in praise of sardines

"We freeze it fresh every day."

A whole week of temperatures over 80˚ (Saturday the mercury climbed as high as 97˚!). In San Francisco. In July. Simply amazing.

To celebrate our extraordinary good fortune, I headed across the Bay to my favorite gelateria, Sketch.

Sketch is located in a sliver of a shop in the posh and very un-sketchy Fourth Street shopping district of Berkeley. The storefront is set back a couple dozen yards from the street, across the way from Eccolo, an Italian restaurant I helped to open. As a beacon to alert passersby, the owners, husband and wife Eric Shelton and Ruthie Planas-Shelton, placed a shiny 1920's Italian ice cream cart near the sidewalk. The cart lures people into the inviting scoop shop, a tiny cocoon adorned with a few antique ice cream scoopers along one wall.

I love Sketch and all its quirks. First off, the awning advertises "ice cream." While the consistency is undoubtedly "creamy," there is nary a drop of cream in the frozen confections. Neither are there eggs nor any of the other varieties of thickeners typically found in products labeled "ice cream." Eric and Ruthie limit their palette of ingredients to three: Straus organic milk, sugar, and the star ingredient. (This strict minimalist approach must be the inspiration behind the shop's name).

The flavors at Sketch are all about the main ingredient. Peach tastes like the best peach you've ever eaten. The owners obsessively procure the finest from our local organic farms and they want every nuance of those ingredients' subtle flavors to reveal themselves. I find that their approach to gelato is identical to the jam making ethic of June Taylor, whose still room is located just a few blocks away. (Not surprisingly, I spied more than a few of Sketch's colorful bowls scattered around June's kitchen at a class I took there a few weeks ago).

By eschewing richer ingredients in favor of purity of flavors, these former Aqua pastry cooks are clearly taking their cue from Sicily, the birthplace of gelato, as opposed to northern and central Italy, which don't shy away from using cream and eggs (now you know why you gained 15 pounds on that last trip to Rome and Florence). Eric told me the key to the satiny texture of their gelati is, as I quote him in the title of this post, that they freeze each of the 14 flavors fresh daily and hold them at precisely the right temperature (slightly higher than home freezers).

Another oddity: no cones. Again in a nod to Italy, the gelati are mostly served in cute brightly colored plastic cups, like the one pictured below that *briefly* held my apricot and hazelnut gelati.

In lieu of cones, you can choose to have your 'scream served in a crêpe or accompanied by one of the changing array of pastries and cookies, all of which are excellent (and contain all the cream and eggs omitted from the gelati).

Quirk number three: each customer is only allowed 2 tastes. I actually didn't notice this policy, but read about it online. It doesn't concern me. I don't stray far from the theme I pictured above (one scoop featuring whatever sexy local fruits are in season and one of the extraordinary nut gelati). My pilgrimages across the bridge to Sketch are too few, so I tend to stick to that familiar tango of textures and flavors that my tongue finds so ravishing. According to online reports, other flavors that consistently receive raves are Scharffenberger chocolate, tangy Straus yogurt, and Blue Bottle coffee. I read (and fleetingly have even noticed) that Sketch also serves sorbetti and granite.

If you're in New York and want a Sketch-like experience, head to Cones in the Village. Based on recommendations from Eric and Ruthie, I made tracks to this small scoop shop on Bleecker Street, which apparently gets the highest Zagat rating in the city. From what I read in the press clippings posted on the window, the owners of Cones share much of the same philosophy as our Sketchers. The main difference is that they add a little cream to their base (1 part cream to 3 parts milk). And, of course, cones are available here. The shop, however, lacks the charm of Sketch and flavors tend more towards the traditional. That said, my hazelnut was every bit as outstanding as Sketch's.

For a creamier, more traditionally custard-based experience, head to Il Laboratorio del Gelato. Their selection of flavors are amongst the most innovative you'll find (reminiscent of another Bay Area gem, Mitchell's). If I could sing, I would've have broken out in an aria over the black sesame and the mascarpone flavors I sampled.

