Expanding the Frontiers of the Vegetarian Plate

[Guest guest]

NY Times Travel SF

 

Courtesy of The New York Times and Mrs. Fran.

 

VEGETARIANISM is a simple idea — don't eat animals — with an ancient

pedigree. According to the Vegetarian Resource Group, 4.7 million

American adults are vegetarians or vegans (people who avoid all

animal products, including cheese and eggs).

 

Vegetarian Dining in San Francisco Yet even in San Francisco, with

its countercultural and fresh food traditions, only about one in a

hundred restaurants in the Zagat Survey is vegetarian. And while new

vegetarian restaurants have been opening in New York and Los Angeles,

San Francisco's scene has been expanding differently as beloved

restaurants open new locations.

 

This safe approach leaves some frustrated. " We don't have enough veg

restaurants that are really good and exciting, " said Aurelia

d'Andrea, managing editor of VegNews, a vegetarian magazine based in

San Francisco. " I'm bored by what's offered here. " The city suffers a

particular lack of South Indian vegetarian restaurants.

 

Still, San Francisco vegans like Ms. d'Andrea have the luxury of high

standards. Virtually any restaurant in the city will accommodate

them, with many going far beyond the hackneyed grilled portobello.

Many newer restaurants feature extensive vegetarian offerings from

chefs who respect the concept, rather than treating it as an irksome

neurosis.

 

While this may reduce demand for strictly vegetarian restaurants, it

also means that these establishments can't take vegetarian customers

for granted. In this competitive milieu, certain standouts are

influential, delineating the frontiers of vegetarian cuisine.

 

Greens, run by the San Francisco Zen Center, has become an

institution since opening in 1979. It is the restaurant that brought

vegetarian food out from sprout-infested health food stores and

established it as a cuisine in America. It is in an airy space at

Fort Mason Center, on San Francisco Bay (415-771-6222;

www.greensrestaurant.com); hold out for a seat by the windows to

watch the sun set through the Golden Gate.

 

When I visited with my wife, Nina, we started with a plate of

mesquite-grilled Blossom Bluff peaches ($11). Luscious and warm, the

fruit was offset with the bite of arugula and watercress and creamy

mascarpone, and accented with sage honey. The chef, Annie Somerville,

has at her disposal the output of Green Gulch, an organic farm also

operated by the Zen Center in the cool coastal air just across the

bay. A plate of heirloom tomatoes with Green Gulch lettuce and

buffalo mozzarella in a basil vinaigrette ($10) is the epitome of the

form.

 

But a few dishes struck false notes. The spinach ricotta ravioli

($23) featured an earthy and garlicky — but watery — sauce over

slightly underdone pasta. The mesquite-grilled brochettes ($19) were

uneven: the corn was perfectly cooked but the zucchini was underdone.

Still, it was delicious, with a sharp charmoula and savory, rich

tofu, all served over cuminy, toothsome pearl couscous studded with

pistachios and tart dried cherries.

 

Millennium, the other giant looming over the city's vegetarian

restaurant scene, has become the gold standard of American vegan

cuisine. In a cheerfully dignified space at 580 Geary Street (415-345-

3900; www.millenniumrestaurant.com), Millennium draws a happy crowd

of professionals, couples, and tattooed, Technicolor-haired young

vegans dining with visiting parents.

 

Eric Tucker, the chef, is highly regarded for a polyglot style that

marries ingredients and techniques from diverse cuisines with a sense

of how best to celebrate Northern California's vegetable bounty.

Millennium's menus are famously involved and difficult to parse —

when I ate there with three friends, we were confronted with

ingredients ranging from papazul to tempeh picadillo to sambal.

 

I have a soft spot for huitlacoche — the mushroom that grows on ears

of corn and resembles distended, blackened kernels — so I ordered the

masa pibes ($22.95), a steaming construction of savory, chewy hominy

rounds beneath a mound of ragout made from the aforementioned fungi.

The dish was set off with colorful accents: a cream of sweet corn and

lobster mushrooms, plus roasted poblano emulsion and tangy, cilantro-

spiked avocado-heirloom tomato salsa fresca.

 

Such is Mr. Tucker's skill that the food at Millennium attains a

gustatory cohesion not suggested by the eclectic ingredients. The

shredded Indian Red peach salad ($8.95) — which, besides tender

peaches, included baby heirloom lettuce, green papaya, chili-dusted

peanuts, and the sweet zing of a light Thai lime leaf dressing —

blossoms on the tongue like a bouquet.

 

San Francisco's vegan food can be much more down-to-earth. One

Sunday, Nina and I went to brunch at Herbivore, at 983 Valencia

Street (415-826-5657; www.herbivorerestaurant.com; there are two

other locations). Nina counts herself " 90 percent vegan, " a

formulation that might make militant vegans blanch, but entitled her

to enjoy Herbivore's hearty and rich corn cakes ($8.50). They came

smothered in black beans, salsa and guacamole alongside thick-cut

rosemary potatoes. The guacamole was excellent, and the corn cakes

had a perfect salty chewiness imparted by whole kernels of sweet corn.

