BELLANICO Restaurant & Wine Bar - A Wine Enthusiast’s Mecca

Are you one of those people who just doesn’t feel confident discussing wine?  I know I am.  I never fancied myself much of a wine connoisseur.  It’s overwhelming.  There is so much information to be digested, so many variations in the grapes, the weather, the year any particular wine was produced.  And don’t get me started on the regions, or for that matter, the various countries.  It feels as though if one isn’t a full-time student of wine, one has no business assuming any posture on the beverage.  It's not that I haven't enjoyed a glass of good wine in my time, but frankly, other than the way it tastes, I never really understood the mechanisms with which we are supposed to judge its qualities.  It wasn’t that people didn’t try to convert me.  I had a good friend in the early 80s who would tell me at length about the various wines he had acquired to add to his rather spectacular collection.  He would go on at length about what was special in each of them.  I will say that those wines he chose to share with me were indeed enjoyable, but it seemed to me that he was a little obsessed.  He was talking way over my head.  I just couldn’t relate.

But in the process of tasting his, I learned a little something about what I like in a wine.

Some time later, while passing Superbowl Sundays with another good friend, I received a “class” in this most complicated of beverages at the hands of a yet another self-professed wine connoisseur.  A former colleague of my husband’s who had purchased some acreage in Anderson Valley and had begun to grow his own grapes, this guy had taken things a step further.  He had begun to make his own wines.  As such, he’d managed to accrue quite a few bottles of rather nicely-aged home-made wine.  Opening one was always a bit of an adventure.  In the early stages of learning to bottle it, many of the corks were imperfect, causing some of his product to sour.  So we would either pop the cork on a bottle of a well-aged and lovely red, or we would find the bottles contents were not potable.  The wine we could drink was actually pretty good.  The oldest of his stash had the most unusual quality, a sort of buttery, almost dusty softness in the consummation.  It’s hard to describe when one is accustomed to younger wines, but a lot of the crispness, the acids I suppose, melt away and leave an almost powdery smooth taste on the palate.  I’ve never forgotten how mellow an old red can actually get, though I rarely experience that sensation as old reds generally come with a hefty price tag.   I continue to search for an affordable older wine.

That was decades ago.  Now that friend sells those very grapes to local vintners I often see on my grocery story shelves.  On any given day, one might go into a wine or liquor store and purchase a bottle produced in the Anderson Valley that is made up of this guy’s grapes.  Many of these vintners’s products are considered top of the line.  With prices to match.

Again, learned a little more.

But I remain overwhelmed every time I look at a shelf full of wines. The necessary knowledge is vast and tackling the understanding of it seems a complicated and impossible task.  Maybe it’s because I’m not very math-brained.  I absorb things in pictures and flavors, not formulas.  Understanding wine seems to me a little too much like being a good chemist.  So I wasn’t sure I could relate to those who are so passionate about the details of the vintner.  Could relate to people who seem to have a genuine appreciation for the art of making wine.  It looked to me a little like trying to learn how they do all those really tough magic tricks.  Never seemed worth the effort.  That is, until I met Elizabeth Frumusa.

Our meeting was one of those random twists of fate.  I was on the hunt for the next great place to eat in Oakland, someplace I could feature in my blog.  Elizabeth and her husband Chris own a lovely little bistro in the Glenview District of Oakland called Bellanico.  The other is Apierto in San Francisco’s Potrero Hill District.  Glenview is a part of Oaktown I am familiar with, having grown up on Lakeshore.  The restaurant is coincidentally located not far from my day job downtown.  On the occasion of my first meeting with Elizabeth, my pals and I had ventured up to Bellanico rather late in the lunch hour.  Bellanico is a popular destination, so upon arrival we found the place was bustling.  No tables. The BH and I are usually fairly determined table-dwellers, but on this occasion our dining partner suggested we try the merits of dining at the bar.  Close to the action and wine-glasses easily refilled.  Being Irish, it’s his favorite place to be at any given time. So since he was convincing, and bar seats were all that were available, we took it as a sign.  We took three seats open at the far end and began to peruse the menu.

We didn’t know it then, but Elizabeth was behind the bar that day.  So it was Elizabeth who served us our lunch, answering our many questions about the various dishes which are all written up in Italian.  After we gave her our preferences, she suggested some we should try.  We sampled an egg dish called Malfati, a bowl of pasta with spicy tomato sauce and Italian bacon they call “Pepati” and one of the creamiest burratas I have ever tasted.  The food here is truly magnificent, but this article is about the wines, so I won’t belabor the point.

After striking up a conversation (Elizabeth is delightfully forthcoming with information and extremely personable) we learned that she had lived in Italy for some time to study wine and the culture surrounding it.  Before quitting to manage the family’s second restaurant, she was also a wine vendor.  Well, that settled it.  We were definitely having wine with lunch.  The look on Elizabeth’s face as she describes a wine in her flawless Italian would have to be described as a “lit from within.”  Her enthusiasm is more than infectious.  She’s got a gift for describing wines that has a way of captivating the listener.  You just have to taste anything she describes.   She talks of the grapes grown near fruit trees becoming imbued with the flavors of the fruits.  She rattles off names in Italian that sound provocative, mysterious and that carry with them the promise of liquid magic.  The best part?  She delivers.

Elizabeth is Italian-American, as am I, so we really hit it off. But liking her is a bonus.  I remain impressed by her gift for understanding the grape, and for interpreting each guest’s likes and dislikes into a glass of something they will relish.  It is remarkable.  So as always, I say, get there yourself.  Check out her stash, I can guarantee you won’t regret it.

Cheers.

Bellanico
4238 Park Boulevard
Oakland, CA 94602
(510) 336-1180
www.bellanico.net

SPQR Fillmore - Senatus Populus que Romanae



California Burrata
with hazelnuts and herbs

My youngest daughter is visiting Rome as I write this. She’s one of the people with whom I love to eat most, her delight in good food is absolutely contagious. I am blessed in that my girls are my friends and companions, tolerating my maternal “insights” with boundless patience. Often featured on this blog, my youngest was mentioned first as the Law Student. After three years and a successful attempt at passing the California State Bar, she was soon sworn in, graduating here to the moniker of Baby Lawyer. Well the BL is quitting her fancy job and moving to Rome for love. Once there, she is planning to make a living teaching legal writing in English to native Italian-speaking lawyers. A job like that presents a challenge when faced with coming up with yet another pseudonym for this blog.