Sketch
1809A Fourth Street
Berkeley
510.665.5650

Cones
272 Bleecker Street, between Morton and Jones
New York
212.414.1795

Il Laboratorio del Gelato
95 Orchard Street, between Broome and Delancey
New York
212.343.9122

Salty Snacks

Here are a few stories and sites that have grabbed my attention (or are just begging for my comment) over the past few days. Hope these tidbits whet your appetite for more!

Two skilled professional cooks with experience in East Bay restaurants are offering online video cooking classes at Kitchen Pirate. The videos, which range in price from free to a few bucks, cover topics from basic braising to how to bone a pig's trotter. Will online video cooking demos soon see a surge in popularity akin to that of the TV Food Network 10 years ago?

The SF Chronicle's Bill Addison highlights the growing popularity of Spanish piquillo peppers amongst Bay Area chefs. These crimson conservas (more appetizing sounding than "canned goods," don't you think?) deserve every bit of attention lavished upon them. I enjoy them so much that a few seed packets apparently slipped into my luggage during last summer's trip to San Sebastián (exactly one year ago!). Keep your eyes on the Mariquita stand in the next few months to see how piquillos fare in our local soil.

Speaking of Spain, check out Pim's description and photos of her meal at Etxebarri, a secluded restaurant about an hour's drive from San Sebastián. Since I reluctantly missed this out-of-the-way Temple to the Grill (you may recall that my usual copilot N was once again toiling away in NY), I am grateful to Pim for reporting every detail of her meal.

Back to the Chronicle, Janet Fletcher covers an innovative idea making the rounds amongst pastry chefs. As a self-avowed fruit addict, I love the idea of placing our extraordinary local fruit in the spotlight and relegating the custards and cakes to a garnish. Sometimes at the end of a big meal I just want a little something to sweeten my mouth and not weigh me down. What's your take?

Over in the NY Times, there are a couple of stories about two of my all-time favorite savory treats. Peter Meehan left me salivating with his review of a stellar Brooklyn joint selling Jamaican patties. Oh, how I miss Jamaican beef patties! When I lived in Washington, D.C., I ate them as often as I eat tacos here. (Recipes and/or tips on where to find these addictive Jamaican snacks locally would be much appreciated!)

Did someone say tacos? In another Times article (in today's paper), Cindy Price tours taquerias from LA to SF's Mission District. Check out her choices for the best taquerias on the California coast. Local Chowhounds, a little slower on the uptake than usual, are just starting to weigh in.

Is it lunch time already? Don't be surprised if you spot me on my own taco crawl through the Mission.

Wild Ride, Part II: Location, location, location

We all know the 3 rules for success in the restaurant business (location³). How does the aspiring restaurateur go about finding this elusive "great location"?

Before I go further, let me acknowledge that there is no single definition for a "great location." The restaurant's location has to be married to its concept. They depend on one another, like a burger and a bun. Using San Francisco as an example, you wouldn't want to open your quaint English tea house on Bayshore Avenue, an industrial section, because there's no "foot traffic" from shoppers walking by. If you're opening a fast food franchise, on the other hand, Bayshore may be a great location, because you would have visibility from the highway (and, despite years of protest, Home Depot is on its way).

In San Francisco, there are 2 principle ways to get your hands on a restaurant space. First, you can lease or buy a space that is not currently a restaurant and then install a kitchen and all the other fixin's necessary to open for business. Second, you can buy an existing restaurant business, remodel the space as much as you feel is necessary and can afford, and then open your doors. (Although specifics vary with each deal, when you purchase a restaurant business, you are buying the lease, including any time remaining and any options to renew, the furniture, fixtures, equipment, inventory, and, if desired, the previous restaurant's name and concept).

For the past year or so, I focused on the second choice, buying a business. Within this category, there are basically 2 ways to find a business for sale. You can act like a vulture and make an offer to struggling restaurants or you can peruse ads (most are online) and contact the sellers or their brokers. I spent most of my efforts on the latter method (although I've gradually learned that the best locations seem to go via the vulture method).

What is my experience of using online ads to hunt for a restaurant business to buy?

