Mateo's and The Healdsburg Dining Scene

Let’s get something straight, this is not a complete food review of Mateo’s. It’s a narrative about the Healdsburg dining scene, visitors from San Francisco, and why Mexican food tastes better with lard, not extra virgin olive oil.

My experience with the food at Mateo’s was limited; I only had one dish, the halibut ceviche and two salsas. In a high-end place like Mateo’s, the easiest comparison for me as to what I expect of refined Mexican food is Frontera Grill in Chicago. I’ve eaten at Frontera more times than I can count and have eaten the ceviche nearly every visit. The food Chef Bayless prepares in Chicago is authentic, regional Mexican cuisine. It’s refined, but not fussy or pretentious. It has a Mid-Western sensibility about it.

Mateo’s is what I would expect from a restaurant rated highly by Michael Bauer but without Mid-West or in this case, Healdsburg sensibility. With the level of refinement in Mateo’s cooking, one would expect a Michelin Bib or perhaps one star scoring, “a must stop” along the foodie trail in Healdsburg. But refined Mexican cuisine requires balance and with the heat coming off the salsas I sampled, I have difficulty believing this place will get a nod. When spicy food sticks with me to the point I can’t taste anything else but heat and I’m beginning to mark time as to how long I’m in pain, it’s not fun anymore. The ceviche is lovely to look at and well executed, but has no hearty soul. Mateo can probably make beans, rice, and corn chips look pretty. But I want beans, rice, and corn chips to make me feel satisfied.

Barndiva, Dry Creek Kitchen, and Cyrus make sense in Healdsburg with glitz, glamour, and the cuisine to match the wine country they reside in. I expect a certain degree of premium pricing and a certain degree of calculated arrogance about the food.

Mateo’s Mexican food is inspired by his former position as chef at Dry Creek Kitchen.

Translation: It’s overwrought and pretentious.

One classic Mexican staple stands out at Mateo’s as simply out of touch; guacamole made with high-end extra virgin olive oil. Really? No one expects olive oil in guacamole even if it’s made in wine country and even if Dry Creek Valley has its own olive press. What people want with guacamole is a heaping bowl of it along with chips and a beer! Not extra virgin olive oil.

There are other troubling factors at work, namely price and expectations.

It’s $10 for a single taco at Mateo’s. Hefty price tag for a single taco. A popular spot for residents and visitors of Healdsburg is El Farolito, just down the block from Mateo’s. A Super Burrito costs $7.25. Most taco shops in town have a la carte  tacos on their menu for $1.25 to $3.50 per taco.  Execution, ambiance, and ingredients are totally different at Mateo’s versus Mexican restaurants in Healdsburg, but what about the perception of value?

A single hand-crafted margarita at Mateo’s is $12.Once again, a pitcher of Rita’s will set you back $24 at El Farolito. I know, the quality of the tequila is different, but that isn’t the point. The point is perception of why one usually enters a Mexican restaurant in Healdsburg. Value.

Another factor beyond price is the wine country experience and pairing wine with your food.

When in wine country, most people drink wine. When food is hot and spicy, what wine would possibly pair with it? None or a few select varietals. This makes it even harder for the weekend visitor to reconcile spending hard-earned money for a weekend away in wine country to drink tequila and beer. By the way, for tequila and mezcal drinks, there is no better place to go in town than Mateo’s. Knowledgeable bartenders and a great selection of tequila, if you want to try new tequilas, Mateo’s is the place.

As for the weekend Bay Area visitor, deciding with your spouse between Michelin rated Italian, American, or French inspired food and pairing it with your treasured $150 Cabernet or browsing the wine encyclopedia at Cyrus or Barndiva is what Bay Area visitors think about when they come to Healdsburg. Not a $10 taco or guacamole made with olive oil, no matter how good they are.

Look at the closed Shimo Restaurant across the street. Severely overpriced food in an atmosphere that didn’t exude or warrant it will never gain the favor of locals and only a few critics. And critics won’t keep your doors open for very long.

Mateo’s should take a lesson from Scopa, Diavola, Zin, and Willi’s…make your atmosphere more inviting and your food less fussy (but don't skimp on quality) and you’ll be in business for a long time AND get the critics to come in. The perception of being overwrought and overpriced will keep locals away.

So if Mateo’s is only a place for critics like Michael Bauer to visit and not a place to dwell for people who live in Healdsburg or the casual weekend traveler from the Bay Area, who’s coming here? I want Mateo's to succeed and it has a place in the Healdsburg dining scene. But Chef, don’t charge $10 for a single taco or put extra virgin olive oil in your guacamole…I don’t care how good they are. 