But I rise to a challenge.  Once there she will perhaps become the Traveler. The Teacher. The Transplanted Italian. I will hope for inspiration for her new nickname when we manage to eat a meal together “in Country.” At least there is that. I can visit her there, half a world away— time and finances providing. I wonder occasionally if she’ll enjoy living there, and I think for a time the answer will be yes. She is, after all, bringing my father’s family full-circle, returning to live in the land of my grandfather’s birth.



Crudo of Yellowtail

It’s a beautiful city, Roma. An urban place that is both modern and ancient, present and past. Open vistas look out upon the Tiber, an ancient slow-moving river, across which can be seen the dome of St. Peter’s. A morning walk for coffee can easily terminate at a great monument — the Coliseum ---  the Pantheon. Yet Rome’s streets are full of frantic mopeds and tiny racing cars, looking like nothing so much as the Matchbox cars of my very American childhood. All of them a blur, all carrying Italians hurrying somewhere else, speeding to a job or a date or an urgent appointment. Perhaps a tryst. Romans hurry. A lot. I wonder if they are conscious of the centuries of history that lays quietly beneath them as they fly about on the surface streets of this massive museum of a City. Or are they somehow in such a rush that they are unaware, taking for granted the magic beneath their feet. “Sempre Avanti” was my father’s favorite Italian phrase. Always forward. Like the Romans.



Waygu Beef Carpaccio



Italians are rooted in the pride of their history, yet often so absorbed in the business of living that they don’t stop for even a moment. Perhaps they believe that if they did stop, they might miss some tiny glorious fragment of life, and in doing so, commit the worst of mortal sins. That of failing to appreciate la dolce vida. Italians are nothing if not aware of the power in the beauty of simply living.



This train of thought took me naturally to a meal I shared recently with friends. We dined at S.P.Q.R. in San Francisco. A restaurant named after something uniquely Roman. The big heavy cast iron manholes line the streets, another bit of visible history speaking to a time gone before, all of them stamped with the logo ‘S.P.Q.R.’ Senatus Populusque Romanae : The Senate and People of Rome.

 The restaurant that bears this ancient moniker manages to capture in its food everything that Rome herself conveys. Without necessarily always translating directly into Italian food, the meals to be had there are vivid, like the city herself. The food at SPQR wears a modern exterior, culinarily speaking, yet holds within it flavors that bespeak a generous amount of adventure. Perhaps the chef understands what it means to build impact into layers of flavor, giving the diner a sense that beneath the surface there is more to be discovered. Much like the city reflected in the inscription that graces it’s doorway, SPQR embraces its name, and bears witness to the notion that there is more than meets the eye, that here there may continually be found something new, an adventure to be had. The next mouthful may reveal hidden treasure.

Pork Trotter

We are an adventurous lot, and so sampled a great deal of the menu. My companions on this occasion were the Dapper Diner and @CarinaOst. Both experts in all that is food. My BH made up the fourth at our happy table, and once we were seated, we were off and exploring.

The meal began with combination of severa Primi.  We had a lovely California Burrata with Herbs & Hazelnuts. Served on a large slice of toast, it was easy to slice into and share. I found it creamy and the toppings selected really enhanced the rich fatty cream flavor of the cheese. Along with the Burrata we ordered a gorgeous Carpaccio of Waygu Beef and a Yellowtail Crudo. The beef  was a platter of lovely thin slices of Waygu beef, perfectly rare and smothered in shaved Parmagiano Reggiano. The seafood crudo was a platter instead of raw fish, delicate slices of Yellowtail tuna gently sprinkled with olive oil and herbs, a few black cherry slices and a few nuts for texture. The final appetizer was a lovely Pumpkin Agnolotti, a delightful dish of creamy, rich pasta with pumpkin seeds and cheese crumbled over it.



Lamb with tangerines

 After our various appetizers, we feasted on our Secondi(s), the Italian name for the main course. My most adventurous dining companion, @thedapperdiner ordered the Black Pudding. I tasted it, but am admittedly not completely into the more outrageous of dishes. Black Pudding, if you are unaware, is a sausage made of pork blood and fat cooked down into a semi-solid. I like to try some offal, but some tries are more successful than others. Though TDD is brave and adventurous, I found that while I enjoy a good platter of brains from time to time, this may have been above my pay grade. From there we moved on to the BH’s choice which was a Napa Valley Lamb dish, delightfully prepared. The exterior of the meat kissed by the smoky flavor of the grill, the inside moist and succulent. A few slices of tangerine and some pepper really set off the flavor of the meat. Another of our companions had a gorgeous Idaho Trout, fluffy white fish with a nice crispy skin buried beneath tiny bits of potato and pork. The Pork Trotter Burger was rich and fatty, and delicious.  The final main we enjoyed was a Pork Ravioli. Like the Pumpkin Agnolotti the pasta was house made, golden and perfectly al dente. All of the flavors were unique, perfectly balanced, each dish a portrait in artistry.



Pumpkin Agnolotti

 Just writing this up is making me want to get back there soon. Some places just resonate with me, a little like Italy. They vibrate with life and flavor. SPQR was an absolute delight, and though it has taken me some time to get around to writing about it, I think it’s time to make a return visit. Remembering the flavors and the company I shared it with makes me want to go back. Maybe next week. But isn’t that what life is all about?




Check it out for yourself, and Bon Appetito!

SPQR
1911 Fillmore Street
San Francisco, CA 94115
(415) 771-7779
http://www.spqrsf.com/

Follow them on Twitter @spqrfillmore

Table size: cramped seating, but space for dishes (very European)
Noise level: boisterous, not for the deaf
Cost: moderately expensive

ACQUERELLO - Dinner with the Deipnosophistae

In case you haven’t already gathered, dining and the rituals surrounding the consumption of food have always been the primary subject of this blog. The food alone is not really what draws me to the writing, although a marvelous feast is never insignificant. My muse is something less tangible than a good salad or a perfectly prepared steak. I write to acknowledge that there is something more to eating than the nourishment of the body. There is a nourishment of spirit that takes place when humans gather to break bread. I’m not the first to notice. In addition to meaning something like Dinner Table Philosophers, The Deipnosophistae is an Ancient Roman tale believed to have been written by Athenaeus. It purportedly recounts the events and conversations that take place over the course of three dinners shared between various artists, scholars, jurists, musicians, philosophers and other learned men of his day.  Written sometime around 300 A.D. Legend has it that Plutarch was among the guests.  As they discuss intellectual pursuits, sing songs and wax prolific on all manner of contemporary topics, the brightest among men exchange their ideas while partaking of meat, cheese, bread and wine.



