East Germany isn’t the part of the world most San Franciscans think about when they want to go out to eat. Yet, if the surging crowds at Walzwerk’s recent 5-year anniversary party were any indication, the cuisine has fans among ex-pat Germans and local dabblers alike. A few weeks after the bash (a brat-and-beer-soaked affair that left more than a few attendees reeling from over-indulgence in alcohol and blistered meat), I enjoyed a proper meal there with a few friends. The sous-chef, a pal of ours, hooked up a platter of appetizers including house-cured salmon with horseradish cream and marinated beets, herirng with sour cream and apples, and some devastatingly tasty fried potato pancakes paired with fresh applesauce and — yes — more sour cream. We tossed back massive jar-like goblets of Radeberger Pilsner.

Our stomachs already stretched to a degree Anthony Bourdain, even in his delightful, health-blind hedonism, might find extreme, we ordered more drinks and chewed on dense black bread with a curiously comfortable combination of dread and delight in anticipation of the next course. Small plates, these were not. When the platters arrived and clattered across the table, we groaned, nearly in unison; leftovers were, without question, in our future. I enjoyed the sea bass special: a moist and flaky fish fillet, drenched in lemon and butter, curled up on a gigantic plate garnished with a chartreuse crown of beautifully steamed romenesco. The pork loin was pretty fantastic as well, draped over an expanse of spatzle sprouting up like alien plants from a sea of rich mushroom gravy. The table’s favorite, however, had to be the chicken. A breast stuffed to the hilt with apples and chewy bacon, the rolled-up roast benefited from its sun-dried cherry sauce, the fruit’s deep sweetness providing, along with the slightly tart apples, welcome balance to what otherwise would have been a nearly insurmountable assault of salt and heft. Simply put, it was out of this world. Try this tiny neighborhood gem whenever you’re able.

You can visit Walzwerk at 381 So. Van Ness Ave. in San Francisco, CA.

{begam}ca-pub-1350288359592076/hungrycityblog_300×250{/begam}

The City is in the throes of a wicked cold epidemic. In the past two weeks, nearly everyone I know has succumbed. Coughs echo through the BART stations; financial district germaphobes scurry from bus to office to lunch and back with surgical masks wrapped across their mouths. Hand-washing is in. Once stung by the virulent bug, wise residents put their immune systems in the capable hands of bed-rest, cable television, and soup, preferably delivered by a fast, cheap, and clean Chinese restaurant of reasonable repute. I generally prefer spicy soup when I’m ill, like the molten, sinus-shattering Indo-Chinese-style hot-and-sour chicken made over at Spicy Bite. Shot through with sharp ginger accents, coriander, fresh red chili, and garlic, the slightly thick melange of diced vegetables and succulent chicken chunks takes well to a few spoonfuls of rice, a big strip of naan, and about 3 gallons of cold water. One order will widen your eyes and make you sweat; two will reduce you to a puddle on the floor — numb, warm, and incapable of language or swift movement. For those with an aversion to masochistic spice-levels, wonton soup is also a tried-and-true balm for mid-January miseries. Lately, I’ve been a fan of the green vegetable-heavy version at Jasmine Tea House. Jasmine is one of the best Chinese places in the Mission, which isn’t saying much. If you live in the Richmond, the Sunset, or within striking distance of Chinatown, you’ll be in even finer shape. Get better soon.

Spicy Bite

3501 Mission St.

San Francisco, CA

415-647-0436

Jasmine Tea House

3253 Mission St.

San Francisco, CA

415-826-6288

Tablehopper, the brainchild of area food-hound Marcia Gagliardi, is a free weekly insider e-column about the San Francisco dining scene.  I highly recommend you visit the website and subscribe. Each week, you’ll get wind of openings and closings, the skinny on new projects by respected local chefs, reviews, gossip to devour, and information about upcoming events in our culinary world.  Unless you prefer your news late-breaking and warmed-over courtesy of The Chronicle, it’s an indispensable resource.  Check it out.

For several months now, every Thursday night, a new chef moves into the kitchen at 2234 Mission St., where dubious Chinese take-out den Lung Shan usually operates. These evenings belong to Mission Street Food, an inspiring underground restaurant series conceived by Bar Tartine line cook Anthony Myint. A revolving roster of inventive guest chefs take turns creating and executing diverse menus. We’re almost exclusively talking talented non-celebrity chefs — without Food Network specials and cookbook deals — accustomed to toiling behind the scenes at lauded area establishments like Delfina, Quince, Range, and Zuni Cafe, not the marquee names you see etched on their front doors. Check the Mission Street Food blog to glimpse the menus in advance. As is often the case with such endeavors, there are rules.

Dinner is served from 6 until Midnight.

