San Francisco Food Blog

L. Chong

Breakfast of champions: The morning pizza is worth every minute it takes to bake.

​In case you've avoided visiting the Split Pea Seduction restaurant on Sixth Street because of its gritty location, you'll be happy to know it's opened a food stand in a residential neighborhood. You can find it at the Stonestown farmers' market on Sundays, from 9am to 1pm. There's plenty of parking space available.

L. Chong

You'll never have to go to Sixth Street again.

​The menu choices are different from the restaurant: no crostatas, but the popular split pea soup is available. For now, the menu includes a couple of breakfast pizzas (made to order), soups, cookies, apple pie, and drinks (drip coffee, hot chocolate, and iced tea).

It's a great choice for a cheap brunch, before or after going produce shopping at the market. Our favorite item so far is the breakfast pizza with heirloom tomatoes, arugula, shaved Parmesan, and a soft egg ($7). It just looks and tastes great, and is well worth the 15 minutes' wait.

Guillermo Lara, chef and co-owner of Novato-based catering company LaVier Cuisine, has created the breakfast you didn't know you desperately needed in your life.

His puffy mini pancakes ($4), stuffed with strawberries and baked up like little brioche balls, are skewered with smoked sausage, dusted with powdered sugar, drizzled with maple syrup and plated with watermelon slices, the latter of which make surprisingly excellent syrup vehicles.

Tamara Palmer

Puffy pancake skewers, where have you been all our lives?

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Meet your new best breakfast buddy at the frankly rather awesome Stonestown Farmers Market (3251 20th Ave. at Winston) on Sundays from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. Be warned: LaVier often sells out of these and other tempting breakfast and lunch items before closing time.

T. Palmer

Silvanas, a dreamy dessert sensation.

​Tucked away in the back of one of several shopping centers along a very consumer-friendly street, House of Silvanas (2055 Gellert at King, Daly City) offers cool treats from the Philippines to those lucky enough to stumble on it. The small bakery is operated by Crissy and Manu Sagarbarria, the son and daughter-in-law of the owners of this Manila-based mini-chain. Crissy is usually there to provide the friendliest customer service you've probably received in a while.

The namesake silvanas look like giant, crumb-dusted French macaroons. Both are largely comprised of meringue, but silvanas rely on the heft of crushed cashews and a generous swipe of buttercream filling, and are ideally served straight out of the freezer. The lighter crunch has more in common with astronaut ice cream, actually. And while the French rely on flavors such as rose and violet, the bright colors of silvanas reference tastes like ube, pandan, and buko. 

"They're basically the cookie version of the sans rival," explained Crissy Sagarbarria of the cashew and buttercream-rich cake that we will have to return for when we have the foresight to order it two days in advance -- and, perhaps, have a few more inches to spare on our waistline.

In the meantime, we feel quite satiated and happy with our box of mixed silvanas and a (now empty) bag of miniature pastries and confections, including butterscotch date bars called "Food of the Gods" and crumbly polvaron milk candy. We got a little lost trying to find this spot, labeled as "Bake Shop" on the shopping center sign from the street view. We're glad we didn't give up.

It's like that.

​Maybe the rambling, effusive message we left on the San Rafael-based company's answering machine at 11 p.m. had a different effect than the one we intended. What else were we to do? We had questions to ask. A friend had brought over a stunningly good pint of caramel balsamic ice cream ($8 at Whole Foods), and our brains were caked in a sweet, slightly sour, and perfectly creamy Fiorello's film. We found a half-constructed Web site with a Sistine Chapel motif and no helpful links -- just contact information. We e-mailed. Then we called. We even contemplated renting an economy car to drive across the Golden Gate Bridge in search of the low-profile manufacturer's remote lair.

The trail was as frigid as East Antarctica.

Fortunately, ice cream is fine without details. We don't usually get all Eddie Murphy about frozen treats, but Fiorello's caramel balsamic is addictive: subtle and just sweet
enough, with winy undercurrents squirming through the mellow caramel base. Oh, and if you'd rather not deal with Whole Foods, you can get it at Victoria Pastry Company (1362 Stockton at Vallejo).

