Chez Panisse

[ulterior epicure]

CaliPoutine - are those turnip or potato halves with the artichoke hearts?

[CaliPoutine]

CaliPoutine - are those turnip or potato halves with the artichoke hearts?

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Potato and according to Robin my spouse, they were nothing special.

[tupac17616]

The pasta looks nice.

Could you explain a little bit what you mean by "expecting a little more"? Was it the quality of the food that disappointed you? The simplicity of the technique and presentation? Or something else entirely?

I simply ask because I think expectations play a HUGE role in one's enjoyment of either the Cafe or the Downstairs Restaurant.

Did you go to the restaurant during this trip as well, by the way? Or if not, have you ever been? I'd just be curious to hear your thoughts on how the upstairs and downstairs compare for you.

[CaliPoutine]

The pasta looks nice.

Could you explain a little bit what you mean by "expecting a little more"?  Was it the quality of the food that disappointed you?  The simplicity of the technique and presentation?  Or something else entirely?

I simply ask because I think expectations play a HUGE role in one's enjoyment of either the Cafe or the Downstairs Restaurant.

Did you go to the restaurant during this trip as well, by the way?  Or if not, have you ever been?  I'd just be curious to hear your thoughts on how the upstairs and downstairs compare for you.

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No, we only went to the cafe. This was my first visit too. What I mean when I say "I was expecting more" is that I thought the food would be something I couldnt replicate at home. I thought it would be just so delicious, so fantastic that with my cooking skills( which are pretty damn good), I couldnt replicate it.

The quality of the food was fantastic. But, I guess I expect that in Northern California. I could never find a meal like that in SW Ontario. But, I lived in Southern California for 15yrs before moving here and I've made fabulous, wonderful meals with produce from The Santa Monica Farmer's Market. As I said, I could make the same meal with the produce I saw at The Ferry Building and Marin Market.

Another thing that bugged me was the service. I thought it was extremely slow and unattentive. I hated that they added a 17% service charge on the tab because the service we received didnt warrant that amount.

Btw, I didnt post a picture or even take one of the garden salad my spouse had. It was just some baby lettuce with a vinaigrette. My spouse said something to the effect of " this reminds me of the mix we get at a grocery store back home. But, But, But, I said " Its organic and local and blah, blah, blah......

Edited September 24, 2007 by CaliPoutine (log)

[ulterior epicure]

CaliPoutine,

Yes, I have been in the downstairs dining room once, and service was the only the only flaw in an otherwise nearl-flawless meal. I'm sorry to hear that your experience in the upper Cafe was similarly disappointing.

u.e.

[docsconz]

The pasta looks nice.

Could you explain a little bit what you mean by "expecting a little more"?  Was it the quality of the food that disappointed you?  The simplicity of the technique and presentation?  Or something else entirely?

I simply ask because I think expectations play a HUGE role in one's enjoyment of either the Cafe or the Downstairs Restaurant.

Did you go to the restaurant during this trip as well, by the way?  Or if not, have you ever been?  I'd just be curious to hear your thoughts on how the upstairs and downstairs compare for you.

←

No, we only went to the cafe. This was my first visit too. What I mean when I say "I was expecting more" is that I thought the food would be something I couldnt replicate at home. I thought it would be just so delicious, so fantastic that with my cooking skills( which are pretty damn good), I couldnt replicate it.

The quality of the food was fantastic. But, I guess I expect that in Northern California. I could never find a meal like that in SW Ontario. But, I lived in Southern California for 15yrs before moving here and I've made fabulous, wonderful meals with produce from The Santa Monica Farmer's Market. As I said, I could make the same meal with the produce I saw at The Ferry Building and Marin Market.

Another thing that bugged me was the service. I thought it was extremely slow and unattentive. I hated that they added a 17% service charge on the tab because the service we received didnt warrant that amount.

