Romantic Evening Out

On my very first visit to San Francisco (well, my first visit to John's new apartment in SF, coming from Seattle) we saved a little French Restaurant up Union Street for our last evening together. Chez Maman had recently opened, was staffed with French cousins of the famous Chez Papa, and had about 8 tables. We were seated before the sun went down in a cozy window seat. As the sun set, candles lit the peach-colored room, prolonging the colors of a sunset. Simple Buddhist metalwork and mirrors decorated the space, with an open kitchen filling the room with warmth and cooking smells.

Over goat cheese salad, mussels, frites and a bottle of Burgundy, we savored each romantic minute. The goofiest part of the meal was a man sliding next to me on my bench and telling us we appeared very much in love—that he would know, being a great film director. Who knows who this freak was, we couldn't help laughing and enjoying the compliment.
Since then, this tiny brasserie has been our favorite place for a romantic evening. We almost always bring a bottle of wine, in fact twice we've brought in bottles from Fixin that I had given John in celebration of his time in Dijon. Candlelight, the romance of people softly speaking in French, smoke from the open kitchen ringing the ceiling and a glass of Burgundy are indeed the makings of a perfect evening.

On our last visit, we brought a bottle of Prevail '04 and sat close to the kitchen. Really every table is close to the kitchen, being such a small and cozy space. Each meal kicks off with the crustiest french bread with the softest inside slathered in salted butter. We both ordered the onion gratinee which can't be missed here. A small brown crock is filled with rich, buttery onion soup, a generous slice of bread, and enough gruyere to bubble and melt overal all sides of the bowl. The serving is the perfect size with nearly equal parts onion soup and cheese! Each bite is a texture adventure with melted hard cheese, soggy dense bread, slippery sweet onions and salty broth. It's the quintessential soup for a foggy, misty San Francisco summer day.

We first sampled the escargot on our second or third visit, and have yet to pass up an order since. Served in a porcelain escargot dish, each divot contains a tender morsel with loads of melted butter, large pieces of chopped garlic and finely chopped parsely. Each bite is indulgent and you wouldn't imagine savoring snail in your mouth but you do—you chew slowly and can't help but dip your bread back into the melted butter and garlic.

We tried a new appetizer of baked cambazola. I'm not sure I've ever experienced such an ingenious take on your usual cheese and bread plate. A ramekin filled with pungeant melted cambazola, the creamiest of creamy blue cheeses was served with toasted slices of baguette sticking out of it. The baguette already immersed was just soggy enough to serve as a vehicle to getting the melty magnificence into my mouth. And better yet, an entire roasted bulb of garlic allowed me to smooth a clove, glistening with olive oil onto the toast AND THEN dip it into the cambazola! Unreal.

For my main I devoured a deliciously tender pork chop soaked in wine and mustard grain sauce over a bed of brussels sprouts. The sprouts were cooked in the same mustard sauce and were much tinier than usually thick, leafy bulbs. The taste of the whole thing was like being in the countryside surrounded by mustard fields. There was a peppery scent, not too strong, that made me think of pink peppercorns in trees.
We shared a soft nutella and banana crepe for dessert. I always forget how nutty nutella is, in addition to its chocolately smoothness. There was just the right ratio of nutella to crepe such that each bite was not overpowered by chocolate and the batter taste of the crepe was front and center.
Polishing off the Prevail, we toasted to another lovely meal at Gamine (the owner bought it from Chez Papa and changed the name, but not the menu!)