Restaurant ethos, from SF to HK

Over an obscene coconut cream tart at Tartine, J-- (originally from Guangzhou) and I are contemplating the difference between food cultures in Hong Kong and SF...

"You know," she says, "I think the restaurants here care a lot more about the interior or the atmosphere."

Tartine, for example, is undoubtedly famous not only for being named the "the best pastry chefs or bakers in America," but also for hiding its fame behind an anonymous black paint job with no sign -- connoting for me, anyway, the badass vibe of a ghetto paint job on a muscle car. The result, of course, is that when you drive by Tartine for the first time and see a line snaking around this mysterious looking enterprise, you say to yourself, "What is that place? It must be good!"



Yeah, but...that whole no-sign-thing is old hat in NYC. I think there's something more going on in SF...

Later in the week I went with my friend C-- to an East German restaurant called Walzwerk. Why a German restaurant? C-- works for a German company, is of German descent, and loves German food, so... I had no idea what to expect since East German isn't exactly top of my mind when thinking of the world's finest cuisines. But actually, I was bewitched as soon as we stepped inside...

Each table had a single white candle sitting on a beautiful little cross section of tree trunk (or branch). The waitress lit the candle for us when we sat down, almost as if commencing a ritual. It was warm and homey, yet minimalist, which I found relaxing.



The food itself was presented with the same restrained hand. Take, for example, this apple strudel. There was ample food on the plate, but also ample white space, simplicity. I found this very creative... It's easy to fixate on the extremes in food presentation -- a gargantuan mound of Chili's ribs on the one hand and designer morsel in a porcelain wasteland at someplace like Robuchon on the other. But actually, there is so much room for creativity in between...



I also loved that they served my beef roulade with spätzle and red apple cabbage with a serrated knife tucked onto the plate. That one gesture created this feeling of pub-iness or hominess that was totally charming to me...



This is more than just interior design. It's deeper. I would go further than my friend J-- and say that Bay Area restaurants live or die by their ethos.

What do I mean? Well, I don't think you'd find a restaurant like Bar Agricole in a city other than SF. As my mom and I walked past the valet parking and through the subtley lit gates, we entered a courtyard with...vegetable beds? And wow, is that a flow form?



Flow forms are connected to biodynamic agriculture and Anthroposophy, a spiritual tradition I grew up with (kind of). Here, at this swanky restaurant?

Passing the flower beds, we walked into the "industrial chic" entryway and saw a mass of hipsters milling around a gigantic bar under undulating light fixtures...



In the midst of all this coolness was simple, really yummy, locally sourced food, like this chicory salad with hazlenuts and pecorino, which my mom thought looked like a hat ;-)



And then there was the Dungeness crab with farro... Hey, what's "farro"? The 20-something waiter pounced, ready to share all of the food history and philosophy stuffed inside him. "Farro is an ancient Egyptian grain..." he lectured my mother. Mind you, my mom uses words like "pusillanimous" in everyday conversation. Oh, and she probably knew more about biodynamic agriculture than he does now before he was ever born. Idiot. Anyway, we found out that farro is a grain, and the dish itself was fantastic!

So what was this thing Bar Agricole was doing, this contrived food-centered religiosity? I kind of liked it, but it was weird. I feel the same way about Cafe Gratitude, which is connected with Landmark Education. (They have a new Mexican restaurant called Gracias Madre that I'm dying to try, by the way.) I'm not sure what I think about these restaurants' core world views, but it certainly seems to result in intriguing environments, yummy food, and well-informed, if annoying, wait staff.

But, you know, later in the week I went with my dad to Genova Delicatessen in Oakland.

These freshly-minted, cultish enterprises in San Francisco, like Bar Agricole, Gratitude, or even Humphry Slocombe ice cream or Blue Bottle Coffee...all seem like slight-of-hand when compared with Genova.

Genova is its own universe. When we walked into Genova, people of all backgrounds were happily waiting in line. At some point, all of these people, the vast majority not Italian, discovered this place and realized how special it is. And we all love coming here. It's not just the food, it's the sense of order and tradition. But it's not some kind of hyped-up touristy calcified version of a traditional Italian deli. It's an unpretentious, totally solid business that has adapted comfortably to modern times and is now situated in a strip mall with a Walgreen's. Convenient.



At Genova, you don't fend off the evangelical employees. You wait patiently in line to be helped by one of the much revered counter guys wearing crisp white shirts and black ties. If you're really lucky, or unlucky, you'll get this guy...



You do not f-- around with this guy. Our family has been going to Genova for more than 30 years, and I always remember him being there. He is polite, of course, but one has the feeling that the conversation could go badly south at any minute. I don't know what exactly I think could happen, but it feels dangerous. Maybe a sudden and excrutiating loss of face? I dunno. But definitely don't be pretentious with this guy or you'll find yourself skittering out the door with your tail between your legs.

Anyway, he's nice to the ladies ;-) I wondered out loud what this thing (to the left of the sweet coppa) was, and he reached into the deli counter and gave me a slice...



