In this post, I’ll be talking about Greens, an upscale vegetarian restaurant, Pauline’s Pizza and Dragon Well, a hip Chinese spot.

Greens

My new favorite restaurant (in the world, I think) is Greens at Fort Mason. It’s located in an old warehouse overlooking San Francisco Bay. According to their website, they were one of the pioneers in establishing vegetarian gastronomy in the United States. Today, this is a fine-dining restaurant that serves only the highest quality vegetarian cuisine.

On Saturday nights Greens proposes a four-course set menu ($49, not including drinks). It may be a splurge, but is well worth it. Vegetarian or not, I’m convinced the pickiest of diners will leave feeling quite satisfied. You may choose from a variety of appealing (and wholesome) appetizers, main courses and desserts. You may also opt for a selection of wines, most of which are organic and are paired with your meal choice ($28 for 2 glasses of wine, plus an aperitif).

I was at Greens celebrating a group birthday party (that’s how you do it when you, your family, and friends are scattered all over the world). Our toast to turning 30 (we were 3 college friends in the lot) started off with Alsatian crément rosé (Lucien Albrecht)- essentially rose-colored champagne. We enjoyed this with goat cheese, olives and a fennel-Satsuma salad.

Next on the list was the appetizer (and the beginning of my new-found love for Italian butter beans). I chose: grilled asparagus, artichokes and radicchio, over the aforementioned beans and topped with shavings of Andante Dairy’s Etude goat cheese. (Andante, by the way, is a California-based, single-woman-run dairy farm, that produces numerous specialty cheeses. You can find them, for example, at the Ferry Plaza Farmers’ Market that I mentioned in my last post).

My main dish: wild mushroom ravioli- so decadent it made me wish I was actually one of the mushrooms I was eating. Really. The homemade ravioli and mushrooms melted in my mouth just as much as the herbed butter that accompanied them.

And for dessert: a cheerful almond, honey tart.

No matter how much I rave about the quality of Greens’ cuisine, it won’t do it justice.

What I remember most: every single bite, the wine pairings and the view overlooking the bay.

Pauline’s Pizza

Pauline’s isn’t just any pizza restaurant: partly because they have their own organic vegetable gardens- which provide for many of the toppings on their pizzas. They also have their own vineyards. The house red, a 2006 Mourvedre, (an earthy, kind of leathery wine), accompanied the special house pizza (pesto) and the special house salad (a flirtatious combination of organic produce), quite well.

What I remember most: the noisy bustle, the crayon jar on the table, and the friendly wait staff.

Dragon Well

You can never forget a restaurant that introduces you to something new. At Dragon Well, a rather refined Chinese restaurant on Chestnut Street, it was stir-fried peas shoots. I had eyed them earlier in the week at the farmer’s market, but had never actually eaten them. I let the fact that I’m actually writing about them speak for itself. In addition to the pea shoots (a side dish), I’d recommend the Steamed Black Bean Salmon (cooked in rice wine and garnished with spinach) and the Stir-fried Curry Mi Fun (with five-spiced tofu and vermicelli noodles). At the end of your meal, you get to choose from either a traditional, or chocolate, fortune cookie.

What I remember most: the inviting smell of spices coming from the kitchen.

Addresses (all in San Francisco):

Greens

Fort Mason, Building A / Tel: (415) 771-6222 (Accept online reservations.)

Pauline’s Pizza

260 Valencia / Tel: (415) 552-2050

Dragon Well

2142 Chestnut Street / Tel: (415) 474-6888

Back from San Francisco- with lots of foodie stories to share!

When I travel, it’s all about food- well, at least 85%. It’s about trying new fare and seeing what’s in, what’s local. It’s about color and spice and just plain satisfying the palate.

Food-wise, San Francisco is a beautiful fusion of culture. I felt like I traveled the world in only a couple weeks. Sometimes I almost felt like I was back in France (French-inspired cafés and bakeries run rampant, as do fine red wines and decadent cheeses). Other times I was transported to far-off places like China, Italy, and Thailand. San Francisco is definitely the place if you like variety- high quality, healthy variety that is. What struck me most about the city is its abundance of fresh, organic produce and gourmet-style vegetarian cuisine.

