Battle of the blades: Chop't vs. sweetgreen

"Fast food" and "fresh salad" don't have to be mutually exclusive. I've enjoyed veggie-filled bowls at two local salad purveyers, Chop't Creative Salad and sweetgreen. Both shops offer fresh, creative combinations that make it easy to eat your colors. But if they were side by side, I'd head for sweetgreen. Here's why.

There's some esthetics involved. The Bethesda branch of sweetgreen is a light, airy space, with all of the ingredients clearly presented below eye level, behind glass. Chop't is darker, and the diner has to peer over a tall stainless-steel counter to watch the salad assembly.

At first, I thought the Chop't folks' exuberant use of the mezzaluna was a showy gimmick. Did I really want my meal to be minced? But the chopping does serve to mix the ingredients thoroughly, perhaps more than can be achieved by tossing.

Caution: When the Chop't menu says "spicy," it's for real. (Another key word: "chili.") I like a little heat, but both of the dressings I've tried were potent, more heat than flavor. And I asked for light dressing.

sweetgreen was founded in DC by three Georgetown students in 2007. I'm happy to support local businesses, and I like its use of local ingredients, always highlighted and sourced on a prominent chalkboard.

This is the only salad I have ever craved: sweetgreen's Spicy Sabzi. Organic baby spinach and shredded kale with spicy quinoa, spicy broccoli, carrots, raw beets, basil, sprouts and roasted tofu, boosted with a Sriracha-spiked carrot chili vinaigrette.

Veggies don't have to be dutiful and dull!

Dinner with the pirate chef

Lafitte
Pier 5, The Embarcadero
San Francisco

Chef Russell Jackson invites adventurous diners to approach the plank, a six-seat bar at the edge of Lafitte's open kitchen. There he seems to compose dishes on the fly, combining disparate ingredients that sometimes meld, sometimes shout, but always excite.

Lafitte, at Pier 5 on the Embaracadaro, opened a little more than a year ago. Its market-driven menu changes daily and harks back to Chef Jackson's days as the Dissident Chef at the helm of SubCulture Dining, an underground supper club. Subscribers received passwords and were instructed to call a phone number to learn the secret location of each night's meal.

As we perused Lafitte's intriguing cocktail menu, the chef claimed to have no idea what he was about to set before us. "You're early," he commented, not at all fazed. He chortled as he rummaged through the refrigerator, pulling out mostly unidentifiable bagged foodstuffs.

My drink, the Mohawk, smoothly blended sweetness and a hint of spice with Russell's Reserve bourbon and a generous twist of lemon. The chef was carefully carving slices of hard cheese, which he combined in a bag with sprigs of fresh thyme and olive oil and set to simmering in sous vide.

The first plate started things off with a flourish: a rosy chunk of pate de fois gras, a spoonful of house-made applesauce, crystalline cava jelly, Chinese fleur de sel, and Italian orange oil drizzled over all. A lively bundle of flavors, but they played nicely with each other, and the fois gras was superb.

As I watched Jackson compose the next course, all I could think was, "How is that going to work?" A thin slice of pure white Iberian lardo went down next to a similar portion of compressed cucumber, adorned with pickled lychee, crushed hazelnuts, extra-virgin olive oil, and slivered Italian prunes. It was smooth, chewy and crunchy; rich, nutty, tart and fruity. Each bite held your interest, and how often can you say that about a salad?

"Spicy time!" the chef announced, presenting grilled padrone peppers, quail, and cherries resting on a wash of pepper jelly and spiked with fresh marjoram. The first-of-the-season cherries were meltingly soft from the grill and moderated the heat of the padrones. Jackson described finding the unusually large peppers in the farmers' market and surmised that a week of warm weather had given them extra bite.

The sun went down and the Bay Bridge lit up, framed by large windows set in bare concrete walls. We watched Jackson sampling ingredients as he plated, smiling broadly. Once he tasted, frowned, then pitched that bag in the trash. "Candied fennel. Didn't work out."

A heavenly, lemony scent wafted from a bowl of fresh pasta, twisted tubes topped with shreds of braised rabbit, peas, and dollops of ricotta that had been soured with Meyer lemon juice and dressed with the reserved whey. I was so enraptured that I didn't put my fork down 'til the big bowl was empty (thus, no picture!).

