Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Supper in the café

Eastside Road, November 15, 2011—
AN EARLY SUPPER in the café tonight, as we'd driven down to Berkeley to see a performance of Stravinsky's Histoire du sold at.
There I ate:
Roman-style endive with anchovy, garlic, and egg
Liberty Farm duck leg braised with prunes and red wine; with turnip purée,
carrots, and rosemary

After yesterday's fantasy on Calabrian themes it felt like we'd driven north: first to Rome, as the menu stated, for that delicious salad, whose anchovy was just the right balance — and recalled yesterday's anchovy-stuffed peppers. And then up toward Austria, perhaps, for a braise that nodded toward winter but recalled that it was still, after all, a pleasantly warm day. The rosemary kept the dish grounded in das Land, wo die citrönen blühen, but the prunes, the duck, the turnips suggested Austria. (And by the way the purée was potatoes, not turnips; the turnips were slices of small roots, thankfully, and on the side.)
Chinon, a little tight and somewhat drab
• Café Chez Panisse, 1517 Shattuck Avenue, Berkeley; 510.848.5525


Curtis Faville said...


We had a late lunch at the cafe on Monday afternoon, and got the coveted window seat.

I had the fish, Merry had the chicken. I had the carrot soup, she had the pate. Wow. And a white wine that tasted like fresh peas, underneath a high brow acid forward tongue.

$180 for lunch. Well, live or die.

Curtis Faville said...

Oh, and we shared the fig tart. Somehow, in my mind, this was transformed into pig fart. Not the taste, just the silly words. . . .

Ah, Mr. Joyce, I presume.