Flavor Boulevard

In foodie talk, Berkeley is synonymous with Chez Panisse: there’s hardly a writing of Bay Area cuisine without the mentioning of Alice Waters and her propriety. But as attractive as the local and sustainable idea sounds, places like Chez Panisse are clearly not in the accessible range for everyone’s weekly, or even monthly, savour. If it’s not what the locals regularly eat, how can it represent the local cuisine? The common Berkelers don’t make one month reservation to eat at a cafe, they instead would rather make a line on the sidewalk, waiting to be seated in 25 minutes or so-told by waiters with tattoos and spiky hair. Such casualness, though paired with obvious reduce in taste innovation and price, defines the Berkeley dining spectrum, with the holes in the wall like Razan’s Organic Kitchen and Gregoire at the cheaper end, to more comfortable sit-downs like Herbivore and Venus at the other.

I call it a sit-down because Venus is barely bigger than a classroom, and diners are spaced more snugly than students on exam day. Its rectangular base holds a kitchen-cashier combination and roughly 40 seats – an ok amount for lunch and dinner but not enough for the mornings. I’ve seen lines, and been in one myself, standing outside the door even on weekdays. The mornings here are cold, but Venus’s breakfasts are good.

Venus's scramble eggs with calabrese sausage , spinach and mushroom, with roasted potato and toasts - $11.00

Omelets and scrambled eggs are the main categories, with typical Californian blendings like chicken-and-apple sausage, fresh berries and chocolate chips in pancakes, and thick, fat, buttery French toasts accompanied by melons and oranges.

A Venus daily special - apple French toasts and sausage, to be dressed in blackberry syrup - $12.50

If you feel guilty about taking time to savor your toasts while others are shivering outside waiting to slip through that door, lunch proves a more comfortable choice. To boost, the hosts give you both the breakfast and lunch menus if you arrive around noon. The specials of the day are printed items with a simple twist, like my chicken salad with a load of watermelon cubes mixed in.

A Venus daily special - watermelon salad with grilled chicken breast and feta cheese - $13.00

The ingredients aren’t clamorous and the mixing isn’t adventurous, but such daily specials are nonetheless a refreshing attempt to harmonize flavors: sweet watermelon to temper tangy feta and vinaigrette, teeth-sinking jello crunch of the grilled chicken to pair with airy crustiness of newly baked bread. It isn’t the best salad I’ve ever had, but it bursts a mouthful of Casual-Cali aroma(*): healthy food can have attractive taste.

The atmosphere, too, is characteristic. Jazzy 60’s records reluctantly slip words one by one off the speaker like water dripping from a roof after some heavy rain. College students twirl their straws over a quiet chat by the windows. An old man with a cane and weak feet drags his steps to the table, clouding himself with a Degas’ look while waiting for his soup. Lone diners in spectacles spend an entire morning flipping through the news, occasionally take a bite of sandwich and a sip of coffee. Couples in their late fifties laugh and talk without constraint. Everyone is comfortable. It’s a noisy place, but oddly it’s full of solitude.

Venus restaurant, in some aspect, is just like their panna cotta: rich and smooth, with the occasional fresh and tart berries to boost.

Dessert at Venus - panna cotta with fresh berries - $8.00

Eating local and sustainable means spending unsustainably, or eating expensive in plain terms. Sure, breakfast for two or lunch plus dessert will rip you off about 25 dollars sans tip. But when the bill doesn’t absurdly boast $50 or more a person, the taste, the portion and the good feeling of eating healthy and local justify the self-indulgence. I guess.

Address: Venus Restaurant
2327 Shattuck Avenue,
Berkeley, CA 94704
(510) 540-5950

(*): This definition is made only on comparison with the cuisines of other states in America, as the fusion and local trend is by no means particular to California, but a growing fashion in high-end restaurants around the world.

Maybe I’m still holding everything in comparison to Texas, and maybe it’s unjust to do so, but South Berkeley is seriously the hole-in-the-wall haven. It’s like the folks here just woke up one day and decided hey I’m gonna swap out the sofas downstairs for some huge stoves, place in a few tiny tables and a few tiny chairs against the walls, and maybe an umbrella out on the pavement for style, a receipt printer, a sign that says “Cash only”, and a drink dispenser (or water pitchers). Voilà, mon restaurant! Or in this case, more humble and descriptive, Razan’s Organic Kitchen!