Next came... hmmm. Pork with anchovies? Intensely meaty Iberican pork tenderloin held its own against the salty briny flavor, along with onions, capers, and radishes washed in a poussin demi-glace. "A marriage made in heaven," Jackson declared. "Surf and turf." I wasn't so certain; it made me think of those couples whose relationships seem to consist mostly of high volume and drama. A little too much excitement for my tastes.

Jackson handed us porcelain spoons, each holding a smooth brown sphere. "Chocolate fois gras salty ball," he intoned, gravely advising me to eat it in one bite. He cackled at my reaction when the ball popped like a balloon in my mouth, spilling liquid salty chocolate richness.

The cheese finally re-appeared. It was Manchego, and the warm bath hadn't softened it at all, just infused it with herbal flavors, with the added touch of a cherry reduction.

Our final course was startling: a gin cocktail and a Meyer lemon souffle. The Corpse Reviver, despite its name, was a softly fruity, floral drink. I admit a bias against souffles that don't contain chocolate, but this one was perfectly textured, pure lemon sweetness.






It was a roller coaster of a meal, but hugely enjoyable, and a fascinating glimpse of an original chef in his element.

Cuisine Contra + PinkLine Project = Valentine fun

Cuisine Contra
Mexican Cultural Center
Washington, DC

Valentine's Day has always left me cold. Too many expectations, too much drama. It's the worst night of the year to go out for dinner. (OK, maybe New Year's Eve is worse.) Diners in search of a romantic evening face crowds and overpriced prix-fixe menus.

Cuisine Contra's Valentine event was the perfect antidote to stale custom and saccharine sentiment. Grown-up but not fuddy-duddy. Zesty but not outré.

You have an idea that you're going to an interesting event when you're asked to submit, along with your payment, a story of a time that you tried to seduce someone. (If the stories were ever made public, it occurred late in the evening, after I left the event.)

We were in good hands when it came to the food. Top Chef contestant Mike Isabella, formerly of Zaytinya, was trying out dishes for his new restaurant, Graffiato, set to open this spring in Penn Quarter.

We sampled a homey pulled-chicken dish, cheesy grits, garlicky shrimp and a light creamy pasta. A charcuterie platter held thin slices of an intriguingly spiced meat that looked deceptively like bologna. A server claimed that the delicious beet salad contained chocolate; as in a Spanish mole sauce, the flavor was imperceptable. The sole concession to Valentine tradition, tiny cups of chocolate-hazelnut mousse, was sumptuous.

I lingered in the solarium/cafe, drawn by the cocktails made from St. Germain elderflower liquor and sparkling wine. There was a sleek and simple DIY photo booth, and books of romantic and erotic poetry on every table. When was the last time you went to a party where guests actually read aloud?

Cuisine Contra is part of the Pink Line Project, which describes itself as "a catalyst for the culturally curious" and a booster for the local arts scene.

The woman in the flowered skirt (chicken wire covered with paper flowers) was acting as Cupid. If you spotted an interesting stranger, she would deliver a message from you, along with a flower. If the targeted stranger was intrigued, s/he could meet the sender by searching for the person with a matching flower.

Speakers spark

What can you say in five minutes, and how would you say it?

Five minutes, 20 slides. That’s the premise of Ignite DC, a high-energy gathering of people with ideas and the courage to put them out in front of 300+ strangers

Ignite DC #6, held last week, had the flavor of a Tweetup and the velocity of a speed-dating event. Sixteen speakers each had 20 slides, which advanced automatically every 15 seconds.

Who were the speakers? Ignite’s Web site promised “artists, technologists, thinkers and personalities.” I heard from a marketing student and a life coach, a DJ and a policy analyst, an artist and a hacker, among others.

The evening’s organizers -- DC entrepreneur Jared Goralnick and public relations strategist and local blogging guru Geoff Livingston – kept the program moving. None of the 16 speakers went over their time, I noticed with admiration. Each presentation was focused, well paced and delivered with verve.