Lamb Tongue Amuse

 The trappings and traditions that accompany a group repast have always been as important as the meal itself — we draw strength from the company; pleasure from the camaraderie, intellectual treasure from the sharing of knowledge. The consumption of spirits (in moderation of course) serves to loosen the tongue, allowing those gathered together to speak freely. When we are truly among our peers we wish to share our best ideas, and draw inspiration from each other. Delicious food charges our brains with pleasureable endorphines, certain flavors resurrect specific memories from our collective history. There is more to loving a grandmother’s favorite soup than the right amount of seasoning on the palate. Each specific dish has the power to conjure an experience so clearly that we relive it in the eating. We need only find the right dish, with the appropriate combination of flavors. So we continue to seek.

It is these things that keep me coming back to the table. Food would be empty without the ritual, reduced to a meaningless intake of calories consumed with no objective other than survival. For though we must eat, if we do not learn to savor, we are missing the ultimate point.

Parmesan Budino ~ delectable!

My point on this occasion is that I found Acquerello in San Francisco to be an establishment that understands the ritual of dining in all its levels of profundity. While eating there recently for another auspicious occasion (the departure of the Grad Student for her European tour), we might just as easily have found ourselves in Ancient Rome dining with the Deipnosophistae. The ambience was simultaneously simple and opulent, white table cloths and butter yellow walls, the conversation stimulating, both from the multitude of well-informed staff and my companions at the table. At each table could be found simple flower arrangements of two or three fat and lustrous roses, each bloom harvested perfectly to best savor every moment of its efflorescence. The service a panoply attentiveness and well-executed procedure. The citizenry of Ancient Rome understood fine dining, and I had forgotten how well Italians remember this. It is no accident that this is a restaurant that recalls the history of Italy’s food legacy to perfection. Italians understand food, perhaps in a way that no other culture does, or perhaps we are just more in tune to the rituals. Either way, this meal was a feast for the senses, as well as the palate. No formal repast enjoyed by the original Deipnosophistae could have been better. For those who want something special, and wish to combine fine dining with all the sensational grandeur of Ancient Rome, still experiencing the more refined flavors and artistically classic presentations of today, then that meal should be had at Acquerello in San Francisco.


Red Abalone with Italian Butter Beans

Upon our arrival I remember being surprised that the interior was successfully maintaining a distinct old world charm without seeming at all stale or dated. We began by ordering a lovely bottle of Italian sparkling wine. Bella Vista Pasopere. The sommelier, sensing we were curious and eager listeners, gladly gave us a lesson in wine-making. He explained that Prosecco is made from the grape of the same name, and that it is a particularly sweet varietal. To achieve a “brut” Prosecco, the vintner must with-hold the dosage, a sweetened liquor that acts as a sugar agent to aid in carbonation.

The menu was a prix fixe designed and presumably prepared by Co-Owner and Chef Suzanne Gresham. The first treat that arrived from the Chef was a small cocktail. A refreshing combination of orange juice, sweet vermouth and bitters. The drink was a lovely melon color, its citrus flavor sweetened with vermouth and balanced with bitters — a perfect palate cleanser to begin the meal. That ceremony of cleansing the palate, a step in an evening that continued in a liturgy of ritual.

The amuse bouche arrived next. While not an Italian concept, it was wonderfully adapted to this Italian meal. It presented itself as a lovely bit of lamb tongue, gently stuffed with a seasoned goat ricotta, plated with a dash of cranberry relish. The colors were appetizing, the taste was refreshing and unexpected.



Chopped Beef Tartare
with Parmesan cream, Quail Egg and Truffle Drizzle

 In Italy, courses are generally offered in a particular sequence, in accordance with centuries of tradition. While those traditions have loosened over time, there is a progression to an Italian meal. Usually it would begin with antipasti, a course that would in America be called an appetizer. Then one proceeds to the Primo, which is usually a pasta, and then to the Secundo, which we would term the main, but is more accurately the protein of the meal, be it fish, chicken or meat. Of course nowadays a prix fixe meal has many more courses than a classic Italian meal, all of them smaller in quantity. But the concept of ritual progression is still honored at Acquerello, though elevated to something far more elegant than in times past.

My next course was a beautiful Parmesan Budino, sprinkeld with Mushrooms “Trifolati” and sprinkled with shaved Parmigiano “Vacche Rosse.” The dish was a creamy truffle-flavored bowl of something akin to a cheese pudding. It was like a savory dessert, softer than a risotto and somehow richer.

The rest of the family each ordered the Chopped Beef Tartare with Parmesan cream, Quail Egg and Truffle Drizzle.  My taste of their dish revealed the meat to have a spicy quality, just a hint of pepper enhancing the naturally fatty flavor of the raw beef, yet allowing the quality of the meat itself to remain the star of the dish.


Corn Pasta Ravioli with Brown Butter

For her second course, the Grad Student ordered the Ridged Pasta with Foie Gras, scented with Black Truffles and Marsala. The pasta was perfectly al dente, and the truffled sauce, gently sweetened with Marsala was provocatively creamy. The finishing touch was the rich, savory, foie in the dish.

The GS also ordered a Corn Pasta Ravioli with brown butter. She is allergic to fish, and most restaurants have been exceedingly accommodating. This ravioli was awash in the summery sweet corn, and smothered in gently browned butter. The dark rich smoky fat in the butter gave the corn a slightly melancholy air, as though it had been imbued with the end of summer. How appropriate for October, which is our Indian Summer here in California.

When the GS’s meal arrived it had put our own tasting menus off sync, so the restaurant thoughtfully provided the BH and I two a savory little taste sensation with which to bide our time while we awaited our own meals. We were presented with a tiny dish of two ravioli, one pasta pillow was a concoction of Teleggio, the other a mix of Asiago cheeses, each sitting gracefully in perhaps the best simple tomato sauce I have ever tasted. Since both my grandparents were from the old country, I can assertively state that I know my tomato sauces.