T. Palmer

Plough through this like a lady.

​Sometimes, when amongst the dainty finger sandwiches and cups at Lovejoy's Tea Room (1351 Church at Clipper), a hankering for something more substantial might arise. SFoodie is no Miss Manners, mind you, but we've got a suggestion for how to balance one's feminine exterior with a seriously macho appetite.

The Ploughman's Lunch ($13.95) is a tribute to the English working class tradition (also shortened as a Ploughman's) of a simple bread and cheese lunch. Lovejoy's jazzes it up in many ways: Toast-pointing the bread, expanding the range of cheeses beyond Stilton to chevre and blue (both delicious with Branston pickle chutney), and adding the very Californian twists of artichoke hummus, mixed greens, and seasonal fruit. It'll fill you up much more than those finger sandwiches ($3.50), but the roast beef and horseradish, bay shrimp and mayo, and cream cheese and green apple varieties shouldn't be missed.

Poleng Lounge

​Timothy Luym, the executive chef at Poleng Lounge (1751 Fulton at Masonic), hopes to alleviate some stress in your Thanksgiving meal planning with his Barrio Fiesta take home feasts. Turkey's tired, so Luym has created a Filipino menu of sinigang (pork in tamarind broth soup), lumpia Shanghai (shrimp and pork egg rolls), pancit (stir-fried rice noodles with chicken, a choice of three additional entrees, and bread pudding with ube (purple yam) tapioca. 

The $200 price tag includes enough to feed 10-12 folks. More details are here, and, hey, if you do have a Barrio Fiesta, remember who told you about it when you're sending out those invites.

M. Ladd

Salty-sweet and sexy.

​La Espiga de Oro's cheery Mission storefront stays busy with a steady stream of to-go customers getting their fix of chicharrones, Sinaloan tamales, handmade tortillas, pupusas, and lard, but it's the taste of freshly made chicharrones -- with meat attached to the skin -- is unforgettable. Order the chicharrones at Espiga's counter. After snacking on them recently, this blogger spent days remembering the salty-sweet, alternately crisp and deliciously soft pork treat. They're melty, even sexy, literally oozing off the lips -- our dining companion was clearly delighted to indulge in the fatty, slightly messy drippings.

It's possible to go whole hog here and have the meat and skin chopped up into a burrito ($4.95 regular, $5.95 super), or keep it simple, devouring the chicharrones as a rich snack. Bottles of Valentina hot sauce grace the table, or you can try a spicier tomato salsa kept in plastic bottles in the self-serve refrigerator.

La Espiga de Oro 2916 24th St. (at Florida), 826-1363

Ellipses PR

Mission Beach Cafe's rabbit pot pie.

​Mission Beach Cafe (198 Guerrero at 14th St.) marks the return of its seasonal "Pot Pie Tuesdays" with two new pot pies from chef Tom Martinez and pastry chef Alan Carter. In addition to the rabbit ($17) and vegetarian ($16) versions are a new Prather Ranch short rib with wild mushroom ragout ($17) and a drool-worthy seafood medley with puff pastry, lobster, shrimp, crab, shellfish fume, sea beans, and cherry tomatoes ($26).

We scored a memorable bite of the rabbit pot pie last winter, a creamy comfort with parsnips, turnips, carrots and English peas in rabbit demi. Carter has an irresistible way with crust that works in the restaurant's sweet and savory creations.

T. Palmer

Chef Mitsu's food has bite, too.

​Crossing Japan Center's Webster Street sky walk, we've made mental promises to eat at On the Bridge (1581 Webster at Post) for so many years, it's embarrassing. It's always looked so bright and fun, and chef Mitsu Nakamura's menu featuring Japanese remixes of European staples like pizza and pasta (called yoshoku) so intriguing.

