Riva Cucina, West Berkeley, Berkeley, CA.

CAPESANTE GRATINATE (Herb and breadcrumb crusted fresh sea scallops baked in shell, organic mixed greens, lemon condimento)
INSALATA DI FARRO (Organic Italian barley, mizuna lettuce, shaved fennel, and blood orange segments, shaved Parmigiano, lemon condimento)
GNOCCHI ALL’AGNELLO (Potato dumplings with slowly braised lamb shank, diced vegetables, herbs, tomato and cabernet, pecorino Toscano)
SCALOPPE AI FUNGHI (Niman Ranch pork loin scaloppini with porcini and crimini mushrooms, mashed potato)
Glass of 2005 Falesco Vitiano

While full, I’m disappointed, and unfortunately, it’s $88 disappointed. I’m always on the lookout for Italinate restaurants in the East Bay because there are so few of excellent quality without a ridiculous wait. Lured by seafood, pasta, and seemingly reasonable prices (especially after a $18! pasta at Venezia), I dragged a friend out to West Berkeley in the pouring rain, hoping for a hidden gem. What we got instead was an unexceptional meal in a huge warehouse conversion that had the appearance of trendy coffee shop crossbred with a perplexingly upscale high school cafeteria, decorated by someone nursing an incoherent addiction to the Crate and Barrel outlet. Giant renaissance-modern light fixture in the corner, while the rest of us have to make do with the ambient sodium-vapor from outside? Floor-length maroon velvet curtains bisecting the dining room? A wall of photographs: portrait, landscape, random bookcase, portrait, landscape? I don’t understand!

My companion’s Insalata di Farro was an exercise in disjointness: while the mizuna had a lovely flavor, encountering overly thick “shavings” of fennel and large segments of tart blood orange were startling. “And there’s not enough farro,” he complained. The sea scallops in the Capesante Gratinate were fantastic: creamy-fresh and just barely baked until tender with a light dusting of breadcrumbs that enhanced but didn’t overpower their delicate sweetness. The mixed greens were less impressive, a standard combination of lettuces dressed with condimento with the overbearing taste of olives rather than lemon, which would have better suited the scallops.

Unfortunately, our main courses didn’t redeem the unevenness of the starters. The gnocchi all’agnello were rather firm and grainy, much like the vacuum-sealed gnocchi you can buy at any high-end grocery store. The sugo-style sauce, while benefiting from the richness of lamb, was one-dimensional, its “diced vegetables and herbs” invisible among salt and meat; I couldn’t shake the feeling that I could prepare this dish for half as much myself. My friend’s pork loin scaloppini and mashed potato tasted like… meat and potatoes. The straightforward, if boring, breaded pork was adequate but again lacked any specialness that comes from having someone else cook for you. The mushrooms provided the only source of distinct flavor. Unsurprisingly, my glass of wine tasted like an inexpensive Italian red blend, unremarkable and marked up far too much given the price for a bottle at my local BevMo.

Riva isn’t a destination restaurant by any means, but I might return again if I have an impatient hankering for bolognese. After all, the place was only about 25% full. I’d certainly head here before trying Venezia again.

(Recent history, for reference: the best use of mushrooms, the crimini demi-glace atop the hangar steak at Sauce; the best salad incorporating grain, the seared scallop/bacon/couscous/frisee perfection at the unstoppable Wood Tavern.)

The inimitably web-stalkable k7lim and I agreed to have tacos for lunch last week. Instead of dragging him to Tacubaya, as promised, I sprung a surprise on him and took him on a miniature taco-crawl!

Method

At each restaurant we ordered one carne asada and one pollo taco (traditional style — no beans, rice, or extra filler). We shared both, either by alternating-bite or divide-toppings-onto-single-tortilla method. Coincideintally, we also shared horchata at each place, a decent palate cleanser by any means. We sampled chips and salsa when presented with them. All tacos were in the $1.50 range except at Casa Latina, where they were $2 apiece.

Results

Round 1: Los Cantaros Taqueria, San Pablo Ave., Emeryville, CA.

