The Weekly Review
By Susan Dyer Reynolds

Bobo’s Still Puts a Steak in My Heart

I vividly remember my first visit to Bobo’s (then called Boboquivari’s) shortly after they opened in 2003. A friend had stumbled upon it when her boyfriend, who was in the wine trade, took her there on a sales call. “You have to try this steak,” she said lasciviously. With my interest piqued, I made a reservation for a Friday night. When my friends and I arrived, the place was empty. Granted, they had just opened, but an empty restaurant on a Friday night is always a red flag. The room was beautiful — not your typical dark wood, manly-man steakhouse — the vibe was sexy and seductive, with a red and black theme and a sophisticated Euro feel. After eating the best steak I’d ever had in my life (including at the venerable Peter Luger in Brooklyn), I wrote a review for the October issue of the Marina Times. I explained the name in that write-up: The nearly life-sized marionette that hangs over the entry to the kitchen is Boboquivari, the Venetian court jester of comedy and entertainment. The moniker was a mouthful, so for the rest of the review, I referred to it as Bobo’s. The nickname stuck, and not long afterward, the brightly lit sign that beckons drivers on Lombard Street was changed to reflect the shorter and much easier-to-remember name.
           
When I presented my first “Best of Food” winners in the Marina Times in 2004, Bobo’s was awarded “best steak.” Since then we’ve grown a bit, as has Bobo’s, but they are still the reigning champion, garnering unanimous votes from the food and wine writers in Northside San Francisco’s 2005 and 2006 “Best of Food and Wine” issues.

Don’t get me wrong, there are some excellent hunks of meat in the Bay Area — Harris’, Alfred’s and El Raigon in San Francisco; Boca in Novato; Forbes Mill in Los Gatos and Danville; and Alexander’s in Cupertino are some of my favorites — but the steak at Bobo’s is unique in a number of ways.

Four decades ago, most U.S. beef was dry-aged, but in the 1960s, the industry realized that “wet aging” in vacuum-packed plastic was more cost-effective because the meat didn’t lose any of its weight (up to 20 percent is lost in dry aging, which is a laborious and expensive endeavor). The majority of steak is still wet-aged, though the few high-end steakhouses still dry age, usually on the premises, for up to 21 days. Bobo’s decided not to do the aging onsite and partnered instead with one of the few U.S. purveyors with a total quality controlled, USDA-rated facility where they are able to age their 100 percent USDA-certified prime for four to six weeks. It is a pricy, complicated and delicate method — an expert butcher is on hand throughout the process to ensure that airflow, temperature and humidity stay consistent. During dry aging, a crust develops on the outside similar in texture to beef jerky, which helps keep the juices inside the steak. The crust is trimmed off at the end, leaving meat that is tender, juicy and flavorful. Because Bobo’s ages theirs for so much longer, these traits are enhanced that much more.
           
The cooking method also sets Bobo’s apart — the steak is pan-seared with garlic and rosemary, creating a crisp, aromatic, caramelized exterior that locks in the flavor and the juices. They offer five cuts: bone-in New York ($39), porterhouse ($59), filet ($39), petite filet ($28), and the uncommon bone-in filet ($39).
           
On the second of four visits, I brought along Northside S.F. sports editor, Michael Murphy, who took one for the team and ordered the porterhouse, a slab of meat the size of my pit bull’s head. Comprised of a New York strip and a filet (its cousin the T-bone has a smaller filet), the two sides often cook unevenly, so at Bobo’s, they cook them separately and arrange them together on the plate at service. Both the New York and the filet arrived sizzling hot and perfectly medium rare.
           
Another dining companion, Jordan, opted for the bone-in New York, which was delicious and moist, despite the fact he ordered it “medium,” something I would never do to such a topnotch hunk of meat (I kicked him under the table to no avail). The bone, especially with the long, dry aging period, adds another layer of flavor to the meat.