Cheese Plate Perfection

 The service was timed to perfection, and no sooner had I blissfully savored the last bit of tomato sauce around my tiny pillows of past, than my Lobster Panzerotti arrived. This was a lovely little mid-section of lobster served in a spicy lobster brodo with “Diavolicchio.” Diavolicchio Chile Peppers, also known as "little devil" chilies, are one of four varieties of hot peppers that bring the heat to the spicy cuisine of the Basilicata region of Italy. These little red peppers drying in bundles have been found hanging from kitchen ceilings all over Italy and were. The sweet pink meat of the succulent piece of seafood was a perfect foil to the kick of the peppers. All in all this dish had a lovely, well-balanced flavor profile.

Next up was a dish of Red Abalone with Italian Butter Beans, that I had requested as a substitution from the Chef’s Tasting Menu. The abalone was served with a chavel romaine in a piping-hot seaweed brodo. BH had the Butter-poached Lobster Tail, which was an abundance of seafood, including stuffed calamari and crusted mussels. The Grad Student had the Souvide ‘Bavette’ of American Kobe Beef with braised oxtail stuffed squash bone and basil. All three of these dishes were spectacular.



Succulent Lobster, with spicy Diavolicchio Peppers

 Being cheese lovers, and having sensed that this was an establishment that took pride in its table-side service, we thought we would let them do their thing. The cheeses were unique and all were uniformly excellent. The cheese selection that really stood out for me was a type called “cuzie.” Cuzie is an Italian dialect term for a goat cheese that has been aged in tobacco leaves. The unusual preparation was intriguing and as I am fond of most any aged cheese, I asked to try it. It was amazing. The tobacco leaf came through in the cheese and it was like a good cigar, without the nasty burn of the smoke or any associated health risks. Perhaps this should be the future of the tobacco industry. A healthy way to savor the natural smokiness of the leaf of the tobacco plant, and I swear it was delicious.

We shared three beautiful desserts, my BH ordering the Valrhona Dark Chocolate Ganache with bing cherries and mascarpone; I had the Bourbon Caramel Semifreddo with Amaretti Crumbs and a delicate drizzle of chocolate sauce. The whipped cream and bourbon pudding made this light, chilled flavorful delight. The Grad Student decided to join us and ordered the Vanilla Scented Panna Cotta with moscato poached peaches, plum sorbet and marcona almonds. Each dessert was a heavenly melange of flavor and texture.

The staff were extremely gracious about making our substitutions work within the dinner service. It is worth remarking that overall the service at Acquerello was absolutely first rate. They were knowledgeable, organized and attentive to detail, which made the entire experience absolute bliss.

The Ancient Romans understood the value of progressive, ritualized dining. Whether instinctively or by trial and error, they recognized an inherent value to the human spirit of savoring each course gradually: first with sight, smell and then taste. This method of eating had stimulative benefits that went well beyond the taste buds alone, encouraging conversation and furthering a healthy development of human interaction. Though they may have indulged in their traditions a little too enthusiastically, that which remains of their customs has been refined into something that if not overdone, can greatly improve the human condition. I found my experience elevating, as though the Deipnosophistae were once again seated at the table.



Creamy Cheese beautifully displayed

 Check it out for yourself, and Bon Appetit!

Acquerello
Restaurant
1722 Sacramento Street
San Francisco, CA 94109-3619
(415) 567-5432
www.acquerello.com

CAMPANELLA - a "Little Italy" in Newark

Broccoli Mushroom Soup

Born and raised in Oakland. You’ve heard the bit, right? Well, the early eighties found me randomly moving from my homestead in Oakland to my then brand-new husband’s house in Newark. Where is Newark, you ask? The answer is this. It is a sleepy little hamlet that lays in the heart of Fremont, a sort of donut-hole-filler of a suburb. It’s a bit far from Oakland, a distance of twenty plus miles southward, in fact. Though Newark was a swell place to raise children, it unfortunately lacks ample food choices. Meaning if you’re not looking to eat at Olive Garden or Chili’s you are ish out of luck.

But, as with any rule, there are a few exceptions. We have several excellent ethnic food establishments like Sala Thai or China Chili’s in Fremont and there are few exceptional restaurants to be found in here in sunny Newark, California. This particular evening we found our way to the little Italian restaurant in my neighborhood by the name of Campanella. And by in my neighborhood, I mean within walking distance of my house.

Tossed Salad

It was early June, and the BH and I were headed to a Tom Petty concert. Our concert companions, my Sis-in-Law and her Musician hail from the other side of the Dumbarton, so Campanella, which lays just at the foot of the bridge, has been around for a couple of years. It’s a solid Italian seafood restaurant, with just enough meat on the menu to satisfy my dear friend who won’t eat fish. Period. So that night Campanella seemed a workable choice. We would eat together and head straight to the Coliseum, in order to arrive by show time.

We began the meal with some lovely Bruschetta. It was tasty, a nice balance of tomato and olives, all mingled with olive oil into a tapenade-style topping layered over the crostini, accompanied by slices of summery green apple.

Next we enjoyed a Broccoli Mushroom Soup and a lovely tossed salad. I believe I’m becoming sort of a soup fetishist. I just don’t remember the soup of my youth ever being quite as marvelous a concoction as modern soups seem to be. It could be the new techniques, but in my mind soup has come from the fog of memory, where it lay a thick, salty mush for years, to emerge as a really smooth, buttery affair, with flavors often more fresh and vibrant than ever imagined just before the liquid hits the tastebuds. Springy flavors, fresh ingredients, oodles of cream. Good stuff. Though I may still consume an occasional cup of Campbell’s to weather the nastiest of colds, it’s overly-salted flavors cannot compare to what now arrives hot and steamy in the bowls of many a good restaurant.

I ordered a pasta. The Pito de Pollo. It was magnificent. The noodles pleasantly al dente, accompanied by a chicken breast smothered in mushrooms, carmelized onions and red peppers.  Everything tossed easily together to make a tasty mouthful.  Ah, the stuff of my youth. Being Italian, I grew up on this carby treat of Italy. Gotta say when done right, even simple pasta can rock my socks.

