Snake Eyes

By Teddie Honey
Let me begin by saying that I’m a man who appreciates a good drink. And I don’t mean that in some sort of classy distinguished gentleman’s way, I mean that in a throw down, drag out, bare fisted, liquor binge kind of way.

The kind of way that involves pounding high gravity malt liquor, and sucking wine out of a plastic bag.

I’m a strict believer in throw and go (or puke and rally to some) and frankly if I didn’t have to be sober at work--I’m a substance abuse counselor--I would never blow anything below a 0.10.
So you can imagine how often I find myself trying to piece together previous night's events trying to map out the reason and location of my current state.

On this particular evening I found myself topless and covered in who knows how many people's sweat. With a beer bottle sticking out of the back of my pants surrounded by booty shaking women in hot pants while a transsexual screamed through a PA something related to sucking and blowing. And as the puzzle pieces of my evening started to fall into place like a dinner plate shattering in reverse. I smiled to myself, ‘Snake wine.’

It’s first recorded use took place in China around the year 771. Snake wine was originally made for it’s medicinal value, the belief that the essence of the snake would leak into the sake, or grain alcohol, and make the drinker healthier and more virile, sometimes even believed to cure aliments such as baldness.  Due to the traditional use of the endangered cobra snake, it is now illegal to transport snake wine to the US. So you can imagine my excitement when a friend of mine slowly produced two bottles from his kitchen cabinet while an evil grin slid across his face.

Bird on a Fire

Most people recognize Vietnamese cuisine for it's fresh ingredients, amazing sandwiches and a bay area favorite that rapidly spread to other parts of California, phở.

Phở is just one of the reasons I am grateful to live in a city with such a large Vietnamese population. Spring rolls are but another, and iced coffee. Honestly I could go on all day. Suffice it to say I really enjoy Vietnamese food.

I found a new reason to thank the food gods today, it's called quail. On a recent trip to a local Vietnamese restaurant I favor, I am persuaded to try something new by a new friend. I never thought of eating quail as if it were chicken but leave it to Vietnamese talent to create a dish of something most people would never consider eating.

Jasmine Garden near the Church Street Muni station serves a honey roasted quail, which is flambeed at the table and then cut into pieces with meat scissors for easier consumption. It's a tiny bird, with tiny bones but those are my only real complaints. You'll be picking bones out of your mouth for sure, but eating quail is nowhere near as laborious as eating say, crab or any crustaceans with an exoskeleton. Don't skimp on the white pepper sauce that comes with. It give this little bird a tang and an extra layer of flavor that really sets this dish a flame. Not too sweet, nor too meaty the quail is slightly gamier, but otherwise tastes like chicken.

P.S. If you haven't tried phở, you're missing out big time. And, it's pronounced fuh. As in phở-cking amazing. 708 14th St (415) 861-2682. $

Holy Smokes

Every now and then you come across a cocktail you just have to try. We found this one at Lafitte, a Califonia style eatery with bit of French technique thrown in. We'll call it Ameri-french. The food is definitely noteworthy and bring a serious appetite because the portions are huge, but we'd really like to focus on the cocktail for dis or del because it's much less often that we run into drinks that are interesting and weird.

On the bar menu at this watefront resto is, drum roll please, The Mohawk. This drink is bad ass in a glass. Made with Russell's six year rye, sweet vermouth and bitters it is essentially a manhattan. But don't call it a manhattan. It's secret ingredients, tobacco leaf infused simple syrup and star anise, make The Mohawk a unique drink in a class all its own.
Just the right amount of smoky and sweet this drink should be garnished with a piece of nicorette chewing gum. At first sip it tastes just like a manhattan but when you swallow you can feel the tobacco linger in the middle of your pallete. Oddly enough when you get to the bottom of this drink you'll not only feel an alcohol buzz but also a bit of a tobacco buzz, like you just smoked a cigarette. For all you cigarette smokers out there, The Mohawk is the multi-tasking drunk's wet dream. Surgeon general says tobacco's addictive. That's the impression we get at the bottom this glass. The Mohawk only left us jonesing for more of that liquid nicotine. 500 The Embarcadero (415) 986-4806

Octopuses, Octopi or Octopodes?

When you learn a good friend is about to move out of the state the natural reaction is to spend as much time together as possible. That is how it's been for my dear friend Angela Nunes and I. In one week she is moving to Philadelphia to accept a position with BHLDN, a new line of bridal garb from the folks at Anthropologie.

We lunched together when she was in town, after some pretty standard San Francisco moments. After a parking debacle, being complimented/hollered at by a group of young men standing on the street and traversing a maze of crackheads while being careful not to step in any human refuse around 6th street and Mission, we decided on 54 Mint, an Italian restaurant in the alley behind the old mint building.

I  forget there are some pretty amazing establishments in this little square. 54 Mint holds it down for the Italians in this part of town. Despite its close proximity to Union Square, the Westfield Center and some of the most touristy parts of our town, it's alley location keeps it out of view from most people who don't pay attention to detail, much less their surroundings, and makes it feel a little more SF for me. After all some of our best restaurants are in alleys.

