Do you know that feeling when you dine out, the feeling when you exit the restaurant into the fresh air of the real world outside, and you feel so completely content that it is nearly impossible to not sigh a really big sigh, look up at the starry night sky and be utterly grateful that you just experienced that meal? Usually while holding your stuffed belly and smiling because you have the amazing good fortune to have been able to dine there, eat that food. I stop myself all the time and remind myself how lucky I am to able to even eat out ever, much less at some of the amazing places I am able to dine. Having the freedom, the funds, simply the ability to dine out and enjoy a meal that for many might be a once in a while – or even a once in a lifetime! – experience. The world feels like it is literally spinning off its axis; headlines leave me teary eyed, my heart breaking at the thought of the horrendous wars being fought, lives being lost, injustice everywhere, how much suffering there is. I am sure I am not the only one now who cannot seem to shake this overwhelming feeling, the worry, the fear.
So, I eat out. I eat out not only because I must refuel my body to survive, but to nourish my soul. In times like these, I cannot imagine a thing more soothing. I dine out most often to inhale the atmosphere of a place, to surround myself with people who are also hungry for not only food, but an experience. A shared experience. I eat out to forget about the real world outside of those polished glass windows, if even just for a couple of hours. That first feeling of stepping into a new restaurant, possibly after weeks of anticipating what I might taste, how pulling out that barstool and settling myself in for the evening, will feel. The lighting will soothe me, the music will move me, each staff member becomes a new best friend, the sounds of happy chatter uplifting my spirit, clinking glassware, corks joyfully popping.
Dining out, particularly in a new place, is like falling in love. It leaves your heart a-flutter, cheeks flushed with excitement, the slow meandering over the menu, imagining the first bite or the first sip of something delicious. Smiling as it fills your mouth, satiated as it fills your belly. I have been traveling so much that each new restaurant has been a wonderful new distraction, each dinner alone at the bar feeling like a first date; some are duds, sure, but many are unforgettable one night stands that you hope might one day become a long distance relationship that finally works out. Even the duds are worthwhile, at least one evening with my mind elsewhere.
A week of sandwiches
Sandwiches are typically so uninteresting to me, a ho-hum combination of meat-cheese-bread. If you’re lucky, you might find an inspired sauce or a thoughtfully added crunch. More often, you’re offered mediocre bread, jarred toppings, and waxy cheese. Maybe tasty, but…yawn! I find myself reaching for a salad or even a simple sliced apple instead. This was a strange week for my non-sandwich eating self. It was an epic sandwich week, to say the least. This week I ate three, which is already a rare feat, but amazingly found each to be more scrumptious than the one before it.
Café Bunn Mi: Lemongrass Pork Banh Mi
There couldn’t possibly be a more perfect sandwich than the banh mi. Well, except for maybe a really great grilled cheese. These Vietnamese hoagies are stuffed with a variety of Asian spiced and roasted meats, a bounty of crunchy vegetables – carrots and cucumber – tons of aromatic herbs, with the green-hot zing of raw jalapeño slivers. The ingredients tend to be impeccably fresh, all spilling from a French roll that is ideally crusty on the outside and pillowy soft on the inside. A slathering of Kewpie mayonnaise or hoisin is the final, yummy, addition. I have yet to find a more perfect example in the Bay Area then the modern, creative beauties at Café Bunn Mi on Clement Street in the City. I never drive down 19th Avenue without taking the two minute detour to grab a sticky sweet Vietnamese iced coffee and a $4, football sized banh mi for the ride home. Café Bunn Mi, 417 Clement Street, San Francisco.
Fremont Diner: Fried chicken biscuit
I stared at the menu for what felt like hours wondering, slightly terrified, where is my little fried chicken slider?! There in the space where it was once listed on the menu, sat something in its place. Something similar, but definitely not the little chicken Sammy I have grown to crave. In its place is now a ‘fried chicken biscuit.’ I wasn’t sure if I would burst into tears or do a jump for joy. All I could do was order one and put the tears off for now. One of the Fremont’s swoon-inducing buttermilk biscuits arrived piled high with their crunchy fried chicken, a few super tart slabs of housemade pickle, and a heaping, drippy pile of creamy-crisp slaw. One bite and I had all but forgotten about that other chicken sandwich. Almost. Fremont Diner, 2698 Fremont Drive, Sonoma.
Fatted Calf: Ham and egg
It is nearly impossible to even walk through the swinging screen doors at Napa’s Fatted Calf without almost fainting from the heavenly, porky-herb aromas. Everything from this purveyor of all things meaty is drop dead gorgeous, but if you happen to be there at lunchtime, get a sandwich. I am not kidding. Get one. Trust me, you will never sink your teeth into a more insane combination of meat and bread. I will often drive over the hill and snag one of their coveted – they don’t make many – daily, changing sandwiches to pack on a picnic or tuck into my tote for a long, food-less flight. A recent offering was a stunning stack of paper thin sliced French-style ham, aioli, soft boiled egg, and a garlicky, herb-flecked chimichurri all beautifully mounded on a chewy Model Bakery baguette. I could hardly bear waiting the three hours until my flight, but when I finally unwrapped that spectacular sandwich on the plane, I sunk my teeth into what was hands-down one of the best sandwiches I have ever had. My poor, peanut eating seat mates. The Fatted Calf, 644 First Street, Oxbow Marketplace, Napa.
The best thing I ate this week: Glen Ellen Star
I don’t think I have ever eaten something at the charming little eatery, Glen Ellen Star, that wasn’t happy dance-inducing. The blistered crust pizzas, the stunning whole fish, the meats that are all roasted to perfection and presented in the most spectacular mixture of rustic simplicity are near perfect. Although, it is the list of seasonal vegetables, all prepared in the scorching hot wood-burning oven that often leave me breathless. Each has a thoughtful sauce that elevates the plain garden specimen to a thing of beauty. It wasn’t the first time I have ordered the beets here, they are always tasty. Although during this week’s phenomenal dinner cozied up at the food bar, the beets were nearly mind blowing. Golden beets were roasted in the hot-hot oven, chunks of sunshine candy, sweet with charred bits on each sharp corner. The insides were like sugary beet pudding, all soft and squishy. The almost dessert-like dish is finished with a cobbler topping, a crunchy, buttery crumble of warm exotic Middle Eastern harissa. This dish is a glorious example of why I often could care less for meat and why Glen Ellen Star is always packed. Glen Ellen Star 13648 Arnold Drive, Glen Ellen. 343.1384.
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