Btw, I didnt post a picture or even take one of the garden salad my spouse had. It was just some baby lettuce with a vinaigrette. My spouse said something to the effect of " this reminds me of the mix we get at a grocery store back home. But, But, But, I said " Its organic and local and blah, blah, blah......

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If you have access to unusual top quality ingredients and are a good cook, Chez Panisse's food should be easily replicatable. However, very few restaurants, let alone individuals consistently have access to the quality ingredients that CP does. To their credit, they manipulate those ingredients relatively minimally and whatever they do, they allow those ingredients to shine. The restaurant has never really been about difficult techniques as far as I know. I've been to the Cafe twice and loved the pristine meals each time. I haven't yet been downstairs, but I hope to rectify that soon.

[docsconz]

I had an extremely well-crafted and delicious meal last night downstairs at Chez Panisse. i finally made it there. I did have some trepidation as I had heard mixed things about the restaurant. I love the cafe, but was afraid the restaurant might not measure up. The food certainly did, but the overall experience was mixed. For a relatively straightforward (by restaurant standards) 4 course meal, the wait in between courses was excruciatingly slow. We were with great company, but even so it was quite late for us. The best I could do was get an 8:45PM reservation, but as were still basically on eastern time, that was really 11;45PM for us.We weren't actually seated until around 9:15 or so. Our waiter

was very pleasant and friendly, but not particularly well-informed about the food.

There are no pictures as I forgot my camera

We had an all-seafood based meal that started with a kir royale made with their own raspberry syrup and cava. The first course bright and vibrant tuna tartare with sweet and hot peppers set on some toast and accompanied by basil and watercress. When I saw the menu on-line this week prior to the dinner, I thought I wouldn,t be too thrilled with the next course, but I was very wrong as it actually turned out to be wonderful and my favorite of the evening. I have always preferred oysters raw and have never really had an obviously cooked oyster that I have preferred to the totally natural, but the Fried Drake's Bay oysters with wilted spinach and a tarragon cream were a revelation. Still moist inside with a lightly fried outer coat, the combination with the wilted spinach and tarragon cream, as simple as it was, truly awakened me to the true potential of the cooked oyster.

We had a bottle of 2005 Odysseus "G" garnacha blanca from Viñedos de Ithaca, Priorat, Spain. My wife and I were at this vineyard around the time these grapes were harvested so we jumped at the opportunity to try this wine. It did not disappoint as its minerality held up well to the various seafood courses.

The main course, cassoulet de mer with fresh flageolet beans, smoked black cod, grilled squid, mussels and shellfish sausage was simply delicious as fresh shellfish must be unless ruined by incompetent cooking. The cooking here was much more than competent and each component with the exception of the cod was individually identifiable in its contribution to the whole. The cod, while it almost certainly offered a contribution to the flavor of the dish was under the radar despite its having been smoked.

Our table split the tissane and wild mint teas with our dessert, which was candied meyer lemon ice cream and a crepe with wild huckleberries. The ice cream was flavorful, but dense. Overall the dish worked satisfactorily, though it was the least engaging dish of the evening for me. I was surprised to already see meyer lemons available at Ferry Plaza market earlier in the day.

The room was comfortable though available light was wanting for non-flash photography, especially without my main camera. The only real downer of the evening was the protracted waits - to be seated and in between courses, especially between the main course and dessert. i could not distinguish any real differences in the quality or style of the food between the restaurant and the cafe. The only real differences are the set menu downstairs with different dishes than are available upstairs and a bit more formality downstairs. What they do in the kitchen they do very well and are justified in their reputation. They take wonderful ingredients and prepare them simply, but very well, letting the quality of those ingredients shine.

Despite the negatives, I remain a fan.

[MaxH]

I had an extremely well-crafted and delicious meal last night  ...  the wait in between courses was excruciatingly slow. ... The best I could do was get an 8:45PM reservation ...

Thanks for the detailed report, Doc. Glad that you finally made it to the restaurant.