BH had the Penne Salmon Pasta. The fish layered into his pasta was lovely, flaky and pink, deliciously moist, the sauce beneath it creamy and flavorful. All these goodies were tumbled beautifully together with fresh vegetables. The portions are large here, but the pasta is so tasty it’s all good.

My SIL had a Rigatoni Pollo I believe, which is, of course, chicken with rigatoni. Her meal was another version of the well-turned out and seasoned pasta we were all enjoying. Flavors mingling in the creamy sauce, tucking themselves in and out of the noodles, in the way only pasta can manage to mingle tastes and textures. The dish had lovely carmelized onions, grated parmigianno reggiano.  The musician had another version of pasta as well, but I didn’t bother him by recording his dining choice. We’re working him into this food journaling thing slowly.

I consumed several glasses of a fairly tasty Malbec with all my fantabulous carbs, and then we ordered two nice desserts. A small chocolate cake concoction layered with chocolate, and a nice ice cream.  Pretty to look and and very tasty.  For a little hide-a-way in my neck of the woods, not too shabby.  Makes me hungry just thinking about it.  There is something truly decadent about pasta laden with flavors.  Maybe it is as simple as loving the foods I remember eating as a child, or maybe it's just that pasta is that good.  Either way, I've never met a pasta dish I didn't love.

Chocolate Dessert

 

If you're in my neck of the woods, check it out.  Bon Appetito!
 

Campanella Modern Italian Cuisine

34903 Newark Blvd (at Jarvis Ave)
Newark, CA 94560
(510) 794-9900

http://www.campanellacuisine.com/

I-SQUARED ~ Aromatic rose petals dance to the Song of Scheherezade

On this particular Friday in March, we wanted to try a new restaurant, and fortuitously discovered that I-Squared had recently opened for lunch. It has been on my “dinner wish list” for quite some time, but lunches are much easier to manage in Oakland, since I no longer spend my nights here in the town of my birth.


I’m not sure what I was expecting. I had read multiple Yelp reviews recounting that the establishment features Italian and Iranian food — that was definitely a combination that intrigued me. I am Italian. I love much, if not all, of the flavors found in Middle-eastern food, so it stood to reason I would enjoy a meal at I-Squared, right? Sudden visions of spaghetti-kabobs or pita-bread pizzas began to dance in my head. While we certainly didn’t find anything quite so unusual, I think it is fair to say we were not disappointed.

We began with two appetizers. The first was an order of sauteed mushrooms. These platters set the tone for the meal. Neither was anything fancy, no platters of Italian-Iranian fusion here. Just a lovely (and good-sized) platter of buttery sauteed mushrooms. There were several types, all of them rich in texture and flavor and all of them topped off with grated Parmigiano Reggiano. The dish and the flavor of it, the richness of the cheese, the herbed butter, the splash of lemon across the top of the dish, all these things reminded me of my childhood. Simple Italian food done well is as good as anything on the planet.

The other appetizer was a dish called “Noon-o-pane” - I can only assume it is Iranian, and it was good. It is a dish of yoghurt, feta, basil & tomatoes, accompanied by a tiny stack of pita bread. One makes a sort of Iranian vegetarian fajita. Tasty.  My BH also tried their mussels, which were properly briny and sat merrily in a broth redolent with spice and flavor.

As usual, the four of us shared much of what we ordered. We had all arrived with a substantial curiosity about the food at I-Squared. Would they prepare their dishes more as Italian, or would their emphasis be Iranian, would it perhaps be something of both, a new brand of food somewhere in between.

Over time, we’ve found that the best way to experience a large variety of food is to order as much as possible and then share a bit of everything. I ordered the Salmon Burger, which seemed neither Iranian nor Italian, but which sounded very appealing. It was soft, on a feathery delight of a bun, the flesh of the fish pink and perfectly inviting. There was a lovely dill sauce on the burger, along with some eggplant and a slice of tomato, which I found unexpectedly magnificent. Normally eggplant is not something I seek out intentionally, but on this occasion it meshed perfectly with everything else on that plate.

Two of us ordered the meatball sandwich. It was a classic meatball sandwich, big globes of meat atop a roll and slathered with marinara — unremarkable in its presentation, yet completely unforgettable. The seasonings were authentically Italian. Basil, onion and tomato, the sauce thick enough to cling to the meat and the healthy sourdough roll on which it was served. It was so good, I just couldn’t put it down. It wasn’t really my order, but I would take a bite of the slightly runny, cheesy tomatoey goodness surrounding the large moist chunks of meatball and tell myself it was my last. Then I would do it again. I loved the flavors and textures that went with the actual eating of it. The whole sandwich was another exercise in the perfection of simplicity that I would say is a hallmark of I-Squared. This big submarine of a sandwich with an abundance of well-spiced simple flavors represents the home-cooking emphasis that they have here, their food is expressed in the comforting familiar tongue, rather than the artistic and exotic one.

Another of us had the Chicken Breast Kabob. This of course was a more Iranian dish, but its presentation was also in the home-kitchen vein of good flavor, great balance and a hearty helping of love straight out of the can. The meat of the chicken kabob was well-seasoned and not overly dry on the stick. I am less familiar with the home-cooking of Iranian grandmothers but I know when meat is properly done. This meat was moist, with a nice zesty-lemon acidity, the addition of saffron and other Iranian spices seemed a proper flavor profile for the dish, and I found it appetizing.

During the meal our waiter, who I am fairly certain is also one of the owners, (a pair of Iranian brothers – one host, one chef), was solicitous and extremely forthcoming about what they served and why they chose to serve it. It felt like back in the day when my father or grandfather both knew the owners of every restaurant at which we dined. We were enjoying our meal while chatting about the various dishes and expressing our delight at the tastiness of it all, when our waiter asked if we would care for any dessert.

We ordered a pastry, since the Grad Student so rarely allows me out of a restaurant without feeding her sugar demons. Oh to be young and slender with the metabolism of a twenty-five-year old!  Since there were four of us, we also ordered a slice of their Tiramisu. Sadly, our waiter soon returned with apologies that the pastry dessert (I think it was an apple tart of some kind) had not turned out properly. He apologized profusely, saying their new pastry chef was telling him that it was unfit to serve. We expressed our willingness to take the risk anyway, but his fear of the pastry chef’s artistic ire won out. He said he would prefer to make us up something special. “Trust me” he said, and so we did. Given the rest of the feast we had just partaken it hardly seemed much of a risk at all. 