The wraps take center stage on the chalkboard menu, and the snugly enclosure doesn’t invite a serious course, so we opted for two wraps. The veggie one, named Egyptian (did Egyptians not eat meat?), came out as soon as we filled our water paper cups.

As far as content goes, I didn’t expect much from a package of falafel, hummus, tomato, cucumber, lettuce, and tahini (sesame paste) wrapped in wheat tortilla, which isn’t really different from pita. But the package did surprise me with its freshness and harmony. Tomato and hummus made it a bit runny, but the lettuce crunch was a perfect complement for the falafel’s meatball-like texture. I’m not sure if the falafel was made Egyptian-style with only fava beans, but it is the distinguisher between the veggie Egyptian wrap and the other nine veggie wraps (Jerusalem, Lebanese, and less regional names) on board.

The meat wraps are three fewer than the veggie ones. The three main choices are chicken, beef, and salmon, in increasing order of price. Being in the safe mode that day, I went for the beef shish kabab, with roasted vegetables, brown rice, hummus, sumac and parsley. Every bite strikingly resembled a steak burrito from Chipotle. Not bad, but not wow-enducing either. Rice falling out from all sides is not a pretty sight.

They were big, tight wraps. The stuffing was as compact as the place itself. Even so, putting together the size, the taste, the ingredient freshness, and the location, $7.95-$12.95 a sandwich log is still a steep edge. I know I should support free range chicken and grass fed cow yada yada, but we students have to support ourselves too.

Address: Razan’s Organic Kitchen
2119 Kittredge St
(between Fulton St & Shattuck Ave)
Berkeley, CA 94704
Neighborhoods: UC Campus Area, Downtown Berkeley
(510) 486-0449

The most irresistible American meal is the full country breakfast. I know it’s derived from the full English breakfast and all, and it’s probably so irresistible just because who in their right mind would refuse food after a long night with an empty stomach (hence the word “fast” – not eating, in “breakfast”). And yes, there’s nothing speedy about the old country breakfast. Making pancakes, scrambling eggs, frying sausages takes a good hour off your morning, not to mention scrubbing the skillets afterwards. I probably will never make a full country breakfast at home until I have nothing better to do, but thank God for blessing America with countless roadside brick houses opened up just to serve breakfast. And may those like Millbrae Pancake House flourish despite the swamping force of IHOP and the likes, because they serve freaking good breakfast.

I said freaking good because I happened to order the one dish that, it turns out for the first time, everyone on Yelp seems to agree to be MPH’s best. The Swedish pancake with lingonberry butter. Have no idea how Swedish this really is, but the pancake is not the fluffy butter kind IHOP is known for, instead it’s a small flat crepe. It’s dense and has a slight sweet chew. And the lingonberry butter is butter mixed with lingonberry bits. And I spread a ton of it on my pancake. And I ate it by itself, like eating chocolate. Americans, maybe it’s time to mix raspberry, blueberry, strawberry, gooseberry, and maybe other fruits too into your butter. It kills. Just sayin’.

The rest of the breakfast was really just so so. Hash brown, two runny eggs, and four sausage links were as good as they could(should) be, but nothing unexpected. That’s ok, the Swedish deal wowed me enough.

MPH is cheap too. All that was for $7.95. The thing is, it was too much. I couldn’t finish everything, had to lean against the wall for 10 minutes in the restaurant, and almost needed a walker to get to the car. Maybe I’d be in better shape if I gorge up on these more often.

Address: Millbrae Pancake House
1301 El Camino Real
Millbrae, CA 94030-1410
(650) 589-2080‎

I’m suffocating myself with two large pizzas from West Coast. The one above is No. 7 The Godfather, with tomato sauce, pepperoni, salami, onion, mozzarella, olives (which I enjoy picking off), pepper rings (the yellow thing, very mild), and green bell pepper. No. 3 Pesto Chicken sounds excellent but turns out dry like hay in the shed, I never knew tomato sauce was so important at keeping it wet.