If I understand right, your experience was on a Saturday night. As a side note just tangent to your experience, it reminded me of Jim Quinn's book, But Never Eat Out on a Saturday Night (the Kitchen Confidential of 25 years ago, originally a series of magazine articles, which came to wide attention when the most critical of them appeared in Harper's). One article, the title story, explains why to avoid Saturdays. Yes, we might reasonably expect consistent service, especially at an upper-end restaurant. No, the reality is not like that, or at least the constraints on the restaurant are at their worst then. (I've eaten out a bit in the last 30 years and my experience bears out Quinn exactly. For 25 of those years the dining has been very rarely on Saturdays, and increasingly not on Fridays. Including when Saturday was the "only time available." If we must eat then, it's usually as early as possible.)

None of which should be misunderstood to say I might not do exactly the same thing you did, when visiting, in good company, etc.!

[crosparantoux]

MaxH provides good advice, but to add a bit more detail:

ChezPanisse downstairs (never been upstairs except to use the bathroom) always has their A team in the kitchen. The real difference on Fridays and Saturdays is the audience. If you look at CP's weekly menu, the more creative meals are found Tuesday through Thursday. Because Fridays and Sats attract the date crowd, the one-time visitor, etc., the menus tend to be more accessible: recognizable meats, preps, etc. Long time regulars are spotted in the dining room earlier in the week. The other bonus: the prix fixe is only $65 Tues-Thurs. CP quality and their best menus for that price is amazing.

[tupac17616]

(To view the photos from the following meals in the downstairs restaurant....eh, who gives a CLICK? )

Name three great chefs. The first three that come to mind. Depending on what constitutes your idea of culinary greatness, a fairly standardized list of names might be running through your head right now: Ducasse, Adrià, Robuchon, Bocuse, Alajmo, Keller, Blumenthal, Gagnaire, et al. (Hey, I’ll play along too… Kinch). Easy enough, right?

Now name three truly influential chefs. Not quite so trivial, is it? Influence is a powerful idea; revolution, a loaded word. But neither of these notions is an exaggeration, really, when applied to the work of Alice Waters. Founding Chez Panisse back in 1971, I doubt she or anyone at the time had any idea what was underway. The beginning of this restaurant represented the beginnings of the very idea of “California Cuisine.” It was, in short, an American Food Revolution. Odds are that Waters has even influenced some piece, however small, of how you eat today. This sounds crazy, I know. But I can show you how. Your favorite local restaurants? I’d bet that a good number of the chefs just might have been her disciples at one point before moving on to open places of their own. That public school lunch reform program you are so happy to see your local school district championing? You might have a little program called The Edible Schoolyard to thank. That all-organic farmers’ market you go to every week now? That book you just read condemning the follies of agribusiness? That local Slow Food chapter your city just founded? The fact that your menu told you the name of the farm from which the heirloom tomatoes you ate at that fancy-pants restaurant last night came? I’m telling you, her influence is just about everywhere.

Though it is not, some disappointedly complain, at the restaurant itself. At least, not physically. Downstairs, the chef’s duties these days are split between Jean-Pierre Moullé and David Tanis, each working half of the year and spending the other half in France. Going in for dinner and asking “Is Alice in tonight?” will earn you nothing more than the satisfaction of providing the staff with a good laugh. It should also be noted that the downstairs restaurant and the upstairs café are not one and the same. They are two completely different restaurants, in fact, that just happen to operate under the same roof. Downstairs: fixed menu, fixed price, dinner only. Upstairs: a la carte, lunch and dinner. The choice is yours, and frankly, you can eat quite well in either one. In this write-up, though, I’ll focus on the downstairs restaurant. You can see my thoughts on the café here.

My most recent visit was just a couple of weeks ago. In the days leading up to the Thursday night reservation, my excitement was already growing. I’d seen the menu posted online the previous Sunday, and it sounded incredible. King salmon, heirloom tomatoes, chanterelle mushrooms, figs, sweet corn — these are not items that easily escape my notice. This particular night’s offering was strongly evocative of the season, a Chez Panisse trademark. My parents and I were in for a good meal, it seemed.