My favorite cut has always been the filet — the thick, lean, buttery diamond of the beef world — and the bone-in filet at Bobo’s is one of my top 10 things on any menu in the Bay Area. On all four visits, the temperature was consistent (be aware that the kitchen leans toward the rare side of medium rare), and the taste — with the salty, fragrant, caramelized crunchy bits outside and melt-in-your-mouth, medium-rare meat enhanced by the bone within — is superior to any steak I’ve had. On the last of my four visits, the meat was a bit more fatty than on the previous three, but because I think beef fat is one of the most glorious things in a gastronome’s life, I was fine with that. Part of why the filet can be dry and tasteless compared to other cuts is that it’s too lean — at Bobo’s, they don’t overly trim it.

Because I have eaten so many of the bone-in filets over the years, I decided on one visit to try the petite filet, the only cut we hadn’t tried; however, it arrived a tad too rare and cool for my liking. I ended up drooling as I watched my dining companion, a Bobo’s virgin; savor every morsel of his bone-in filet while his eyes rolled back in his head.
           
There are other things on the menu at Bobo’s, like a nice selection of appetizers, salads and sides. Every meal starts on a high note with a loaf of warm, fresh-baked sourdough, the soft center dotted with bits of black olive and oozing with garlicky butter

The owners wisely brought their famous, two-plus pounds of whole Dungeness crab roasted in decadent garlic sauce ($35) from one of their other restaurants, The Crab House, at Pier 39 (though I think the quality at The Crab House is superior). You can also get a half order ($19), three pounds ($49), or a crab feast that easily feeds four ($100). Everyone at our table had the addictive sauce dribbling down their chins (I’d skip this one on a first date).
           
Iron skillet-roasted mussels ($15/$28/$35) are petite and succulent (skillet-roasted mussels can be dry), and iron skillet-roasted shrimp ($15/$28/$35) can be combined with the mussels and crab for a shared appetizer.
           
Another appetizer you can’t go wrong with is the burrata ($9). Eating burrata — a fresh cheese from southern Italy with a solid mozzarella shell and a soft inside of mozzarella curd and cream — is one of my favorite memories from my summers back east with my grandfather. It should always be served room temperature, and I like it with a sprinkle of coarse-ground sea salt and a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil. On three of four visits, the burrata was room temperature with an oozing center (the last visit it arrived still a tad too chilled). You can also add accompaniments to the burrata like grilled asparagus and heirloom toy box tomatoes, but I like mine straight up. If I am ever stranded on that proverbial desert island, I want burrata and a Bobo’s bone-in filet with me … along with Gary Danko and a sushi chef.
           
Crab cakes ($14), burrata and crab crostini with smoked salmon and avocado ($13), and lobster curry soup ($9) are also good starters, but I would skip the yellowfin tuna carpaccio with diced chilies ($14) — the fish is paper-thin, allowing the chilies to overwhelm the delicate essence of the hamachi, and it is unnecessarily drowning in a pool of olive oil ponzu sauce.
           
I like the fact that Bobo’s presents the ubiquitous baby romaine wedge as a do-it-yourself salad. Choose from five versions, including Point Reyes blue cheese; tomatoes, avocado, and croutons with balsamic vinaigrette; and Caeser dressing with croutons and shaved Grana Padano ($8). You can also add crab or shrimp for an additional charge.

There is a fish option for any poor soul you dragged along who doesn’t eat meat, and it’s actually quite good — a crispy filet of Hawaiian sunfish (a mild, white fish more commonly known as tilapia), sautéed in a soy-butter glaze with seaweed ($19).
           
Sides ($8) aren’t the typical steakhouse fare, either. I loved the fried zucchini, but longed for some ranch dressing for dipping rather than the aioli it comes with. On my last visit, however, they were sliced too thinly, rendering them limp and thus lacking the entire Holy Trinity of fried zucchini (crisp crust, Parmesan cheese, ranch dressing).

