With UK lead editors D&A coming to town and D being a serious hedon and foodie, I made rezzies per my boss's OK (that's him up top) at Michelin-starred Quince restaurant, ever on my short list of places to go since I got back to SF 2 years prior. Having taken the spot once occupied by the more casual, (maybe) less successful Meetinghouse, Quince has proven this slightly out-of-the-way location is far from cursed, but rather blessed with some of the finest seasonal, local fare any self-respecting food-lover will find.
We loved absolutely everything brought to our plushy velvet corner booth by our obliging fully suited—ties and all—servers: the buttery smooth baton of foie gras with wild coastal huckleberries and toasted brioche sticks, the creamy gnochetti with savory lamb ragu, the al dente pasta with eel broth and bits, and the milk-fed veal sitting atop a sweet potato sauce. D was so giddy with delight over her sweet breads and subsequent rabbit entree, that she about poured all of Thumper's jus on the table in front of us (as evidenced above left).
All in all, I'd say this is by far the best fine-dining experience I've had since coming back to SF. And the company wasn't too shabby either. Thanks, work peeps!
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