47 restaurants in 47 days: #30, St. Michael's Alley

St. Michael's Alley
430 Kipling St.
Palo Alto

I'd like to be a "regular" at a cozy little restaurant. A place where the food is always a treat, but not so upscale that you need to make reservations far in advance; the kind of restaurant where you could order by closing your eyes and pointing to the menu, knowing that whatever your finger lands on will be a delicious choice.

If I lived in Palo Alto full-time, St. Michael's Alley might be that restaurant for me. It's been around since 1959, according to my friendly waiter, in three different locations. It was the first restaurant in the area modeled after a European coffee house. The name comes from the owner's memories of a favorite London haunt, on an alley near St. Michael's Church.

The interior gracefully combines dark stone floors, sponged pale-peach walls, mismatched crystal chandeliers, bright abstract canvases on the walls,and carved wooden sunbursts over the bar and the kitchen door.

I hesitated to ask for a table for one just 20 minutes before the end of lunch service, but I was warmly greeted and never rushed. The owner of the restaurant was relaxing at the bar with a glass of wine, dandling what must have been his baby grandson on his knee, while other relatives and acquaintances came and went.

There were several tempting things on the menu, but what sounded best right then was a nicoise salad with seared ahi tuna. I admit: I picked my wine by the name. But the Page Mill Chardonnay turned out to be a good match for my salad. (Page Mill is the name of a very busy road that runs through PA. The founders of the winery live nearby in Los Altos Hills.) I'm no wine expert, but the wine list seemed more creative than most, with reds and whites humorously divided by price into "up to 40," "forty-something," "50s," and "60 to the moon."

All of the dishes seem unfussy and familiar: an "ABC" burger with avocado, bacon and jack cheese; a savory tart; chicken Waldorf salad with roasted pear and candied walnuts; fresh potato gnocchi.

My summer stay in PA is coming to a close, so I won't be able to sample the half-dozen other items that caught my eye. (The menu changes with the seasons.) I can imagine a leisurely weekend brunch here, or a romantic weekend dinner for two, or even a weekday meal en famille. I'm sure the pleasant staff would quickly make me feel like a regular.

47 restaurants in 47 days: #29, Zibibbo

Zibibbo
430 Kipling Street, Palo Alto

Zibibbo has become our restaurant of choice when we have an out-of-town visitor to entertain. Or when we're meeting friends for dinner. Or when we'd like to have an especially good meal with an interesting choice of wines. We're not regulars yet, but we seem to find a lot of reasons to come here.

Whatever you feel like eating, you'll probably find something on the menu that suits you. If you'd like a sampler plate, the antipasti includes your choice of sweet roasted beets with crumbled goat cheese, a salad of roasted mushrooms, good house-made hummus, eggplant "caviar," mixed olives, or albondigas (little meatballs in a Spanish tomato sauce).

Seafood is another way to go. On our most recent visit, diners next to us shared a large fruits de mer platter, a plentiful assortment of clams, oysters and prawns. I've enjoyed the whole sea bass, roasted in the wood-fired oven with peppers, olives, capers and mint.

It would be easy to make a meal just from the menu section titled "small plates of the Mediterranean." Several times I've ordered the Moroccan-spiced prawns, which arrive sizzling and smoking fragrantly on a cast-iron platter with scallions and sliced lemons. There's also a delicious duck confit salad with frisee, apricots and walnut vinaigrette.

The daily specials from the wood-fired oven are consistently good, served family-style on large colorful platters. So far, we've tried Sunday's pepper-crusted prime rib and Monday's roast suckling pig, served on a bed of arugula with cracklings and citrus vinaigrette.

On our last visit, we especially liked a pizza topped with roasted figs, prosciutto, and arugula. The crust was equally crispy and chewy, and the sweet figs contrasted beautifully with the salted meat. Even the standard "plain cheese" pizza, which pleases our boys, is good enough that B and I compete for the rare leftover slice.

I also sampled an unusual cocktail, with the fanciful name of "bourbon in bloom:" Knob Creek bourbon, orange-blossom honey, fresh lemon juice, and a "float" of Prosecco. The drink was unexpectedly tart and refreshing, despite the honey and the sweet wine.