West Coast is good pizza at moderate price in a moderate factory-looking store. There is no chair or table for dine-in, but there’s a wide unadorned counter for orders and pickups, where you can stand awkwardly watching the guys throwing and spreading cheese and sauce on your pies before swifting them into the ovens.

There are two big fridges full of soft drinks, a delivery map of the area, a sign that says “Don’t put pizza boxes on the floor” in English and Portuguese, a few Brazilian magazines scattered in one forlorn corner. They only take credit card for purchases over 10 dollars, something I’m not so fond of at local stores around Berkeley.

There’s really nothing spectacular about this recently opened pizza shack, but what makes me call them time and again is their special deal with cheese sticks: roughly $4 off for one huge crusty cheese pizza when ordered with any other baked pie. And I’m crazy about cheese sticks :-D. I eat them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Really, the other pizza is just an excuse.

Note: if paying with credit card, show the delivery man your credit card. They’re so careful with charging you they need to get a carbon copy of the card number. First time I’ve encountered this in my years with food-to-your-door. Is it a common thing?

By the time we found Crixa Cakes, the bluish afternoon sunlight was tinkling its almost empty glass cabinets. The bakery closes at 6:30 everyday and does not open on Sunday. The menu changes daily and the cakes go fast. But we were slow at making up our minds. Bakeries are worse than quaint bookstores, where you can at least try out something before buying it.

Easiest choice: Boston creme pie. Tender chiffon cake with creamy vanilla custard, covered with dark chocolate ganache. The refrigerated sponge is like Choco Pie, only much better and, of course, pricier at $5.85 a piece. (Fun facts: its monetary value is, however, nothing compared to the Choco Pie in North Korean black markets, where a single pie costs one sixth a worker’s monthly wage.)

Curious choice: Pave vergiate. Flourless chocolate cake.  Slightly bitter, some on and off hint of lizard eggs or herbal tea. I know that sounds weird, and it’s not like I’ve tried lizard eggs, but you’ve gotta trust your instinct, and as weird as it may sound, it’s a nice subtle taste that leads you on forking. Now texture-wise, eating pave vergiate is like bouncing on a plush sofa (not to mention that the piece looks like one). Featherly light with intermittent chocolate hits. It gets dense and similar to normal chocolate cake once refrigerated though.

Eastern European choice: Poppyseed rugelach. Flaky tender pastry roll with ground, honeyed poppyseeds. This is Hungarian, to be exact. The poppyseeds are like finely ground sesame, eating them between layers of baked dough is like walking on a sandy beach with a semisweet tropical wind. I’d ditch cinnamon rolls (and I always do) for these cuties anytime of the day.

There’s hardly any better way to sum it up than Elizabeth Kloian’s own lines:

[…]Think of the smallest pastry as the greatest extravagance not because of how many calories it has, but because of the satisfaction it gives you[…]

And yes, “extravagance” is the right word, these darlings cost aplenty. Especially when you keep wanting to buy the whole store…

Address: Crixa Cakes
2748 Adeline Street (across the street from Berkeley Bowl)
Berkeley, CA 94703
(510) 548-0421

Pretty packaging. Attractive name. Big thick bar. Teenie tiny holes that are supposed to be bubbles.

The texture is rather normal. You have to really focus to feel the difference. It also tastes like store chocolate Easter eggs. Unimpressed.

Bubble chocolate – $2.50 a bar at Whole Foods.

Previously on Down the Aisles: Purple potato

DISCLAIMER: I received no free product or monetary gift in exchange for this review.

The yellow-and-green parrots ain’t seein’ da Cup this year. I was overjoyed. Seriously, best news to start the day since summer began. To celebrate I walked half a mile down Shattuck and hit Brazil Cafe for the first time (my students strongly recommend their tritip sandwiches). You know, kinda like warriors in the old day eating their defeated enemy’s liver or sum’. It’s supposedly opened today 11am – 9pm. I got there at 11:45, but they were closed, grief-stricken perhaps?