Today, we finally kept our promise to ourselves. After a first pass at the menu, we were pretty firm in our resolve to order calamari and kimchi spaghetti and a bowl of "XXX" spicy curry over rice (next time), until we were tempted by two of the chef's newest specials: pesto soba ($8.25) and okonomiyaki pizza ($9.25), washed down with bottles of melon and lychee Ramune ($2.25). Soju and sake cocktails looked fetching, but promised to derail the rest of the day's work.

T. Palmer

Two great tastes that taste great together: Okonomiyaki pizza.

​The pizza, loaded with pickled ginger, nori, bonito flakes, sweet mayo, and green onions, cloaked a slight smear of tomato sauce underneath, making the flavor a lot more familiar than the appearance suggested. What looked to be heavy was ultimately quite light -- as was the chewy, bubbly crust.

M. Ladd

Get 'em while they're scorching. And use a fork.

​Now available at Mission Burger at Duc Loi Market (2200 Mission at 18th St.): smoky, salty chili cheese fries ($4 -- if you want to skip the chili cheese part, the naked fries cost $2). The fries have a pleasing crispness -- a group of diners near us swooned over how much they reminded them of the duck fat fries at Orson. Each hot batch is served with a fork, which is the best way to eat them, unless you don't mind an occasional spill or oily fingers. The beef chili has tolerable heat and a subtle, almost chocolatey richness, beneath stronger notes of chipotle. It's made with the same Harris Ranch blend used in the burger: brisket, short ribs, and chuck, all seared in beef fat. Currently, the fries (and burgers -- check out Andrew Simmons' take on those from August) are available from noon to 3 p.m., every day but Thursdays. One piece of advice: Both fries and burgers taste best served hot, so find room on the couch or crates at Duc Loi.

T. Palmer

​Tucked inside the tiny Super Mira grocery store, the 35-year-old bakery Yasukochi's Sweet Stop (1790 Sutter at Buchanan) is largely known for its version of the classic Blum's coffee crunch cake. There's not a lot here to remind you of the neighborhood's Japanese heritage but for one other highlight under Yasukochi's glass. It's an original invention that would be easy to miss while gazing at cake.

Rice cracker cookies (sold in bags of a dozen for $9) satisfy that complicated simultaneous craving for both salty and sweet, though the taste does lean more towards the former than the latter. The rich butter cookie shatters to reveal a more than generous smattering of crushed orange rice crackers inside. And if you just can't get that coffee crunch cake off your brain, Yasukochi's will sell you a bag of the topping for five bucks.

It's waiting for you, down that aisle you never venture into.

​SFoodie bumped into this in an area of the supermarket we usually avoid, the zone where precooked meats like ribs and pot roast of the Hormel and Tyson variety lurk. But one weekend when we were far from the Mission, wandering Safeway and wondering what to have for dinner, we saw a package of Del Real carnitas. We took a chance.

Stripped of its glistening Cryovac plastic, the meat didn't look very promising; ditto when we released it from its taut plastic. But after only a few minutes in a nonstick pan (it comes with sufficient pig fat, so no additional oil or butter is needed), we had wonderful-smelling, appetizing-looking, moist, and amazingly delicious carnitas with the crisp edges we crave. If you prefer braised carnitas, chunk up the meat and steam above simmering water -- voila! (It comes with microwave instructions, too, but so far we've managed very nicely without that particular appliance, thanks.)

M. Brody

Microwave at risk to your soul.

​Del Real carnitas has just about replaced spaghetti aglio e olio as the lazy girl's supper chez nous. We like to roll hunks in tortillas with pico de gallo, corn relish, sour cream, and just about an equal weight of cilantro. We also like it fried, for breakfast or supper, with a couple of over-easy eggs, refried beans, and again, lots o' cilantro. Where we shop, it costs $7.49 a pound, and a single package is enough to feed four very nicely.

amorimur/Flickr

The sampler: From left, mango sago, mixed fruit, sago with coconut milk, and ice cream.