Zibibbo's interior is an interesting indoor-outdoor space, part shaded patio and part high-ceilinged modern rooms. There's a a big stone fireplace outside that probably gets plenty of use in the cooler months. One of the inner rooms is a wine bar, and others have views of the open kitchen.

Zibibbo's Web site states that it was named one of the 20 best American restaurants by readers of Gourmet magazine (although it doesn't mention the year). It's one of a small family of restaurants that includes the flagship Restaurant LuLu in the SoMa district of San Francisco.

47 restaurants in 47 days: #28, Tea Time

Tea Time
542 Ramona St., Palo Alto

One of my favorite things to do with a friend is to share an elaborate, leisurely afternoon tea. I felt a little bereft, lunching solo at Tea Time.

But it was a beautiful sunny afternoon, there were tables and comfortable chairs set up on the sidewalk, and I could pick up the free Internet access from the busy Coupa Café two doors down. What more could a singleton diner ask for?

Since it was warm outside, I chose a cheery red berry flavored iced tea, which proved to be just sweet enough, not overpoweringly fruity.

A plate of three good-sized tea sandwiches is $7.95, with a choice of about 8 varieties. The egg salad supreme sandwich was good; I liked the poppy seeds in the white bread.

Smoked ham with mustard mayonnaise and pineapple was subtle, with a very thin slice of ham and a sliver of pineapple garnishing the top. I didn't taste mustard, and I guess I was expecting something along the lines of a pineapple chutney spread, for some reason.

The heart-shaped chicken-apple-pecan salad sandwich was recommended by my server, and it was the best of the three. The chicken salad was chopped very fine, making a smooth spread, with just a little crunch from the apples and pecans.

I passed on the sweets (yes, I realize that's very unusual behavior for me), thinking that the petit fours in the display case looked a little tired. Later I realized that they were probably just that, for display only.

Individual quiches, crumpets, a few salads and a soup of the day round out the menu. There are several delightfully named set-menu teas: Oriental Romance, Summer Garden, and Emperor’s White Delight.

Tea Time sells over 100 varieties of loose tea. One wall of the store is devoted to an attractive display of teapots and cups, from vintage English to Asian and modern styles.

I don’t know a lot about tea – I tend to order jasmine ‘cause it smells pretty – but I imagine that an aficionado could go wild in this place, and happily order sweets or savories to accompany any choice.

Walking at twilight

The restaurant had grown stuffy and noisy, and the kids were yawning. So B and the boys headed for home, leaving me to finish my drink and settle the check.

It was cool when I headed outside a few minutes later, but it felt good after the overheated interior, so I carried my pullover along with my box of leftovers. In a block or two, I’d left the busy retail area behind.

The sky had that particular glow that sometimes develops on a clear evening, when sunlight continues to brighten the horizon for a while after the sun has set. Overhead was still blue, not yet black, many blues shading to light grey and gold toward the west.

This is an urban area, and many of the windows I passed were open to the cool still air, yet it was quiet. I heard crickets, distant car sounds, quiet voices from a balcony as I passed below. Once a jet hummed and groaned from high abovc, banking over the mountains to the west, on a heading toward SFO.

The loudest sound after the crickets was the hissing of sprinklers. It doesn’t rain at all here in summer, and in-ground irrigation systems are common.

There’s a ground-cover plant that’s common here, with small glossy green leaves and star-shaped white flowers. I think it’s a type of jasmine, because it has a strong sweet smell, especially at night. Whiffs of scent leap out at me as I pass, and it’s always a pleasant surprise.

This is the best time of day to walk and wonder about your surroundings. It’s not fully dark, so places still seem familiar, but there’s an anonymity to the people passing by, their faces indistinct.

I like to look at the lit windows and catch glimpses of the lives lived inside. Here there’s a flat-screen TV on the wall, showing a ball game; next door, the wall is bare and the light us harsh. I try to imagine how the room looks from the inside out, how it appears to those accustomed to living within it, and sometimes, for a second or two, I think I can.