Imagine yourself blindfolded and standing in the middle of an airport hangar. Along one wall is the picture of a donkey upon whose derriere you wish to pin a tail. You spin around 5 times and go. Good luck.

Imagine you are looking for an apartment (or a house for that matter) and all the ads read "apartment in San Francisco, $1,500 - 2,000 per month" with no other details, not the number of bedrooms, not the address, not even the neighborhood. Get the idea?

Below is a picture I took last September of all of the San Francisco restaurant ads I had to choose from, spread across my floor. There were so many I couldn't fit them on my dining room table.

In defense of the sellers, restaurant ads need to remain vague for economic reasons. No restaurant owner wants to alert her employees or customers that she has placed her business on the market. Therefore, she and her broker keep the ad mysterious, sometimes to the point of the absurdity of my second example. Brokers typically require you to sign a Confidentiality Agreement before you can get the name and location of the restaurant for sale.

Ad writers often leave a few juicy details in an attempt to lure the aspiring restaurant owner. We get excited when we see phrases like "corner location," "full liquor license," and "excellent foot traffic." They are as titillating as "crispy," "tender," and "chocolate" are to diners reading a menu.

If you are like me and you like a good mystery, it's fun to turn the confoundingly frustrating process into a game where the goal is to try to guess which restaurant the ad is talking about. Try your hand with this impressive sounding place (I honestly don't know the answer, but I am curious).

Where do you find the ads? Theoretically, everything is online. The sources I search in San Francisco include the following:

• San Francisco Chronicle Classified Ads on SFGate (link goes to "Business to Business," then click "Restaurants/Bars")
• S.F. Bay Area Craigslist (link goes to page for "City of San Francisco," "Office & Commercial," then type "restaurant" in search field)
• BizBen.com (check boxes for "Restaurant/Food Service Related" and "San Francisco County" and press "submit" at bottom of page)
• Restaurants for Sale Online (link goes to search results for "California - San Francisco Bay Area Restaurants for Sale")
• Multiple Listing Service (under "Property Type" check "Business Op," under "Districts - Subdists" pop-up menu check all 10 "SF District" boxes, then press "submit")
• Restaurant Realty (click "View All of Our Current Listings")

There is some overlap amongst these services. For example, Restaurant Realty's ads are also listed on BizBen. For convenience, the Chronicle, BizBen, and Restaurants for Sale Online offer a service enabling you to sign up for email alerts whenever a new restaurant is listed. Restaurant owners who don't use brokers tend to list on Craigslist or in the Chronicle, so it's important to check these regularly.

Remember, above I added the qualifier "theoretically." Not every broker lists all of the restaurants he (they all seem to be male) is selling. Also, many brokers do not update their web-based ads, so restaurants that sold months ago are often still listed (many of the ads in the above picture turned out to be defunct). They prefer that you call them and establish a relationship.

Unlike buying a home, there is no such animal as a Buyer's Broker. It's important to understand that, despite what they may tell you, brokers really only represent their sellers (this becomes even more important when you make an offer). Each broker only has the information on the restaurants of those sellers who have listed with his company. When you meet or speak with him, he will only guide you to his listings and knows nothing about any competing broker's listings. Therefore, if you don't want to miss good opportunities, as I often have, you need to have a relationship with every broker in town.

More on that next time in Part III: Meet the Brokers.

Read previous Wild Ride posts: Prequel, Intro, Part I

Food|and Drink|Restaurants|Opening Restaurant|San Francisco

Counter Revolutionaries Storm NYC!

(Make that "Counter Revolution takes NYC by storm.")

When dining out, is there anything more fun than eating at the kitchen counter? Several of my favorite restaurants offer mostly or exclusively counter seating, including Canteen in San Francisco and Pinotxo and Cal Pep in Barcelona. Other faves, like A16 in SF and Casa Mono in NYC, also feature counters with a view of the action. For better or worse, these extreme open kitchens release us chefs into the wild, providing us the opportunity to easily interact with our guests and to keep an eye on our wait staff.* For the diner, the combination of theatrical spectacle and access to the kitchen can't be beat.