​A unique alternative for late-night cravings in the Outer Sunset, Golden Island Café serves a variety of traditional Hong Kong-style desserts. The specialty here is sago, tiny translucent tapioca pearls served with shaved ice and fresh fruit. There's a variety of options -- strawberry, mango, kiwi, lychee, cantaloupe, watermelon, honeydew -- and you can order with our without coconut milk. We suggest ordering with, since the taste can be fairly bland otherwise (sago's pretty neutral on its own). The version with shaved ice, fresh fruit, and coconut milk is light, fresh, and sweet -- mango's our personal favorite. If you can't decide, a sampler platter comes with sago with coconut milk, mango sago, ice cream, and mixed fruit, all for $5. There are other tasty desserts here, too, like red bean or sesame paste with sweet tofu, and black rice with coconut milk. Nothing's overly sweet the way ice cream can be, just an appealing sweetness that leaves you feeling satisfied rather than regretful. Cash only, but most items can be had for under $5. The place stays open daily till midnight.

Golden Island Café 1300 Noriega (at 20th Ave.), 759-9118

T. Palmer

​The business of San Francisco's Ma-adi Foods is built off of one main product called munga (moon-gah) flour, which it sells in one-pound bags on its Web site. The high-protein, fiber-rich, and gluten-free blend of brown rice and nuts (they use peanuts or almonds) is a recipe adapted from the Saramacan tribe of Suriname, who live in the South American rainforest.

We tried Ma-adi's peanut munga cookies ($1.19 at Other Avenues, 3930 Judah at 45th Ave.) and loved the ginger snap-esque texture and subtle flavors of peanut and cinnamon. Ma-adi has the basic recipe on their site; they were so good out of the bag that they must be fairly phenomenal straight out of your oven.

M. Ladd

Look beyond the Salvadoran food for awesomely crisp and juicy chicken.

​Just when SFoodie humbly thought we had the Mission covered, Elsy's Restaurant (2893 Mission at 25th St.) threw us for a serious, hungry loop. Elsy's is well known for especialidades Salvadorenas: pupusas, huevos dishes, yuca con chicharron (manioc root with fried pork), and bistek of sirloin with tomatoes, herbs, and spices.

M. Ladd

One of the Mission's best-kept secrets?

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You can see tortillas and pupusas being made by hand near the griddle, day and night. There is more to be had, but you won't find it if you don't ask -- off-the-menu fried chicken may be the true star at Elsy's. Each deep-fried piece ($1.25) is a perfect combination of juicy, tender, tasty and crisp. A to-go order of 16 pieces will feed a crowd of eight. Although, on second thought, we dare you to try and eat just one piece without crying for more.

M. Ladd

Yeah, there's ham in here. Is there a problem?

​The components of a Monte Cristo sandwich always sound compelling: cheese, ham, and fruit jelly, sandwiched between (preferably egg-soaked) bread, grilled till gooey. And yet a Monte Cristo usually leaves us wanting more, soggy bread being the main obstacle for perfectly nailing it.

Enter the Monte Cristo doughnut ($3.50), a heavenly blend of classic fillings in a sweet, light casing that is in no way soggy. Dynamo Donut + Coffee (2760 24th St. at York) began serving its Monte Cristo doughnut about four weeks ago. Ham and cheese form the filling's top layer, above house-made plum jam. Now, before you start thinking the ham must be at least a little weird, consider it (and the cheese) a complement to the doughnut's prevailing sweetness, even if committed carnivores might wish for a tad more of the salty meat. This is not Dynamo's first foray into savory donuts, of course; its maple glazed bacon-apple is the stuff of epic.

M. Brody

If only it cost a quarter.

​Man does not live on cream puffs alone. No doubt that's why Beard Papa (99 Yerba Buena at Mission) cooked up a line of miniature croissants, which they've dubbed "petit-cro." The adorable baby baked goods come in three varieties: butter, cheese, and chocolate. The dollhouse pastries would be perfect for a fancy tea or kiddie party. Ladies who lunch are more likely to pick up an itty-bitty croissant than some flabby behemoth.