47 restaurants in 47 days: #27, Hukilau

Hukilau
642 Ramona St., Palo Alto

Hukilau would be a fun place to come for drinks with a group of friends. There's a laid-back vibe, even on a slow weeknight, and it's one of the few places in downtown PA with patio seating. The reggae music is infectious, and who can resist sipping some fruity concoction under a thatched umbrella?

The problem here -- correct me if I'm wrong, as I'm willing to admit that my exposure to traditional Hawaiian foods has been limited -- is that the classic Hawaiian "plate lunch" is not haute cuisine.

Loco moco is a uniquely Hawaiian creation. It's fast food, a dish you find in the mom-and-pop restaurants, not the resort hotels. There's a hamburger patty and an egg sunny-side-up with brown gravy over all, plus a scoop of white rice and a scoop of macaroni salad on the side. Hukilau's version substitutes mahimahi for the ground beef, and the gravy is lighter than you'd think, but it's still a little much for me.

The ahi poke (marinated chunks of sushi-grade tuna) was a better choice, although a little strong on the sesame oil. The steamed, salted edamame (the only bar nibble I've ever encountered that's both good-tasting AND good for you) was fine. Kalua pork was flavorful, but the shredded meat and cabbage (plus the ubiquitous scoops of macaroni salad and rice) wasn't all that attractive.

On another night, with the right group of people, this place could be a good hang-out. I've read positive things about the sushi; next time, I'll stick to the raw fish and skip the comfort food.

47 restaurants in 47 days: #26, Armadillo Willy's

Armadillo Willy's
1031 N. San Antonio Rd, Los Altos

A local acquaintance who is serious about what he grills has recommended Armadillo Willy's more than once, so I thought I'd better check it out.

Fragrant wood smoke is your first impression of the place, as soon as you step out of your car. Willy's Web site states that its meats are grilled over an oak wood fire, and it sure smells like the real thing.

The menu reads like a carnivore's dream. Willy's BBQs chicken, "18-hour" beef brisket, "Memphis style" pork roast, smoked turkey breast, and a "sausage of the day" in addition to three kinds of pork ribs.

I ordered baby back ribs, which is what I usually prefer, but these were not as meaty as some. The Texas BBQ ribs had more meat, although both had plenty of smoky flavor.

The house BBQ sauce has a vinegary kick, even more so if you get the spicy jalopeno version.

The potato salad and Texas toast were fine. Barbecued beans were a nice change from the usual, ketchupy-sweet kind; they were a mix of different beans in a savory chili-gravy.

A motherly woman came around the dining room as we were finishing our meal with a tray full of chocolate chip cookies, which she offered to each table. They were nicely chewy, didn't taste quite like homemade, but it was a friendly thing to do.

Playground entrepreneur

I'm used to seeing ice-cream vendors pushing handcarts through the parks here, but this fellow was quite the rolling convenience store.

Most people were buying corn on the cob, which he pulled steaming from a plastic cooler, skewered, and covered with flavorings. One customer had her corn brushed with mayonnaise and covered in grated cheese. Another asked for what appeared to be chili powder. He also had what looked like chicken soup, which he ladled into foam cups.

There were whole mangoes and shelled chunks coconut on skewers. The man would use the stick to keep a grip on a mango as he sliced it into a plastic bag. Then he sprayed the fruit with what looked like lemon juice and sprinkled it with chili powder.

There were whole cucumbers on the cart too, although I didn't see anyone eating them, and bottles of the colorful syrups used to flavor shaved ice or sodas. Another popular item, in a clear plastic bag, looked like pinkish cartwheel-shaped pork rinds.

This vendor did a steady business, for as long as I watched, while an ice-cream man nearby went unnoticed. Most of the transactions were carried out in Spanish, so I only understood a few simple words, like "queso" and "por favor."

Now I wish I'd asked some questions. It's interesting to feel like a foreigner in your own country.

Insulted by Shakespeare

"The famous Chandos portrait, the subject of which, although commonly assumed to be William Shakespeare, has never been definitely identified." (Wikipedia)

I've customized my Google page so that each time I visit, I get an insult courtesy of Shakespeare. I don' t know what it says about me that I continue to enjoy this.