Recent articles in the New York Times, the San Francisco Chronicle, and Food & Wine indicate that I am not alone in my adoration. Kitchen counters, where diners perch on stools directly across from the leaping flames of the grill, are a hot new trend (in more ways than one). Restaurant kitchen designers of top-tier restaurants, including Joël Robuchon's L'Atelier in Paris, draw inspiration from Japanese sushi bars, Spanish tapas bars, and mid-twentieth century American lunch counters, such as Swan Oyster Depot.

After my visit to New York City over the Fourth of July weekend, I have to add two more places to my list of favorite spots featuring kitchen counter dining: Momofuku Noodle Bar and Degustation. N and I visited both in one day, with lunch at the former and dinner at the latter. I can't recall when I've last eaten as well and had as much fun!

The two chefs at Momofuku, David Chang and Joaquin Baca, apply their experience working at some of New York's top restaurants to reinterpret Japanese and Korean noodles and dumplings.

N and I took the edge off the sweltering New York City summer with a platter of mildly spicy seasonal pickled vegetables or kimchee. The wild ramps and baby turnips were particular standouts. Be sure to save some to eat with your noodles.

We equally loved our other appetizer, baby octopus salad. The tiny cephalopods were cooked until tender and then tossed in a spicy Vietnamese-style dressing with tangles of kombu (a type of sea vegetable), shredded carrots, and mushrooms.

N ordered a spicy bowl of kimchee stew, which came with a side of steamed rice. It was rich and satisfying, but not as photogenic as the Momofuku ramen I ordered. This bowl of noodles is a pork-lover's fantasy. Braised Berkshire pork shoulder and belly bathe in a bacon-infused pork broth along with noodles, sweet peas, slivered scallions, mushrooms and a slow-poached egg. For the uninitiated, slow-poached eggs are a product, I believe, of the molecular gastronomers (I first sampled one a couple of years ago at WD~50). The egg is poached in its shell in 140˚F/60˚C water for 45 minutes or so, resulting in an ethereal custard-like consistency.

Speaking of WD~50, that restaurant's mutton-chop-sideburned chef, Wylie Dufresne, sat a few seats down the bar from us while we dined at Degustation later that same day. In contrast to San Francisco (where avant-garde Winterland was forced to shutter this weekend due to lack of business), New York diners have started to embrace El Bulli-inspired molecular gastronomy. Our exciting dinner at Degustation included a smattering of foams, gelées, and, not surprisingly, another slow-poached egg (this time served with fried asparagus and jamón serrano). The young (26 years old!) chef, Wesley Genovart, is of Mallorcan descent and worked in Spain's most experimental kitchen outside of El Bulli, Mugaritz, so the cuisine is decidedly Spanish.

Degustation differs from Momofuku and most other kitchens that feature counter dining in that Chef Genovart faces the diners as he cooks. Since he never turns his back to you, the feeling that you are watching a one-person performance is amplified. I, for one, would lose my mind if I were in his clogs, but Chef Genovart didn't seem to mind the attention.

Highlights of our multi-course dégustation (French for "tasting menu") included a one-bite "tortilla." You know you're in for some culinary hi-jinx when you see those tell-tale quotation marks. In this case, Spain's iconic potato omelet transmogrified into paper-thin strips of potato surrounding shallot confit and a quail yolk. The yolk explodes in your mouth as soon as you bite down, so you have to act fast to keep yolk from embarrassingly dribbling down your chin.

Other favorite dishes included the endangered dish known as foie gras. Chef Genovart seared the foie then served it atop bittersweet caramel water gelée and sweet-tart cherries.

We also particularly enjoyed the squid stuffed with short ribs and the crispy pork belly with grilled scallions, shimeji mushrooms and pickled jalapeños in a sherry gastrique.

I was impressed with the well-edited wine list of mostly Spanish offerings, which naturally pair well with the menu. We had glasses of sparkling Cava from Pere Ventura, a lively white Basque Txakoli from Txomin Etxaniz, and a smooth red from Ribera del Duero from Viña de Val.

Check out my Flickr slideshow for more pictures and descriptions of our meal at Degustation.