Zazu, Santa Rosa

It was a rainy night in Sonoma County and I really didn’t want to drive anywhere. However, I attended Pigs and Pinot on Friday night and didn’t know if I wanted to stay in town another night to eat either. I had a bit of a dilemma. I didn’t want fussy. I didn’t want Italian. But I wanted to stick with a porky theme. There was one place, but I had to drive. Zazu.

I’ve never been to Zazu. I’ve heard about it. I’ve seen Chef Duskie Estes on TV. I’ve eaten Black Pig Bacon at my house. I know pork will be involved in tonight’s meal. But how much more pork could my body deal with?

"I'll start with the house made prosciutto please."

Four slices of prosciutto are presented to me. Fantastic product. Rich fat, not overly salty. A real top-notch product and as good as any Italian product I’ve had. I would love to buy this by the pound and serve it to hard-core prosciutto lovers.

I suppose I can handle a bit more pork from this chef master after the perfect prosciutto. But I had to plan my dinner. I couldn’t just order the fresh pasta with rabbit, which was my gut reaction. Pasta would tap me out early. I needed to experience the atmosphere, the sense of place, the mood of the chefs; virtuoso performance on piano (the prosciutto) or a night of improvisational jazz? Smaller plates was my call; I wanted to eat a full performance.

The “Pigstrami” reuben speaks to me in many ways. I asked my server what the portion size was, as I’ve got a lot of eating to do. He said it’s a single reuben slider. Done deal. When my slider sandwich was presented, I was told that the Pigstrami was made with pork heart. Oh yes. My little slider came with side of potato salad. This little bite was outstanding.( I recently was forced to eat a pastrami slider at Yard House and I didn’t like it then and I really hate it now.) The side of potato salad was perfect to match up with the slider.

Next up was a single pork rib with pork hash. I eat a lot of pork ribs and this rib was underwhelming. Sure it was tender and reasonably seasoned, but it just wasn’t at the level of the Pigstrami or other more traditional BBQ places. The rib tasted more like an oven roasted rib than a rib that had been BBQ for 8 hours. The pork hash was ok, but again, nothing to write home about.

As my meal was lacking any ruffage, I decided on the frisee, bacon, egg, and asparagus salad as a "greens" course. The flavors were fine, but the dish felt and looked a bit like a list of ingredients placed into a plate, dressed, and an egg placed in the middle. Lazy? Maybe. More of an afterthought I think in the grand scheme of the menu. Sort of like my choice on greens. I should probably have greens, but I really want the farm egg and bacon that come with it.

All was forgiven when my main course of fried red rice with foie gras and roasted duck, topped with pan seared and tamarind glazed Liberty Farms duck breast was presented. Asian inspired perhaps, but French-like in its richness and execution. The whole dish came together like nothing else that evening. While the rice on its own could have been a meal, a slice of breast with each fork of rice was absolutely wonderful, along with the occasional dollop of tamarind to accent the flavors. Well done.

The staff at this point actually encouraged me to have dessert. I think they wanted to see if I could actually eat more. Or they’d taken out a term-life policy on me. I asked a few questions about the desserts and said that the “Better Butters” looked great, but that I couldn’t do a full order. “We’ll cut it in half for you.” Done deal, Better Butters it is.

Better Butter or a peanut butter cookie sandwich with peanut butter gelato and dark chocolate dipping sauce was fantastic. I have always loved Nutter Butters from my youth. Zazu’s Better Butters are certainly an improvement on the original.

There’s a sense of home cooking here, country sensibility and a sense of place about it. For comparison, Petite Syrah was refined with cleaner lines and a deliberateness about the food but with a sense of simplicity. Diavola also has a sense of choreography about it. Zazu draws outside the lines, that was evident from my first step in the door. But that’s its edge up here, a little outside of town.

So, was my experience at Zazu classic piano or a free jazz saxophone solo? Zazu is a bit more improvisational jazz than I would have expected. Not every part of the solo is brilliant, but it feels good, there is heart (pig heart) behind the cuisine and the next solo will be better than the last one as long as they keep performing night in and night out. There is a certainly a virtuoso at work.

I’d be happy to eat another performance from Zazu.

Locanda, San Francisco

I don’t normally head to the Mission for food. From parking issues, I have no reason to do business there, friends I’m with don’t want to go there, whatever the lame ass or legitimate excuse, I don’t get to that part of town much. Too bad really. When one looks at the number of great restaurants in the City, the Mission can lay claim to several and Locanda is one of them.