They're not exactly cheap: $2.95 for three butter crescents, $3.45 for the cheese and chocolate versions. (Comparison shoppers: one full-size croissant at Tartine Bakery, $3.25; a dozen at Costco, $5.79). But the more you purchase, the less each costs. A dozen butter go for $10, a dozen cheese or chocolate for $12.

T. Palmer

Churchkhela unleashed.

​Churchkhela is a confection native to Tbilisi, the largest city in the post-Soviet state of Georgia. A string of walnut halves that have been dipped in a grape juice concentrate and hung to dry, churchkhela looks like a sausage (if you're hungry) or a candle (if you're not).

Yank the string to unleash the nutmeat; it's fun. The dried juice takes on an almost fruit leather-esque consistency, with only a muted sugar taste. One, erm, sausage candle could easily power an after-dinner nibble for four or five people. It'll make you appear well-traveled, too -- even if it's just to the Richmond District. Try it for $4 at the Moscow & Tbilisi Bakery Store (5540 Geary at 19th Ave.).

Michael Chopko

Frying chicken at Ghost Mansion.

​With the currents of cultural change whipping faster than ever before (thanks to Twitter, blogs, and our correspondingly brief attention spans), San Francisco's food obsessions hop rapidly from one trend to another. Once carts and stands have fully entered the mainstream food landscape, what will come next? We're not trying to read any tea leaves, but some of the best pure eating we've done over the past month or so has been at parties -- not private dinner gatherings at all, but real parties -- the kind with kegs, music, and no lines. Due to an overindulgence in every instance, we barely remember eating the nice things we were told we ate, but thankfully, we had the foresight to scribble coherent, if somewhat illegible, notes that confirmed our suspicions.

From a fried chicken hootenanny blowout on the back patio of Ghost Mansion, the DIY house-show venue at the foot of Potrero Hill, to miniature sweetbread po' boys, fried okra, and spicy greens at a pitch-black yard dance party on 23rd Street close to Bryant, August presented the stomach with unanticipated delights. Bi-Rite butcher and 18 Reasons instructor Morgan Maki was the common ingredient at both affairs. The second party was his own; the first was a birthday celebration for a long-time Ghost Mansion resident.

Maki is no stranger to the big pink house on Utah near 25th Street. For over a year now, Maki (frequently assisted by his brother Spencer and sister Elizabeth) has curated the food element of Ghost Mansion's ongoing acoustic series. Local winners like Okay, Or, the Whale, Birds and Batteries, Two Sheds, Last of the Blacksmiths, and Tartufi have set up in the house's living room. Before, between, and after the bands, Maki cooks -- pasta with pork belly, paper cones filled with vegetable tempura, heaps of onion rings, bacon-laced potato salad -- and attendees eat -- and drink. The city sees plenty of house shows with decent food -- a bowl of chili here, a tray of garlic bread there -- but Ghost Mansion has upped the ante -- to the point where the food, appropriately informal and fun, is as much of a draw as the bands. Stay tuned for the house's fall show schedule.

Ghost Mansion maintains a Web site, but you're more likely to find out about shows via a wrinkled flyer tacked on a pole outside of Pop's or the proverbial grapevine -- meaning, here.

​Treasa Ewing, owner of San Francisco's Kleine (German for "little girl" or "little one"), has expressed a dream to open up her own scone bar. Until that's realized, Kleine's Sconelettes offer a teeny taste of what that might be like.

Ewing's creations, made with Fair Trade ingredients and packaging, are light and clean tasting, with little twists setting them apart. The Sofia and Sofia Dark varieties have the zip of crystallized ginger (and chocolate, in the case of the Dark), the Spiced Pear conjures up fall compotes, and the Charlotte enlivens with a delicate smattering of blue poppy seeds, turbinado sugar, Straus cream, and Meyer lemon zest. We think they could be bigger, but that's just because we are pigs.