My favorite so far: "You shall stifle in your own report, and smell of calumny." (from Measure for Measure, Act 2, Scene 4)

47 restaurants in 47 days: #25, Café Sophia

Café Sophia
2706 Middlefield Road, Palo Alto

It's not often that I find myself thinking, "I could really go for some stewed pumpkin." And I'm certain that before today, I've never had this idea in a coffeehouse.

The sign over Cafe Sophia's small storefront says “Coffee Roasting Company,” but there’s much more inside. The first surprise upon entering is the riot of color. Oriental rugs cover the floor, and the walls are decorated with bright tapestries and and rugs. The wrought-iron dining chairs are cushioned with kilims. The slanted ceiling is covered with lavish swirls of pink, purple, red and orange. It made me think of a rose garden gone wild.

The second surprise is that this coffeehouse is also an Afghan restaurant. You can order a muffin or a panini, but there are also kabobs of all sorts and dishes such as kofta challow (beef meatballs served with potatoes and Afghani gravy) and quabili pallow (seasoned pieces of lamb with browned basmati rice, topped with carrot strips and raisins).







The veggie plate was a colorful presentation, with generous portions of spinach, zucchini and eggplant, each stewed in tomato sauce with garlic and spices. There were two mounds of rice, white basmati and the browned basmati, which tasted of cinnamon. A good-sized romaine salad rounded out the plate, topped with feta, black beans, chopped tomatoes, walnuts, and olives.

The affable man behind the counter asked if it was my first visit, then offered his advice on what I should try first. There was a pleasant hum of conversation in the café, even in mid-afternoon, from what looked to be tables of friends just hanging out and chatting.

After eating all my veggies, I wasn't ready to sample the coffee. I'll gladly come back another time.

47 restaurants in 47 days: #24, Joanie’s

Joanie’s Café
447 S. California Ave., Palo Alto

Everyone should have a little restaurant like this within walking distance of home. A place where retirees, moms with young children, paired and single men and women in business attire, and slackers like me can happily mingle on a weekday morning, enjoying homemade waffles and scrambled eggs.

The servers are as friendly as they are efficient. “Are you Joanie?” one customer asks a waitress with an every-present smile. “No, I’m Susan,” she replies pleasantly, taking it in stride.

There’s a stack of today’s newspapers by the front door, for sharing. The orange juice is fresh and a cup of coffee is bottomless. A quick bite or a leisurely brunch? It’s up to you.

47 restaurants in 47 days: #23, Straits

Straits Restaurant
Westfield San Francisco Centre
845 Market Street

A restaurant that looks like a trendy nightclub, AND it’s in the middle of a shopping mall? Normally I wouldn’t expect much. But I’d just read a rave review of Straits in a local weekly, praising its Singapore-influenced cuisine, so I settled down on a silk-covered bench and tried to decide how many “small plates” I could sample without being a total pig.

My friendly server was eager to describe any menu item that piqued my curiosity (and couldn’t help asking why I was photographing my food). She assured me that two or three plates wouldn’t be overwhelming.


The Indonesian corn croquettes were a mini-flashback to Grandma O’s recipe for Southern corn fritters, but these crispy discs came with sweet and vinagery chili-garlic sauce, not maple syrup. The corn might have been from a can, but I finished off the plate without coming to a definite conclusion.

I spent several minutes trying to guess what the barbecue sauce on the “Bali-style” spare ribs might be, and finally called the server back. She returned from the kitchen with a list of ingredients that included blue ginger, sweet soy sauce, garlic and honey. I was thinking there might be molasses or even coffee, the flavor was so deep and rich.

I also tried poh pia, a fresh spring roll (not deep-fried) with the interesting addition of Chinese sausage to the more standard bits of shrimp, shredded carrot, jicama, peanuts and cooked egg. The plate included two slashes of plum sauce and sriracha, neither of which was as spicy as advertised.

The food was good, but I really enjoyed the house-made lemongrass-mint soda. Each sip started with citrus flavor, then the herbal note of the lemongrass, followed by refreshing mint. I can’t imagine a more cooling summertime drink.