Valet parking was the first plus when I drove up on Valencia St. Parking…check.

I arrived at roughly 5:55pm to an already packed bar, save for one seat, mine, at the far end of the bar right next to the kitchen. Best seat in the house as far as I’m concerned; I get to watch food coming out. And this semi-crappy picture of the kitchen is the only one of the meal.

The menu has lots of fresh pasta, both hand-made and extruded, as well as several selections of offal, which means I’m in heaven. Offal and Pasta…Amen. I figured I’d have a light meal of stewed tripe and radiatore with lamb ragu. Oh, and roasted turnips as my fiber.

A quick note on the four bartenders, they’re hustling. Good crew of guys tasting their drinks and keeping customers happy, including the hungry ones like me.

Not shortly after my wine order, I’m presented with fresh bread sprinkled with olive oil and salt. Bread in a San Francisco restaurant that I didn’t pay for or have to request? Stunning. And it’s good, fresh bread as well and completely perfect for all the red sauce I’m about to eat in my two courses.

I asked my bartender what the difference between the big and small servings of tripe were. “I won’t lie to you, the big is real big if you’re going to have pasta.” Well then, the small tripe it is. Hell, the small was a pretty good size when it was presented to me. A bowl of steamy red sauce and tripe, garnished with fresh, long grated cheese. My second spoonful (yes, spoonful because a fork won’t do with all that sauce) reveals more than just tripe; chickpeas, mint, and guanciale for an added bonus of flavors and textures. The mint adds pop to the dish, while the chickpeas a moment of texture; just that moment of al dente bean in your mouth, before another mouthful of tripe. In the Pantheon of Tripe, Diavola in Geyserville reigns as king for domestic tripe I’ve eaten.  Maybe if I eat at Locanda 3 more times, I can crown a new king of tripe; because it was that good.

As if a bowl of tripe wasn’t enough to eat, and normally it would be, radiatore with lamb Bolognese is up next. Again, the familiar long grating of cheese garnishes the top of the dish. My first bites around the edge of the plate reveal an Italian al dente texture, not American.  Bravo. The gravy, or sauce if you’d like, exhibits a creaminess from slow stewed flavors of lamb. The flavors aren’t as strong as many expect from lamb, rather a well integrated stew of tomato, lamb  fat, and cheese. Yes, the cheese over the top of the sauce and pasta makes a difference; cheese amalgamates the  dish. This is a simple dish, a simple dish that could easy go wrong without balance.  I loved it. I paired the pasta with an N2 Sangiovese from Italy. It was fresh, with crisp acidity and straight from the tap.

For a minor bump in the road, my roasted turnips with pancetta and greens were inconsistent. Some of the turnip pieces were cut large, others small; resulting in an inconsistent texture in the turnips. And, yet, I have nothing but praise for Locanda. The floor manager walked by and asked how things were. He said that he noticed that I cleaned up a plate of tripe and was moving through my pasta, but left my turnips nearly untouched. I showed him the various cuts of turnip. He immediately removed the dish, spoke with the kitchen and chef, and reported back that corrective action is being taken both on the floor and in turnip prep. This is where front-of-house and kitchen come together and how the top restaurants keep their game tight. Well done.

To finish my hour of eating, an Affogato with espresso and Amaro. This is a twist on a classic and it works wonderfully. The non-licorice sweetness of Amaro was a brilliant substitution for Sambuca. I’m going to make this at home.

A great experience at Locanda in both the front and back of the house; one I hope to repeat in the near future.

Pigs & Pinot 2012, Healdsburg

It seemed natural that The Cured Ham would attend a Pig Event in Healdsburg. Not just any pig event, but the premier event in town, Charlie Palmer's Pigs & Pinot.

Chef Dustin Valette's Charcuterie

In between my feasting on pig, I managed to snap a few pictures of some of the food and celebrity chefs participating in the event. I walked several times around the Square later that evening after eating a lot of pig meat. Oh, there was wine too, but pork poses for the camera better than Pinot.

A humble Pork Taco from Michelin Starred Cyrus

Chef Casey Thompson and her Fried Trotters

Chef Jeff from Zin Restaurant

Charlie Palmer working the Carving Station

Petite Syrah, Santa Rosa

It was a self-declared special occasion for me. I wanted to try something new. I wanted to eat in the company of the chef.

So I dined at the counter at Petite Syrah in Santa Rosa.

And I had the counter all to myself. (BTW, Not a chance in hell I was going to snap a photo in front of Chef Davies. I wanted to talk with him, not take pictures of his food.)