You can’t write just one post on an entire trip, so I’ll be spreading my San Francisco food adventures over several days. I’ll talk about a few excellent restaurants, including my new all-time favorite, Green’s. I’ll also fill you in on tea, coffee, fortune cookies and cupcakes. Let’s start with farmers’ markets, though- essential when visiting this vibrant , farmer-friendly city.

I made it to two a couple open-air markets, but the Ferry Plaza Farmers’ Market was my favorite: a definite must if you’re in San Francisco on a Tuesday, Thursday or Saturday. Overtaking the Ferry Building Market Place in the Embarcadero neighborhood, this market has a great community vibe. It’s happy. It’s bustling. It’s full of mouth-watering samples.

My mom and I started our morning out at Frog Hollow Farm’s café just inside the Ferry Building back doors. Actually, we ended up spending more than just one morning here- thanks to the cherry almond scones and well-made coffee drinks.

Revved up and ready to go, we headed to the clock tower to meet up with a good college friend of mine and take in the humming sights, sounds and tastes of the market.

Meyer lemons were everywhere, from Frog Hollow Farm’s zest-filled lemon marmalade to lemon-flavored quark cheese. These sweet, fragrant lemons are originally from China, but are the craze in California today.

Quark cheese, originally made in Eastern Europe, proved to be a special, and addictive, find. It’s a soft cheese, kind of a cross between ricotta and cream cheese. While the garlic, lemon and vanilla flavors were all fun, we all ended up favoring the latter. The cheese naturally has a slight tang which gives a subtle kick to the vanilla. Such quark is great at breakfast, spread over warm toast or homemade scones.

We eagerly wandered from stand to stand in awe at all the edible originality for sale. Tangled kiwi vines- well, those aren’t actually edible, just a sight for the eyes. Stinging nettles- yes, those are edible, when cooked. Cap’n Mike’s Indian Smoked Salmon, (basted in honey). Herbal sugars- such as lemon (there it is again!) verbena and rose petal- and dried Thai basil at the Allstar Organics booth. Crispy, juicy Asian pears (which had a slight lemon flavor by the way).

I could go on and on, but I’ll just mention a few more finds…

On more of a French note, we encountered huge bundles of fragrant, organic lavender; some not-so-ordinary mushrooms; rich, creamy cheeses; fine red wines; and excellent renditions of real French bread. Just inside the Ferry Building doors, for example, lies Far West Fungi, a small shop that offers all sorts of intriguing mushrooms I’d never heard of before (like Nameko and Pioppini). Also inside the building is the Cowgirl Creamery, the Ferry Plaza Wine Merchant and the Acme Bread Company. The best way to combine it all (and feel a little French) is to sit down for wine, cheese, marinated mushrooms and baguette at the wine bar.

We ended up going back to the Ferry Building several times. On one such occasion, we enjoyed two 2007 Californian reds: a Scribe Pinot Noir, Carnezos-Sonoma and a Nalle Zinfandel, Dry Creek Valley. The cheese: a ½ round of Mt. Tam. The bread: an entire, fresh épi baguette.

Whether you start the day or finish it at the Ferry Plaza Market and Ferry Building merchants, you can’t go wrong. The market itself gets my “kudos for sustainability” for it’s support of local farmers and various other environmentally-friendly initiatives. The vendors, for example, only dispense bags that are compostable or recyclable- important since, as I learned, the City program doesn’t recycle just any old plastic bag!

All the market excitement almost made me wish we didn’t have dinner reservations that evening. I wanted to shop and cook, shop and cook- especially some of the stranger looking mushrooms. Fortunately, Green’s restaurant, and their mushrooms, was well worth the sacrifice.

Next post: favorite San Francisco restaurants…

Though I was hopeful for spring with my last post, this week’s on-and-off flurries of snow have officially confirmed that winter is not yet over.