If your time is brief, an introduction with a catchy title creates a flurry of interest right at the start. Here are some of my favorites from the event:

- Why Jack Bauer Needs a Nap: He’d make better decisions if he could get out from under that 24-hour stress, which must be wreaking havoc on his mind and body. Life coach Alison Elissa made her point with humor and offered a gentle reminder to all.

- Heather Coleman titled her presentation simply “Help!” then grabbed our attention with her first sentence: “If you saw a naked woman running down the road, would you stop your car?” Any snickering stopped as she revealed that she had been that woman, in the grip of severe postpartum psychosis. Tragedy was averted only by a traffic jam and some helpful strangers.

- I Suffer from… FOMO: Right away, the listener wonders, what is FOMO? Should I be worried? FOMO is Fear Of Missing Out, Shana Glickfield opined in a cheerfully self-deprecating sketch. Glickfield, an online communications consultant, described overbooking herself, spending too much money, and stressing out friends and relatives in an attempt to avoid what she described as “the worst thing a person with FOMO can hear: `You should have been there!’”

Glickfield ended the program with laughter and a light-hearted reminder to look away from the screen once in a while, pay attention to the live world around you.

2941 for $20.11

2941
Falls Church, Va.

There's a fair amount of griping in the blogosphere about DC's annual Restaurant Week: the menus are uninspired, the crowds are annoying, the service is poor, the prices aren't that great. But I don't think anyone left 2941 dissatisfied last week, judging from the meal I enjoyed and the full house at a weekday lunch.

The chestnut velouté was the perfect starter on a bitterly cold day. Rich and slightly sweet, it could have been dessert, but for its garnish of savory sauteed mushrooms. Hidden beneath the mushrooms was "Armagnac custard," another sweetish note, a spoon-sized flan.

The other appetizer on the three-course set menu ($20.11 during Restaurant Week) was a colorful paté de compagne studded with chopped pistachios. My dining companion left no trace of it behind.

I wavered between the three entree choices. I rarely turn down scallops, and I almost ordered the lemon risotto just to see how it incorporated the bizarre citrus fruit called Buddha's hand. But in the end I chose a quintessential winter dish: quail wrapped in bacon, served with kale and white beans. It was a rich and comforting delight.









If I could have asked for seconds, I would have done so for the dessert. I nearly headed straight for the chocolate dacquoise, thinking that an Earl Grey pot de cremé might be too much of that distinctive bergamot flavor. But this dessert was sublime. I alternated bites of the perfectly smooth custard with the delicious walnut brioche bostock, like an airy madeleine.

The service was leisurely -- OK, it was slow. But I was savoring the last of my dessert, lingering with good friends over coffee, so you won't hear any complaints from me.

Beguiling Zola

Zola

800 F Street NW
Washington, DC

Perhaps it was Zola's location next door to the International Spy Museum, "where nothing is what it seems." Or maybe I was a little light-headed, as it was lunch time and I had not yet eaten that day. Somehow, I had no idea what I was actually ordering at Zola, yet my meal turned out remarkably well.

Perhaps chef Bryan Moscatello wants Zola diners to be caught off guard. Zola's menu underwent a "rejuvenation" in November, resulting in a prix-fixe evening menu, served in the Chef's Tasting Room, and an a la carte menu for the Bar Room, an "innovative bold American mix of casual and heartier fare." I was seated in the bar, an elegant, comfortable space with floor-to-ceiling windows.

When I chose the Baby Green appetizer, I was expecting a layered pastry structure filled with vegetables. The menu described the dish as "candied endive-pecan strudel, roast shallots, pomegranate vinaigrette." What I received was a salad, and I almost told the waiter that he'd made a mistake. But then I looked closer.

The "strudel" was actually a novel take on a crouton, nutty rich bundles of phyllo with a slightly sweet filling. The overall color of the salad was unfortunately brownish gray, rather like gravy, due to the thick dressing, but the roasted-shallot flavor was very tasty. Pomegranate seeds added welcome color and crunch, so important in a winter salad.

There was something for every taste in the bread basket. The pumpkin bread was flavorful but undistinguished. I preferred the chewy olive rolls and the spicy paper-thin seeded flatbread. (The little pyramid in the picture is butter, flavored with pink salt.)

