Your guide to the tastiest foodie happenings going down this week. Bon Appetit!
Meet Gabriel (Gabe) Johnson, born in Spanish Harlem, raised in Boston and, as of six years ago, a proud resident of San Francisco.
Gabe works as an adman, writing slick copy for the local boutique agency, Engine Company 1. When he's not busy getting wordy, he's involved in the local art and music scenes or in the kitchen, cookin' up something tasty.
Gabe kind of does it all, and he looks damn good while doing it. From nautical stripes to frayed-edge shorts, check out what he's wearing this spring.
The humble tote bag is proving itself to be an ever-versatile, budget-friendly and increasingly necessary (thank you, plastic bag ban) accessory that’s fast-becoming the canvas of choice for local labels. Here are several to stash your stuff in:
In a food-meets-fashion pairing that many will no doubt gobble right up, local label Joshu+Vela have teamed up with Tartine to launch a series of individually-numbered, organic cotton totes hand-stenciled with the bakery’s logo and sold exclusively at the bakery.
Made from start to finish in Joshu+Velas’s San Francisco studio, the bags ($40) come in two styles. One is a traditional shopper tote with two straps. The other is a bike-friendly bag designed in collaboration with Tartine’s Chad Robertson that can be worn over the shoulder or across the body, thanks to a single adjustable strap.
Though it's still a few weeks out, I want to make sure you all have the opportunity to snag a seat at the next Tartine Afterhours dinner, scheduled for September 29. About once a month, Samin Nosrat (a former cook at Eccolo, she now caters, is cofounder of Oakland's Pop-Up General Store and contributes to the Atlantic's food channel) partners with Tartine Bakery to prepare a three-course family-style meal—for $35 bucks.
Driving by Tartine, gazing at the inevitable line of people patiently lined up for their morning bun, I often wonder if people in San Francisco might actually revel in the whole waiting game. Whether we're on the sidewalk outside Mama's on a Sunday, biding our time in the Bi-Rite Creamery queue or salivating at the aroma of porchetta wafting our way at the Roli Roti truck, I think there's something to the anticipation—maybe even the just slightly degrading act of almost begging for your food—that might make it taste all the better. (I mean, imagine the frenzy if only Tartine pastry chef Liz Prueitt carried a bullwhip and wore leather.)
The Kronner era has commenced at Bar Tartine. Five days in and the ex-Serpentine and Good Evening Thursday chef is now installed at the Mission restaurant, filling the shoes of former chef Jason Fox (who, it should be noted, is a very fine chef who we hope will end up someplace good, and soon). Chris and I are old friends, so I paid him a visit last night to see how he's settling into his new post. In the last few weeks the restaurant, which has always been one of my favorite spaces in the city, has undergone a minor makeover—now, groupings of framed art (including some by owner Elisabeth Prueitt's father) hang from the walls—the overall effect is bistro-like and charming.
Seasonality. It’s is a word bandied about a lot here. “Our menu is seasonally driven …” How many times have you heard a chef say that?
For some reason, tomatoes are the most seasonally sacred of all vegetables and fruits: Should an unwitting chef serve a tomato in January, I guarantee the Chowhounders will log on to vent about the sacrilege. While the average diner might be vague on the seasonality of an artichoke (it has two seasons here: spring and fall) and have no guilt about munching on green beans year-round, everyone knows that a slice of tomato=a slice of summer. (And, for the record, summer ended September 21st.)
Not surprisingly then, last week I went to order a sandwich from The Sentinel, chef Dennis Leary’s tiny sandwich shop, and noticed the note: “No more tomatoes until next summer—sorry.” Then Jessica told me that she was at Tartine and ordered an open-faced sandwich that was listed as having tomatoes on it—only to be told that tomatoes would no longer be served with it because tomatoes are out of season.