In fact, this has been the strangest, coldest winter I’ve experienced in Paris so far.  Today, alone, has been proof of divine indecision: one minute, unbelievably large snowflakes are floating in the air; the next, the sky is clear and blue; and, then, it’s masked in grey, bone-chilling cold.

Whether you’re just visiting or actually living in Paris, one of the coziest escapes from the weather is shelter in one of the capital’s endless array of wine bars. Just recently, we discovered one that was especially inviting- and hidden away from any tourist crowd.

Le Rouge et le Verre is located in Paris’ 9^th arrondissement, not too far north of the Palais Garnier opera house and right near the church Notre Dame de Lorette.  This area may not get the same attention as the neighboring 1^st and 2^nd arrondissements (home, for example, to the Bibliothèque Nationale, Place Vendôme and the Louvre), but I enjoy walking around its somber streets and stepping into its cafés/bars for the unexplored, authentic atmosphere I always feel.

Soon as you walk in this cave à vin, your eyes roam the rows of wine bottles lining the walls (arranged by region and identified with rustic wooden signs, of course).  The atmosphere is relaxed and friendly- with most customers coming in to ask for pairing advice and purchase a few bottles.  In the evenings between 5pm and 8pm, however, you may enjoy a glass of wine and a plate of cheeses or charcuteries.  This is where I was introduced to a monastic cheese from Brittany called “Timanoix.”  A semi-hard cow’s milk cheese, it’s made with nut liqueur which gives it a pleasant, almost smoked and nutty flavor.        

As for the wine, Sébastien and I each ended up with a glass we’d now recommend.  With my cheese, I took a 2005 Margaux, Les Gondats de Marquis de Terme (the young man helping us said this hearty red wine would go well with the meat plate as well).  Sébastien opted for a 2007 Irancy, Domaine Heimbourger, a light and refreshing white wine.

For anyone who likes oysters, it’s the season to enjoy these, too.  You can either take them to go (sold out front) or sit and eat them with a glass of wine.

Address: 8, rue Maubeuge (9^th)

Telephone: 01 48 78 68 43

Metro: Notre Dame de Lorette

It’s snowing again, by the way…

It all started with the bourru wine I talked about in this post.

Thanks to my sister, last weekend we got the chance to visit a seventh-generation, family-owned vineyard in Cour-Cheverny, a small rural town near Blois in the Loire Valley.  After writing about bourru, Sébastien and I were wondering if it was only a tradition in Bordeaux to drink the fermented grape juice that hasn’t yet been turned into “real” wine.  On our visit to the Domaine de la Marigonnerie, we had the chance to taste the Loire Valley equivalent, bernache, right out of the fermenting vat.

Drinking this sweet, cloudy, fizzy grape juice wasn’t only special because we were able to see first-hand how wine is made, but also because we tried a couple different kinds.  My favorite was the one made from the rare cépage “romorantin.” Also the name of a nearby town, this is a grape variety that was originally brought to the Loire Valley from Burgundy by Francois I in the 16^th century.  Today it is only cultivated in this region.

Of course, “bernache” wasn’t the only wine we tasted.  We especially enjoyed the AOC Cour-Cheverny, Cuvée “vieilles vignes”- a full-fledged dry white wine made from 100% “romorantin” grapes. We were told it would pair especially well with spicy foods- of course, the adventurous New Mexican in me liked that idea.

We also enjoyed the AOC Cour-Cerverny, “Cuvée tardive”- a vin moelleux. “Cuvée tardive” means that the grapes were picked later than for a dry wine and, therefore, have a higher sugar content.  It was interesting to taste the difference between the dry and sweet wines of the same grape variety.  Mr. Daridan, who runs the vineyard, joked that this wine would go well with Maroilles, a semi-soft cows-milk cheese made in the north of France and known for it’s very strong smell!  I’ll keep you posted as soon as we try that one.

For anyone who might be in the Blois area this December 5-6, the Daridan vineyard will be hosting an open house with tasting and sales of their wine and other local products.  Check their website for more details and directions- they may come in handy on the small dirt roads!

Next post: roasted chestnuts and white wine.

