As for Local 2, they staged a couple of mass strikes in the coming years, but after the unseating of Belardi, the union never returned to the power it once had. And so much the better.
San Francisco has a reputation of being a great restaurant town – and interestingly, there are more restaurants there per capita than in any other city in the nation – roughly one café, restaurant, trattoria, tapas bar or burrito joint per 100 residents. But relative to other great restaurant towns, like Boston, Chicago, Dallas, Houston, Montreal, New York, Seattle, Toronto, Washington D.C., and so on – it lacked any sense of sophistication. Not that San Francisco did not have it share of notable eateries – but many were quite over-rated. Nevertheless, early on, I relegated most Friday and Saturday nights to exploring the restaurant culture.
My focus in the early days of my career, when I dined out, was multifarious. Of course I had interest in the local competition – as a professional and educational experience – but it was also a form of entertainment, during which time I spent quality time with my significant other.
Nevertheless, my primary focus was on the food – the quality of preparation, the plate arrangements, choice of colors, textures, and other presentation elements, while the service was always a secondary consideration. Years later my attitude changed, and the quality of the service became just as important as the actual cuisine.
My all-time favorite restaurant in San Francisco has always been, and remains today, Le Central, and I have dined there more times than at any other single restaurant. Opened in 1974 by brothers Claude and Pierre Cappelle, it was purchased in 1993 by brothers Suraphol and Chaiwat Tanphanich, who had been the chefs of the restaurant since the 1980's. Suraphol changed his name to Paul, and Chaiwat changed his name to Johnny – because he liked the sound of it and it was a whole lot easier to pronounce than Chaiwat. Today, they continue to maintain the Parisian-style bistro exactly the way it has always been – with the same menu and same unique characteristics that have made it such a terrific dining destination.
For example, there has been a Cassoulet on the menu from the first day the restaurant opened. Cassoulet is a white-bean, tomato and garlic stew garnished with lamb sausage and duck confit, that is an important mainstay of French bistro cuisine, and an ancient, traditional French comfort food. Each morning in the Le Central kitchen, the Cassoulet remaining from the previous day forms the basis of the new batch of Cassoulet served that day – a practice which has been going on since the inception of the restaurant in 1974. As a result, every morning, on a large mirror inside the bar-side dining room, a food server writes the following message in white grease pencil on that mirror: “Our Cassoulet has been simmering for 13,514 days” – or however many days since they first opened. It is just one many of the charming elements of Le Central.
Vanessi’s was another of my all-time favorites, an Italian eatery that had opened in 1936 on Broadway and Kearny Street. In 1986 then-owner Bart Shea closed the Broadway operation and moved it to the top of Nob Hill – though it never reached the popularity of the original site, and it closed down forever in July 1997.
Some establishments attained popularity by virtue of their quirkiness, or a notably eccentric personality. Pat O’Shea’s Mad Hatter, a bar out in the Richmond District of San Francisco, boasted the following warning on its front door awning: “We cheat tourists and drunks.” I loved the honesty and transparency of that public admission, and figured that any place that was candid and straightforward about their true nature, was alright by me. O’Shea’s was essentially a shabby bar with some foodservice. But the owner’s girlfriend – Nancy Oakes – turned out to be an excellent chef, and he let her set up shop in the kitchen. So in the middle of what appeared to be a run-of-the-mill Irish bar, was a kitchen offering fabulous bistro cuisine. It was an unlikely, but interesting mix. Oakes later joined forces with Bruce Aidell, a successful sausage entrepreneur, and opened Boulevard – what continues to be one of San Francisco’s top restaurants.
Sam Wo was a hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Chinatown that had been written up in Gourmet Magazine in the 1980s. I dined there once, with two married friends and their young daughter in the mid 1970s – and was well aware of the popularity of Sam Wo’s colorful waiter, Edsel Ford Wong (talk about interesting names!). The entrance to Sam Wo went through a filthy kitchen on the ground level, with some equally filthy cement steps leading to a dining area filled with an odd assortment of tables. The popularity of such severely unsanitary establishments often perplexes me. Perhaps it takes a case of food poisoning to make the youngsters of the younger generation to realize the potential danger that awaits them in such hole-in-the-wall eateries.