We were shortly presented with a lovely rice pudding, a traditional Iranian dish called simply “Sholeh zard.” He said it was a recipe that had quite literally been passed down from his grandmother. It tasted like she had made it herself. I found it aromatic (the scent of roses wafts up into the nostrils before one can even take a bite) and appealingly sweet, but not overly so. It had a lovely starchy consistency, and the saffron gave it a beautiful color. Rice puddings of any kind have always been a favorite of mine, perhaps it is my peasant ancestry rising to the fore.

The Tiramisu was similarly delectable.  This is a dish I often do not order, its composition and consistency so often all over the map.  I found their version to be the perfect consistency, soft like pudding, with its sweet notes well contrasted with the taste of chocolate.  The waiter explained that the balance of this dish is achieved by using fresh espresso, made daily next door just before being added to the dish.  The family owned a coffee business before opening the restaurant, so it is their own blend and they obviously took great pride in the concept.  This was a really good tiramisu, so they had good reason to be proud.

The meal was a delight and we will definitely return. They seemed proud and pleased that we were pleased, which I find is usually the mark of a good restaurant. The act of sharing your culture with others, with something as basic as a good meal can be life-affirming. It is on days like this I can appreciate how good it is to live in a country where so many ethnicities come together to bring a smorgasbord of flavors to the table. Lucky lucky me.

Check it out for yourself, and Bon Appetit!

I-Squared
5403 College Ave
(between Hudson St & Kales Ave)
Oakland, CA 94618
(510) 658-4400
http://www.i2squared.com/

Dining time: easily in and out in an hour
Noise levels: was quite enough when were were there, but the walls are hard and there is not much fabric, so my guess is that evenings can get loud -- 2 bells?
Service: delightfully informative, strong sense of pride
Cost: Inexpensive to Moderate

BOOT & SHOE SERVICE - Italian Food with Heart & "Sole"

About a week and a half ago my husband had to attend a mediation. We work together, so I was left ‘abandoned’ in Oakland over dinner-time while I waited with the car to see if he’d need me to bring him home. I saw this opportunity for what it was, a chance gift from the gods to get to one of the many restaurants I’ve been dying to try in Oakland that are not open for lunch. I have a long list of selections that only serve dinner. So here an opportunity was presenting itself for me to try one of them. How fortunate for me!

As I was reviewing my list, I came across a particularly intriguing name “Boot and Shoe Service.” That name itself conjured up an image of my grandfather, who was a magnificent cook. He arrived in this country in about 1917, fresh off the boat from Italy. His first stop, so the story goes, was on Park Street in Alameda. He had visited a dry goods and shoe repair store to get his shoes re-soled. When they were ready, he complained to the cobbler who had fixed them about the shoddy job he had done. My grandfather said that he could have done much better. The cobbler replied “Then go ahead,” and invited him into the shop. It seemed to be a challenge, and my grandfather liked nothing better. My grandfather loved to tell us how he not only repaired the shoes, but did the job so well that he was hired on the spot to work in the store. He ended up owning the store in under a year.

With it’s serendipitous name choice evoking my family history, and given that Boot & Shoe serves Italian food, I decided this was tonight’s winner. Founded and co-owned by one of the pizza chefs formerly with Chez Panisse, I figured that my odds for a good meal were high. I called the Grad Student, a favorite eating partner of mine, and we were off to eat up.

We got there a bit early, and they weren’t open (seems to be happening to me a lot lately!) We stopped in next door for a cup of tea. It was cold and rainy out, but we wanted to maintain a pair of healthy appetites. We started with drinks. I had a tequila concoction that was really tasty. Smooth with a kick of bitters to follow the taste down. It never ceases to amaze me the things they can do with liquor these days. At first we missed the bar altogether, as it is located in the far back through a narrow doorway. It’s almost like a hidden secret room. Gives the area itself a cool mystique, while helping to keep the noisy bar crowd from completely overwhelming the eating crowd. Probably a coincidence of the original architecture, but pleasing, nonetheless.

The grad student ordered a wine, and the waiter was extremely helpful. She wasn’t sure which of the two reds she was thinking of would be the most to her liking, so they brought her a tasting of each. It was a classy touch and allowed her to select a wine with certainty. I love thoughtful customer service.

After we settled in with our drinks, we were all over the menu in search of a couple of apps. We ordered the Burrata & Radishes because, well because it was on the menu and neither one of us can resist a shot at a good burrata. This one was magnificent. It presented as a soft, buttery whipped mass of creamy cheese. So light it might as well have been clouds. Really melt-in-your-mouth perfection. The addition of just a hint of olive oil drizzled over the cheese and the crunch of the radishes offset by bits of delightfully bitter arugula, really an outstanding dish.

We were sitting there drooling and thinking there could be nothing tastier on this earth, when we were presented with our next appetizer. It was a Sunchoke Sformato. We’d ordered this dish because we were curious. Sometimes curiosity doesn’t kill the cat. Sometimes it makes for purr-fection. This was one of those times. It was essentially an egg dish, a bit like a souffle, but smoother. Something like the consistency of pudding, but savory rather than sweet. It is very, very difficult to describe just how unexpectedly different the taste and texture of this dish is. The surprise texture, the addition of the Porcini Mushrooms and Romanesco Cheeses blended into the eggs... I can say only that the experience of tasting it, coupled with the element of surprise at it’s unknown qualities making themselves known, made eating it delectable. It was a home run.

We capped off our meal with the obligatory Pizza. It is, after all, a pizzeria. I am really really fussy about pizza. I don’t have a thin or thick crust rules fetish or anything, I’ve actually been known to enjoy both. The heavily laden pizzas I grew up with at Granata’s in Berkeley were my idea of heaven for years. Now I am just as happy eating a thin crust from Dopo, or the ever evasive “perfect Chicago-style thick crust pizza” which are okay at Zacharys’ but not anything that really moves my soul. The pizza we chose this evening was a Potato, Fontina, Pancetta and Rosemary mixture. It had a lovely crust, thin, but not super thin. The flavor was consistent and I enjoyed the herbs used in the seasoning. But it was just good. Nothing about it that I found particularly inspiring.