Momofuku Noodle Bar
163 First Ave.(10th & 11th Sts.)
212.475.7899
No reservations, serve lunch and dinner, open 7 days

Degustation
239 E. 5th St. (2nd Ave.)
212.979.1012
No reservations, serve dinners only, closed Sunday
________________________________
* We cooks quickly realize that these wide open windows between kitchen and dining room work both ways. As I learned from first hand experience cooking at the now closed L'Amie Donia, a top-rated French bistro in Palo Alto that included 8 counter seats, diners can see and hear everything, including some things I'd wish they couldn't. They hear our curses and witness our mistakes, including the inevitable cuts and burns. Unlike the powdered and perfectly quoiffed celebrities on the TV Food Network, we cooks aren't at our prettiest during the dinner rush. Our white coats are smeared with some combination of sweat, soot, and sauce. Being on stage all the time with no place to hide adds an extra layer of stress to an already pressure packed job. Will I incorporate a kitchen counter into my eventual kitchen design? Stay tuned....

Food|and Drink|Restaurants|Review|New York

Wild Ride, Part I: the Basics

So, you wanna open a restaurant?

Perhaps you yearn to open a little boîte where you can serve your neighbors your Aunt Betty's meatloaf. Or maybe it's a hip wine bar specializing in German rieslings that gets your entrepreneurial groove on. Or a funky café, a meditative tea house, a chic pastry boutique, an artisanal gelateria, or the world's first raw foodist dog biscuit buffet.

You have a unique vision. You are passionate about it. You know what you want to serve, what kind of experience you want to provide, and you're pretty sure that there are people out there who are willing to part with their hard earned dollars to buy your products and your services. In fact, you've even written up a detailed business plan laying out all the costs and assumptions on paper demonstrating that, in theory at least, you're going to make a profit. Right? Good.

How do you move from dream to reality? What are some of the basic first steps you need to take?

My first suggestion is to gain some experience working in the kind of place you want to open. It's not required, but it couldn't hurt, could it? Take me, for example. My driving goal for the past 10 years has been to open a small neighborhood restaurant, so I've focused my experience on working at the best of this genre, learning as much as I could from chef-owners whose values and vision I share. 10 years isn't necessary, though. Even a short period volunteering at a place that inspires you would be useful, allowing you to experience the daily routine of a restaurant owner or baker or bartender.

Another suggestion would be to learn as much as you can about the type of business you want to open. Read books, talk to business owners, join relavant professional associations, hire consultants, and take classes to learn from the experts. In my case, I attended culinary school. Then, years later, I took a class on opening a restaurant from my local community college. Then, more recently, I've been taking still more classes from the local branch of the Small Business Association. I figure you can never be too prepared.

A third requirement is financial. Make sure you have enough money to realize your dream. You don't want to add yourself to those statistics that say the biggest cause of business failure is under-capitalization. Line up investors, take out a second mortgage, max out your credit cards, sell your less vital organs, do whatever it takes. You've done your business plan, so you know how much you're going to need. In San Francisco, for example, the costs of doing business are incredibly high, perhaps the highest in the country, so you need to make sure you have enough to get you rolling. In my case, I let people take out futures on those vital organs. Which brings me to my final suggestion.

Get your head examined! There's a good reason I chose to accompany these restaurant-opening posts with a picture of a man bound up in leather straps with his hair standing on end. [That last sentence ought to bring in some exciting Google traffic, don't you think?] You have to be a little unbalanced to want to open a restaurant, especially in San Francisco. The food service industry is ridiculously competitive, has tiny profit margins, a high rate of failure, and, as a bonus, you get to stand on your feet all day. Have your shrink check that it's your passion and desire to serve your neighbors driving you, not some insidious hereditary disorder. In my case, the verdict is still undecided....

On a related note, make sure you have loads of psychological and emotional support from family and friends and colleagues. One of our city's most successful restaurateurs, Charles Phan of the Slanted Door, famously has his entire extended family working along his side. Though I am not quite so fortunate, I am grateful that I have a few close friends and a wonderful wife who are cheering me on from the sidelines. In particular, I'd be lost without the overflowing support and encouragement of my darling N.