We order the Carpaccio di polipo (octopus carpaccio) which comes dressed in a citrus olive oil, dusted with some red powdery substance, my guess is paprika since there is no real spice in it and a little shaved fennel and celery salad. The carpaccio was delicious, not a decision I associate with feelings of regret. The octopus was fresh--thanks seasonal menu-- the citrus flavor in the olive oil perfectly complimented the cephalopod without overwhelming it and the dish was beautiful when it arrived at the bar, where we always prefer to sit. Coincidentally, our bartender was also not very hard to look at. His charm and hospitable manner only reaffirm my love for European men, and make me want to go to Italy. 16 Mint Plaza (415) 543-5100.

Monkfish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish

Chicken liver is pretty standard in the States. Kids hate it, parents make them eat it because it’s rumored to be good for the body. Monkfish liver, however is largely unknown to most people, unless you’re an avid sushi eater, which makes it exotic and makes me want to try it. Dining at Tokyo Go Go’s sushi bar, we are treated to this Japanese delicacy. It is sliced and placed atop a bed of julienned cucumbers, drizzled with Yuzu ponzu sauce and sprinkled with scallions. To get in the Japanese spirit I, of course, have a few sakes before putting this in my mouth.  It is happy hour after all. The aromas are pungent, though not necessarily bad. I try to anticipate what is coming but am completely off. Ankimo, it’s proper name, is not chewy nor gamey. It is mushy but tastes just like eating a fish, the flavor is superb, and the sauce complements the flavors of the liver very well. The sushi chef is laughing in my face as he notices my confused/kind of disgusted but not really look. The texture is hard to pin down, but best described as creamy, mushy, fishy. The mouthfeel of this dish is all wrong. Which is a shame because the flavor is umami, the fifth flavor that can only be described as part salt part sweet. Next time I will be sure to incorporate cucumber into each bite for a better texture experience. Overall Ankimo, disgusting. The only thing holy about this fish’s liver is the words that are sure to escape your lips shortly after swallowing, “Holy crap, wtf?” 3174 16th St. (415)864-2288

Forking With Food Injustice

Driving down Oak street for the ten millionth time this week I finally notice the Hayes Valley Farm. I couldn’t be sure that it was actually a farm because the city block it’s on is probably one of the most high traffic areas in the city–on the block formed by Oak and Fell between Octavia and Laguna, and not in the burbs but low and behold it is indeed a farm. I am not sure if produce can even survive in an area inundated with car emissions and grown in soil where a freeway once stood but we shall see.

What a great idea. Recently there’s been a lot of talk about living a green life. Shopping locally and eating seasonally is great for the environment as well as the body, which explains the recent explosion of farmers markets and why they’re so damn trendy. But bringing fresh produce to the inner city also makes it affordable and accessible to low-income residents who may not have a car or may otherwise have limited access to fresh fruits and vegetables.

Besides eating green, another issue in the food community not discussed enough isfood injustice. The term food injustice refers to a scenario that is familiar to many low-income city dwellers. Imagine that you and your family are on a limited income, money is really tight. The nearest grocery store is 2 miles from your house. But you don’t have a car and can’t afford zipcar, so you depend on Muni or Bart. To get to your house, let’s say in Bayview, to the nearest grocery store with fruits and veggies that aren’t minutes away from molding , you have to get on the T-line and transfer to the 22 to get to Safeway on 16th and Portrero since the Whole Foods on 18th is slightly out of your price range.

On the way to Safeway you notice there are plenty of options for food that is already prepared, much cheaper than a grocery bill and you don’t have to lug heavy paper bags back home on Muni hoping they don’t break. McDonalds–there are three in the 94107, serves burgers for a dollar; so you can get five of them for $5 dollars or make the trek to Safeway and get 5 ounces of organic salad greens. The choice is obvious when the budget is small and there are multiple mouths to feed. Health takes second place.

*This is a disgusting reality for many people who live in cities all across the nation.

Hopefully, the Hayes Valley Farm is the first up in starting a nationwide trend. City farms can bring food costs down by cutting out the middle man (supermarkets), make fresh foods accessible and if they have a farmers market bring some equality to a town with an uppity farmers market scene.

A Shucking Good Time

Oysters bring to mind different memories for different people. Some good, putting lead in your pencil (wink); others not so much, food-borne illness or mercury poisoning. Rumors aside, oysters are typically served on beds of crushed ice all over the country. They have been part of American cuisine for a long time. Today they are considered a bourgeois food, usually served with dainty forks and champagne if they occasion calls for it, but they weren't always considered so. In fact, 19th century oyster bars were considered seedy places; hangout spots for society's bottom feeders. Widely available and dirt cheap, a stew was invented with oysters, since stews are what most poor people ate in those days. The broth masked the flavor of days-old food and easily softened weeks-old hardened bread.

Nowadays, were fortunate enough to be able to afford more than just stew, but not as happy about the price point of the modern oyster. Even at dollar oyster happy hours-- there are quite a few in the city -- a dozen will cost $12.00 before tax and tip and let's be real one dozen is never enough.

Absinthe Brasserie and Bar doesn't host dollar oysters any time of day, but they do have an impressive oyster selection given they are not a raw bar. We go for the Kumamoto's. They're harvested locally in Point Reyes and you know how we San Franciscans just love supporting local businesses. They're moderately sized, slippery on the tongue and delicate on the palate. I've been told not to eat oysters on Sundays because they're not fresh, but you wouldn't know it from tasting these. Biting into one, I notice it still has its crispness and the flavor is superb, complemented by a drizzle of mignonette. Some oyster rumors are true. These mouthwatering mollusks always give me a figurative hard-on, that can only appeased by more. 398 Hayes St. (415)551-1590