As I ordered my entree, I managed to overlook both the term "orata" and the menu heading that clearly stated "fish and meat." All that registered was "sunchoke tortellini, lemon sabayon, spinach garlic chips," and I was looking for a plate of pasta. The tortellini did turn out to be the highlight of the dish, but I also enjoyed the nicely cooked fish and its rich and buttery broth, which was delicious with the spinach.

When the dessert menu appeared, I was tempted to order "peanut butter and jelly daggers," described as "mini air baguettes filled with peanut butter mousse and house made jam." Curious! Alas, I couldn't do any dessert justice that day.

The cocktail menu was alluring, too, featuring locally produced mixers such as almond-based orgeat syrup and cinnamon-infused Grenadine.

I plan to return some evening and investigate both menus further.

CSA week 7: Succotash

There wasn't much cooking going on this week, as I cleaned out my fridge in the aftermath of a multi-day power outage.

After cooking dinner for friends one night, I had several ears of corn left over. This made me think of a delicious succotash I had once, made with fresh lima beans.

Limas can be pretty starchy, and I don't think much of them when they've been frozen. The fresh beans are a different matter. I sauteed chopped onion in olive oil, then added lightly steamed lima beans, minced garlic, the corn, and some farmstand tomatoes.

I modeled my succotash on this recipe from Epicurous. Topping the vegetables with slivered fresh basil was a nice touch. It made for a fresh-tasting side dish with grilled chicken and shrimp.

Not-so-fun fact: raw lima beans can be toxic! Lima beans are one of many plants that protect themselves from herbivores by storing a naturally occurring form of cyanide. Cooking the bean destroys the toxin.

Mussel Bar conquers Bethesda

Mussel Bar
Bethesda, Md.

The long-awaited Mussel Bar in Bethesda, Chef Robert Wiedmaier's latest venture, has been hopping from the start. A few weeks after opening, at 7 pm on a Friday night, there was an hour-long wait for a four-top, and they're not taking reservations.

Last Thursday at noon, however, there was no wait for a table. The gastropub's decor is dark and comfortable, with simple wooden booths, black and white photographs on the walls, and a sculptural metal light fixture adorned with beer bottles.

I was surprised to see Chef Wiedmaier himself -- at a weekday lunch service? -- intently surveying the dining room, occasionally stopping a waiter to examine a plate or alter his serving technique.

I don't normally drink beer at lunch, but I couldn't resist a citrusy, spicy Blanche de Bruxelles Belgian wheat beer. Just reading the Mussel Bar's beer menu is entertaining: Delirium Tremens, Gouden Carolus Hopsinjoor, Ommegang Hennepin, Corsendonk Agnus Dei, Allagash Curieux, Unibroue La Terrible.

The mussels were so fresh, sweet and briny that I ate more than I intended. The "classic" broth of roasted garlic, shallots and sauvignon blanc was worthy of sopping with bread or frites.

The frites were good, not great. They arrived wrapped in a paper cone, in the same specialized metal server that I remembered from Brasserie Beck. There were holders for three types of mayonnaise for dipping, but our server contained only one. (By the time I noticed this, there were too few frites left to make it worth mentioning.)

The most eye-opening dish was this salad of roasted beets with grapefruit, cumin-spiced yogurt, preserved lemon and golden raisins. The mingling of earthy, tart and sweet flavors was incredible, first bite to last.

I'd happily return to have that salad all to myself and try another Belgian witbeer. I'd also have another go at the mussels; imagine red Indonesian curry with peanut essence, or grilled pineapple with sweet chili garlic. The pizzas coming out of the wood-fired oven also looked like fitting accompaniment to a good beer.

Spring Poste

Poste
555 8th St NW @ Hotel Monaco
Washington, DC

Chef Rob Weland of Poste urges visitors to "eat simply and elegantly," and on a recent weeknight visit we did just that. The simplicity of the meal lay in the freshness of its seasonal ingredients. I wouldn't call these dishes simple, though.

My first course was a chilled soup of English peas and nettles, topped with sheep's milk yogurt "sorbet" and tiny crispy lardo croutons. Anyone who thinks peas are bland would be startled by the intense flavors of this soup. It was springtime in a spoon.