I needed a night to indulge, to concentrate on the food and relax in the moment. I hadn’t done much research on Petite Syrah, its reputation was enough for me. I didn’t even look at the menu before my drive over. I like being surprised sometimes and I also don’t want to build up too much of an expectation about the food or the chef.

I started with the fritters of salt cod with piquillo pepper aioli. Not too salty, not to mushy, golden brown fry job on each fritter, balanced. The texture of potato combined with salt cod was well integrated and seasoned, even with a hint of salt on the exterior. But what elevated the dish was the piquillo pepper. Pure flavor of the pepper comes through. No nonsense, nothing fancy, just a lovely puree. This sauce, the supporting cast on the plate, set the tone for the evening.

The grilled octopus was up next. While I shouldn’t take any dish for granted, I had a feeling that the octopus was going to be tender. What I didn’t expect was how much I was raving about the chickpeas and North African scented red sauce with my octopus. Not that the yogurt and cucumber didn’t play a roll, they did. The yogurt and cucumber cooled the dish down, cleansed the palate, allowing each taste of octopus to be your first. But it was the chickpea sauce that opened up the palate and complimented the grilled flavor of octopus. A simple lemon wedge would have been too pedestrian, too easy. To offer yet another aioli, like the first course of fritters, would have been repetitive. Instead, Chef created another dimension, another flavor, and yet another sauce.

Now, expectations started to grow. Two dishes, two well cooked mains, two well prepared sauces. I need to really test the mettle of the chef with my next course.

I asked Chef if the pasta was made in-house. He replied with a longer answer than I expected; and suffice it to say he still makes the pasta himself, not staff. With a great deal of honesty, Chef had mentioned that finding the right balance between smokiness, saltiness, and broth was a challenge for his ravioli dish. No one gives a long answer like that unless they're proud of what they've created. My expectations are going through the roof now. 

The pasta option was ravioli of speck and ricotta in a brodo with black garlic cream. I found the ravioli to be the highlight of the night. A well thought out and balanced dish, the pasta was well made and the dish well executed. Again, it was the supporting cast of brodo and black garlic cream that elevated the dish. The ravioli is the main attraction, but without this supporting cast of well thought out accompaniments, it could have been just another ravioli dish with some boring butter sauce with sage.

This type of pasta dish challenges my palate and my skills. Could I make this dish? Should I have thought about this dish? Do other diners understand what was created here or do they just want the sage-butter sauce?

My college business writing instructor said to put bad news in the middle of a letter, so here’s the bad news. The only dish I wasn’t inspired by, the sweetbreads. Deep fried nuggets of sweetbread, rather than a single large piece, was disappointing. It was a salad with pomegranates, frisee, lentils, and squash. All the items were sized as tiny pieces and didn’t feel substantial or integrated. I was a bit surprised considering the simplicity and completeness of the other dishes. Enough said (I could have made the font even smaller, like some legal disclosure language).

My final course of foie gras, needed only a hint of salty and sweet to bring out the flavor packed organ. I’m going to have to indulge more often in this soon-to-be-banned delicacy or travel to another state to “smuggle” it in for chefs and friends. I can already see the price of foie going up because the State has decided what we should eat rather than us make a choice about eating it. Caged chickens? Penned cattle? Forced Milking of Cows? Factories of Pork? Oh, wait, we eat those on a daily basis. I’m sure that cow loves to eat that much every day crammed next to all their cow friends in a pen so we can eat crappy Select Beef at a Cheap Price. Right, this all makes sense now.

Back to the foie gras as prepared. I asked for the chef to omit the mint relish, I just didn’t see that working on the plate. The foie was lovely. The sauces were sweet, but not overly so to clash with the Tokaij that I ordered. I couldn’t have had a better dessert.

As I reflected on the evening, I almost took for granted the fritters would be perfectly fried, the octopus would be tender, the ravioli would be well made, and the foie wasn’t going to be over cooked. What I didn’t expect was how the details of saucing and garnishing were so well thought out. The focus on “the little things”, the details, are what made these dishes excellent.

Additionally, as in the pasta sauce, the chickpeas, the yogurt, all were broadening the palate.  Pushing diners to think and explore.

As it always comes back to pasta for me, the ravioli course exceeded all expectations. Considering the refinements and the use of a broth, I was reminded of Italy, not Sonoma County. This type of ravioli is what I experienced traveling around Italy eating at Michelin rated restaurants and cooking with chefs along the way. I expect this level of refinement at both Cotogna and Flour+Water in San Francisco (which is why I like to eat at both restaurants). I was delighted to experience it at Petite Syrah.