Chef David Bazirgan of the Fifth Floor

Back in the 1990s, I covered movies, books, and music for daily and weekly newspapers. Being a literal as well as cultural omnivore, I was invited to do some restaurant reviewing. I balked.

Not because I was uninterested in the notion, but because, for all the intellectual enjoyment that turning critical thinking into shareable prose can provide, I wanted to keep one of my greatest pleasures- eating -to myself and my chosen dining companions. I wasn’t ready to regularly run another of my passions through the the gears of verbal translation and writerly angst.

Over the years. I’ve become much less interested in serving as a de facto promoter for the industrial product of the film and music industries. And as my writing on those topics has fallen by the wayside, I’ve come to enjoy the more personal aspects of writing about dining and travel: accounts of estaurant meals and trips can be miniature narratives in which the writer is also a character.

I mention all of this in light of a dinner John and I enjoyed a couple months back at The Fifth Floor. It took me right back to those selfish days when I didn’t want to “share my food.” Chef David Bazirgan and his team put together such extraordinary dishes, so smartly conceived and flat-out delicious, that I’ve resisted writing about them here. I’ve wanted to hold them as pure, vaporous pleasures in my memory, not try to pin them down with the insufficiencies of language.

From a culinary standpoint, it was the best meal I’ve had in the Bay Area over the past two years. And I’m afraid I’m going to remain cruelly withholding about it. Please, please manufacture a special occasion to try it for yourself (“I need to take my tongue on a date” or “It’s the first anniversary of today last year”).

“C’mon,” the reader coaxes, “Just show a little leg.”

Of lamb, perhaps? Well…It was perfectly accompanied with a sweet and piquant mix of pickled raisins, cauliflower and cippolini onions.

I’ll also tease you with Bazirgan’s signature Mendocino uni flan, which is like the best chawan mushiyou’ve ever had, exponentially enriched with not only urchin but also a palate-haunting blend of kaffir lime and saffron. Read more…

Blue me!

Full disclosure:  This week’s San Francisco Agenda is being remotely blogged from one of the world’s other great coastal metropolises, Rio de Janeiro. As I wrapped up business at home last week, I wanted to prepare myself for the boys from Ipanema. While a Brazilian waxing was definitely not in the cards, I asked the cheerful crew at Castro Nail Salon go to town on my toes. I’m gonna look sandalicious on the beach with these blue chrome cuticles, no?

Even when I have no big holiday on the horizon, a session at the Castro Nail Salon makes for a great mini-getaway—or a vacation within your vacation if you’re in SF as a tourist. If you can finagle a midday break during the work week, CNS offers a terrific special: manicure and pedicure for $29. And this is no rush job—you get a good hour in the vibrating massage chair, sipping on a complimentary glass of white wine (or iced green tea, but what the heck, midday drinking can be as therapeutic as blowing off work to get one’s nails done). On Sundays, mimosas flow freely.

Last Thursday afternoon, I had my nails Smurfified amidst a gaggle of sexy servers from A16, a shmancy Italian eatery in the Marina District—they were having a polish party to celebrate one of their birthdays. They gossiped about a French model named Florian who was dating one of their roommates and was alleged to have what is referred to in Paris  as un grand bite. The young lady in the chair next to me massaged my shoulder in empathy after my left foot went into paroxysms of cramping while stuck in the toaster-oveny contraption where my digits were drying.

I set out into the evening with nothing but new flip-flops on my mind. I still had another day of work ahead, but it felt as if my vacation was already underway. At the Toe-pa, Toe-pa-cabana…

Michael Silacci of Opus One appears April 11

It’s April and spring is in the air. The days are longer, the sun is warmer, and its the perfect time of year to get back into that romance-revivifying ritual, the weeknight date night. Every Wednesday evening this month, there’s a wonderful opportunity to indulge your significant other at the Berkeley Wine Festival‘s winemaker dinners in the chateau-like Claremont Hotel.

Each week, the sprawling, romantic resort will play host to a different Northern California vintner in its dramatic, high-ceilinged Meritage dining room. Chef Josh Thomsen—whose CV includes the French Laundry—specializes in wine-pairing cuisine and will craft menus to showcase the offerings of each evening’s winemaker guest.

• Wednesday, April 4   Daniel Baron of Silver Oak Cellars will present several vintages of Alexander Valley and Napa Valley cabernets as well as  Twomey Cellars pinot noirs and merlots.

• Wednesday, April 11  Michael Silacci of Opus One will lead diners through an array of his internationally acclaimed, wines.

• Wednesday, April 18  Dennis Cakebread will feature Cakebread Cellars‘ Napa-grown sauvignon blanc, merlot and reserve wines. Who knew that Cakebread was a family name?!

• Wednesday, April  Justin Baldwin comes north from Paso Robles’ Justin Vineyards  to present the Bordeaux style blends that have helped him make his mark among American oenophiles.

After a Bacchanalian mid-week feast, it will be understandable if you don’t want to drive home. So why not turn Hump Day into Hump Night, and check into one of the Claremont’s suites with your sweetie. After an morning stroll through the gardens and a detoxifying spa treatment, you’ll be ready for the one-and-a-half more grueling workdays before the weekend. Cheers!