47 restaurants in 47 days: #22, MarketBar

MarketBar
One Ferry Building
San Francisco

We were on another foodie run, primarily for more Recchiuti chocolate. (This week’s special: “whoppie pies,” devils’ food cake with house-made marshmallow filling and a coating of bittersweet chocolate. I haven’t tried mine yet, but it smells like the best Easter basket ever. But I digress.)

It was after 7 p.m., the food market was closing, and we were four hungry people. (With bags full of chocolate. Hmm...) MarketBar was the only nearby restaurant that didn’t have a two-hour wait, but it turned out to be a good choice.

The “market menu” for the day intrigued the grown-ups, and the kids appreciated the pommes frites. There was no children’s menu, but a friendly waiter offered to bring cheese pizza or plain pasta for the boys, and the fries came with a kid-sized supply of ketchup.

The starters on the prix-fixe menu included an unusual potato-chili soup with roasted corn, zucchini and epazote. It tasted pleasantly like chips and salsa. I also tried a salad of fresh butter lettuce, heirloom tomatoes, blue cheese and balsamic vinaigrette.

One of the main courses was a nicely grilled swordfish with flat beans and house-cured pancetta in a tomato beurre blanc sauce. I particularly enjoyed the other entrée we tried, a luxurious shellfish risotto. Risotto can be bland and unimaginative, but this one must have contained as much protein as rice. There were chunks of lobster, Dungeness crab, sea scallops, mussels, shrimp, and clams, tossed with tomatoes, diced grilled mushrooms and zucchini.

Desserts on the market menu included tres leches cake, served with strawberry sorbet and fresh strawberries. The other was pineapple polenta cake, which turned out to be not very cake-like at all. The warm pineapple, cooked to somewhere between thin slices and a compote, was topped with a delicious coconut sorbet. Nearly hidden at the bottom was the polenta cake, which had the consistency of a crumble, almost like biscotti.

47 restaurants in 47 days: #21, Cho’s

Cho’s Restaurant
213 S. California Ave., Palo Alto

I’ve had this dim sum jones for a couple of days now. (Wouldn’t that be good name for a fictional character? Dim Sum Jones, Chinatown Detective. OK, maybe not.) So I went looking for this neighborhood institution.

You probably wouldn’t notice Cho's if you weren’t looking for it. And, as another reviewer suggested, once you notice it, you might think: Is this a restaurant, a tiny store, or a barely converted broom closet?

There’s just room inside for a one-man kitchen, two small freezers, and four tables, but there’s some cheap and yummy dim sum happening here. I picked out all my favorites for a take-away lunch -- three pork potstickers, three steamed pork dumplings, a steamed barbecued pork bun, and a steamed bun filled with sweet lotus seed paste –and paid just $5.75.

It was too much food, but I gobbled it all anyway. The filling of the sweet lotus bun tasted like honey. Craving satisfied.

47 restaurants in 47 days: #20, Cafe Kevah

Cafe Kevah
Highway 1
Big Sur, CA













This part of California feels like you're on the edge of the earth, and Cafe Kevah is a good place for a light meal to go with that feeling.

The cafe is the little sister to Nepenthe, a fixture on this swervy scenic section of Highway 1 since the '60s. Reviewers complain that Nepenthe's food is average and overpriced, but it's worth a few extra bucks as far as I'm concerned to relax and gaze upon this shoreline.

We ordered a lavish French toast made from brioche stuffed with blueberry cream cheese; a bright and tangy salad of arugula, goat cheese, and orange sections; and toasted sourdough bread. Raucous, fearless Steller's jays hovered and hopped close by, one making so bold as to carry off a crust of bread before we could say shoo. (C calls them "mohawk jays," for the tuft of black feathers on top of their heads.)

On the street

It's a weekday afternoon in downtown San Francisco, on and around Market Street. It's been a while since I moved to the suburbs, and I have forgotten what it's like to be part of a racially and culturally diverse city.

I spy a laundromat clothes basket, a wire basket on wheels, like a grocery-store cart, with a rod overhead for hanging clothes. It's parked on the sidewalk, no laundromat nearby, and it's filled with bright red fire extinguishers. No one else seems to notice it; no one appears to claim it.