Feeling pretty defeated myself, I swung by Bongo Burger on Center St. and scored a bacon bun in revenge. They say they’re proud to serve Niman Ranch, and I say I’m proud to refuse the alluring offer of Miss Cashier to pay extra for fries. $6.04 for a third pound burger and water only, please.

The problem with big burgers like these is that they don’t fit in my mouth. I nibbled around like a squirrel on a tough nut,with melting cheese stringing from side to side and lettuce shreds falling like autumn leaves. Part of the problem is with the bun. So freaking puffy! When you go to McDonald’s and Burger King they give you these tired soft breads that stick flat to the patty like white on rice, and nothing falls off as long as you got a good grip on the bun. Here it’s like fresh-out-of-the-oven bread. Warm and crusty and pillowy and bready.

The bacon was the opposite. Thick and chewy like spiral ham. Nothing like the smoking crispy strips sizzled in lard they show on ads. All good though. Even better, they didn’t sneak in any pickles, so I didn’t have to pick any out.

Now I’m full for the rest of the day.

In the orange spirit, it’s time for a clementine.

Saturday. The usual question comes up: what’s for dinner? It’s been well over three weeks since I last “slashed down a cow” (to quote Makiawa), so I feel just to insist on a chunky slab of red meat. The next question is where. Yelp’s list of steakhouse in Berkeley has six suggestions, but Hana Japan Steakhouse is not really a “steak house” with only two things of beef amidst a ton of chicken and seafood. Kincaid’s? Well, we’ll wait for an occasion to spend $33 on a petit filet mignon, which is already beside the point of tasty and cheap steak (that you can eat without feeling bitter in the mouth). So this week it is Prime Spot, just a few hundred feet north of The Alley.

Here’s my two cents guess: their thing is the prime rib, so they name it “Prime Spot”. Or maybe they’re just that confident about their stuff. We’ll see. We ask for one Grand Ave. Cut of Oven Roasted Prime Rib to share, and a side of steamed veggie to lessen the cheapskates’ guilt. Five minutes later, the 10 oz slab of pink velvet arrives luke warm and dripping wet. When I cut a piece, it feels like slicing cheesecake. The meat is unexpectedly tender. Garlic mashed potato bathed in steak juice, like ice cream, is expectedly yummy.

What surprises me is the amount of food. Ten ounces does not sound like a lot when I think of times I’ve eaten a pound of steak by myself (and felt like my tummy would burst and my back would break, but that’s not the point). It turns out two people can get pleasantly full on just ten ounces. Must be the potato and broccoli. Not having too much on our plate works out well because the meat gets kinda dull as it gets cold, and just when we can’t take it anymore, we don’t have anymore to take.

Previously on Berkeley Steak Search: Buckhorn Grill (Emeryville)

Address: Prime Spot Bar & Grill
3417 Grand Avenue
Oakland, CA 94610
(510) 268-1840

I do feel guilty for eating so much meat, though. With friends, movies, and my own empathy for animals rubbing it in everyday, I find the American steak less and less enjoyable (that is to say, bulgogi is still too good to give up :-D). So upon leaving Prime Spot, I redeem my conscience with a hot slice of strawberry rhubarb pie and a scoop of mud slide ice cream at the vegan Herbivore. Few things can be better.

Vegan strawberry rhubarb pie and mud slide ice cream at Herbivore (Oakland)

Not too long ago I came upon Monica Eng’s essay Morality Bites, and I vowed to cut down on meat. Well, I’ve been keeping my words, just not all of them: I cut meat. And eat it too. Two weeks ago I entrusted myself on an alphabetical quest for the best steak within ten miles of Berkeley, starting with The Alley. This week, Buckhorn is up to the chopping board.

Okay. So it is a chain. A meat-up version of Burger King. Bigger plates, bigger menu, bigger service (they offer catering), big customers. As of today, Buckhorn Grill has opened only seven locations in the Bay Area, so I think we can excuse myself for bucking off my no-chain rule to blog about them. Of course it’s not really that qualified to be in the steakhouse category, there ain’t no sirloin, T-bone, or filet mignon. All it has is tri-tip, or triangular steak, a boneless cut from the bottom sirloin, with charcoaled rim and lotsa salt.