I hesitated to order rabbit -- for some reason, I think of this ingredient, of any braised meat, as cold-weather fare. But I was intrigued by the accompaniments, and the result was a happy combination.

The rabbit was braised in red wine and served with caramelized fennel, poppy-seed tagliatelle, and hen-of-the-woods mushrooms. The fennel was a revelation, and the poppy seed was a striking counterpoint to the rabbit. The crispy roasted mushrooms were practically addictive.

I took tiny bites of everything on my plate, trying to make it last longer. I also enjoyed a taste of the buttery asparagus carbonara, with white and green asparagus and lightly charred ramps.

Chef Weland offers farm-market dinners on Thursdays through the summer and fall. Guests accompany Weland to the Freshfarm Market in Penn Quarter and select ingredients for that night's five-course tasting menu. They might also tour the restaurant's on-site organic garden.

Sounds like a good excuse to check out a new farmers' market. Or maybe I'll get a group of friends together for the Poste Roast, a family-style meal served in the garden and highlighting meat and fish spit-roasted over an open fire.

Sips & small plates @ Sei

Sei
444 7th Street NW
Washington, DC

Sei was glowing and glamorous on a cold winter night. The decor is all warm and creamy whites, with touches of red. Candlelight looked especially good on this space.

Curiosity made me order a cocktail called Hello Kitty: vanilla vodka, St. Germain elderflower liquor, muddled lemon and orange, and hibiscus "bubbles." The list of ingredients sounds overly perfumed, but the drink was unusual and not too sweet. Another time, I would try the Japanese whiskey sour made with five-spice-infused syrup.

Several of the more attention-getting items on the menu were not available that night, probably because the city was still digging out from Snowmagedden 2010. I wanted to try the foie gras sushi with daikon, teriyaki berry glaze, and yuzu; the sea-bass sliders with apricot-chili glaze and yuzu slaw; and a few of the more unusual sushi rolls, but as I named each one, the waiter shook his head, and it became almost a joke between us.

We started with toro tartar (sic), with wasabi guacamole, salmon roe, and lemon soy espuma. It turned out to be something like a briny Mexican seven layer dip, scooped with crispy wontons.

I ordered pork buns expecting to get the fluffy white steamed type, but I was happy with a plate of flaky pastries, stuffed with richly flavored meat. The Kobe beef sliders with tomato jam and tempura onion rings were good, but not too far from what you might get at an upscale happy hour.

The "snow white roll" -- eel, avocado, roasted apple, sweet soy and sansho (Szechuan pepper) -- had no discernible apple flavor, just a mild sweetness that suited the eel. Other dishes -- a hand roll made from a wasabi crepe and duck confit -- and the sauteed shrimp were satisfying but not distinctive.

I would go to Sei again if I was looking for an unusual cocktail and some interesting tapas, Asian style. It was a good setting for a sophisticated, pre-theater dinner date.

Spaghetti & meatballs for dessert

IndeBleu
707 G St. NW
Washington, DC

Indebleu gets you talking about your food, and the conversation won't be dull.

When my friend insisted that we have spaghetti and meatballs for dessert -- at an Indian-French fusion restaurant? -- I figured it was a typo in her e-mail. Not at all. The server brought a potato ricer to our table and held it over a plate. The product looked like pasta, but it was saffron-cardamom ice cream, delicious with the gulab jamun "meatballs," donut balls in a not-too-sweet syrup. Next time, I'm not sharing!

We swooned over the sauteed fois gras topped with chocolate and served on brioche with a port-wine reduction. Imagine the richest chocolate croissant you've ever had, but meaty. (I will not be sharing this one, either.)

I didn't catch the name of the co-owner, a cheerful woman who stopped to ask if we were enjoying our meal, but I flagged her down the next time she passed so that I could rave about the spring-mushroom pasta with English peas, crispy greens and a bit of curry. I think I said something like, "This is what all pasta aspires to be." I can't remember the last time that a bite of pasta cleared my mind of all coherent thoughts other than "ummmm."

Some of the more exotic-sounding dishes (snow pea nest, curried shrimp fries) were tasty but not stand-outs. Half of the dinner menu was small plates, encouraging experimentation.

