SF from Z to A

Earlier the same day of my aforementioned Panisseness, I did have the kind of experience I was hoping to have there. In an effort to squeeze in as many cookbook author pilgrimages in one day, I fled the conference that brought me to SF in the direction of Zuni. I took the precaution of fortifying myself for the long walk from the ferry terminal with a five dollar hot dog (Montessori or Waldorf beef, I think). I am a huge fan of the Zuni Cafe Cookbook, which has more of my tried-and-true, and gotta-try-that-someday receipts than any other restaurant cookbook I can think of.

However, when I arrived, the dog was still a little heavy in my stomach, (I blame a much too solid "brioche" bun) so my  original plan of seeing how the Zuni cookbook roast chicken and bread salad I've taken stabs at is really done was frustrated--the dish is 1) a whole bird for two, and 2) takes an hour to cook. Eating a whole roast chicken at four when I had a reservation at Panisse for nine seemed a bit too much, so I opted instead for a Caesar salad. It was worth the trip. I have strong opinions on the Caesar. I make them frequently, and have firm ideas about the dressing and presentation. Anchovies are requisite.* I think a lot about the constituents of the dressing--one yolk or two, lemon/Worcestershire proportions, Parmesan grating methods, and any number of related issues. Until my visit to Zuni, I had not thought much about the romaine. Hearts vs. loose heads was the only question. This salad, when it arrived, was a revelation--it said, "I am Romaine, motherfucker." The idea that the lettuce could be the focus of a Caesar salad was an affirmation of the fresh 'n' local deal I'd hoped to see in action at Panisse.** By way of analogy, a good song by Guadalcanal Diary is better than a bad one by REM.***

*See an old issue of Might for a fabulous article by Heidi Pollack on the debasement of the Caesar.
**Worth the trip, though I am wary of the kind of ingredient fetishization I gather is mocked by none other than Angela Carter, in re Panisse back in the day.
*** Contestants not appearing on stage in this analogy include:
Teenage Fanclub/Big Star
Monkees/Beatles
Feelies/Velvet Underground
Raveonettes/Jesus & Mary Chain
Donner Party/Connells

Comments

[max]

I'd forgotten this, but one of the most revelatory things I've eaten at Chez P. was a salad of (local, organic, montessori, &c.) iceberg with bacon and blue cheese. It didn't say "I am iceberg, motherfucker" so much as "You thought you knew me, but you were wrong, motherfucker."

[the patriarch]

Parents took us there back in the late 70s, before Waters sold out, man. Her early stuff is way better.