Arriving at the restaurant for our 6:30 reservation (there are two seatings nightly), we were shown to our corner table near the beautiful open kitchen. A small dish of delicious Lucques olives was set before us after we had placed our drink orders and looked once again at the night’s menu. Not long after that, two types of Acme Bread were brought out — fresh, crusty and pleasantly chewy.

The first course came out: Slow roasted king salmon with green beans, cucumbers, tomatoes, and fennel. This was utterly tasty, a pure expression of fresh, crisp vegetables. The green beans had the perfect snap. The cucumbers, a refreshing crunch. The tomatoes deliciously straddled the line between sweetness and acidity. The fennel added that licorice-y top note to it all. All that, and I haven’t even mentioned the buttery salmon, so tender it fell apart at the slightest provocation with the side of one’s fork, much less the tines. Nor have I mentioned the wonderful champagne vinaigrette (a vinaigrette may be a simple things to master, but it’s among the most elusive to actually be well-executed in a restaurant), or the chopped bits of hard-cooked egg, adding even another layer of richness to the dish. What can I say? Things had most certainly started off on the right foot.

Next, we moved on to the Chanterelle mushroom soup. The soup had a lovely consistency. Smooth enough that you know it had seen a few trips through the chinois, but still slightly rustic at heart. It was finished with chopped bits of sautéed chanterelle mushroom and a drizzle of fruity olive oil. A dish, undoubtedly, of few ingredients. Yet the care chosen in sourcing them really came through. This kind of flavor clarity is not something that comes easily. These weren’t just any mushrooms.

The main course that evening was Spit-roasted loin of Laughing Stock Farm pork with fig chutney, sweet corn, and fried onion rings. At first you might read the menu and think to yourself, “‘Spit-roasted’? Hah!”. But then you sneak a glance toward the open kitchen and see the meat guy at work. At the spit. (Did I mention the kitchen is beautiful? “Rustic” seems cliché until you realize that is exactly the word this space embodies.) The pork loin was rich, flavorful, and incredibly juicy. The fig chutney provided just the right sweet counterpoint to the meat and its tasty jus. The sweet corn was buttery, with a subtle spice in the background from being sautéed with little bits of hot peppers. The onion rings were crispy and very tasty. A nicely balanced dish overall, definitely.

Dessert was Apple and quince galette with burnt honey ice cream. “Apple pie à la mode,” my Dad happily noted. And a great (French) rendition of that American classic, it was. The tart crust was somehow flaky and crumbly at the same time. The apple and quince slices were cut thick enough to give you something substantial to bite into, yet thin enough to be tender when baked. The caramel overtones of the burnt honey ice cream brought a very pleasant level of richness to the cold sweetness. Later a small dish of petits fours was brought out as well, providing the crowning touch. This was a nice end to what had been a very, very good meal.

And just to show that I don’t consider it merely a fortunate coincidence that I ended up reserving on an evening whose menu sounded particularly good and tasted even better, I’d like to talk about another meal I had there. At the end of August, my father and I enjoyed a menu that was fittingly more suggestive of summer than of autumn, yet no less delicious than the meal I described above.

Instead of the dish of olives, this meal started out with a plate of roasted almonds. Rubbed with a delicious blend of spices that I couldn’t quite discern one by one, these were incredibly addictive. Our plate was quickly emptied. Then came some of their delicious bread and butter, which we nibbled on for a few minutes. Our first course that night was Green bean, shell bean and cherry tomato salad with basil and goat cheese croûton. For years, I thought I would never eat a tomato in a restaurant that would come close to those I’d pluck straight from the vine at home in Texas. Still warm from the sun’s rays, I’d eat them unadorned, unabashedly letting the juice run down my face as I smiled with delight. There is nothing quite like that. Still, these particular tomatoes came close. Awfully close. There were several heirloom varieties, among which I remember Green Zebra and Black Prince. Collectively, they hit every point along the sweet-acidic flavor spectrum, creating a stunningly well-rounded tomato flavor. The shell beans, purple and white, were cooked just to the point of being creamy without being mushy. The green beans were bright and crisp. And the goat cheese croûton was creamy and nicely tangy. Dressed lightly with olive oil, this was really a wonderful salad.