 

Herbivore's menu is broad, but loses its way outside comfort food

standbys. So I had a short stack of pancakes ($7.75) crammed with

fat, wet blueberries and topped with a pair of curled, glistening

fried bananas. Generous helpings of Earth Balance (an inspired brand

of imitation butter) and sticky maple syrup guaranteed me the perfect

sweet and heavy start to a Sunday.

 

Vegetarian Dining in San Francisco Vegetarian traditions from the Far

East are well-represented in San Francisco. Among better known

restaurants are Golden Era (572 O'Farrell Street; 415-673-3136;

www.goldeneravegetarian.com), and Bok Choy Garden (1820 Clement

Street; 415-387-8111).

 

We tried the Japanese vegan restaurant Cha-Ya (762 Valencia Street;

415-252-7825) on a sunny afternoon, when the place was packed with

families and cheerful groups of friends.

 

We dove right in, starting with shira ae ($5.50), a salad of blanched

and delicately pickled vegetables served atop a thick sesame tofu

dressing. Slices of lotus root and rubbery yam cake added a seafoody

aroma to the beans, pressed spinach, shiitakes, and rapini. Cha-Ya's

kitchen is adept at imparting umami flavors without resorting to the

usual fish-based ingredients. The miso soup was richly savory, and

the Cha-Ya roll ($6.75), a lightly fried inside-out roll of asparagus

and carrot drizzled in thick, sweet sauce, was deeply satisfying.

 

Each dish was perfectly prepared. The vegetables in the sushi rolls

(we had asparagus, eggplant, mushroom, and rapini nigiri rolls ($3.50

each), and avocado and mushroom uramaki ($5.25) had been cooked to

the moment of perfection. A bowl of kinoko udon soup ($7.75) was

heavy with chunky mushrooms: enoki, shimeji, oyster and shiitake. The

broth, and the noodles, were good enough to imagine climbing into the

big stoneware bowl.

 

Strangely, though Cha-Ya's culinary skill was flawless, the rest of

the restaurant's atmosphere seemed an afterthought. Décor was spartan

(at night the place is lit like a Laundromat) and service can be

brusque. Our server brought the bill and attempted to hustle us out

the door before we had a chance to order dessert. At first she even

refused to reopen the tab, but it takes more than that to keep Nina

away from a slice of vegan chocolate cake ($4). We also had a scoop

of soy ice cream ($4), served with a green tea sauce that was sweet

and strong, and moved us to forgive the attitude.

 

Our final stop could not have been more different had it been an

outright steakhouse. Café Gratitude, at 2400 Harrison Street (415-824-

4652; www.cafegratitude.com; there are three other locations), has

the air of a theme restaurant celebrating Northern California

stereotypes. The space is intimate, with big tables that encourage

sharing among a crowd of Burning Man enthusiasts, New Agers and

earnest world changers — in other words, a friendly and lively scene.

 

The restaurant's décor is derived from a board game developed by the

owners and built into each table. It encourages diners to express

gratitude for one another and for the bounty the universe has

bestowed upon anyone likely to walk in the door. After seating us,

the hostess looked in our eyes and asked, " What's great about today? "

 

It's all so easy to make fun of, but I chose to just go with it.

Gratitude's dishes are named for uplifting adjectives, rewarding self-

affirmation with sustenance. I declared that " I Am Bountiful, " " I am

Rich " and " I Am Elated. "

 

Nearly all the food at Gratitude is raw, which means the kitchen

knows secrets about fruits and vegetables hidden to most of us.

Familiar raw items like juices and salads take on a special vibrancy.

I Am Rich ($7) is a big wineglass filled with vermilion beet juice

floated on a base of orange, carrot and lemon to magnificent and

tangy effect.

 

But you have to let go of expectations when ordering raw analogs of

cooked dishes. Nina's I Am Mahalo ($10) was billed as a Hawaiian

pizza, which, through the raw looking glass, meant a pair of

triangular crackers made from dehydrated nuts and seeds, topped with

chunks of mango, tomato, and cashew cream. " It's hard to know what

you're eating, " Nina said, dabbing her lip with a hempen napkin and

reaching for her I Am Succulent ($7), an exceptional juice of

grapefruit, apple, celery and mint.

 

It's a bewildering cuisine, developing familiar ingredients into

wholly novel dishes. The results can range from the frankly gross (a

lavender cashew mousse that was indistinguishable from moisturizer)

to the revelatory (almond hummus singing of raw garlic).

 

I finished the meal with I Am Devoted ($7), a raw coconut cream pie

that delineated every aspect of the perfect coconut. It was sweet,

but not cloying; fragrant, but not overpowering.

 

As dessert arrived, we were joined by the filmmaker Maurizio Benazzo,

a recent convert to raw food. " What do you think of this, " I asked

him, passing over a forkful of fresh mint and raw cocoa cheesecake (I

Am Cherished, $7). " Is the green color from the mint? "

 

" Algae. It has to be, " he said in his rolling Italian accent. He

handed me his I Am Splendid ($9), a surprisingly delicious " mojito "

that blends agave sweetness with the fullness of sake. " It's absurd, "

he exclaimed. " It's fantastic! "