After we had ordered our dinner from Edsel, he delivered it, and I intentionally said to him, “I didn’t order this!,” to which he gruffly replied, “You odor; you eat!” Of course I just wanted to get a response out of him, being fully aware that he had a reputation as one of the rudest waiters in all of San Francisco.
When we were done eating, Edsel brought the check, a grand total of nine-dollars-and-thirty-six-cents – for three appetizers, three main courses, a large bowl of rice and a pot of tea. (The meager amount of the bill provided at least a partial answer to the question of what drives the popularity of restaurants with such obviously unsanitary environments.) But the best part was yet to come, as Edsel instructed me, “You, you clear off tables for me, now”, pointing to some adjacent tables with soiled dishes stacked up. “Yes sir,” I replied, and then transported some soiled dishes from several tables into adjacent bus tubs before we departed. I figured it was all part of the dance, and I was glad to lend a hand.
San Francisco also attracted some very innovative and successful restaurateurs, such as Klaus Lange, who conceived and opened Café Mozart in 1978 in downtown San Francisco. Amazingly, it is still there and still in operation, in spite of having only a very small dining room and a limited – yet elegant menu. Klaus sold it after seven years, then opened Seacliff Café out on Clement Street and 19th Avenue in the Richmond District. One of the most memorable elements of the Seacliff Café was its beer, brewed daily by the owner, and when it ran out, that was the end of it – until the next day. Lange’s Seacliff Dutch Brown Ale mimicked the style of the German Seefahrtsbier – a strong variety of brown ale that had been given to returning German sailors to get them drunker faster. I lived nine blocks from Seacliff Café, and bicycled there on occasion, just for the beer.
The Seacliff Cafe went down fast following the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, at which point Lange shut it down. The rest of his life fell apart at that point as well, which prompted him to quit drinking and take a job as chief steward/cook on Chevron oil tankers. Today he works as a cook on the pilot boats in San Francisco Bay, and hosts guest chef assignments on cruise ships – where his reputation as the creative innovator behind Café Mozart remains in place. He also creates a very unique art, based on manipulated photographic images of ship hulls. (See: www. seaklaus.com)
The hospitable service of prepared food is well known to exist as early as the formative years of Ancient Rome (509 BC-487 AD). Ma Yu Ching’s Bucket Chicken House, established in Kaifeng, China in 1153 claims to be the oldest restaurant in the world, having survived numerous wars, invasions, and dynasty changes – though documentation certifying their continuous service since the 12th-century is dubious at best.
The oldest restaurant operation in modern Western culture remains Boulanger’s small soup shop on the rue Bailleul in Paris, opened in 1765. The sign outside read “Boulanger débit des restaurants devins - Venite ad me omnes qui stomacho laboratis et ego restaurabo vos”(“Boulanger sells magical restoratives fit for the gods – Come to me, all whose stomach cries out, and I will restore you.”)
The Traiteurs belonging to established Guilds controlled all the food service in the 18th-century, and Boulanger was not a member of a guild – but since he only sold broths, the traiteurs had little objection to his enterprise. When he added a dish of shee
p’s trotters [lamb shanks] braised in white sauce, however, the guilds filed a lawsuit to prevent him from serving anything more ambitious than soup. Parliament ruled in his favor, decreeing that lamb shanks in white sauce did not constitute a râgout. The subsequent publicity was such that even King Louis XV dined there, serving to provide an official endorsement, after which Parisians packed the place.
Antoine Beauvillier, a leading culinary writer and gastronomic authority opened what many consider to be Paris’ first great restaurant, La Grande Taverne de Londres – in 1782 – though it was shut down during the Revolution (1789-1794). Beauvillier’s cookbook, L'Art du cuisinier (1814), also set the standard for the cookbooks of his time.
It was the French Revolution that radically changed the way people dined. Having abolished and executed the monarchy, the entire structure of governance was altered, which included the abolition of the guilds. Boulanger’s use of the word “restore” – from the French verb restaurer – would later serve as the root of the common name for establishments that flourished at the turn of the 19th-century, after the fire of the Revolution had subsided.