I'm trying to imagine "duck chili relleno," a chili pepper stuffed with duck confit, spinach and queso fresco, topped with basil vermouth cream and sherried cashews. I'm not certain that the chef can achieve fusion here, but I'd be willing to give it a chance.

Playing with our food @ Alinea

Alinea
1723 North Halsted
Chicago

A meal at Alinea is surprising and funny. Nothing is what you expect, but when the dishes are revealed, they are thought-provoking and delightful.

This was my second visit, and I enjoyed all the little things that impressed me the first time. The plain storefront that you might easily pass by if not for the smiling valet who opens the door. The tunnel-like foyer that seems to close around you as you walk forward, searching for the entrance, and the unexpected sliding door that opens automatically, silently at your left. The plenitude of sharp-dressed staff who greet you with impeccable yet informal courtesy.

B & I opted for the full tour, 22 courses. This sounds like a stupendous amount of food, but most dishes consist of just few intriguing bites or sips.

The unusual serving pieces pictured above conveyed Alinea's version of bacon and sweet potato pie. The strip of bacon was flavored with butterscotch, apple and thyme. The "pie," in its whisk-like cradle, arrived with a smoldering cinnamon stick as an accent to the flavors of bourbon and brown sugar.

Here are more of my favorite plates from the evening.

Pork belly was served in a delicate cup formed from pressed iceberg lettuce and cucumber. A "Thai distillation" was a non-alcoholic shot that somehow gave a whirlwind tour of a Bangkok kitchen in a single swallow: lemongrass, chili peppers without the heat, fish sauce. It reminded me of Willy Wonka's chewing-gum meal, without the unpleasant side effects. (See "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," by Roald Dahl.)

Our server seemed to enjoy describing this "edible utensil." The dish began with yuba, also called tofu skin or bean skim, a thin sheet that forms when soy milk is boiled. The yuba was rolled into a stick and deep-fried, then wrapped in shrimp with miso and togarashi, a peppery Japanese condiment.





Here we have steak and potatoes, Alinea style. We were encouraged to dip bites of Wagyu beef into the sprinkle of powdered A-1 sauce on the plate.





This sweet dish of rhubarb, goat milk, and onion was accompanied by "lavender air." The plate rested on a cloth pillow, which emitted the scent of lavender blossoms as it gradually deflated.





Another sweet course was this arrangement of pound cake, strawberry, lemon and vanilla bean.










The penultimate dish was literally all over the table. Servers removed everything from the table, then spread a new covering of velvety silicone. Chef Grant Achatz arranged our dessert directly on the silicone, applying dollops and swirls of blueberries and sauce, whipped cream, and gel bubbles filled with essences of maple and tobacco.

Just in time, a server brought an odd frosty chunk, which the chef placed in the center of his creation and cracked into smaller pieces. It was chocolate mousse that had been frozen with liquid nitrogen. The final touch was more blueberry, dried into translucent sheets and stuck upright like sails. The frozen mousse softened quickly, and it was fun to scoop up spoonfuls of the sweet fruity rubble.

I asked Chef Achatz why he chose to compose the dessert this way. He talked about how he wanted to remove the restrictions imposed by a plate or serving platter. Later, I found an article by Achatz describing how this "plating" evolved in his kitchen. The essay is on the Web site of The Atlantic.

Have a look at Alinea's Web site for beautiful photographs of the food and the restaurant itself.

Calafia bounty

Calafia Cafe
855 El Camino Real
Palo Alto


Calafia opened earlier this year, heralded by full-page ads in the local newspaper. Chef Charlie Ayers is known for being the original chef at Google and, before that, personal chef to the Grateful Dead.

The spare interior is inviting. A communal table at the front of the room is made of reclaimed redwood; overhead is a long chandelier composed of 66 amber glass milk bottles.

A first visit for brunch, about a week after the opening, revealed a few rough edges. French toast had a lovely orange-cinnamon aroma; inside, however, it lacked the proper egg/bread fusion. Sourdough pancakes were fluffy and generously sized, but one was frankly burnt and should not have reached the table.

















The best dish was chicken fideo, a spicy noodle entree. A cumin-scented tofu scramble looked a little messy but tasted great, and came with a good-sized portion of crispy-velvety hash browns.

















