survive the Great Recession, I have no idea. Must have something to do with their appealing menu, because Bottega Louie is packing 'em in. I was so overwhelmed by the immensity of the operation, that the only photograph I took was of the miniature Tabasco sauce bottle that came with my brunch.

The brunch menu had so many tantalizing options that I actually had a hard time making a selection. I ended up settling on the scrambled eggs with burrata, pancetta, caramelized cippolini onions, and oyster mushrooms, and I was happy I did.

fig. i: étude en jaune

Bottega Louie's pastry division specializes in macarons. Our favorite was the lemon, which also made for a good photograph.

fig. j: Park's by Park's

Between Saveur's Los Angeles issue and my friend MS's 411, I had more Koreatown tips than I knew what to do with. Never did get around for going for KFC (Korean fried chicken), but I did make it out for Korean BBQ with a gang of fellow travelers. We could see and smell all kinds of delicacies as we waited to be seated. (Actually, the wonderful aromas began from the moment we got out of our taxi.) But Park's marbled short ribs looked particularly tantalizing and came highly recommended. In addition to the short ribs, we ordered marinated shrimp and bulgogi. Later, I was kicking myself for not ordering the pork belly, which got raves in Saveur. There was a moment there, right after we ordered, when we panicked, thinking we needed to order some vegetables to go along with all that meat. Then I realized, this is a Korean BBQ restaurant--the condiments are coming. In fact, the folks at Park's covered our table with more condiments than I've ever seen. And seconds later the first of our mains--the short ribs--were sizzling away on our tables built-in grill. From the moment we wrapped our first lettuce leaves and rice wrappers around those tender morsels of meat smothered in Korean pickles of all sorts, we were hooked.

fig. k: orange, bowl

Coming from the relative deprivation of Canada in late-winter, the Hollywood Farmers' Market was a vision of plenitude that I found a bit overwhelming. Just the citrus alone was more than I could handle. All those varieties of oranges, tangerines, grapefruit, and lemons, all ripe and sweet and bursting with flavor. The daisy tangerines, in particular, tasted like nectar. Then there were the nuts--pistachios and almonds, in particular. And the dried fruit, including Mission figs the likes of which I'd never had before. And then there was all the stuff I couldn't even bear to look at--fruits, vegetables, herbs, cheeses, etc.--seeing as I was going to be back on a plane 12 hours later. What I did take advantage of were the tamales with green chiles, ricotta, and queso, and a rich, expertly made macchiato from Cafécito Organico, who have a shop in Silver Lake, but who go to the trouble of setting up an espresso machine on wheels, as it were, at the market. Ah, California!

fig. l: showtime!

Buzzing with vitamin C and high on caffeine, I made my way into Hollywood. The L.A. Marathon was on and the tail end of the pack was making its way down Hollywood Boulevard, so the streets were closed off to anything but pedestrian traffic.

fig. m: transference

I checked out a few Hollywood pilgrimage points, like the Egyptian/American Cinémathèque and Musso & Frank's Grill, and when I got to Grauman's Chinese Theater I witnessed a peculiar act of transference: a man was posing for a photograph in the Forecourt of the Stars, his hand placed carefully in Al Pacino's handprint.

fig. n: burger by Umami Burger

A couple of hours later, I'd made my way back to Space 15Twenty, adjacent to the Hollywood Farmer's Market, so that I could experience my very first Umami Burger. I considered having the signature Umami Burger, with its famed "umami x 6" flavor explosion, and I contemplated the SoCal Burger, with butter lettuce, oven-dried tomato spread, house-made American cheese, and caramelized, but ultimately I went with the Hatch Burger, which marries 4 different types of roasted green chiles with UB's house cheese. I'm happy to say that Umami Burger's Hatch Burger lived up to all expectations (and with all the hype surrounding UB these days, expectations were high). The patty was gigantic, tender, barely holding together, nice and rare, and juicy as all get-out. The bun was simple, but fresh, toasted, and tasty, and perfectly capable of holding the contents together. The toppings were dreamy. I ate the whole thing in about 32.3 seconds, and that was only because I made a conscious effort to "take my time." I had to restrain myself from ordering a second burger for dessert.