Twice-baked potato has always been a crowd-pleaser, though I wish they also offered a classic baked potato with the works (butter, sour cream and chives). It is always great to see cauliflower (one of my favorite unsung vegetables) and Swiss chard (a leafy green member of the beet family) on a menu. My favorite side used to be the big, thick, house-cut onion rings, but they switched from Vidalia to Bermuda (I prefer the sweeter Vidalia), and on three visits they were too thin and not crunchy enough. The final visit, they got it right — thick, firm, and very crisp. I hope this becomes the rule rather than the exception.
           
Service at Bobo’s is fairly consistent — the wait staff and bartenders are efficient, friendly and not too intrusive, although on one visit, we did have a new guy who recited the entire history of The Steak before he took our drink order — and I definitely needed a martini for that performance.
           
They need some work at the front door — the greeting was always quick and attentive, but when we left, particularly on the last visit, the hostess was busy chatting with some gentlemen at the bar and didn’t bother to acknowledge us.
           
The eclectic, well-chosen wine list is cleverly laid out by price in increments of $10, from $19 to $99, and there is also a collection of limited edition and cult wines ranging from $109 to $799. The owners also listen to their customers and based on their recommendations, they have added some varietals to the list. Bobo’s also has a full bar where they serve a classics and specialty cocktails (and the full menu if you get hungry after a few drinks).
           
Desserts, like at most steakhouses, seem like an afterthought — perhaps they expect, and rightfully so, that you'll be too stuffed. Pistachio panna cotta and “Dunce Caps” (chocolate mousse tinged with chili powder in tiny cones) are the best bets.

Coffee served in silver pots with lumps of raw sugar alongside adds a classy touch, as do the Villeroy & Boch China cups in a pattern I have at home, “New Wave” — though the manta ray-like winged handles are more for dramatic flair than function.

The ambiance remains sexy and cool, with a wavy, sleek backlit green glass hood over the bar, tables for two on the third level with curtains for privacy, and plenty of big, tall booths. The charming Venetian-style dining room on the second level is perfect for small groups. As you come down the stairs, a slightly creepy Italian mask watches over you, and I kept expecting it to talk like the skull in the old Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland (you know the one — just before you take that first big plunge). The restaurant is located near the busy corner of Lombard near Franklin, but they astutely offer free valet parking.
           
Business has picked up since my first visit in 2003 — word of mouth has traveled, and Bobo’s is often booked solid with visitors from all over the world. Most of the customers, however, are like me: regulars who need their steak fix and know Bobo’s is the best place to get it.
           

Bobo’s: 1450 Lombard St. (at Franklin), 415-441-8880.
Dinner served nightly from 5–11 p.m.; reservations recommended.

Three diamonds


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Dishing with... Chefs Gayle Pirie and John Clark
By Susan Dyer Reynolds

Over two decades honing their chops at restaurant luminaries like Zuni Cafe and Chez Panisse set the stage for success when Gayle Pirie and John Clark took over the kitchen at Foreign Cinema in 1999 with their daily changing Mediterranean-inflected menu. Rave reviews from publications both locally and nationwide propelled the charming Mission district eatery into the point chaud du jour, but over a decade later, Pirie and Clark are still at the top of their game, feeding a packed house of believers every day. The couple has also published two books, Country Egg, City Egg in 2000 and Bride and Groom in 2006.

When I first interviewed the team a couple of years ago, Country Egg, City Egg was out of print. When I told them how much I loved eggs, they found a copy at the restaurant, signed it, and sent me home with it. I use it all the time. Now, nearly 10 years after its debut, the book is back in print.

