Food reviewers and food critics can be separated, to my mind, by their response to restaurants like Cabais. The job of a critic is to develop a critique of a restaurant, and to push, either explicitly or implicitly, for the development of a preferred approach to food. That preferred approach need not be doctrinaire or simple-minded; plenty of critics have well-developed models of restaurants that are much more sophisticated than a simple credo of, "Fancier is better," as I worry undergirds much distrust of food critics.*
A reviewer's job is more simple. They just say whether they liked a meal. They say why they liked it, or why they didn't. They try and give some context so that the reader can make their own evaluation, both of the restaurant in question, and the reviewer's and preferences. I see my role as a reviewer, rather than a critic, which informs the way I approach somewhere like Cabais.
Located on Fourth, between University and Washington, Cabais occupies an exceedingly modest physical plant. The menu reads no differently than most small Mexican kitchens in San Diego: a mix between sandwiches and Americanized Mexican food. A large chalkboard on the sidewalk tells you the special and the soup for the day. The tables are smallish, and the chairs moderately comfortable. It's usually packed, especially at lunchtime. In this case, the demos is correct.
I eat at Cabais at least four times a week; obviously, then, I enjoy it. It's virtues, for me, are three-fold: the food is tastier than it should be for the price, the service is pleasant, and it's about a block from my apartment. For me, Cabais is nearly perfect as a lunchtime deli.
The food is uniformly tasty, and, most importantly, fresh. The tortillas taste like, well, tortillas (incidentally, it wasn't until I moved to San Diego from the East Coast some years ago that I realized that tortillas even could have a taste), fresh and chewy. The chicken, available in a number of configuration, is tender and moist, usually with a nice, mild char on the outside. The salads, while largely unadventurous, are large and tasty, if a bit too heavy on green-leaf lettuce.
Moreover, this fresh, tasty food is cheap. Cheap, cheap, cheap. Four bucks for a burrito and chips. Five and change for a sandwich and fruit. Combination plates top out around seven bucks, and they include rice and beans.
Nothing, and I mean nothing, is greasy. This is my test of a low-budget restaurant -- if they can only buy taste at the cost of grease, that indicates that the ingredients cannot stand on their own. A greasy meal is particularly problematic at lunch; lunchtime is a time for a meal that perks you up, sets you back on your feet, rather than one that weighs you down, and drifts you into that nap you want around three o'clock.
Obviously, this is not haute cuisine. The atmosphere is deli-like. The menu is basically boring. The food, while fresh and tasty, has no statement to make, or bold ingredients; this is food you already know, rather than food that pushes you into new directions.
But, taken on its own terms, Cabais succeeds brilliantly. It serves the Hillcrest masses better food than they should be able to get for that money, and with a smile.
* As a side note, I have never understood the venom directed against Naomi Wise's review in the San Diego Reader (http://www.sdreader.com). She strikes me as a tremendously sympathetic critic, willing to engage restaurants largely on their own terms. Moreover, so long as the nigh-unreadable Duncan Shepard continues to write the movie reviews, it hardly seems fair to accuse Naomi of snobbishness.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Sunday, March 25, 2007
The Mission (North Park)
On the one hand, it seems pointless to review The Mission. It's the very definition of a review-proof restaurant; no matter what I say, good or bad, it'll be just as crowded tomorrow morning. On the other hand, I do think it makes sense to drop in on old favorites every so often to check back in with them. Restaurants change over time; menus change, kitchens change, service philosophies change (well, at least, outside of Hob Nob Hill, these things all change). That said, The Mission is exactly as I remember it from the past five years: tasty and cheap, with a dash of pretension for leavening.
Unless you eat late (and by late, I mean around one -- The Mission closes in the early afternoon), expect a wait. The Mission doesn't take reservations, a policy that many restaurants follow, but has never made sense to me. Is it supposed to be more relaxing? More convenient? It fails at both. Fortunately, we only had to wait for fifteen minutes before being seated.
I never feel like lingering in the North Park Mission's room; it's big and open, and therefore deafening. The seating is uncomfortable, although not distractingly so if you're only there for your meal. The large windows fronting onto University would seem like a better people-watching opportunity than it is; despite claims of North Park's resurgence, it seems limited to a small number of blocks, just a little east of where you can see. Check out the rotating artwork instead.
Service varies. Servers are usually friendly enough and prompt enough, but some visits you'll get your refills on coffee (and the Little Lady claims the coffee here is excellent, even the decaf) quickly, and some you won't. I suggest going with the flow; certainly, I never see servers hanging around, looking bored while their tables go unattended. The kitchen is speedy, so you'll rarely have to wait long once you've ordered.