Corkage runs $5. I’m not sure if that applies to bottles of Budweiser.

Mission Street Food takes no reservations. Just show up when you can and hope the crowds are not too thick. After 8:30 or so, pickings can be slim. This is a popular destination at the moment and only becoming more so.

You cannot pay for your meal with your Discover card. You cannot pay with your Visa. You cannot pay with your American Express. Only cash will do. Thankfully, prices are not astronomical. No ones angling for maximum profits here; beginning tonight, what little there are will go to charities of the chef’s choosing.

Tonight’s meal should be deadly. Chef Ryan Farr, a veteran of the Fifth Floor and Orson, is unfurling a celebratory menu of slightly twisted American favorites in honor of the recent Presidential inauguration. The braised bacon sandwich with lettuce, baked tomato, and aioli should not be a tough sell, likewise, butter-fried cornbread with mint julep honey. And spicy buttermilk-fried chicken. And applewood-smoked macaroni-and-cheese.

You have one hour until the doors open.

Mission Street Food

Thursdays @ 2234 Mission St. (Lung Shan)

San Francisco, CA, 94110

Kiji is right around the corner from the Lone Palm, a popular pseudo-classy watering hole with white tablecloths, little bowls of gross snacks, and (you guessed it) a palm tree motif.  Kiji won’t blow your mind but everything I’ve had on the menu exceeds typical expectations of a reasonably-priced neighborhood sushi spot, especially when the neighborhood isn’t exactly sushi central.  Try Minako down on Mission for something eccentric yet quite excellent; Kiji, on the other hand, is pretty run-of-the-mill, with few menu surprises or unconventional preparations, but the fish, importantly, is very fresh.  To combat a recent over-indulgence in cassoulet. I recently went with the buttery miso-marinated black cod (a fine cliche), the reliable eel-and-cucumber rolls, the vegetable gyoza, some healthy-tasting hijiki, and, of course, the fatty tuna — and emerged highly satisfied yet, agreeably, somewhat soothed.   

 Kiji Sushi Bar and Cuisine

1009 Guerrero St. b/w 22nd and 23rd

San Francisco, CA

{begam}ca-pub-1350288359592076/hungrycityblog_300×250{/begam}

For a restaurant buried down in the murky, fern-riddled basement of kid heaven, a.k.a. the Academy of Sciences, there’s not much here for children – just plenty of sharp-cornered tables and an open-top fish tank brimming with plump specimens.  Still, the discrepancy, while odd considering the droves of half-pints pouring through the building’s hallways from open until close, won’t bother most adult diners in the slightest.  The food is very good, if somewhat unmemorable in the big scheme of things, with great emphasis placed on the striking Cal-Med flavor combinations conceiver-in-chief Loretta Keller has done at Coco500 to great critical and popular fanfare.  On a recent visit, the simplest dishes were most successful:  absurdly fresh raw oysters, creamy quivering globs, crisp and wine-y in flavor, sweet, dense salt-cod fritters, and a whole herb-roasted sea bream. It’s the best restaurant in Golden Gate Park.

The Moss Room at the Academy of Sciences

55 Music Concourse Drive

San Francisco, California

415-876-6121

Ate this at Sardinian palace La Ciccia on Friday night.  It was shaved over a nest of fresh tagliatelle dripping with spiced olive oil.  Could have fainted, sad my camera was not there.  Incanto has done something similar with a semi-cooked egg yolk floating on top.  Good god.

{begam}ca-pub-1350288359592076/hungrycityblog_300×250{/begam}

In this blog, I usually write about eating, not actual cooking.  I’m making an exception in the case of green garlic, an ingredient for which San Francisco’s cadre of locavore chefs positively flip.  I am a full-fledged convert to the mellow, delicate, merely garlic-esque character of immature garlic, a hallmark of spring in these parts. Gilroy, after all, is not far away.

It is one of my oddest food obsessions, an ingredient I became fascinated by as soon as I heard of it, even before I tasted it myself.  I really just liked pondering the culinary possibilities afforded by “garlic junior”.  Upon enjoying it for the first time, that excitement was compounded.  Now, when March rolls around, I look to menus around town for inspiration and head forth into my kitchen with bags of the stuff.

I’ve come to the not-so-special-and-unique conclusion that green garlic particularly suits tubers and roots.  Mash some boiled sunchokes with butter, lemon zest, a good grating cheese, and a heaping handful of green garlic. Make raviolis with wonton skins or gyoza wrappers.  Nice.  Or, try a soup.  Potato, parsnip, and cauliflower all work, separately, or in tandem. Mince the green garlic and cook it very slowly over low heat.  Use a lot.  A good chicken stock will help.  Add some smoked paprika at the end, after you’ve pureed it.