Mudpie opted for the regular 6-oz platter at $12.95, while I headed down the 10-oz Dad’s Cut at $15.95. Talk about glutton embarrassment. The only difference is a slice of tri-tip. The Bay Area health-conscious trend shows up here in big chunks of grilled squash, carrot, and asparagus. Yes, if you’re gonna eat meat, make sure you doubly expand your tummy for a lot of veggie, too, then cement it with mashed potato and gravy. Actually the carrot is quite delicious, the dried skin and gummy inside  remind me  of a beautifully grilled sweet potato. Meanwhile, the black cup of meat dripping looks attractive, but it’s just too light to accentuate the airy bread.

And look at that knife! Its blade is as wide as the gravy pool. It could kill a bull, much less a tri-tip.

So is it the best tri-tip on the planet? It’s tasty, but I think I can get better at Sbisa, for a much cheaper price (all you can eat at $8.25). That said, next time I get a craving I’d order a 2-lb whole tri-tip for $20, and unbuckle the belt.

Address: Buckhorn Grill (in the Emeryville Bay Street Mall)
5614 Bay St (at Shellmound St)
Emeryville, CA 94608
(510) 654-2996

Previously on Steak Search: The Alley (Oakland)

Next on Steak Search: Prime Spot (Oakland)

Once a Texan, you’re always a Texan.
Earlier last week I exchanged a few words with my friend about our food logging endeavour, and I got reminded of steak. (Yes, Sarah, you’re responsible ;-)). I thought it was gone. That evil desire of eating an innocent cow who just a few days ago was wandering the meadow with dreamy eyes. It has resurfaced. Granted I recently enjoy the occasional meatballs from Ikea, a Whopper at the Burger King on San Pablo, and various Top Dog‘s sausages, I haven’t had a chunky slab of steak for months. Now that’s serious. When I’m in Houston, we go to Potatoe Patch almost every other week. When I’m in College Station, I can always rely on Sodolak’s for a hearty fill. Where can I go in Berkeley?

Yelp reveals a gargantuan list of six “steak” locations in the area (for comparison, Humble (TX) has twelve, and Humble is half the area of Berkeley). So starting today I will eat at and blog about every steak house East of the Bay, alphabetically. First stop: The Alley.

It’s the shadiest little hole in the wall I’ve ever been to. The inside is dark and frumpy like the sluggish voice of old black men at the bar counter sharing stories about job and children. The walls are blackish wooden planks, covered in thousands of staples and business cards, like a flaky fish deep fried with scales on and forgotten until it turns ivory with mildew dots. How do they say it, this place got character.

Whatever, I just want my steak. The Alley Special comes with a small bundle of iceberg lettuce, a slice of cucumber, and one cherry tomato. The typical salad of guilt that always comes with cheap steaks and dressed in crocodile’s tears of vinaigrette. For 11.75 we get a 12 oz slab, some half cooked vegetable, garlic bread, and a baked potato.

We ask for no sour cream on our potato, but I’m not sure if that was necessary, as the potato comes simple and spare. No cheese, no chives, no bacon bits, two butter packets still wrapped and melting on the hot steak. We are also given one skimpy knife and one fork each, the knife blade is narrow like a snake’s tongue.

We slice and chew, industriously. This is steak that you can make into mattresses, springy and resilient, and taste like hard work. The steak juice flavors well the half cooked onion, broccoli, and carrots. The garlic bread feels hasty. The bare baked potato fits stupendously beautiful with butter and generous shakings of salt, as it should. Its burnt skin, soaked with steak juice, is something I’ve learned to eat and enjoy, but this time it easily peels off to reveal the tastiest part of a perfect baked potato: the dry, hard shell between the skin and the moist flesh. It’s like pie crust without gooey sugar mess.

So that’s it. The Alley lives true to its name: a dark hangout that only accepts cash in exchange for a recharge reeking of grill smoke, cigarette smoke, beer, old men’s stories, and our backstreet side.

Address: The Alley
3325 Grand Avenue (between Elwood and Lake Park)
Oakland, CA 94610
(510) 444-8505
(parking on the street)

Next on Steak Search: Buckhorn Grill (Emeryville)