At this point I wanted another drink, but I got a call from the BH to let me know I had to drive home, so the second drink became a House made tonic. Gotta drink responsibly, after all. Frankly, I was rewarded for my responsible choice as it was remarkably delicious. The drink was sparkling and intense, crisp and tangy, its fresh ginger palpable in the mix. Not sure what else they used to concoct it, but I would definitely order it again. It was not just really good, it was splendid.

That was pretty much the meal in toto. A late night at the office salvaged by a good meal (I was feeling sorry for the BH, but he ended up having dinner in the City, so hey, he did okay. Isn’t that always the way?) Definitely check it out. I’d order one of the other pizzas unless you are really fond of potato. Bon Appetit!

Boot and Shoe Service
Neighborhoods: Lower Hills, Grand Lake
3308 Grand Ave
(between Lake Park Ave & Santa Clara Ave)
Oakland, CA 94610
(510) 763-2668
http://www.bootandshoeservice.com/

Table size: adequate
Noise level: 3 -4 BELLS

THE BASIN (Saratoga) ~ Shelter from the Storm

It was freezing when we arrived at The Basin Restaurant in Saratoga, especially for a California native like myself. My companions and I were shivering in the blustering winds, having arrived before the restaurant was open for the dinner seating, but the host of the Basin Restaurant caught a glimpse of us and came to our rescue. He greeted us in the doorway, mercifully allowing us all to enter the restaurant before they were done setting up. Once we were seated and the feeling began to return to my fingers, I picked up a menu and began to peruse my options.

We had journeyed out of our comfort zone all the way down to Saratoga in search of a lovely meal before our evening's entertainment, which on this occasion was a Richard Thompson concert at the Montalvo Winery Carriage House. I do love me some RT. But I digress.

So, I am already feeling warmly towards the management for showing the class to rescue us from the storm outside, but nothing heightens a good mood better than a cocktail, so we ordered a round. I had something called a Key Lime Pie which was, at first sip, almost indistinguishable from the dessert itself. Frothy, fluffy top with a deep limey kick at the bottom.

My Better Half had something called a Spicoli, which was a rum drink that was neither daquiri nor pina colada, but better than either. Malibu Rum blended with pineapple, orange and banana, with a hint of creme de cassis, the "cherry on top" so to speak. Fruity and refreshing and well-blended. I have become a huge fan of mixology. Drinks used to be so uninteresting. One could order either some version of a sickly-sweet drink mix over-the-top fruity concoction or straight scotch/vodka/gin whatever over ice. I like that mixing a cocktail has become an art. It's definitely an improvement.


Having just had a magnificent Burrata at BellaNico restaurant in Oakland, and so I decided it would be nice to share the delights of this particular treat with my sister-in-law who shares my love of all things cheese. We ordered the burrata along with a platter of Jamon Serrano Iberico ham, the 'prosciutto of Spain.'

The burrata was good, a tiny bit drier than the one I'd just had previously at BellaNico, but nonetheless a treat. My companions who had not shared in the burrata of the previous week were extremely pleased with its selection and really enjoyed their first taste of the soft white cheesey treat that is burrata. The ham was delightful as well, and I should note that although pricy at $20, the serving presented us was beyond generous. I was raised on prosciutto, which is quite similar to an iberico. The differences are in the curing, the various amounts of fat in the meats and the spices used in it's preparation. I find I love almost all varieties of this particular charcuterie choice.

On any occasion, I find a slightly dried slice of salty goodness wrapped carefully around a similar slice of fresh sourdough bread, with or without a nice smear of soft burrata, can't be beaten for anything. It's just the perfect mouthful, although I must admit I have trouble stopping, too much childhood tangled in sensory memory I suppose.

As I looked up from a bite of ham, the waiter brought the next dish, which was their Spanish Rice. For some reason it was not what I anticipated at all, but instead was much better. At the center of the dish was what I would call a rice-cake, softer in the center and flavored with a delectable broth. At the edges it was crunchy and texture-filled, like the crust of a perfect paella. The shrimp itself was still moist, removed from heat during it's preparation in that just-perfect moment after pink turns to white without losing the juice within. Seasoned with paprika and saffron, the dish was an ecstasy of surprises, with tiny chunks of sweet, fatty bacon, crumbles of chorizo sausage, and other goodies colliding like some lyrical corps de ballet dancing in my mouth. At one moment it's a solo, seconds later the entire ensemble is leaping together, and all of it is bathed in this spicy, buttery sauce. This dish just rocked my world.

The soup special that night was a Butternut Squash. It was blended with cream, and --- I'm guessing here--- riced to perfection. Just enough texture to allow the flavors to come together in the eating. Splendid.

Our mains arrived shortly afterwards. One of us had the Handmade Daily Ravioli, the centers of which were a cheese and spinach filling with a blanket of lovely soft fava-bean pesto. Creamy and delicious.

My BH had the Dungeness Crab pasta, which was served perfectly al-dente, after having been flambeed with a cream & tomato sauce enhanced with pernot, shallots and garlic. My husband loved the delicate flavors all tumbled together with the seafood. Spot on.

I thought my own dish, which was the Duck Special was amazing. The duck meat was rich, without being gamey, and it came on a bed of wild rice with a captivating golden sauce of onions, herbs and some sort of sweet fruit blend covering it all. In my delight at the perfection of the dish's taste, I neglected to jot down the specific ingredients of the sauce in my notebook, so you'll just have to imagine that combination of sweet and savory that compliments the richer meats to perfection. It was just that good.


We topped off the evening with a dessert called a Chocolate Bomb, a version of the now popular molten chocolate cake (which is a cakey on the outside, melted brownie goodness on the inside delight). It had a lovely reduction of raspberry beneath it, to balance the extremely rich, dark chocolate of the cake itself. That dessert and our cappucinos and lattes were all a delightful topper to an all but perfect meal.

I highly recommend The Basin, and can't wait to see another show in Saratoga as an excuse to visit it again. In the interim, I intend to hit the Plumed Horse for my birthday in a week's time, and will certainly report on that trip as well. Check it out, and Bon Appetit!


The Basin Restaurant
14572 Big Basin Way
Saratoga, CA 95070
408-867-1906
http://www.thebasin.com/


Cost: Moderately expensive
Table size: adequate
Noise Level: perfect for easy conversation
Dining time: somewhat leisurely, had to hustle to make the show, but did make it.

BELLANICO ~ Chow Bella!