A middle-aged Asian woman passes me on the sidewalk, neatly dressed in a bright printed T-shirt and baseball cap. She is carrying an empty plastic bag and holding up a large pair of kitchen tongs. This mystery, at least, is partially explained when she pauses and uses the tongs to root through a trash can.

Someone is calling out, at intervals, "BAAH-dy oil!" Body oil? I think it's one of the street vendors set up at tables and tents in the plaza, but then I trace the voice to a man in black T-shirt and jeans, striding down the sidewalk ahead of me. He has no table or suitcase, nothing in his hands.

A group of young people, all in black and denim and metal and leather, cross the street. In the lead is a tall guy with long dreadlocks gathered at the back of his neck, topped by a black three-cornered hat, like a pirate.

My destination is the Market Street Gallery, currently showing "Reinventing Barbie - The 5th Annual Altered Barbie" show. Seventy-five artists are exhibiting photography, quilts, video and 3-D art described as "their reworking of the American toy staple." My original target was the Matisse exhibit at SFMOMA, but who could resist Altered Barbie? Not this girl.

The gallery is closed, with a note on the door, "Back in 30 minutes." Does that mean 5 minutes from now, or 30? I'm approached by a distressingly young woman who just wants 30 cents for a soda. I don't want to linger.

I pass a store selling sporting goods and Army surplus. A sign in the window reads, "Burning Man supplies - goggles - camo/desert netting - parachutes."

A few blocks away, the glitzy shopping malls begin, luring tourists. I pass a man who appears at first to be a maintenance worker, wearing a faded cap, a blue work shirt and jeans. He holds a long copper pipe, taller than himself, loosely under one arm, resting one end on the ground. In one hand, he clutches a used paper plate flat against his stomach. The other hand is outstretched, to no one in particular, to everyone.

Later in the afternoon, I see the lady with the tongs again, on the same block. Now she's lugging two stuffed plastic bags, still brandishing the tongs.

47 restaurants in 47 days: #19, Rappa's

Rappa's Seafood Restaurant
Fisherman's Wharf
Monterey, Calif.

A bowl of creamy clam chowder, some sourdough bread, and a seaside view. A restaurant doesn't need to offer much more than this to satisfy me.

Rappa's has been feeding tourists and perhaps even some genuine fishermen since 1952, so it must be doing something right; location isn't everything.

Fisherman's Wharf was once home to one of the world's largest sardine fishing fleets. Now the fish are mostly contained in the world-class Monterey Bay Aquarium, at the other end of Cannery Row, and the main draws at the Wharf are salt water taffy, souvenirs, and restaurants.

















We ate good pasta, a decent snapper in a Sicilian vegetable sauce, and nicely pan-fried fillets of sand dab, a local specialty. Nothing startling or lavish, but I left feeling as though I'd had dinner, not a touristy experience.





Vocal local.

Getting out of town

Palo Alto is a nearly perfect place in which to while away the summer days. But every once in a while you have to get away from the gourmet bistros and the omnipresent Wi-Fi and go in search of something upon which to rest the eyes.

So first we drove to Big Basin State Park, less than an hour away in the Santa Cruz Mountains, to crane our necks at some redwoods.

It brings back great memories of childhood trips out West in our family's little motorhome: campfires and s'mores with bats swooping overhead, mountain snow on the Fourth of July, the first time I really saw moonshadow.



This "cave" is the upturned roots a redwood that fell in 1983, barely missing the park's amphitheater. The hollow portion in the center goes back quite a bit, at least as far as a nine-year-old carrying a six-foot branch was willing to go without a flashlight.



Last weekend we drove down Highway 1 along the shoreline to Big Sur. It was cloudy and foggy for most of the way, but just as we were heading north for our temporary home, the sun broke through to illuminate this edge of the coast.








Julia Pfeifer Burns State Park, Calif.

47 restaurants in 47 days: #18, Cafe Borrone

Cafe Borrone
1010 El Camino Real
Menlo Park, CA

I end up spending a lot of time here, for several reasons. Cafe Borrone has a large outdoor seating area, with a fountain that masks some of the traffic noise from busy El Camino Real. There's free Wi-Fi, and it's right next door to Kepler's, one of the few remaining independent bookstores in the area. And, it's just a block away from my gym, an easy choice for lunch after a mid-day workout.