We ordered two “Mexico City tacos” — they also have the blasphemously embellished taco-surrogates, so you have to specify. The tortillas were small, soft, and pliable. The carne asada was flavorful and sufficiently juicy; the chicken, however, was nothing special, lacking flavor until being doused with the (saucy) red salsa provided for the chips. The green sauce on both tacos was ample and slightly spicy. The radish and jalapeno were appreciated even though neither of us touched them.

(G says this restaurant is unrelated to the Los Cantaros restaurant on Grand Ave. in Oakland, but I’ve been unable to confirm.)

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Round 2: Gallegos, San Pablo Ave., Berkeley, CA.

The chicken on the pollo taco was nicely shredded: a good sign, given our mutual dissatisfaction with the previous. It was moist and flavorful. The carne asada was tasty and had a good texture. We were pleased with both tacos, even though the quality of the individual ingredients (the steak, in particular) was generally less than that at Los Cantaros. Quite appropriately, everything was dripping grease: “This is the equivalent of a fairly good taco truck distilled into a shack,” I commented. (k7 agreed.) We finished our chips and (chunky) salsa in satisfied silence, occasionally quenching the fire with Gallego’s weak horchata-water.

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Round 3: Mi Tierra Foods, San Pablo Ave., Berkeley, CA.

Mi Tierra is a well-stocked Mexican supermarket with a hot food counter in the back. The eating area consists of a couple of stools placed unceremoniously against a wall. Good enough for us. We noted an odd characteristic of both tacos: something about the flavor profile of both meats was reminiscent of Chinese food. The diced meat must have been diligently marinaded, possibly overnight, until the marinade permeated the entirety of the steak and chicken bits. While this sounds good in theory, in practice both were cooked slightly too long for their marination to save them. The carne asada taco was decent — overcooked marinated steak tends to crisp due to its fat content. The lean, tough chicken bits suffered from the practice, inspiring comparison to a bad ground chicken and soy sauce stir-fry.

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Round 4: Casa Latina, San Pablo Ave., Berkeley, CA.

“We only use olive oil,” declared the chalkboard which listed the menu. We should have known — Casa Latina was easily the worst, yet most expensive, contestant of Part One. The tortillas were the size of my face. Both meats were rather flavorless and overdone, the chicken dry to the point where I couldn’t finish my portion of the taco. The hot sauce ladled over each taco didn’t help as it attempted to mask the meat’s blandness with its burnt and rabid spiciness. There were no chips and salsa offered to redeem the experience. At least the horchata had a good, cinnamon-y flavor that made up for its slight grittiness.

Summary of Part One

Best carne asada taco: Los Cantaros
Best pollo taco: Gallegos
Best overall experience: Los Cantaros

(I invite k7 to challenge any of the above if he is so inclined.)

Los Cantaros wins, just barely, due to the actual presence of atmosphere, the quality of their carne asada, and their ample selection of agua frescas. While both tacos at Gallegos were stellar (and greasy), seats at the shack’s counter did little to elevate it above more conveniently located taco trucks. I’d return to both, deciding which to patronize by means of how fat I’m feeling that day.

Unfortunately, we did not have the stomach capacity to include any tacos of the deliciously porky variety in this survey. We will be conducting more taco crawls in the future, so please contact me if you’d like to participate. The more, the merrier!

BONUS ROUND: Pan dulce challenge

My favorite pan dulce, from Casa Latina. Does anyone know what these damned things are called? They look confused whenever I ask when they will have the “cookies that look like croissants.” If you can provide the answer, I’ll give you… mad props. Or, better yet, I’ll buy you a taco.

900 Grayson, West Berkeley, Berkeley, CA.

“Breakfast” (Fresh Farm Eggs, Nueske’s Double Smoked Bacon, Idaho Hashed Browns, Toasted Acme Levain)
Donut holes
Coffee

My companion and I were both up early, discussing the possibility of phở for breakfast, when he mentioned 900 Grayson. I quickly convinced him that the prospect of coffee at 8 am was far better than that of coffee at 10 am. Regardless of hype, the restaurant was fairly empty on a Saturday morning at 8:30. The interior was warm, simple, comfortable, with well-considered decor that was Berkeley’s brand of upscale-quaint without being overly kitschy (I’m looking at you, Bette’s).