I returned for a mid-week lunch and was greeted in the parking lot by a lovely smoky scent from the woodburning oven. My affable server confirmed that my choice of small plates would not be an overwhelming amount of food for a solo diner. He also made wine recommendations confidently and offered a second choice if I wasn't pleased by my first selection.

If all vegetables were as delicious as my bowl of braised greens with almond butter, no one would have trouble getting their recommended daily allowance. The chard was cooked with onions and turmeric, lightly sweetened with dried cranberries and topped with toasted walnuts.

Lamb meatballs looked like party food, skewered with cubes of toasted bread and Manchego cheese, then dipped in a sweet and savory tomato sauce. I was glad I didn't try to resist the crispy fries; I ate more than I intended, trying to decipher their spice mix. Garlic, definitely; cumin, maybe; sweet paprika?

Calafia's pyramid of "death by chocolate" is worth the caloric binge. Real whipped cream, intense chocolate flavor, super-strong (not burned) coffee... sip, repeat.

I've been back since then for an evening meal, and every dish has been a winner. Thoughtful touches abound. Nearly half of the seats in the house are barstools facing the shiny open kitchen, but there are purse hooks and a thick wooden beam at the ideal height for a footrest. The hostess who seated us saw me shrugging off my jacket and returned to hang up my coat.

Servers take your order on hand-held devices that allow you to settle your bill at the table. Coffee is brewed a cup at a time using a Clover machine, an $11,000 built-to-order device revered by coffee fanatics.

Even the servers' uniforms are designed with the customer in mind: The T-shirts helpfully provide a phonetic spelling on the back, "kal-uh-fee-ya."

Ame: Amo, amas, amat

Ame
689 Mission St
San Francisco











My delightful evening at Ame began with "forbidden fruit," a cocktail composed of pear-spiced vodka, cinnamon quince puree, apple and lemon juice, apricot brandy, and Angostura bitters. It smelled like an exotic flower, but the taste was not overly sweet.

I almost didn't order this drink, because it sounded like too many disparate ingredients. Likewise, Ame's Web page describes the approach of chefs Hiro Sone and Lissa Doumani as "a refined blending of local ingredients with the flavors of southern France and northern Italy, filtered through Hiro's Japanese culinary sensibilities." Somehow, this succeeds.

B and I ordered the tasting menu, the prudent choice for both the indecisive and the adventurous. The colorful first course offered three goodies: scallop ceviche with candied jalapeno and watermelon radish, seared tuna with ponzu vinaigrette, and trout sashimi served with roe, asparagus and heart of palm. Next came oxtail soup with green garlic and farro verde, and rich oxtail tortelloni.

Another brothy plate followed: broiled sake- marinated black cod in shiso broth. The fish was slightly sweet and very lightly cooked.



My favorite savory plate was the grilled beef strip loin steak with poutine and green onions. Traditional poutine, I discovered, is Canadian comfort food: French fries topped with fresh cheese curds and brown gravy. This version was more elegant, but just as comforting, with a bed of crispy-starchy cubed potatoes beneath the well-marbled beef.

Desserts did not disappoint. I enjoyed the frozen banana cream pie parfait with white chocolate and rum caramel sauce. But when I think "pie," I think of flaky crust -- not an artistic dusting of crumbs on the plate. Why not just call it a parfait? And I would have liked more than a few dots of sauce on the plate.

B kindly let me taste his dessert, but he was quick to move it back to his side of the table, and I didn't blame him. Semolina pudding fritters were a little like beignets, and the lively citrus salad and elderflower soda pop kept the taste buds interested throughout.

If we hadn't ordered the set menu, I might have tried the "staff meal:" cuttlefish noodles tossed with sea urchin, wasabi, and umami soy sauce. Even though I'm not that crazy about sea-urchin sushi. Even though I can't quite imagine cuttlefish noodles.

Or perhaps the chawan-mushi, Japanese savory custard with sea urchin, geoduck clam, shimeji mushrooms and mizuna sauce. Again, my imagination fails.

Ame's Web site has beautiful pictures of the jewel-box room and the food -- much better than I could manage with my iPhone in the dimly lit space.