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The French mafia continues to establish its stronghold on San Francisco, what with multiple Chez Papas and Mamans, La Boulanges (which recently got snapped up by Starbucks) and so on opening up in the city by the bay. I think the Chez Papa Bistrot in Potrero Hill is the original in the "chez" group and though I've dined at all the others, I'd never had a chance to try the original. Until now.
Remembering that mussels were Chez Papa's specialty, JP and I started out with a heaping bowl of 'em Basquaise style. The bivalves had been simmered in white wine spiked with roasted bell pepper, parsley and spicy Spanish chorizo. We plowed through the entire bowl along with the accompanying pile of crispy fries.
For my main, I chose a quintessential Provencal dish, the bouillabaisse or fish stew, which came with a ton of lovely goodies including black cod, clams, mussels, prawns, bay scallops, fingerling potatoes, plus some crusty bread with rouille (basically, mayo flavored with garlic, cayenne, saffron, olive and pepper). Which reminds me, I've got a slammin' recipe for bouillabaisse that I need to dust off and bring back into my repertoire ...
Meanwhile, JP went for the braised beef short rib sitting atop mashed potato and a red wine demi-glace, accompanied by a bit of veg and a tangle of watercress. Not enough vegetables, was JP's complaint, though the moules frites app had filled him up so much, he left his plate unfinished.
No matter. We took the tender short rib home and made a hearty meat sauce to go with our pasta the next day. Yay for good leftovers.
Actually, it's been almost two-and-a-half years since I first visited the spacious and modern Bar Agricole, which back then put out some really outstanding food. Another visit a year later proved just as rewarding. So when I was looking for a place that might please a friend with high culinary standards, I figured why not give Bar Agricole a third go 'round.
Bar Agricole didn't let me down. Said friend and I—along with another pal—tucked into the buoyantly tender mussels, which came swimming in the most fragrant, lip-smacking white wine-cum-broth laced with fennel, green coriander and pancetta. We soaked the big, buttery hunk of toast that came alongside the bivalves into the broth and wished we had more bread to sop up the addictive liquid.
Other goodies included the fried green tomatoes and squash with tonnato—which came out molten hot and crispy on the outside, juicy and sweet on the inside, accompanied by a tangy aioli; diminutive miso-pickled anchovies with horseradish and a swab of egg yolk cream below with a whisper of purslane on top; and jumbo rabbit meatballs sitting on a bed of creamy, buttery polenta with a kind of tomato pepper salsa that proved the perfect foil to the rich meat and corn side.
On that night, Bar Agricole was sporting an $85 pork chop on its daily changing menu. Say what? I asked the server if that was a typo. No, no. Not a typo at all. The meat weighs in at more than 2 pounds and takes more than an hour to cook, he told us. We decided to take a pass, though our curiosity was slightly piqued. ... Not enough to blow it all on one dish though.
And in the end, we didn't feel like we'd missed out. Not in the least.
I met AB at 20 Spot in the Mission and found the punk-record-store-tranformed-into-a-no-frills-wine-bar the perfect place for a long overdue catchup. With two seats snagged at the end of the wood bar, we got some thoughtful advice from the folks behind the counter on the wines we eventually selected and quick service on the couple of appetizers we sampled from the short list of menu items 20 Spot had to offer.
One appetizer in particular deserves an honorable mention—5 raw slices of yellowfin tuna topped with slivers of fruit, microgreens, salmon roe, and Aleppo pepper. We tucked into those velvety medallions with great gusto. They look as good as they tasted. A happy and harmonious medley of flavors and textures.
The first time I tried oysters and actually liked them was 15-some-odd years ago at a company retreat in Bodega Bay, not too far from where we enjoyed this lovely little trough of Point Reyes oysters (below). The oysters that got me thinking that bivalves were worthy of consumption were lightly grilled and served with a squeeze of lemon. The ones here also came with lemon wedges plus a tangy mignonette, though these were shucked and slurped down raw.
Bottoms up. The half dozen slippery suckers went down way too fast, making us tempted to order another round. But since oysters are available pretty much all year round (so says Hog Island Oyster Co.), we decided to practice a bit of self-restraint and pick some up later when we got back into town.
Hmmm, famous last words? Nah. I think oysters are on order this weekend ...