Autumn doesn’t only announce it’s arrival in France with colorful leaves, but with a very unique, very young, and slightly bubbly wine called bourru.

Driving on the outskirts of Bordeaux this weekend, I noticed several handwritten signs along the roads.  “Le bourru est arrivé,” wine merchants were announcing, inviting clients to purchase the juice from the first pressed grapes of the season.

A festive mix between grape juice and sparkling wine, bourru is an extremely young wine with a small alcohol content. Taken directly out of the barrel at the end of the fermentation process, it’s still full of carbonic gas and dregs.  You won’t find it in a traditional glass wine bottle and stopped up with a cork.  Instead, it’s sold in old plastic water bottles sporting pin-sized holes in their caps.  Since this energetic liquid is just at the end of the fermentation process, the hole in the cap keeps the bottle from bursting- not so easy to carry home!

Drunk cold, bourru is fresh, sweet and quite lively, thanks to the effervescent carbonation.

Bourru is sold at wine shops at this time of the year as a way of celebrating the vendanges (grape harvest) and is traditionally drunk accompanied by roasted chestnuts, another sure sign of autumn.

We didn’t really know if we were supposed to eat the heads or not!

Looking back at our most-recent two days in the Loire Valley, I’m still proud of myself for trying the tiny fish you see in the photo.  Friture de petits poissons was listed as an appetizer on La Croisette’s menu.  We were sitting out on the restaurant’s terrasse in a very small town called Béhuard, looking over the River Loire and enjoying one of the last warm evenings of late summer.  I was in the mood for culinary adventure and began setting up my rules for the evening: (1) I wanted to eat something I’d never tried before and (2) I wanted it to be something typique de la région.  Our waiter told us these little guys had been fished right out of the River Loire.  They were then battered up, fried and served to us with fresh lemon juice and tartar sauce.  Of course, the first thing I noticed were the beady eyes and I was slightly hesitant at first, but once I got cracking, I was having fun.  When the waiter came to clear the plate, all was gone- except for a few (yep, only a few) conspicuous-looking heads.

After this came the filet de sandre au beurre blanc, a white fish in a thick butter sauce.  According to the dictionary, sandre is “pikeperch” in English (I’d definitely never heard of that one before).  We’d been told it was not only native to the River Loire, but also the best thing on the menu.  We’d also been warned not to drink water with it- because the sauce was so rich (remember oil and water don’t mix!).  Instead, one was to drink wine.  When it comes to dining, we like to follow local advice.

Since we were trying everything else local, we went for two (well, four in the end) different glasses of dry white wine from the region.  According to this site, the Loire Valley is France’s leading producer of white wines.  Here’s what we ordered: a Savennières (Domaine des Forges, Clos du Papillon) and an Anjou blanc (Domaine Mosse). Unlike many other French wines, those of the Loire Valley tend to be made from a single cépage (grape variety).  Both of these were of the variety Chenin and, served chilled, went extremely well with the sandre.  As usual, I was on the lookout for a candidate for my “extra kudos for sustainability.” This trip’s winner: Domaine Mosse, since they practice organic farming techniques in their vineyards.

Our meal came between a visit to the Chateau de Serrant and a night in the bed and breakfast La Tour Girault.  This lesser-known castle was especially impressive for two reasons: the 135-square-meter kitchen (with its eight-oven kitchen range and 900 pieces of copper cookware) and the equally large library (with its 8,000 leather-bound books, including an original copy of Jean de la Fontaine’s Fables).  Apparently, this collection is one of the largest in France and actually counts 12,000 books total.

We have yet to be disappointed with a bed and breakfast in the Loire Valley and now have another favorite to add to our list.  Ask for the room “Sampan” for the very original charpente (the A-frame woodwork coming down from the ceiling).  Our hostess was especially welcoming and even made our dinner reservations for us- knowing the only restaurant open on a Monday evening!  And, as usual, I paid special attention to the homemade green plum jam at breakfast.