The Mission specializes in coffee drinks of various flavors and egg dishes, frequently with a mild Mexican influence. That said, I rarely see people order either; for whatever reason, pancakes or the Papas Locos (potatoes, black beans, jalapenos, sour cream and salsa fresca) and Jones's soda seems to be a more frequent combination. Whatever the reason, the food is solid, a metaphor I mean in two ways. First, it's solidly dependable. While it rarely soars in execution, it rarely disappoints either. One advantage to The Mission's unchanging ways is the kitchen knows what it's doing. The second is that the food itself is heavy, especially breakfast, surprisingly so for the atmosphere, which, at least to my mind, suggests lighter fare. While not in the same league as, say Hash House A-Go Go, don't expect to clear your breakfast plate.
Lunch dishes are another story entirely. Light, and at least occasionally popping with bright herbal flavors, the afternoon meal seems to come from an entirely different universe. The sandwiches are served on a hearty, flavorful rosemary bread, and emphasize fresh, bright tastes, if not textures. The soup especially, at least the last time I had it, some months ago, tastes as if the main ingredients were herbs, rather than vegetables; while certainly not a complaint (I loved it), it is something to be aware of.
Prices are certainly reasonable, especially given what I suspect the owners could charge without damaging business. Virtually nothing over ten bucks, unless you start adding eggs and potatoes or sausage or bacon to your pancakes (and while I've had the French toast and potatoes before, it's a mistake; trust me). Refills of basic coffee and soda (including Powerade, for some odd reason) are free, if, as mentioned, occasionally challenging to obtain.
Despite it's review-proof nature, I think it is important to remember exactly what The Mission is; rather than treating it as an all-purpose brunch standby (as I think a large proportion of the uptown population seems to), I think The Mission should be gone to when you're hungrier, and poorer, than normal.
Unless you eat late (and by late, I mean around one -- The Mission closes in the early afternoon), expect a wait. The Mission doesn't take reservations, a policy that many restaurants follow, but has never made sense to me. Is it supposed to be more relaxing? More convenient? It fails at both. Fortunately, we only had to wait for fifteen minutes before being seated.
I never feel like lingering in the North Park Mission's room; it's big and open, and therefore deafening. The seating is uncomfortable, although not distractingly so if you're only there for your meal. The large windows fronting onto University would seem like a better people-watching opportunity than it is; despite claims of North Park's resurgence, it seems limited to a small number of blocks, just a little east of where you can see. Check out the rotating artwork instead.
Service varies. Servers are usually friendly enough and prompt enough, but some visits you'll get your refills on coffee (and the Little Lady claims the coffee here is excellent, even the decaf) quickly, and some you won't. I suggest going with the flow; certainly, I never see servers hanging around, looking bored while their tables go unattended. The kitchen is speedy, so you'll rarely have to wait long once you've ordered.
The Mission specializes in coffee drinks of various flavors and egg dishes, frequently with a mild Mexican influence. That said, I rarely see people order either; for whatever reason, pancakes or the Papas Locos (potatoes, black beans, jalapenos, sour cream and salsa fresca) and Jones's soda seems to be a more frequent combination. Whatever the reason, the food is solid, a metaphor I mean in two ways. First, it's solidly dependable. While it rarely soars in execution, it rarely disappoints either. One advantage to The Mission's unchanging ways is the kitchen knows what it's doing. The second is that the food itself is heavy, especially breakfast, surprisingly so for the atmosphere, which, at least to my mind, suggests lighter fare. While not in the same league as, say Hash House A-Go Go, don't expect to clear your breakfast plate.
Lunch dishes are another story entirely. Light, and at least occasionally popping with bright herbal flavors, the afternoon meal seems to come from an entirely different universe. The sandwiches are served on a hearty, flavorful rosemary bread, and emphasize fresh, bright tastes, if not textures. The soup especially, at least the last time I had it, some months ago, tastes as if the main ingredients were herbs, rather than vegetables; while certainly not a complaint (I loved it), it is something to be aware of.
Prices are certainly reasonable, especially given what I suspect the owners could charge without damaging business. Virtually nothing over ten bucks, unless you start adding eggs and potatoes or sausage or bacon to your pancakes (and while I've had the French toast and potatoes before, it's a mistake; trust me). Refills of basic coffee and soda (including Powerade, for some odd reason) are free, if, as mentioned, occasionally challenging to obtain.