Adorably illustrated by Rollin McGrail, Country Egg, City Egg includes everything from tricks for basic cooking methods (plunge hardboiled eggs in an ice bath to keep the yolks deep golden orange) to dozens of terrific recipes. The first half of the book is all about ease and rusticity, with simple but effective dishes like a chorizo scramble, ham and egg croquettes and a marscarpone omelet with garden herbs. The “City Eggs” part of the book features upscale dishes like soufflés and custards dressed up with scrumptious delicacies like caviar, black truffles and smoked salmon. I’ve enjoyed every recipe I’ve made from the book over the last couple of years, including a terrific piperade (the Basque specialty of sautéed bell peppers, tomatoes and garlic), poached eggs set into a pan-crisped potato-onion “nest,” gratineed deviled eggs (the delightful filling takes a quick pass under the broiler), and a fabulous croque-madame (the classic French toasted sandwich of Guryere cheese and ham; the croque-monsieur has an egg on top).

If you love eggs the way I do, this book is a must — grab a copy today on the Foreign Cinema Web site ($19.95).

Fun Fact: Despite the common misconception, Pirie and Clark are not married, but they have been together for 28 years and have two children.

Last thing you cooked for yourself?
John: Pasta carbonara for the kids. You made a really good meal the other day … what was it?
Gayle: He’s lying. We’re so broken at home [laughs]. I think it was Dijon roasted chicken.

Favorite food from your childhood?
J: My mother’s oven-fried potatoes in butter and rosemary — we took those to Zuni, but we used olive oil instead of butter — and angel food cake.
G: Fried chicken at Zim’s — it was a chain of diners here in the City. They’re all closed now, unfortunately, but they had fried chicken in a basket, and there were sesame seeds in the batter. I put them in some of our fried foods here as a tribute.

How would you describe the working in your kitchen?
G: Groovy [smiles] — a groovy buzz. It’s a happening; the cooks want to be here and we’re trying to bring the best menu we can that day.
J: We keep out the stress, but we thrive on discipline.
  
Something in your fridge or freezer at home that would surprise people?
J: Amy’s frozen organic pizza.

A meal or a dish that, as a young chef, was an inspiration or a revelation?
J: Whole peppercorn steak in Milan in 1986 at this one-and-a-half Michelin star restaurant. It was seared rare; the peppercorns were cooked in olive oil and rosemary and they ladled it across the steak. We do it here sometimes.
G: A perfectly rolled omelet in France … and mussels in Menton.
J: Yes! Sautéed in cream, shallots and white wine — these mussels were salty, sweet, little … there’s nothing like them here. They were perfect.

Last restaurant you ate at besides your own?
J: Fonda in Albany.
G: It’s Latin tapas.

The dish on your menu that will follow you wherever you go?
G: The French rolled omelet.

Favorite offal?
J: Beef tongue. I don’t really eat brains anymore. When we were at Zuni, we roasted whole suckling pigs — I split the head open and the staff would eat the brains.

What are your guilty pleasures?
G: Beef fat; lamb fat. We have a ribeye here rubbed with Scharffen Berger unsweetened chocolate nibs, which gives it really earthy undertones — there is so much flavor in the fat of a ribeye.
J: Going through a seven ounce tin of caviar — having a tablespoon of caviar in your mouth at once is truly hedonistic.

What would be your last meal on earth and where would you have it?
G: Jean Georges!
J: In a space ship, eating out of plastic bags.

Foreign Cinema: 2534 Mission Street (near 21st), 415-648-7600

– Susan

The Penny Pincher: Bhavika's Chatpat
1053 E. El Camino Real, Sunnyvale, 408-551-0917

It’s hard for me to get excited about the upscale Indian restaurants in San Francisco — I grew up in Sunnyvale, where there is terrific Indian food at every strip mall. Bhavika’s is right around the corner from my childhood home. It caters to the local Indian community — this is the place my Indian friends’ mothers go to grab take-out when they don’t feel like cooking. If you’re looking for fancy, forget it. This is bare bones fast food with no ambiance (three or four small tables), but its family owned and the prices are a steal — every item on the all-vegetarian menu board is $4 or less. Try the papdi chat — fried wafers made from flour and oil served with boiled potatoes, chickpeas, chilies, yogurt, and tamarind chutney.