Next up:  Location, location, location (how to find a decent place to operate your business).

Read previous Wild Ride posts: Prequel, Intro
________________________________
[Note: those who were expecting to read about business brokers will have to wait until the installment after next. I was getting ahead of myself].

Food|and Drink|Restaurants|Opening Restaurant|San Francisco

Start saving now!

[July 14 Edit: The previously reported prices for the chorizo and salchichón are for 2-pound packages, not per pound. That makes these products far more tempting, doesn't it? Thank you NS of SF Gourmet for pointing out my error!]

The day that Spanish food lovers have been anxiously awaiting is finally here! The finest cured pork products produced on this planet are now available in the United States.

All photos are of the chorizo ibérico de bellota produced by Joselito, which is not the supplier of the products being imported into the U.S.*

In yesterday's New York Times, Florence Fabricant reported that Americans can now purchase Spanish ibérico pork products from the on line Spanish food retailer La Tienda. Thanks to a the joint efforts of the founder of La Tienda, Donald Harris, and one of my favorite chefs, José Andrés (of the restaurants Jaleo, Cafe Atlantico, minibar, and several others in Washington, D.C.), we can currently buy chorizo, salchichón (closer to salami), and, my personal favorite, lomo (pork loin cured with pimentón, Spanish paprika) made from the ibérico breed of pig that is native to Spain. Some time in the next 2 years, when the hams have had 9 to 12 22-28 months to cure, the fabled jamón ibérico will also become available (at long last!).

A few years ago, the U.S. government decided to lift its ban on the import of products made from Spain's ibérico pig (free trade - what's that?). However, American-based Spanish food lovers (meaning yours truly) have had to wait until a special slaughterhouse was built upon which the U.S.D.A. would deign to bestow it approval. (I imagine that the number of Spaniards that have suffered horrible jamón-related deaths because their slaughterhouses weren't up to American standards is equal to the number of French casualties attributed to eating unpasteurized Epoisses de Bourgogne. Zero. Don't get me started!).

Each type of embutido (the Spanish equivalent of the French word charcuterie or Italian salumi) is being imported in two versions. While both come from the meat of the ibérico breed of pig, which is also known as pata negra after the pigs' characteristic black hooves, a portion of the new imports is coming from those lucky free-range pigs whose diet is rich in acorns (bellotas) and thus bear the additional modifier de bellota. Interestingly, tests have shown that 50% of the lipid (fat) profile of the jamón ibérico de bellota is monounsaturated, the same healthy type as found in olive oil.

Wild Ride: my new series on opening a restaurant

Have you ever noticed what's good for the blog is not necessarily good for the blogger? Sometimes life gives you more free time, whether you want it or not, and you suddenly find you have ample opportunities to blog. Last summer, for example, my wife N went east to New York to take courses for her masters degree. I used that time to start my blog and managed to post several times a week. She's back in NYC again this summer and, lo and behold, I have a bit of spare time to write.

Time to make some lemonade from my lemons. One way I'd like to use this time is to share some of the lessons I've learned during my attempt to open a restaurant in San Francisco.

As you may recall from my story a few months ago ("Mr. Sardine's Wild Ride"), I am trying to fulfill my dream of opening a small sustainable neighborhood restaurant.

I've decided to start a new series on In Praise of Sardines for people interested in learning more about how to open a restaurant (or a tea house, cafe, wine bar, pastry shop, catering business, or other food service related business). Following the lead of my first post on the topic, the series will be called "Wild Ride."

Maybe you're someone who, like me, has worked in the restaurant business for years, and you are ready to make the leap into becoming your own boss. Or perhaps you are one of those gifted cooks whose friends always insist that you really must open a little bistro, because you throw such fabulous dinner parties. Or maybe you're simply someone who enjoys eating out and would like to learn more about the crazy world known as the restaurant business. [Or maybe you entered "wild ride" into Google and thought you were going to find a completely different type of content.]