The second course was Fideus pasta with roasted peppers, white shrimp, and aïoli. This is a traditional Spanish preparation in which the noodles are browned in oil before broth is added, creating an extra depth of flavor and allowing you to slowly add liquid until the noodles are cooked to the desired level of doneness. The result of this cooking method, familiar to anyone who has ever prepared risotto, is a lusciously creamy texture. This pasta was, for my tastes, taken to just the right level of doneness, with a slight al dente quality to give it some integrity. The shrimp were plump and juicy, neither over- nor under-cooked. The roasted peppers and the pleasant spicing throughout this dish made it a real pleasure to eat, and the garlicky aïoli just put it over the top. Very nice.

Our main course was Grilled James Ranch lamb rack, loin, and leg, with fried eggplant, olive sauce and garden lettuces. Having the different cuts of lamb was nice, allowing one to enjoy the different levels of leanness and richness. Every piece was cooked exactly to my liking, a juicy medium rare. The panko-breaded eggplant was tender and piping hot on the inside, wonderfully crisp on the outside. The olive (not an ingredient I’m particularly enamored of) sauce was pleasantly assertive without being overly so, an accompaniment strong enough to stand up to the meat. The garden lettuces, lightly dressed with a tart vinaigrette, provided a nice foil to the rich flavors of the meat and a nice way to cleanse the palate.

Last but definitely not least was the Summer berry sherbet coupe with champagne granité. What is a coupe, you might ask? Just take a look at the second paragraph here. Call me uncivilized, but it sounds to me like just another word for a sundae. And, in this case, it was delicious. The champagne granité was actually made with Moscato d’Asti, one of my favorite dessert wines, so I decided to order a glass to accompany the dessert. Regular strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, and beautiful tiny white wild strawberries (a.k.a. fraises des bois) were all a part of this dessert. The combination was sweet, tart, and incredibly refreshing. Just a lovely way to end the meal, along with the petits fours this time, consisting of lemony thumb-print cookies and pistachio chocolates.

After the meal we met chef David Tanis, who is a really nice guy. After chatting with him for a few minutes, he graciously offered us a tour of the kitchen. And what a strikingly beautiful kitchen it is. The first thing one notices upon entering are large presentation bowls showcasing the fresh ingredients that are being served up that evening (see the cherry tomato photo). There is a markedly calm feel to this kitchen. No frantic motions. No yelling. It is an almost-confident calmness that begs the question, “What’s the hurry?” In a culture that often encourages us to whisk ourselves from one activity to the other, never taking the time to really stop and enjoy each one, this is an important question to ask ourselves. Sit down. Relax. Enjoy a meal at Chez Panisse. A meal that dazzles not with technical fireworks, but with simplicity. Nature’s voice is not muffled here; it is given center stage. Don’t come here expecting foams, flashy ingredients, or menus overwrought with quotation marks. But do come here expecting absolutely pristine ingredients, treated with care, so fresh they are nourishing to both body and soul. With that understanding in mind, you will quickly see that it is a special place.

[Carolyn Tillie]

<lamenting rhapsodic> Ah, Chez Panisse... what happened? </lamenting rhapsodic>

Meeting new friends T and S for dinner this evening, the general camaraderie and lusty, culinary conversation could not belie the fact that our California Icon is becoming a pale reflection of itself. I would like to believe that I am simply so jaded in being able to receive the finest of California's abundant produce and ingredients, that knowing I am walking into a temple of what should be arguably the finest ingredients available, would entitle me to one of the finest meals available. Sadly, this simply was not to be. However, starting our first heavily-vegetable course, we ordered a half-bottle of Spanish Albarino do Ferreiro which was perfectly light and clean; almost Sauvignon Blanc-like without the astringency.

