Each trip to San Francisco is memorable, but this one was particularly special. It's hard to know what to say after going to both Per Se and the French Laundry within weeks of each other.
In terms of presentation, service, and taste, I feel like I've scaled America's culinary Mount Everest. The experiences were extraordinary not only because of the effort required to secure reservations, but in the case of the French Laundry, getting to the restaurant on time. An emergency closure of the Silverado Trail created a multi-hour traffic jam. I never knew so traffic moved along those two thin roads and it was a small miracle that we arrived literally minutes before our reservation.
Once inside, all anxieties melted away. We flashed knowing looks of excitement at each other when we saw the Oysters and Pearls dish again. There was a moment of silent, collective terror when we realized our preference for the foie gras supplemental was not properly communicated. Did we break an unspoken rule, would we be punished? It was fixed (and then some) with an ease that would put the most gracious host to shame. Each course was a mix of flavors and textures that pushed the limits of my feeble culinary vocabulary. Our waiter gave us an unhurried tour of the expanded kitchen and Thomas Keller signed a menu for me. Some people might aspire to mingle with their favorite Hollywood or sports celebrities, but this was much more my speed.
I decided not to take pictures at either restaurant. In fact, there were a lot of pictures I didn't take. There are many images and memories of this trip will always stay with me. Like pulling off on a side road between St. Helena and Calistoga, putting down the top of the convertible and taking in the night sky. The Milky Way is a theoretical entity when you live in New York. Like many things, it is visible only in a museum. The crazy drive along Trinity Road, whose only straight sections are steep grades with emergency run-offs. The armagnac-over-ice cream dessert at Bistro Jeanty that burned the hair off my chest as quickly as it put it on. Slurping down oysters and coffee for breakfast. The matsutake soup served from a teapot and the outrageously delicious finger, plate, and cartilage-licking tuna kama at Sanraku. The pervasive aroma of fermenting grapes at sunset.
Below are some of the pictures that I did take.
As soon as we deplaned, we hopped in the car and went straight to the Ashby Flea Market to eat at A Taste of Africa. They've closed up their storefront and now work exclusively out of their truck. They say it works better for them. The popularity of the food was evident when they sold out, which you're witnessing here.
There's a first time for everything. We took the Powell-Hyde line from end to end. I was afraid to take a shot of the grip lever - I thought I'd be admonished for endangering national security, but the gripman didn't seem to care either way. The SF Cable Car web site's Gripman's page has an interactive demo of cable car operation. When you're at Fisherman's Wharf, check out the Maritime museum. I think it's underrated.
I like sitting perpendicular to sushi chefs because you can usually see more chef action, though in this shot I was more interested in what was placed on top of the bar.
No trip can be considered complete without a trip to Mitchell's. Now what flavor to pick...?
Stinson Beach is kind of cold, so half the fun is getting there along Highway 1.
A view from our table at Bistro Jeanty. If you eat here, get the tomato soup and the steak tartare. The tartare is not prepared tableside, but it is damned tasty nonetheless.
We were given a hand scrawled map to a small winery that is open only by reservation. We got lost a few times trying to find it and also leave it. This was taken right before we left for our infamous Drive of Death to get to the French Laundry. The zinfandel grapes were the only ones left on the vines, waiting for just the perfect moment of ripeness before picking. I bought my first $100 bottle of wine, and we're waiting for just the right moment to open it.
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