Despite it's review-proof nature, I think it is important to remember exactly what The Mission is; rather than treating it as an all-purpose brunch standby (as I think a large proportion of the uptown population seems to), I think The Mission should be gone to when you're hungrier, and poorer, than normal.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Cafe Ichiban (on the rocks)
The Little Lady and I recently noticed that the Italian place we had never liked (Anitco Toscano) on University (1288 University Avenue) closed, and that an offshoot of Ichiban had opened in its place. Always looking for new, cheap sushi, we were excited. After having eaten there, while I'll probably go back, I won't hurry. The restaurant seems to be going through some growing pains -- treat this review as provisional until they have a chance to get their feet under them.
We started with the spicy Miso chicken wings. The wings were nice; plump, tasty, tangy, although I would hardly call them spicy. Unfortunately, as we were enjoying them, our soup, salad, and entrees all arrived. More on that in a second.
The soup (virtually everything comes with soup and salad) was a nice version of miso. A few cubes of soft tofu and some squares of seaweed provided a pleasant contrast to the mild miso taste of the broth itself. The salad was most notable for its dressing. Thick and surprisingly acid, it was a variation on the peanut dressing frequently found at Japanese restaurants.
We had selected a hibachi dish and the Up Town Skewers. We should have gone for the sushi. All of the food came out at nearly the same time, leaving the entrees time to cool. The hibachi made it through the delay reasonably well, since it was served on a cast-iron skillet. The skewers, much less well. Cold chicken and shrimp are simply less appetizing than they might have been. When asked, our server said that this timing was purposeful; she didn't want one diner eating while the other had nothing in front of them. So close to thoughtful, and yet, so far.
The hibachi dish -- chicken in a garlic sauce -- was nice. The chicken itself was nothing special, but the bed of udon noodles underneath it was delicious, having absorbed most of the garlic sauce. The fried rice was also nice, but, again, nothing noteworthy.
The skewers would have been lovely if served at the appropriate time. Two chicken skewers, two shrimp skewers, served in a Deborah Scott-inspired architecture of crunch and shriacha. The dipping sauces (the menu claims three, although only two arrived) were pleasant, although difficult to distinguish from one another. Both dark and sweet, they helped the chicken more than the shrimp, which was more delicately spiced than the chicken thighs.
In contrast to the kitchen, the service was astonishingly well-structured. They were there when we wanted them, gone when we didn't. Moreover, while our table had our own server, anyone passing by usually checked in on us, to refill drinks and clear dishes.
Overall, as I said, I would return, although I won't hurry. I think the sushi would have responded better to the kitchen's quirky timing, which itself I hope part of the growing pains of a new opening.
We started with the spicy Miso chicken wings. The wings were nice; plump, tasty, tangy, although I would hardly call them spicy. Unfortunately, as we were enjoying them, our soup, salad, and entrees all arrived. More on that in a second.
The soup (virtually everything comes with soup and salad) was a nice version of miso. A few cubes of soft tofu and some squares of seaweed provided a pleasant contrast to the mild miso taste of the broth itself. The salad was most notable for its dressing. Thick and surprisingly acid, it was a variation on the peanut dressing frequently found at Japanese restaurants.
We had selected a hibachi dish and the Up Town Skewers. We should have gone for the sushi. All of the food came out at nearly the same time, leaving the entrees time to cool. The hibachi made it through the delay reasonably well, since it was served on a cast-iron skillet. The skewers, much less well. Cold chicken and shrimp are simply less appetizing than they might have been. When asked, our server said that this timing was purposeful; she didn't want one diner eating while the other had nothing in front of them. So close to thoughtful, and yet, so far.
The hibachi dish -- chicken in a garlic sauce -- was nice. The chicken itself was nothing special, but the bed of udon noodles underneath it was delicious, having absorbed most of the garlic sauce. The fried rice was also nice, but, again, nothing noteworthy.
The skewers would have been lovely if served at the appropriate time. Two chicken skewers, two shrimp skewers, served in a Deborah Scott-inspired architecture of crunch and shriacha. The dipping sauces (the menu claims three, although only two arrived) were pleasant, although difficult to distinguish from one another. Both dark and sweet, they helped the chicken more than the shrimp, which was more delicately spiced than the chicken thighs.
In contrast to the kitchen, the service was astonishingly well-structured. They were there when we wanted them, gone when we didn't. Moreover, while our table had our own server, anyone passing by usually checked in on us, to refill drinks and clear dishes.
Overall, as I said, I would return, although I won't hurry. I think the sushi would have responded better to the kitchen's quirky timing, which itself I hope part of the growing pains of a new opening.
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