With sincerest apologies for the iPhone photographs, after a bowl of Lucques Olives and Acme Bread, we were served our first course of grilled leeks with mustard vinaigrette, beets, and house-cured pancetta. Not listed in the ingredients but obviously an integral part which was included was hard-boiled egg. I am an intense leek aficionado but was initially concerned that the sultry leek flavor that I love so much was masked by the montage of other flavors which were far from cohesive. It was not that any one component was over-powering the rest, but the lifeless, limp leeks, in their stringy and chewy state, did nothing to elevate the smallish chunks of yellow beet and occasional crouton. The bastion of fresh ingredients was beginning to falter.

For our next course, we ordered a full bottle of Vina Caneiro, Ribeira Sacra which was adequate, but far too young to show any depth or integration.

The main course of the evening was described as Daube d'agneau aux herbes; Cattail creek lamb shoulder with herb-scented soufflé, fall greens, and carrots Vichy-style. Being the showcase protein, the first bite I took was of the lamb. While tender, I was immediately overwhelmed with the saltiness of the sauce. After that, I was underwhelmed with the overall flavor of the lamb; it simply did not provide that unctuous lamb flavor one grows to expect from the Panisse experience. The herb soufflé proved to be the highlight of the evening but was far from groundbreaking. It was quite simply a very well-prepared, miniature herb soufflé; light, accessible, and with a perfectly-portioned amount of herbs where too many could have been its detriment. The "fall greens" as far as I could tell were simple braised Swiss chard (which I enjoyed) but the "Vichy-style" carrots were limp and mushy to a point just shy of that which one would find in a can. Here was an opportunity to demonstrate the freshness of an ingredient, and instead they were overcooked to become lifeless, flaccid members.

We were given the option of a cheese course before our dessert. From St. Helena, Haiku, a goat's milk cheese, from Wisconsin came Marissa, a sheep's milk cheese, and another locally produced icon, Red Hawk from Cow Girl Creamery. The cheese was served with an accompanying bowl of chopped persimmons and three dates as well as a platter of thinly sliced nut bread. I still never bother with any flavored breads as a vehicle for cheeses, the dates themselves were the highlight of this course. The cheeses themselves, while not overtly bad in any regard, were simply too similar in their lack of depth as to distinguish themselves.

The formal dessert course was listed as a poached pear tart with muscat sabayon. I only needed two or three bites of this to know there could be no salvation for the evening's catastrophe. The pears -- like the carrots -- were so far beyond their state of freshness as to invoke concepts of can-dom. To inspire and imply a fruit or vegetable is fresh, I believe a level of "toothiness" is required, akin to a great pasta being al dente. These pears exhibited the same insincere mushiness as our carrots. The crust was soggy and flavorless, and the muscat sabayon lacked any tang or sweetness as to even suggest any other ingredient than dairy. It was all so desperately sad.

We discussed and debated our meal during its transgression. The service -- far from being warm and inviting, was perfunctory and cold. Where was the spark that was missing? I had dined at Chez Panisse several times before and thought that perhaps my palate is simply becoming jaded, however my dining companions seemed as unimpressed as I; has this simply become a destination restaurant for the occasional diner and the tourist, the way travelers to Paris feel they must visit the Louvre? Like those who feel compelled to worship at any other venerated cathedral without the introspection of the implied worship, I believe the religion that is Chez Panisse has lived beyond its time and is a mythological anthem that no longer exists except in the reverence and adoration of its devotees. It is a religion of yesteryear.

Edited November 27, 2007 by Carolyn Tillie (log)

[tupac17616]

those Barhi dates are indeed the stuff dreams are made of

sorry to hear that your meal was so disappointing, though