Hmm. Fatty, slightly tart, hot, and the texture of fresh pasta dough. Kind of amazing. I think I'm much more attuned to texture now that I'm eating more Chinese food. And Genova really gets the thickness of its meats perfect. My grandma used to ask for the prosciutto so that she could see through it...

Well, anyway, many raviolis, sauce, artichoke torta, prosciutto, fontina, and panetone richer (and about $100 poorer), we stumbled out of the door with our big white bags and went home to enjoy the mellow yumminess of these flavors that really taste good on a bodily level. It's not "surprising" or "inventive," it's just good. It's food that lodges in ones mental tastebuds.

Is this really different from Hong Kong?

On the one hand, I'd say yes, absolutely. When it comes to non-Chinese food, in particular, the world is dominated by restaurant groups. A single group might own 15 or more restaurants, all with different cuisines. Dining Concepts, Ltd., for example, runs Olive (Mediterranean), Cecconi's (Italian), Craftsteak (American), Soho Spice (Thai), Bombay Dreams (Indian), and el Taco Loco (Mexican). Underlying all the different menus, of course, is one organizing ethos: approach to decor, music, staff choice, staff training, etc., are remarkably similar. Not only is the consistency of ethos across all of these restaurants tedious, but it can result in bizarrely incongruous experiences...

E-- and I doggedly decided to try this place called Union J., which Time Out Hong Kong billed as "New American Cooking," and gave 5/6 stars. What can I say? Sometimes we get homesick. Anyway, we were chewing away on our steak tartare when "American Woman" came on the sound system. American food served in an American environment with American music and even the word "American" in the songs all lines up so tightly and neatly, which, of course, is so totally un-American. It was like we were in a Chinese Disneyland of our own culture. Probably not unlike how anyone Chinese must feel when they eat at P.F. Chang's in the States.

Among Chinese restaurants in Hong Kong, I can only discern a handful of common formats. There are a bunch of very good chains like Wu Kong Shaghainese, Peking Garden, and Lei Garden, all of which produce yummy food, but the environments and staff seem virtually interchangeable. You've got the crazy busy reservationist/gate keeper, then the multi-tiered staff (food deliver-ers, order takers, and bill talliers), big round tables with fabric table cloths. There's some variation in tableware and whether or not you get a cloth napkin, but not much else.

On the other end of the spectrum, you've got noodle shops that also relentlessly follow the same format: roasted meat hanging in the window, boiling vat of water for noodles, single counter where you pay, plastic stools and tables. Bring your own napkins.

There are a few other formats in between.

I'm starting to find more independent restaurants that break from this mold and exhibit more of the personality of their owners and staff...

Fu Sing in Wan Chai -- First off, the clientele is a little different: I've seen chubby people here, which is unheard of in Hong Kong. It's got the upscale Chinese format, but there are also TVs going, which makes it feel a little bit like eating in someone's house. And what can I say, I love the staff at Fu Sing. Seems like they've all worked there for years and know each other well. They're not friendly, but if you're there to spend money they'll help you out. And of course, the food is a meat-lover's pleasure palace. Also, I think the lighting has some warmth to it.

Luk Yu in Central is kind of a tourist trap, but I like it anyway. It feels like an old-school mafia restaurant in NYC. Think beefy bouncer, dark wood, higher ceilings, wait staff in white jackets. The first floor is reserved for regulars, which unfortunately included a guy named Harry Lam Hon-lit, who was shot point-blank in the head while eating his breakfast there in 2002. Getting a table here is a complete crapshoot. It took me four phone calls, plus dressing up with my nice watch and some jewelry, walking in and cajoling the gatekeeper into giving us a table. They make some good Cantonese soups, like their famous almond and pork lung soup, which has delicate slivers of preserved tangerine peel in it. Yum!

This post is way too long, so I'll just throw out a few others...

Lin Heung Tea House -- like a rugby scrum for dim sum. This is where the cart lady famously told E-- sternly and loudly "NO" when he asked to see her wares. It ain't that kind of place. Nobody gets waited on. If you want it, you've got to fight for it.

Yunnan Rainbow -- I've blogged about this before. Little joint. Funny flowered table cloths, the whoofing sound of big woks in the back, a waitress who keeps you straight, families having supper, all tucked away down a side street.

Hotpot Instinct -- Young hipster guy who seems perpetually bored runs the door. They know us here and laugh at us, not with us, but what the hell... Tucked down a side street, with a bizzarro upstairs seating area that feels not-to-code. Combine this with intriguing rather gourmet offerings like squid and black truffle balls.

On the one hand I do think it's true that the concept of restaurant ethos is completely lost on HK restauranteurs. As with many things here, the product is endlessly varied, but the method of making it is set in stone. On the other hand, particularly with restaurants that have been around for a while, the individual personalities of the restaurant owners, cooks (?), and wait staff have emerged, creating more distinctive environments, not unlike at Genova.

Undoubtedly, my inability to speak the language and to discern nuances of culture holds me back in sniffing out more of the unique ethos-es that HK has to offer, but as I get better and find more of them I promise to blog about it ;-)