Thursday, September 29, 2011

New to us

San Francisco, September 29, 2011—
WE'VE WAITED TOO LONG to try this place, a more casual sister-restaurant of Quince, a white-linen Italian we've loved in the past. Since we were down in the City, as good Berkeleyans always referred to San Francisco in my youth, sixty years ago, and since it's open for lunch as well as dinner, today was the day. I had:
Shell bean minestrone
Tagliatelle with duck sugo
Plum and almond crostata
and everything tasted absolutely wonderful. Deep, rich, fine ingredients (the beans, the olive oil, the cheese, the pasta, the duck!); and surprising, fresh, refreshing, delicate (the dessert!). I'd go back in a minute, if it weren't so damn noisy…
Zibibbo, “Lighea,” Donnafugata, 2010 (crisp, fresh, sensuous); Frappato, Valle dell'Acate, 2010 (cedar, cherry, quick, mellowing)
Cotogna, 490 Pacific Avenue, San Francisco; (415) 775-8508


Curtis Faville said...

We almost never eat out in San Francisco, primarily because of parking. But the wind doesn't help either. At my age, I either carry a brush, or a hat (but the hat makes my hair flatten out).

I've never felt comfortable handing my keys to some young turk who zips my vehicle around like a madman.

Then there's BART. My god, do people really go to the opera on a commute train? Hard to figure.

Maybe we suburban people have become lazy. Going out should be an adventure. Or, maybe not. How do you enjoy a meal when you've parked six blocks away in an iffy neighborhood (or have paid $10-15 dollars to a garage), walked through a gritty sailor's gale, then made to wait 20 minutes for the worst table in the house?

It must be nice to be recognized. Which is the luxury we get by eating in our regular 30 places in the East Bay. Good table, good service, easy (free) parking, and a pleasant drive back. 490 Pacific must be a real treat, but one look at the map, and I see only problems.

Charles Shere said...

Yes, the wind. Lindsey doesn't like it either. When it's windy, I wear a beret; otherwise, a hat. I don't care about valet parkers one way or another; I've never had a problem with them.

I agree with you, to an extent, about BART. It
is a commuter train, no matter what you do. There's nothing romantic about it. And it doesn't really help if you're going from the Eastbay, as we always spelled it at the Oakland Tribune, to North Beach.

But walking six blocks through the wind, in an iffy neighborhood, does seem romantic somehow to me.

I'm not sure what you mean about being recognized. Lindsey and I are virtually never recognized at restaurants, either by face or name, except of course when friends or acquaintances are physically present in them. That has been the case at Quince, but not at Cotogna. We've been out of most every professional venue for fifteen years now. We're history, and not
known history.