First, a disclaimer. What I will share with you is solely my experience of the process. I don't pretend to be an expert and I don't intend for my stories to be the final word on opening a restaurant. Also, I only know about the restaurant search process in San Francisco, not in Topeka, Tuscon, Trinidad or anywhere else. Even within San Francisco, your experience or that of others you know may be totally different. If it is comprehensive advice that you seek, you would be far better off consulting any of the countless how-to books on the topic and taking classes such as those that, within the US at least, are often offered by local community colleges, culinary schools, and the SBA.

Rather, I intend for this series to be less of a recipe or guide book and more of a sketch book or journal. This is just a blog, after all. Maybe you'll learn something and hopefully you'll not repeat my countless mistakes. Perhaps you'll have more sympathy for the owner of your favorite local restaurant (and give her a hug next time you're there). Maybe you'll decide to keep your high paying desk job. At the very least, I hope that you'll be entertained!

For those of you who are simply interested in learning about the status of my restaurant search, I'll also use these posts to catch you up to date!

Tune in next for Wild Ride, Part II: Meet the Brokers the Basics [sorry, I got a little ahead of myself].

Read the previous Wild Ride post: Prequel
________________________________
I apologize for any inconvenience (and no doubt irreparable psychological trauma) caused to those of you who attempted to leave comments on my blog today. My blog host, Typepad, decided to go on holiday for much of the day. I request that you have your attorneys contact them directly.

Food|and Drink|Restaurants|Opening Restaurant|San Francisco

A taste so delicious that it caused me to miss my flight

This is one of those confessional stories that I normally would be extremely selective about who I tell. 99.9% of the population just wouldn't get it. Frankly, they'd see me as a glutton. Or a buffoon. Probably both.

But, hey, I figure if you're still checking in on my blog after I haven't posted for a month, then there's a good chance that you might be part of that 0.1% that would be sympathetic to my gluttony enthusiasms.

You see, I missed my flight yesterday for a couple of slices of pizza. Plain. Cheese. Pizza. No toppings. The menu posted on the grease-stained wall calls it simply "regular."

My odyssey began at 11 yesterday morning in Manhattan. What am I doing in NYC? This is a story about pizza, so where else would I be? Really, though, my darling wife N is there for the summer. Something to do with graduate school, a masters degree, training for her promotion into school administration, yadda, yadda. All I know is I missed her, so I visited her over the long holiday weekend. More on the rest of the trip another day.

At 11, I departed the place where we were staying on the Upper West Side, suitcase in tow, umbrella poised over my head. I dodged puddles, ignored the light rain, and hopped aboard the A train to JFK. I learned the hard way that a few sprinkles are enough to grind the subway system to a halt, so it took 2 hours to reach the airport. Then again, the ticket only cost $2, so I can't complain. I checked in my bag, leaving me 4 hours to grab a bite to eat in Brooklyn before my 5:30 flight began boarding.

4 hours. Seems like plenty of time for a couple of slices of pizza, no?

The object of my quest wasn't just any pizza, but you probably suspected that already. Although I didn't know this at the time, my Grail has been universally praised in virtually every publication that writes about food, New York, and/or pizzas (even the London-based Financial Times). This pizzeria receives a 27 in the most recent Zagat Survey, the same score as Jean Georges (!!??). Pizza blogger Adam of Slice has written about it so often, it is its own category. It is featured prominently in Ed Levine's pizza guide.

I, however, had only read about it in Molly's memorable post last September on her food blog, Orangette. Her story and accompanying photos were enough to convince me that I needed to visit DiFara Pizza.*

From the airport, it took me 3 transfers and over an hour to reach the pizzeria. When I last checked my watch, it was well before 3:00, leaving me an ample 2 hours to eat and get back to the airport. [At the time, I had no idea that waits at DiFara routinely exceed an hour.] All I knew is that there were only about 10 people in front of me. Shortly after I arrived, 2 of them tossed up their arms in disgust and left, a gesture which should have given me pause, but instead strengthened my resolve. Mind you, I was ravenous, having eaten little more than a croissant for breakfast.

I was also completely mesmerized by what I saw before me. Time had ceased to have any relevance.