Kleine's Sconelettes are exclusively available online from Foodzie ($12/dozen), but S.F. residents may order by phone (238-0764) and ask about local delivery. They aren't in any shops currently but would probably do well at any of S.F.'s specialty grocers (in case any of them are reading).

J. Birdsall

Pale and crisp as communion wafers.

We inhabit a subculture peculiarly steeped in pork fat. At the Ferry Building, you can lunch on a gorgeously unctuous porchetta sandwich at Il Cane Rosso, and afterwards snack on a bag of lard shortbread from Humphry Slocombe (for sale at Boccalone) -- even wash up, once you get home, with peppermint-scented lard soap (again, Boccalone). So it was only a matter of time till someone started frying potato chips in lard -- even if that someone is a company in Pennsylvania.

 

Boccalone recently started selling Grandma Utz's Handcooked Potato Chips ($1), made from potatoes fried in pork fat, small-batch style. They're pale and crisp as communion wafers, and by the third chip, they suffuse your mouth with a kind of intimate animal sweetness. Are they the best chips we've eaten? Hell no. But they have a pork-chop-fat allure that's ultimately hard to resist. And that makes you wonder -- morbidly, perhaps, given what you imagine to be the cholesterol wallop of lard potato chips -- whatever became of Grandpa Utz.

Boccalone One Ferry Building (at The Embarcadero), 369-9955

A. Simmons

The sardines at Contigo: Pace yourself.

​According to Contigo's menu of August 15, 2009, cured anchovies from Cantabria are the finest in the world, which means they're a far cry from the mealy squiggles studding lonely lamp-lit buffet table pizza pies. An Internet excursion into the anchovy-verse turned up a local blog entitled In Praise of Sardines, with a 2005 entry spilling forth a wealth of information about these most lofty of small, saltwater forage fish:

The best anchovies in the world come from the Iberian peninsula, particularly from L'Escalaon the Mediterranean coast of Catalonia, where the little fish are known as anxovas, and from the region of Cantabria on the Bay of Biscay west of the Basque region, where the fish are called bocartes. The best examples from these regions are invariably filleted and packed in extra virgin olive oil... If you have never liked the taste of anchovies, the bocarte or anchoa del Cantábrico, more widely available than those from L'Escala, will be a revelation. It is the José Carreras of anchovies. Its rich, bold flavor expands across your tongue just as the Catalonian tenor's notes fill an opera house. These anchovies are not for the meek.

A swift, deeper dig unmasked the blogger as Brett Emerson, chef of the cozy, newish restaurant in Noe Valley -- naturally, called Contigo.

Right now at Contigo, three slender fillets of these wonder-fish will cost you $5. Go there and get them, along with everything else on the menu. They arrive suspended in an incandescent slick of fruity, salt-suffused olive oil, dense and meaty, the kind of explosive, aggressively flavorful substance only a perfect alliance of nature, time, and human experience can create. You'll want to slice the fillets into small bits and very slowly transport each one to your mouth via toothpick. A fork will have to do, but be snail-like in your pacing and drink plenty of Cava. Then, when you run out of bread for sopping, you'll want to hoover the plate until no trace of neon oil remains. You won't give a shit who sees you.

Contigo 1320 Castro (at 24th St.), 285-0250

M. Brody

Humitas: Flaky on the outside, crunchy with corn on the inside.

​There's one item we can't resist at the Island Earth Farmers' Market at the Metreon: El Porteño's handmade empanadas. We found our favorite by accident. We'd ordered a jamon y queso, but when we got home discovered the sweet surprise of crunchy corn kernels instead of the ham and cheese we were expecting -- the counter person had mistakenly slipped us a humita, which, besides corn, contains roasted red peppers. We wanted more.