We started with the requisite donut holes, which are outsourced from elsewhere but are improved by reheating until warm and then serving in a sno-cone wrapper. Clever.

I ordered the “Breakfast,” a pretty standard combination which I thought would demonstrate the restaurant’s core competencies. It did: lovely, ungreasy, smoky-sweet bacon; a slow-crisped patty of real hash browns; slightly overcrisped but well-advertised Acme levain toast with wonderfully syrupy homemade blueberry jam. The only thing that didn’t floor me was the eggs, which simply tasted like… slow-cooked scrambled eggs. I’m not complaining; it just wasn’t exceptional.

“One of us has to order the Demon Lover,” he decreed. And so it was done. Delectable, delicately spiced fried chicken over a thin buttermilk waffle, covered in the best, creamiest, most delicious gravy ever created. I’m almost glad that I didn’t order it myself, given the spontaneous artery-clogging death it would have induced.

The staff is attentive and vigilant about refilling the coffee, which is also quite excellent. It is indeed hearty, down-home breakfast basics done the eccentric Berkeley way, but in this case, it works!

(Around $30 for two.)

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Oliveto (Cafe), Rockridge, Oakland, CA.

Two poached farm eggs with toast and prosciutto cotto
Pot of earl gray tea

I wanted to like this place; I really did. I enjoyed sitting at my window table, surrounded by Rockridge’s finest, elegantly dressed, bookclub-attending middle-aged women, sipping pot after pot of tea while staring out at the strangely melancholy street. For such a well-appointed cafe, there was a sad lack of reading material; New York Times mobile was my only companion.

In memory of Caffe 817 (which still exists — I just don’t frequent it for breakfast as much), I ordered the classically Italian toast, eggs, and prosciutto triumvirate. The rather thick-cut prosciutto cotto (of the cooked, not cured variety) was reminiscent of unremarkable pastrami, lacking the fat, salt and spicy punch that make pastrami interesting. The eggs were poached slightly more than I prefer, disappointing me with their reluctant runniness. The star of the meal was actually the toast, which I can only assume is Acme levain (hey, Oliveto is borne of Chez Panisse alums as well, isn’t it?) slathered with butter and their deep amber, perfectly bittersweet house-made marmalade.

I will provide a comparison: while Caffe 817 has newspapers, odd characters, and an slightly larger menu (and horribly inconsistent espresso), Oliveto Cafe is a far more lovely and refined place to ruminate, provided that you bring your own reading material. Perhaps I may return for coffee and a pastry with a copy of the New Yorker, but Oliveto is ultimately too far out of my way for breakfast unless I have other reasons to be in Rockridge.

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Given my apparent obsession with Chez Panisse alums’ toast and jam, maybe I should try Pizzaiolo’s morning offerings next. I don’t suppose any of you have been there?

(A one-line review of Pizzaiolo, just for kicks: pizza and pastas, fantastic; cocktails, forgettable; service, abominable.)

2007.12.08.
Sea Salt, Berkeley, CA.

Caldo verde
Arctic char with artichokes, bintje potatoes, bloomsdale spinach and romesco
Glass of negroamaro
Affogato with vanilla ice cream
Caol Ila 18-year single-malt scotch

Fewer words, more images. Feeling a bit tired, today.

While I normally order from the raw bar, I abstained, sampling some of the chilled dungeness crab with delightfully garlicky aioli, instead.

I’ve always wanted to try caldo verde, a delicious Portuguese soup with kale, potatoes, and chorizo, more akin to a rich and hearty stew than my connotation for “soup.” It was perfect for the chilly evenings we’ve been experiencing in the Bay.

The arctic char, as expected, was tender and expertly prepared, well-complimented by tangy romesco, creamy potatoes, and fragrant mini artichokes.

If you have a chance to try it, I also highly recommend the foie gras terrine with persimmon, walnut breadcrumbs, and vanilla salt. I was too busy squirming ecstatically over the savory bits to take a photograph.

The tab for me was $75, but I tend to do things like order wine, affogato, and scotch. While reviews of Sea Salt are generally mixed, I adore it. It’s possible that I am extremely lucky in my order selections, I am overly obsessed with seafood, or both.

P.S. – The hangar steak at Wood Tavern is one of the best I’ve ever tasted.