I Dream of Bar Jules

I recently lost a bet to a coworker buddy of mine, never mind how or why. But the terms of the bet involved dinner—on me. Naturally, if I were forced to eat humble pie (figuratively of course), then I better damn well enjoy the meal. So I nominated new fave and Hayes Valley gem, Bar Jules, knowing I'd probably get a resounding "yea" from said coworker-buddy. After all, we'd only just been to the tiny eatery a week and a half prior—and savored every bite of our locally sourced, screaming-of-summer feast.

So imagine our dismay when we strolled up to Bar Jules tonight only to find it shut, closed, dark, dead ... to ... me. After a brief diatribe—read: rathole—along the lines of "this is why San Francisco can suck so bad sometimes. As if people don't eat on Mondays ... what what?!" we got over it and moved on to ever-so-lovely CAV Wine Bar. But since I've waxed poetic about CAV—on more than one occasion—this here blog post is all about the supercali-fantastic Bar Jules.


The menu (which changes daily) included a wonderfully sweet-salty yellow watermelon, feta and olive salad. My only criticism: it coulda used a bit of green to make it look as appetizing as it tasted (a chiff of mint or basil would've done the trick).


We split the fork-tender, flakey sea bass with farm-fresh English peas and baby carrots along with the luscious lamb lollies served over a bed of big white bean ragout. Laaaaaaaaaa ... in a word: heaven.


Thumbs (way) up on the quatro leches cake with a healthy helping of tangy-sweet macerated strawberries piled on. Doesn't look like much, but the combo of evaporated milk, condensed milk, dulce de leche and heavy whipping cream made this a decadent ending to the kind of meal that gets me dreaming of sugar and spice and all things nice (lamb lollies included).