 

On our next visit we did try the equally excellent jamon y queso (the filling of prosciutto, Fontina, and mozzarella reflects Argentina's large Italian population). As with the humita, the pastry was buttery and flaky, more like puff pastry than the solid crusts of other empanadas around town. El Porteño owner Joey Ahearne got the recipe from his Argentinean grandmother. He uses Prather Ranch organic, dry-aged, grass-fed beef in his carne empanadas, to duplicate the taste of the Argentinian beef he sampled on family visits. The carne also contains pimento-stuffed olives, raisins, and chopped egg.

Other varieties include pollo (Fulton Valley chicken, chicken chorizo, raisins, olives), and fugazzeta (aged cheddar, onions, oregano), all $3, as well as an irresistible sweet empanada ($1.50), stuffed with homemade dulce de leche and banana. We find that a humita and a jamon y queso, topped off with a dulce de leche, make for a swell lunch. They're available at the Metreon daily, as well as at the Sunday USF farmers' market.

Taste the boot.

​We like the family-style Italian fare at the Bronx-styled Joey & Eddie's (1652 Stockton at Filbert) in North Beach. No surprise, really, since we've loved other restaurants launched by co-owner and executive chef Joseph Manzare, especially Globe.

Anyway, we just learned that Joey & Eddie's is starting special regional Italian menus on Tuesday nights. Tonight's -- the first -- features the cooking of Lazio, home province to Roma, and includes spaghetti carbonara ($10), porchetta (roast suckling pig) with polenta ($20), and crostato de viciole (cherry tart, $8).

Chef de cuisine Marc Tennison is working out the seasonal menus with Manzare's input. Next up August 4 is Tuscany, which will feature ragu bianco con castagne (chestnut pasta with milk-braised pork shoulder, $11), and agnello ai carciofi (roasted leg of lamb with baby artichokes, $19). Following that, look for Emilia Romagna-Bologna (August 11), Liguria-Genoa (August 18), and Campania-Naples (August 25), with menus to be determined.

Bacalhau a casa: Not buying it.

​Earlier, we ogled the barnlike café, food market, wine bar, and event space (damn, that's tiring) known as Horatius (350 Kansas at 16th St.). Today we revisited to chew on the kitchen's some home-style Portuguese. The bacalhau a casa (salt cod hash)? Definitely weren't feeling it. It was oily, but not in a delicious way: a shiny pile of julienne potatoes, clumps of salt cod, red peppers, semisoft onions, and kalamatas topped with a fried egg. The cod was nicely tufted, but it made us crave potatoes that were softer and more browned, more, well, hashlike. And it set us back $15.50 (come on -- like that extra 50 cents is necessary), which we don't mind paying for something that gives us $15.50's worth of satisfaction. But sorry, Horatius: On the rare occasions when we have a 20 to drop for lunch, we expect perfection.

Mary Ladd

Capable of slaking a thirst and curing lumbago?

 How can one popular Peruvian nonalcoholic bottled drink be both an aperitif-slash-digestif and help with back pain? SFoodie followed a tip from a Peruvian friend and ran straight to the store to find out.

Inca's Food Emoliente barley drink ($2.29 for a 16-ounce bottle at various stores around the Mission) is a self-described "emollient," made with water, sugar, toasted barley, linseed, horse tail, couch grass, and preservatives by PEIMCO, which is short for Peruvian Import Company. We're guessing it's the barley that gives the drink its smooth consistency and slightly bread-like taste. But its very pronounced sweetness might be just too much for some. In a way, Inca's Food Emoliente brought to mind taqueria versions of the Mexican hibiscus-flower agua fresca jamaica, though in a decidedly less fruity and tangy way.

As for curing back pain, the jury's still out on that claim.

Meredith Brody

Could you resist?

Once a cutting-edge ingredient of starred chefs who frequented the haute cook shop Le Sanctuaire, Korean black garlic is a lot more accessible these days. Sure, chefs like James Syhabout of Commis are still creating platescapes with it, and it's made appearances on Top Chef and Iron Chef. We spotted some recently at Berkeley Bowl (2020 Oregon at Adeline, Berkeley), offered as a checkstand impulse buy.