One of the most famous restaurants of that time was Rocher de Cancale, opened just before the turn of the 19th-century, and operated by restaurateur Alexis Baleine from 1804 on. (An original menu is on display at the Escoffier Museum in Villeneuve-Loubet, a small village south of Nice, France.) Rocher de Cancale was known for their oysters, harvested from the oyster beds of Cancale – on the nor th-western coast of France. They were also known for Sweetbreads à la Financière and Sole Normande, created there by Chef Langlais in 1837.
Another celebrated eatery was Café Anglais, which opened in 1802 in honor of the Peace of Amiens, a treaty between England and France. Considered the most illustrious restaurant of all the Parisian establishments of that era – when Adolphe Dulgléré took over the kitchen, it acquired a great gastronomic reputation. Potage St. Germain, Sole Dugléré and Pommes Anna were all created there – all dishes that are known and still prepared today in more traditional [European] establishments. Other cafés of note from this era included Café à l'Académie, des Aveugles, Bignon, Brébant, Cadran Bleu, du Caveau, des Chartres, de Flore, de Foy, Hardy, de Madrid, Napolitain, d’Orsay, de la Paix, de Paris, Philippe, de la Régence, Riche, Tortoni's, des Varietés, Véry, le Grand Véfour (revived in 1960 by French celebrity chef Raymond Olivier), and La Vente Libre (women only).
Another effect of the Revolution was the creation of a middle-class customer base who relished the ideals of egalitarianism. Eating was no longer the privilege of the wealthy who could afford to maintain a cooking staff and a well-supplied kitchen – anyone who could pay the price could get the same meal as everyone else. Chefs, often former cooks from the great aristocratic houses, took advantage of this opportunity by offering pre-priced and prepared-to-order dishes for the first time.
Grimod de La Reyniere (1758-1837), was a popular writer and critic who credited the emergence of the restaurant culture of Paris following the Revolution of 1789, to 1- the rage for the English practice of dining in taverns; 2- the influx of large numbers of revolutionary deputies from the provinces; and 3- cooks seeking gainful employment after the break-up of the monarchy and aristocratic households.
Of course other European countries had their own tavern-restaurants as well. There was the Sobrino de Botin in Madrid Spain, opened in 1725; the Tour d’Argent in Paris which dates to March 4, 1582 (still in operation today!); in Salzburg, the Stifskeller St. Peter is also still in operation, and claiming to date back to 803. In Germany, Austria, and Alsace, Brauereien (Brasseries) and Weinstuben (literally “Wine-room”) served delicatessen, sauerkraut, and cheese; in Spain bodegas served tapas, while Greek taverns served meals that were exempt from taxes. Even the concept of the take-away restaurant was developed then, attributed to Bengali entrepreneur Sake Dean Mahomed (1759–1851), who opened the Hindoostanee Coffee House on George Street in central London, in 1810.
Restaurants in colonial American began with Publick Houses, though they were not generally known for the excellence of their cuisine. But the news of the turmoil in France, and the explosion of the café and restaurant business in Paris was not lost on an American public that enjoyed an affinity for French cooking. Probably the earliest “eating house” was "Jullien's Restorator," opened in Boston in 1794 by Jean Baptiste Gilbert Payplat, a former cook to the archbishop of Bordeaux – and who became known as the "Prince of Soups."
The Union Oyster House, the oldest restaurant with contiguous operation in the United States, opened in Boston 1826. This was followed by the Tremont House in 1828, inaugurating "French Service" in its two-hundred-seat dining room, where guests dined at individual tables and used the new four-tined fork.