fig. o: the big and the small 2

Just when you thought I couldn't possibly eat any more beef on a 3-day furlough, I closed out my all-too-brief culinary tour of Los Angeles with a trip to Philippe's to try out their interpretation of the French Dip sandwich. Yes, Philippe's is the other Downtown L.A. establishment that claims to have invented the French Dip or French-dipped sandwich back in 1908, the place the folks at Cole's refer to as "that other downtown sandwich shop." Philippe's functions counter-style, they have sawdust on the floor, they house a satellite exhibit of the Los Angeles Railroad Heritage Foundation in their back room, and they serve their sandwiches pre-dipped (to order). The vibe is both more family-friendly and more old-school than Cole's; it's not nearly as hip. Philippe's mustard may not be "atomic," but, by God, it too is "hot... but good!" And their French-dipped beef sandwich was delicious--a little messier than their competitor's, perhaps, but it didn't last long enough to become an issue. I'm not one to waffle when it comes to these kinds of debates--I tend to have strong opinions about such things--but, I have to say: I liked them both, they both had their charms. And, to be honest, I don't really care who the true originator is. I'm not an Angeleno, so I'm not all that invested in the issue. I'm just glad they're both still around, still a vital part of L.A.'s downtown dining scene over 100 years after they first opened their doors.

I really didn't intend for my Escape to L.A. to turn into a 3-day beef binge (with just a couple brief interludes), but sometimes you just gotta go with the flow. Plus, maybe this is could be the beginning of a themed series on L.A. Here's hoping. Think of the possibilities: L.A. Pork, L.A. Fish, L.A. Vegetables, L.A. Bread...

Addendum:

fig. p: chocoholics, report!

If you're in Los Angeles in the next little while, do make a point of visiting the Museum of Contemporary Art's phenomenally rich and varied "Collection: MOCA's First 30 Years." Not only will you get to see Lichtenstein's Standing Rib, alongside works by Warhol, Arbus, Frank, Stella, Levitt, Rauschenberg, Matta-Clark, Goldin, Judd, Smithson, Baltz, Berman, and many, many others, but you'll have the opportunity to immerse yourself in the considerable sensorial pleasures of Ed Ruscha's Chocolate Room (yes, that's actual chocolate lining the walls).

fig. q: the gang's all here!

And if you're already Downtown, and you're something of a film buff, you might want to pop in to the Biltmore Hotel to visit their gallery of photographs documenting the many Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences awards ceremonies that were held there between the early 1930s and the early 1940s.

Cole's, 118 East 6th Street, Los Angeles (Downtown), (213) 622-4090

Maria's Fresh Seafood, Grand Central Market, 317 S. Broadway, Los Angeles (Downtown), (213) 624-2378

Pacific Dining Car, 1310 West 6th Street, Los Angeles (Downtown), (213) 483-6000

Bottega Louie, 700 South Grand Avenue, Los Angeles (Downtown), (213) 802-1470

Park's BBQ, 955 South Vermont Avenue, Los Angeles (Koreatown), (213) 380-1717

Hollywood Farmers' Market, Ivar & Selma Avenue, Los Angeles (Hollywood), (323) 463-3171

Umami Burger, 1520 North Cahuenga Blvd., Los Angeles (Hollywood), (323) 469-3100 [with other locations on South LaBrea and on Hollywood Blvd.]

Philippe's, a.k.a. Philippe The Original, 1001 North Alameda St., Los Angeles (Downtown), (213) 628-3781

aj

March Madness

fig. a: pink grapefruit

With pink grapefruit on sale at our local supermarket (6 for 99¢, and never better), white grapefruit marmalade slated to be in production this week here at the AEB test kitchen, talk of a triple threat (orange, grapefruit, and lemon) Citrus Pie in the air, and now this

fig. b: Meyer lemons "from a California backyard"

--seriously, this is what I found on our doorstep today--this is shaping up to be Citrus Week 2008.

So much for nordic cuisine, right?

How many pink grapefruit did the banqueteers consume this week? What became of the white grapefruit marmalade? What is Citrus Pie and how on Earth does one make it? What exactly does one do with one's cache of Meyer lemons direct "from a California backyard"? Recipes to follow...

aj

ps--thank you, Lemon Fairies!