Two days was way to short, but that’s probably why we keep going back to the Loire Valley…

Even after a few days back in Paris, I still have vineyards on my mind

I spent one of my first years in France teaching English in a small town just outside the city of Bordeaux- in other words, surrounded by vineyard after vineyard.  There was even one I claimed for myself; I would see it everyday out the bus window on my way to work, so I figured I could call it mine.  I remember being fascinated by how the vines would change throughout the year.  When I arrived in October, the leaves were dressed in a breathtaking red and orange tie-dye.  I watched the vineyards go from this, to miniature stalks poking out of the winter soil, to springtime buds and finally covered in large bright green leaves and baby green grapes.  The funny thing is, I had never seen the purple grapes of late summer – almost ripe and ready to be harvested.

The grape harvest will start in September; in some places it will continue on into October- and then the cycle will start all over again.  Thinking about this made me wonder how long these vineyards have been around.  Since I’m such a fan of history, I got out some books (and launched an Internet search) to find that “French” wine has been around for just about as long as France has- it only makes sense, doesn’t it?

I won’t go through the entire history of wine, nor of France, but there are a few dates (all involving Aquitaine, of course) that I just thought were interesting.  If you’ve ever read Astérix (as every single French person probably has), you’ll know what I’m talking about when I mention Gaul (Gaule in French).  This is what the Romans called France even before Julius Caesar set out to conquer it in 58 B.C.  The Gauls (Gaulois) were a Celtic people who came from Eastern Europe into what is now France, probably as early as the 9^th century B.C.  They are known to have occupied a large part of western Europe, from the Atlantic Ocean to the Black Sea.

Here’s where my interest gets sparked: Aquitaine, spreading from the Pyrenees mountain range to the Garonne river, became one of the three regions dominated by the Gauls (or Gallo-Romans, once they were under Roman authority).  Here’s a fun couple of words: Bituriges Vivisques.  This was the Gallic group that lived near Burdigala (Bordeaux).  These people made and drank a lot of beer (unlike today’s “Aquitani”), but they really appreciated wine- which was procured from abroad (i.e. Italy).

Now, I’ve read two contradictory pieces of information: (1) the Romans planted the vineyards in Bordeaux and (2) vineyards already existed in Bordeaux when the Romans arrived.  I’m going to vote for the latter since I usually cheer on the underdog, and because of this: I read that the Gauls were not allowed to plant new vineyards once under Roman domination.  Since they were known to be fairly resistant (to put it lightly), I assume they broke the rules.  Any 21^st century Cabernet drinker can be thankful for that.  Legend has it that the Bituriges Vivisques are the ones who planted the cépage “Biturica,” ancestor of the modern Cabernet.  It was probably brought from somewhere between Albania and Greece and might have been cultivated as early as the 1^st century B.C. (before, during or after the Gallic Wars, I wonder?).  This is where I wish I had a time machine to check out the details- and to see just how pungent their wine might have been.  In any case, this grape variety was special because it resisted the cold (compared to Italy) climate.  The “Biturica” was, thus, the first grape variety cultivated in Bordeaux, and probably among the oldest in France.  (Side note: Before sitting down to write this, I was happily set to say the Bordelaise were growing grapes long before the Burgundians.  I can probably stick with the “before,” but might have to cut out the “long” based on this article.)

Obviously I don’t have a time machine, thus don’t have proof of what the Gaulois were doing over 2,000 years ago.  I do know, however, that vineyards were among the most important agricultural resources and were spreading abundantly during Gallo-Roman times, notably in the Bordeaux region.

I didn’t even get to writing about the other date I found interesting: 1152- the marriage between Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry Plantagenet, future king of England.  Given my ongoing obsession with the Middle Ages and the potential length that post could go, I’ll save it for another day.

The result: a unique combination of strong, slightly salty cheese and light, aromatic wine.