In search of a new food adventure, I found myself perusing the web a few days ago for any mention of new eateries in the Oakland area. I found a few places that sounded good, but many only served dinners. I am only in the city during the lunch hour most days so that wasn't going to work. A few more minutes perusing various articles brought me across Bellanico, a newish place I had not yet heard of or tried. It is in the Glenview District of Oakland. That's close enough to my office to make an hour of it, so we headed out to test the waters.

We got there, found parking pretty easily around the corner, and since it was late in the lunch hour, the place was already full, so we were seated at the bar. Our partner in food crimes loves to be seated at the bar, he feels it gives you a connection to the establishement and its management that you can't get any other way, and on this occasion he was right. The proprietor, Elizabeth, was extremely helpful in assisting us in selecting a wine, as well as our food choices. Elizabeth was interactive and very attuned to the comfort of her customers, without being at all intrustive. I love Malbec, and on her recommendation we chose a Tiza from Argentina. She has worked with wines for over a decade and she definitely knows her stuff. The Tiza had a ripe, lush aroma, leading into a tangle of rich berry and spice -- complex and sexy, just the way I like it. The three of us shared a bottle between us.

The wine was the perfect beverage to set off the food, which is primarily Italian. The menu here is done with amazing care and inventiveness in presentation. I am second-generation Italian, and I was raised on cuisine from Northern Italy. I know good Italian food when I taste it. This food was both beautiful and perfectly executed.

We began with one of the house specialties, Fried Mondeghili, or meatballs, with Salsa Verde. The dish comes with three large meatballs, encrusted with breadcrumbs and fried to a perfect golden brown. They have a soft, herby center underneath the hot crusty surface and the sauce keeps them from being too dry. I thought they were delicious, and I believe between mouthfuls, my companions did as well.

We also had the Burrata appetizer. It was served with lovely sides of toasted foccacia bread, fresh pomegranate seeds, taggiasca olives, grilled chard and toasted hazelnuts. Burrata, in case you don't know, is a fresh mozzarella that has been filled with a whipped center of cream and more fresh mozzarella. It's the Italian equivalent of a cheese jelly doughnut. The burrata served at Bellanico was as fresh as anything I've had in Italy. One of the best things that has happened to food these days is the emphasis on freshness. Fresh mozzarella that has been spun and cut that day or the day before, is a completely different animal from the chewy dense cheese they sold in the supermarket to put on pizza when I was a kid. They bear almost no resemblance to one another. Anyway, this burrata was not only fresh, but the center was so creamy that the cheese could be easily spread on the toasted foccacia that came with it. The PFC loved it with the pomegranate seeds, I found mixtures of various toppings to my liking. All were delectable. I couldn't get enough of the explosions of complex flavors that were singing in my mouth.

No sooner had we polished off the apps than we were served the first of our lunch mains. We'd let Elizabeth know that we wanted to share everything. Sitting at the bar makes it easy. So she suggested bringing share plates to make it even easier to sample a bit of each dish selected. The first of these next dishes to arrive was the Proscuitto, Onion and Fontina Frittata. I should say that a good frittata is one of my HUGE weaknesses. I grew up with my grandfather's which was a pan-fried variety with a great deal of vegetables as its base and which, once cooked was a heavy (in a good way), rich almost quiche like dish. But, there are many ways to approach a frittata. Bellanico's was a yummy concoction of egg and cheese that was as light and fluffy as a towel pulled straight out of the dryer. The flavors were well-balanced between the cheeses and the proscuitto. They worked together rather than competing with one another. It was delicious.

Next they brought us the Tagliolini Pepati. This is a lovely smoky hot pasta with one of my favorite combinations: tomatos, bacon and heat. The bacon was this magnificent pancetta-style meat that added so much to the pasta. I get weak in the knees over that sweet chewy texture of the bacon when it's coupled with the heat of a good hot pepper (in this case just the right amount of fresh jalapeno). When these ingredients blend into the roasted tomato sauce, there is for me the perfect marriage of flavor. Top it off with a nice grating of grana padano (a lovely aged cheese similar to parmesan) and you have the perfect dish of pasta. Our PFC agreed that this dish was spectacular, but we have very similar tastes in food. We both love heat.

Moments later, if not simultaneously (when I'm eating this well, all is a blur) we had been served another dish. The menu called it a Swiss Chard Malfati, and they arrived looking like little green goose eggs. They are accompanied by a glaze of brown butter & sage and are also topped off with the grated grana padano. (sorry we did not get a good picture, we ate them too readily I'm afraid!) Oddly enough, this dish was eerily evocative of my grandfather's frittata. Much more so than the previous dish that was actually called a frittata. I believe this is because the primary flavors of the Malfati were the spinach and cheese, rather than the egg, which serves as more of a binding agent than the main ingredient. Needless to say I found them sensational as well. I don't know if it was that they were so much like Grandpa Gianni's frittata, which is heaven, or if they were just that good on their own. I suspect is was a little of both.

Since everything up to this point was amazing, we couldn't leave without trying their desserts. We ordered the Bombolini and the Goat Cheese Cheesecake. The Bombolini were a lovely fried doughnut "hole" of sorts, rich and sugary. They were deep fried, but not overly greasy and the spicy dipping sauce, described as an "espresso custard" was a nice sugary taste with the fried doughnut.

The Goat Cheese Cheesecake sounded unusual, but Elizabeth assured us that we would enjoy this dessert. She had not steered us wrong yet, so we told her to bring it on. What we were served may very well have been the best cheesecake I have ever tasted. It was an airy puff-pillow of cheese, gently rolled in pistachio brittle, and served with a nice side of quince, huckleberries and pomegranate. The song of flavor experience while consuming the burrata now became an aria of absolute delight.

Two of us polished these off with perfectly-foamed cappucinos, while the BH enjoyed a lovely milky latte.

This restaurant was amazing. We all left trying to figure out how, with the busy holiday season ahead, we would ever return fast enough. Bellisimo! I say definitely check it out and Bon Appetit!!!!

Bellanico Restaurant
4238 Park Boulevard
Oakland, CA 94602
510-336-1180
http://www.bellanico.net/

Dining time: leisurely (but could be done in an hour)
Noise Level: boisterous, might be difficult for some to hear
Cost: moderately expensive (really depends on how many plates, we ordered a lot)
Table size: can't comment, ate at the bar.