Fab Five…vegetarian soups
By Susan Dyer Reynolds

When I was a kid, my mom made a big pot of soup every Monday night and we’d eat it with crusty, fresh-baked bread. Throughout the week, we’d have what was left over as a side with sandwiches, a mid-afternoon snack, or a prelude to dinner. My favorites were her fresh artichoke heart puree; my grandpa’s recipe for green garlic broth with a crostini soaking in the bottom of the bowl and a poached egg and grated Parmesan on top, and her Manhattan clam chowder, made with tomatoes from our garden — I loved the way the brininess of the salt pork mingled with the sea salty freshness of the littleneck clams still tucked in their shells. I sometimes say that my mom was Alice Waters before Alice Waters “Barnum and Bailey-ed it up” — she grew as much as she could in her garden and shopped every day for the rest of her ingredients, always fresh and seasonal. A Rhode Island native with a father from Sicily, my mom took full advantage of the Bay Area’s bounty, adding them to her family recipes and inventing new ones as she adapted to life away from New England. Most of her soups were meatless, and until this day many of my favorite soups, both at home and in restaurants, are vegetarian. Here are five comforting soups that I crave:

5. Cream of artichoke at Shadowbrook
1750 Wharf Road, Capitola-by-the-Sea, 800-975-1511

The famous artichoke soup at this charming, romantic mainstay rivals my mom’s — a velvety puree of celery, leeks, garlic, herbs, heavy cream, and premium artichoke hearts from the nearby “Artichoke Capital of the World,” Castroville.

4. Vegetarian wonton at Shangri-La
2026 Irving Street, San Francisco, 415-731-2548

A favorite of vegetarians since it opened in 1978, tiny Shangri-la is 99 percent vegan (there are eggs in a few dishes) and is also kosher-compliant. Using fresh garden vegetables, beans, nuts, tofu, and whole grains, the kitchen manages to turn out flavorful, creative dishes like wonton soup, a light vegetable broth studded with spicy ground vegetable dumplings and topped with fresh spinach and house-made dry tofu with “vegetable pork,” which tastes better than it sounds.

3. Miso ramen (hold the pork) at Maru Ichi
530 Barber Lane, Milpitas, 408-434-5991

I had a boyfriend who loved Maru Ichi, and he really loved the fact that I liked my miso ramen porkless — you only get two thin slices, so he was happy to add mine to his (he was a big guy, after all). Maru Ichi’s miso ramen has a rich, flavorful broth filled with perfectly chewy noodles, green onions, bean sprouts, and half a boiled egg (also optional).

2. Vegetable soup at Eliza’s
2877 California Street, San Francisco, 415-621-4819;
1457 18th Street, San Francisco, 415-648-9999

Eliza’s is popular for its healthful, modern take on Chinese food, and the vegetable soup is no exception —– a bowl full of fresh vegetables like lotus root, two or three varieties of mushrooms, snow peas, and asparagus floating in a peppery vegetable broth. This has been my go-to soup for years whenever I’m feeling under the weather.

1. Celery root and potato with chive oil at Luella
1896 Hyde Street, San Francisco, 415-674-4343

When people ask what restaurants I eat at when I’m not working, Luella is on my short list. Chef-owner Ben deVries has one of the City’s best neighborhood gems, set just in front of the iconic Hyde Street cable car line on Russian Hill. Not since George Morrone has a chef impressed me so much with his mastery of soups. DeVries changes the menu frequently, so the celery root and potato isn’t always available, but he also creates a silky artichoke purée with shaved pecorino, and an almond-potato-leek soup with white truffle (the shredded, fried leeks on top are an example of deVries’s meticulous attention to detail). The celery root and potato is another shining example of his skills as a soup maker — celery root, also known as celeriac, has a bold, grassy flavor somewhat like parsley that plays beautifully against the earthiness of the potato. A drizzle of chive oil finishes off what is one of the best soups I’ve ever had, vegetarian or otherwise.