I didn’t think I would be a fan of sweet wine, but am always open to trying something new, especially if it’s a little out of the ordinary. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the Jurancon moelleux (Domaine de Cauhapé, Ballet d’Octobre 2007) we brought home was different than I had expected. Since I’m still learning about wine, I try to pay attention to everything when I taste a new one: the oeil (literally, the eye), the nez (the nose) and the bouche (the mouth). In not-so-literal English: the color, the smell and the taste. While I’ll let you discover the hues and bouquet on your own, I must say I appreciated the nice balance between the sweetness and acidity of this wine. At first, I noticed a tropical taste, reminding me of pineapples and mangoes. Then the intense sweetness faded away and the final seconds before swallowing were reminiscent of the dry white wine we had previously tried from the same vineyard. Like the wine merchant, I’d definitely recommend pairing this vin with a blue cheese, such as Roquefort, for the lively contrasts they create.

For those who are curious, Roquefort is made of raw ewe’s milk and there are several different kinds. We happen to enjoy the rich, creamy taste of Roquefort Papillon Rouge. There is a village in southern France called Roquefort-sur-Soulzon (in the Midi-Pyrénées region) and, yes, this is where they produce the cheese. I haven’t been there (yet), but would definitely be tempted to visit the caves where they ripen it. In other words, I’d like to see where Roquefort gets moldy.

Apparently, Obama didn’t drink any wine at dinner last Saturday night during his visit to Paris (so I heard on the local news). I wonder if he had any Roquefort?

Welcome to my very first post!

I opened the fridge today and realized, yes, I do indeed live in France. At 9 o’clock I wasn’t quite prepared for the whiff of hearty odor that was waiting for me behind the door- a mighty combination of chèvre, brie, Roquefort and Le P’tit Basque swiftly invaded my not-so-awake nostrils. First reaction: “Eeeek! What is that smell?” Second reaction: “Mmmm. The cheese (with a nodding smile). French cheese (with a long breath in).

I never thought I’d be the proud owner of a smelly cheese-filled refrigerator, but then again a mere five years ago I didn’t imagine I’d soon be living in Paris, drinking red wine and married to a Frenchman! Here I am.

In honor of almost five years in France (and the discovery that comes with living abroad), I’ll dedicate my first post to one of my new-found favorite cheeses. Le P’tit Basque, a semi-firm fromage made in the Basque region of southwestern France, has recently found a permanent place in our kitchen. I can’t help but image the green rolling pastures and sun-baked rooftops nestled below the Pyrenees mountain range as I bite into it’s moist texture. What’s original about Le P’tit Basque? It’s made of 100% ewe’s milk and melts in your mouth with an almost olivey, nutty flavor.

Sébastien and I first discovered it by chance about a year ago, while roaming the cheese stand at the local farmer’s market. We were about to head to Fontainebleau forest for hiking and a picnic. Nestled in among other tempting cheeses was a three-inch tall mini-wheel, covered in a reddish-brown basket-weave skin. We found this cheese is excellent for a picnic, whether eaten with a traditional French baguette or a more grainy, seedy loaf.

Given that Paris is cold and rainy in the wintertime, we put our picnics on hold and kind of forgot about Le P’tit Basque. My affinity for this cheese, however, was newly confirmed on a recent family visit to Bordeaux. Near the end of a five-course lunch (beginning with apéritif at noon and about to end with chocolate dessert around 3:00), out came the cheese. When I saw my old friend peeking out from under its label, I again couldn’t resist.

Wine and Cheese Pairing…

Whether on a picnic, enjoying the cheese after a traditional Bordelaise meal, or casually entertaining friends, Le P’tit Basque always goes well with the right glass of French wine. Like many sheep cheeses, this one is slightly salty and fairly strong (though much less so than feta, for example), so it needs a wine that accompanies it well. Given it’s unique qualities, I would suggest pairing it with a medium bodied, somewhat fruity red wine, such as a pinot noir from Burgundy. We recently tried one (Albert Bichot, Vieilles Vignes 2002) which had a delicate, almost cherry-like aroma that went especially well with this cheese. My very favorite pairing, however, has been with a Jurançon sec (Domaine de Cauhapé, Sève d’Automne 2002), a dry white wine from the Pyrenees foothills. The aroma is reminiscent of honey and the taste is fresh and subtly spicy.

This is one of the reasons I enjoy living in France, and decided to start this blog. There is always something new to discover, and to delight my taste buds!

Any suggestions on which fromage to try next?