Who wouldn't be intrigued by the sign for the brand called Black Garlic. Inc. & Aged Jeju Garlic ($3.29 for two heads): "Tastes like wonderful cream chocolate, After eat does not have a garlic smell, Black garlic bring energy to the body." Text on the package had the same halting charm: "How much Black Garlic should I eat? It's a Natural Food! Enjoy it as many as you want!"

Unfamiliar with Korean black garlic? It's regular garlic fermented for a month under high heat, said to contain twice as many antioxidants as raw garlic, as well as something called S-Allycysteine, reportedly a cancer preventative. When we got home and tasted some, it wasn't at all like wonderful cream chocolate. More like a very large, soft raisin, or small, soft prune -- one with a lingering garlicky aftertaste. We'd have to be pretty passionate about any home recipe that called for it. On second thought, we'll keep relying on chefs to take the bizarre edge off.

Mary Ladd

Get in the car, go to Betty's.

Lunch alert, road-trip style: Yeah, you've stood in line at Bakesale Betty (5098 Telegraph at 51st St., Oakland) for the scones, fried chicken sandwiches, and Lamingtons. Now there's a fresh reason to jockey for a seat at one of the ironing board tables out front: the beef brisket sandwich ($7.75).

It's made a sporadic appearance on the menu since April. Packed with caramelized onions, creamy horseradish, potato chips (in the sandwich) and arugula, it's a hefty culinary marvel that can feed a famished adult for lunch -- less hearty eaters just might eke out dinner from the half they don't finish. Oh, and be sure to get a puckery slushy lemon ice ($2.50) to go with.

Alfred Peet's tea legacy lives on -- in the fridge. Peet was originally from Holland, and grew up in the coffee and tea trade before opening his first store in Berkeley's Gourmet Ghetto in 1966, long before there was such a thing. Now, just in time for S.F.'s fog-shrouded summer, Peet's bottled iced teas have hit the market.

The drinks come in 15-ounce bottles, with flavors that include Snow Leopard, Little Dragon, Jade Green, and Moroccan Mint. Exotic, no? The unsweetened Summer House Citrus

Mary Ladd

Peet's Summer House Citrus: crisp and mellow.

we guzzled was crisp, refreshing, and mellow -- you might just want to add lemon and/or a sweetener of choice. These "all-natural" bottled iced teas are thankfully devoid of any weird sweet or off flavors. And, despite coming off as undersweetened, they contain pure cane sugar in place of high-fructose corn syrup. Cost: $1.59.

Get your iced tea drink on at six Peet's locations in San Francisco: 555 Ninth St. at Bryant; 450 Sansome at Clay; 595 Market at Second St.; 1400 Van Ness at Bush; in the Ferry Building; and 3419 California at Laurel. You can also score some at Costco in Mountain View and Novato. A Peet's rep confirmed they'll likely make it to more Costcos soon -- who knows, maybe just in time for the autumnal swelter of September and October.

Mary Ladd

Mary Ladd

Krystin Rubin with a savory quiche.

Wanna get down in a savory and sweet way? Belly up to Mission Pie (2901 Mission at 25th St.) for a nibble. Since February, the shop has been quietly showcasing fresh, seasonal ingredients from California farms in a savory line of quiches ($4.50/slice), galettes ($5.50), pot pies ($7.50), and salads ($5). Offerings depend on what's available from Mission Pie's farmer network.

Mission Pie definitely faces hurdles in moving its savory foods -- you can't blame customers who show up looking for the better-known sweeties: fruit pies, muffins, tarts, galettes, and scones. Salad sales have been slow, acknowledged co-owner Krystin Rubin, proudly showing off a tasty spinach-mushroom quiche with a touch of smoked paprika. Still, Rubin said she hopes more folks choose, say, the occasional quinoa-corn-cucumber salad.

For its part, SFoodie swooned over a Niman Ranch tamale pie made with polenta, something not on Mission Pie's current rotation. In that case, make it a slice o' quiche. And, of course, a side of sweet banana cream pie, please.