The greatest restaurant dynasty in North America began in 1827 with a small pastry shop and café at 23 William Street on New York City’s Battery. Retired ship captain John Delmonico – who had trafficked fine spirits from Europe to the New World – sold coffee and pastries, and wines, sherries and brandies filled from their original casks. His business prospered to the point where he wired his brother Peter to come over from their hometown of Ticino, Switzerland to assist. After a fire destroyed the Battery, including the original café, the brothers brought over their cousin Lorenzo, and opened a three-story, full-service restaurant, with a menu written in French and English. They approached Alsatian chef Charles Ranhoffer, who had just completed a two-year stint as chef at the Russian Embassy, and who had been hired by soon-to-start-up restaurant Maison Dorée. But the Delmonico boys made him an offer he could not refuse, and in fact, Ranhoffer ultimately remained with Del’s for 39 years. During this time, he oversaw the creation of many notable dishes still popular in our modern parlance, including Baked Alaska, Chicken à la King, Delmonico Potatoes, Delmonico Steak, and Lobster Newberg. Everyone who was anyone dined at “Del’s,” including Sarah Bernhardt, Diamond Jim Brady and Lillian Russell, Charles Dickens, Edward VII (The Prince of Wales), Abraham Lincoln, Jenny Lind, William “Boss Tweed” Macy (before he went to prison), J.P. Morgan, Emperor Napoléon III, Jacob A. Riis, Theodore Roosevelt, and Oscar Wilde.
Restaurants are a gauge of the state of any given civilization, and it pains me to see the well-established restaurants I have frequented over the years shut down, for whatever the reason. Some of these establishments have been in business many decades, and they simply run their course – they open (birth), they thrive (young life), they peak (adult life), they decline (it happens), they close up shop (death). Others are part of the here-today-gone-tomorrow, fly-by-night aspect of the business – elements that should serve as a warning to those who wish to enter “the exciting world of the food service industry.” The reasons for their failures are complex and myriad – sometimes a case of bad luck, other times due to human arrogance and the irresponsible behavior of ego-driven wanna-be restaurateurs who have little or no experience in the food service industry – or a combination thereof. A burned-out architect by the name of Rick opened Café Americain on Columbus Avenue in San Francisco, a few doors down from the Franco Montarello’s Little Joes. Rick invested both his savings and his passion into the place, creating and installing the interior oak paneling by his own hand. But he was underfunded, and a small café offering only coffee and café fare did not generate enough revenue to keep him going. After six months he shut his doors and vanished to parts unknown.
The Stinking Rose, a restaurant built upon a theme of garlic, soon occupied the space vacated by Café Americain. They started small, with one-retail-space, soon expanding into the next five commercial slots up the block. With a combination of sassy attitude, marketing and a clever concept – mountains of garlic! – people flocked to The Stinking Rose and they were literally packed seven days-and-nights per week. In fact, the owners have become so successful that they have opened five other restaurant operations in San Francisco, and one in Beverly Hills.
Some of the establishments that disappeared during my
years in San Francisco – much to my profound disappointment – include Amelio’s, Bentley’s, The Blue Boar, Le Club, Doro’s, Ernie’s, Jovanello’s, Lascaux, Orsi’s, The Ritz Old Poodle Dog, The Squire (in the Fairmont Hotel), and of course Vanessi’s (R.I.P.).
Some of my restaurant experiences were also derived from my hands-on experience in the kitchens of more than a dozen different restaurants over the years. One of these was the kitchen at The Washington Square Bar & Grill, one of the most popular dining-and-drinking destinations in the city, with a reputation that spanned the globe. The creators were Ed Moose – a former dispatcher and reporter for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, and Sam Dietsch – an oddball whose acerbic personality earned him numerous death threats over the years – though unfortunately, none of which were acted upon. (Ed Moose passed away in August 2010 at the age of 81; Dietsch died in the late 1990s, with no known fanfare.)
Opened in 1973, popular columnist Herb Caen (1916-1997) gave the Washington Square Bar & Grill the venerable nickname The WashBag. Caen was well-known for his many “bon-mots” over the years, including the popular nickname for San Francisco – “Baghdad-by-the-Bay” – taken from a collection of his essays published in 1949; followed by "Don't Call It Frisco," published in 1953. I was honored to have had my own fifteen-seconds of Herb Caen fame when the following blurb was published in his column in the San Francisco Chronicle on Monday, February 25, 1991:… “David Paul Larousse spotted this sign at the entrance to Saffron Sushi on Lombard: ‘Restroom for free use by Saffron patrons. Public use $40.’ Well sometimes it’s worth it.” (Sadly, Caen died of lung cancer in 1997, though his funeral was one of the best-attended events in the city’s history.)
Have Blade Will Travel: The adventures of a traveling chef Page 19