But these things wouldn't matter much if the food and the coffee weren't so good. One morning I had scrambled eggs topped with the freshest salsa and avocado. Another time I tried an Italian torta, very filling with big chunks of sausage and artichoke hearts.

Most salads and entrees come with a nicely chewy baguette -- not just a few slices, but practically the whole loaf, which makes this bread-head happy.

And another thing that keeps me coming back: The servers are invariably smiling and cheerful. It really makes a difference.

47 restaurants in 47 days: #17, Montrio Bistro

Montrio Bistro

414 Calle Principal

Monterey, CA

Montrio Bistro was once a firehouse, but no traces of that past remain. The interior is clean and modern yet warm, with copper accents and a wrought-iron grapevine and trellis overhead. Puffy white "clouds" hovering near the ceiling reminded me of rising bread dough. Guess I was hungry.

Chef Tony Baker's food is far from firehouse chow. Dishes are creative and playful in their presentation. The menu offers a lot of choices, listing appetizers, "small bites," salads, entrees and "casual fare."

The fire-roasted artichoke was deemed "the best I've ever had" by my partner in dining -- not surprising, considering that Monterey is surrounded by artichoke farms. The apple-basalmic vinaigrette and Mediterranean relish were almost too sweet, an unusual pairing with the artichoke.

We also enjoyed the crispy-crusted avocado with ceviche (bottom right, minus a few bites). The Dungeness crab-mango cones didn't quite live up to expectations -- not enough flavor of either crab or mango -- although I had to admire the presentation. The cone was a little sweet, like a waffle cone for ice cream, which suited the other flavors.

Then I tried a pork chop with apple-currant compote -- thickly cut, almost a little roast on the plate -- served with a yummy cheddar-jalopeno corn cake, like a very moist cornbread in consistency. I admired but did not sample the Muscovy duck confit, served over a mixed-bean cassoulet.

47 restaurants in 47 days: #16, Foodie field trip, part 2

Tsar Nicoulai Caviar Cafe
Ferry Building Marketplace
Embarcadero @ Market
San Francisco

After a day of museum visits and walking around one of my favorite cities, I was looking for a place to have a light dinner before catching a train home.

I almost took a seat at the market's seafood bar, attracted by the view of late-afternoon sunlight on the bay and the first rush of commuters heading toward the ferries. Instead, I went for a splurge: a caviar-tasting bar.

The U-shaped bar at Tsar Nicoulai Caviar Cafe seats 15 and offers a small menu of caviar samplings and caviar "tapas plates." The menu invites the visitor to sip a glass of bubbly "while purling our renowned California Estate Osetra on your palate." I know next to nothing about caviar, and I thought purling had something to do with knitting, but here was an opportunity to taste and compare.

Tsar Nicoulai heavily promotes its sustainable farming methods and states that its product rivals imported caviar. Sturgeon, the type of fish traditionally associated with caviar, are endangered in the wild.

I chose a flight of three caviars paired with generous pours of sparkling wines from Schramsberg, a Calistoga, Calif. vineyard.

The caviar arrived on house-made blini, thin pancakes made from organic buckwheat, each with a dollop of crème fraiché.

My favorite was the Estate Osetra caviar (left). The buttery texture and the combination of salty and fishy flavors was just right.

The Hackleback Sturgeon Caviar (center) was a little too salty for me, and the Paddlefish Sturgeon Caviar (right) tasted a little too strongly of fish.

The three wines -- 2002 Blanc de Blancs, 2001 "J" Brut Rose, and 2002 Domaine Carneros Brut -- were not as dry as I expected but enjoyable with the caviar.

Another time, I'd try the "Parisian" sandwich: sushi-grade ahi tuna with creme fraiche, capers, red onions, a sunny-side-up quail egg, and golden whitefish caviar served on a toasted bun.

On the Boardwalk

Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk
Santa Cruz, CA
















I have not yet grown too old for amusement parks.





































No, I didn't try the deep-fried Twinkies. Even in the interest of research. I just couldn't.