This is my second (or maybe third)-to-last San Francisco post, and yes, I promise to get to the French Laundry. But not so fast.
First, I have to laugh about my uncharacteristically bad behavior at Jack Falstaff. My old drinking and catering buddy Phil is now their sous chef, and I can't believe how far he's come since I last saw him here in Columbus. Phil is a ruddy-faced lad who looks about 10 years younger than he really is - I've rarely had a beer with him where he wasn't carded. I've always found it peculiar that he claimed to not like butter. But I digress.
First of all, I would like to begin my defense. I arrived in San Francisco in a Xanax/Dramamene induced haze (have I mentioned that I hate flying?); our dinner reservations were for 9:30pm. That's 12:30am Columbus time. Now, I'm getting old and am typically in bed by that time, but I decided to give it the old college try.
We began with a grand tour of their maze-like kitchen, where I was impressed that their pasty chef actually had a space of her own, where her mixer could stay untouched (I have to move mine hither and yon every morning). We continued into their larder, where they have many of my favorite ingredients, including Murray River Salt flakes, and a new favorite - toasted pumpkin seed oil.
Here's where I think things got a little tricky. I ordered a $10 (!) Yuzu martini (super tart and good), which I carried around the kitchen like a pro. When we got to the table, I started ordering wine like a pro. I seem to have forgotten about the other substances I had taken to quell my flight-induced anxiety-ridden self.
Dinner started off with a velvety pumpkin soup, just the perfect thing for the only cold night we had while I was there (it was above 75 degrees most of the time, something SFians are apparently unused to even in August, because there was a lot of grumbling. It was mid-November, and we Columbusians were thrilled). The soup was topped with toasted pepitas (pumpkin seeds), smoked salt, and toasted pumpkin seed oil.
Next up came the snapper cruda - kind of like a deconstructed snapper ceviche (raw but cooked with the acid of citrus juice or vinegar), which was nice.
Next, and sadly the picture did not turn out at all, came a duck liver creme caramel with crisp walnut toast points and balanced nicely with quince preserve and pistachio oil. This was a great dish, and I felt lucky to have consumed an entire year's worth of foie gras eating into one week.
Pork Belly! I had lovely pork belly twice in a week and couldn't have been happier. Husband would have swooned too over this dish; the fatty outer layer scored and seared to crisp and melting perfection, the meat melting between, and all of it sitting atop a lovely white bean ragout.
Somewhere around this point, I started dozing off. This lovely degustation had been prepared for us, and I was falling asleep. I need some beer maybe, I said, or some espresso. Our lovely server brought me tiny cups of both and I revived - briefly - for the braised short ribs. One of my favorite things, even though here it was accompanied by orange oil and mandarin segments. Look how pretty:
We still had 3 courses to go, but I couldn't continue. Poor Jen, all she wanted the whole evening was the cheese course, and I couldn't make it through. The waiter said sadly, "but the lamb is next, and it's the best one." "But I can't stay awake! It's 2am where I'm from, I countered, and alas, I. Just.Can't. Continue. Unless there's ice cream."
There was house-make sorbet and ice cream, with biscotti and edible flowers:
And there's my recount of my dinner at Jack Falstaff. I would like to point out that the staff kept a great humor about the whole situation, and made endless efforts to make me laugh and keep me awake, and I thank them for it. Hopefully I'm not banned for life, cecause I would like to go back again sometime, well-rested and without grog-inducing anti-anxiety medication in my system. Please?
All's well that ends well. I fell asleep in the car on the ride home like a four-year-old, and awoke embarassed but laughing about it the next day, ready for my next adventure (which was Jai Yun, for which I remained completely sober). (If you really want to see the pictures of the duck liver creme caramel and the pork belly, which are pretty bad, click on the extended post.)
Info: Jack Falstaff 598 Second Street San Francisco, CA 415.836.9239
Duck Liver Creme Caramel:
Pork Belly:
