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geoff

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  1. Watch out, peoples. A thread titled thusly can get banished from eG. As long as we continue to focus on chocolate nibs we should be OK.
  2. If you do visit Cremant, demand a table in the front of the house. The rear environs, where we sat, was like dining in a bomb shelter. Walls of concrete, tiny windows eight feet up.
  3. Word on the street is they call their desserts "Conclusions." That alone is enough to induce upchucking.
  4. I second the Market Grill. Have a sandwich while you're there also.
  5. It's a Penelope hate-fest here on eG! Who knew we were such bitter souls?
  6. There's no question Mr. Miller is doing God's work. His pastry reigns supreme. The coffee is likewise exemplary. With Besalu and Verite within walking distance of each other, Ballard is now ground(s) zero for caffeine lovers.
  7. I'm sorry to be a killjoy, but I just don't feel the love for this place. They put up a good front, with stylish servers and all the requisite urban-dining flourishes: exposed brick, high ceilings and bowling-alley quality noise levels. But God save the back of the house, whose suppliers must just be following orders when they deliver those five-gallon cans of mushrooms and logs of Gallo salami. Via has a Butch Blum dining room but the kitchen is strictly Bon bargain basement. We started with house salads, which the kitchen underdressed so severely we partook of the bottles of oil and vinegar at the table. One should tell the salad guy to stop salad-spinning the greens after they are dressed. The lettuce itself was nicely cultivated, however. On to the main course: calzones. My wife's was so blackened it could have come from the maw of Vesuvius itself. Hers contained the vile canned mushrooms, which rendered the whole thing characterless. My own hot pocket was loaded with salami, but not the Salumi advertised elsewhere on the menu. No friends, it was Gallo (or a similarly ghastly factory-made meat product), ridden with salt and boasting a springy texture, like that of latex gloves. Why not use fresh mushrooms? Why not spare a sixteenth of a pound of Armandino's best? At $16.00 apiece, these 'zones were a maddening rip-off. We wisely skipped desert, opting instead for a couple cups of Caffe Vita just down the road. I know it's the same owner, but he roasts beans a lot better than he cooks. Too bad. I really wanted to like this place.
  8. Flying Fish is unimpeachable. If your guests are looking for a "downtown" vibe, it's the place to beat. Seven Stars is excellent, but its appeal is more esoteric. Union's food rocks, but the atmosphere is dull.
  9. I also attended the 4:00. I loved every dish, but the oregano sausage with broccoli rabe was a highlight, as was the orecchiette aglio olio. They ran out of the cotechino "in jail" (i.e. wrapped in veal) before I could sample it. No bellini like last time, but the wine was plentiful, and I rested my glass on any level surface I could find. True, the crowd was large, but I managed to move about quite handily. The clearest spot was near the front of the house, and we enjoyed the breeze coming from the open door. The event ended somewhat sourly when, at the 45-minute mark, the doorman barged through the crowd ringing a bell and ordering us out. He bellowed "you WILL leave in 15 minutes whether you want to or not!" and "we WILL show you the exit" with nary a "please" to be heard. I guess you need a bouncer's demeanor when you've got rock stars like Armandino and Mario around.
  10. Get yer Sri Chinmoy on in Fremont: Silence-Heart-Nest will occupy the former Longshoreman's Daughter.
  11. Sounds like cheek-mania chez Don and Joe's.
  12. Can pork cheeks be far behind? Let's hope not. Wouldn't mind me some veal cheeks either.
  13. I adore CR. If I have one complaint, it's that the cake is sometimes too crumbly; more falls in my lap than my tummy. The frosting is unimpeachable, however, and worthy of the x-treme overhang.
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