Food Festival, part the second

After a breakfast of good eggs, great bacon and lousy service at Market Bar, J and I filled a few shopping bags at the Ferry Building Farmers' Market and then headed to Berkeley. Specifically to the parking lot of J's favorite wine merchant, Kermit Lynch, where he and Cafe Fanny were hosting Oyster Bliss XVII.
Lynch's flyer had read:

Iced oysters of the half shell and the wines to go with. "Bring 'em on," in the words of the courageous warrior chief known as The Decider. But when we say bring 'em on, we mean oysters and lofts of 'em. And why not some hot little grilled Bordeaux-style sausages on the side? As for the crisp, cold, minerally, dry white wines that go with, leave that to me. I'll be the decider.

The oysters were cold and sweet, the sausages (from Eccolo restaurant) hot and savory and the wines wonderful with both.

And although Cafe Fanny offered five or six different desserts, I knew instantly I'd select the same sweet I'd had at Oyster Bliss XVI: a wide wedge of strawberry-rhubarb galette. Perfection on a paper plate.

Note to Cafe Fanny: promise me that this galette will be back for Oyster Bliss XVIII. Thanks in advance.

I left my waistline in San Francisco

I'm sitting here staring at my lunch -- two hard-boiled eggs and a WASA cracker --while savoring memories of last weekend's food festival. Between noon Friday and one o'clock Saturday I had lunch at The Four Seasons, dinner at Salt House, breakfast the next morning at Market Bar, one perfect macaron at Miette for elevenses followed by lunch at Kermit Lynch's annual Oyster Bliss.
And then I went home and took a nap.

Friday's lunch was a belated birthday celebration with my favorite interior designer. An excellent but light salmon tartare with a watercress mayonnaise left room for two desserts -- shared, please note. Warm chocolate cake is a cliche,but this one was nicely done--with a touch of caramel sauce, which is always a good idea (The strawberries, however, were not Four Seasons worthy.) The blueberry supposed-to-be-financiere was less successful -- a pleasant enough little teacake, but lacking the almondy depth of a true financiere. "Blueberry porridge," sneered the designer. Despite these small flaws, the overall experience -- particularly the high level of the service -- was lovely.

At dinner time J and I walked from our hotel to Salt Box and the look on J's face when we arrived was one I know well --somewhere between mild apprehension and Edvard Munch's "The Scream." The entry space was tiny, the TGIF bar crowd huge and the noise level at 6 or 7 Chronicle bells. But the host led us immediately to a nice window-side table, our server was able to answer all our menu queries and she was prompt with the wine.
From there things just got better and better. My crispy shrimp with (very) spicy green beans, almonds and serrano ham was terrific and J loved the crispy egg with bacon, spring onions and English p--s. (MN: see final sentence in the "About" sidebar.)

Our entrees were superb: dayboat scallops with smoked trout, parsnip-bacon cake and manilla clams and, pictured below, petrale sole with artichokes, preserved lemon and a shellfish jus.

Perfect little linzer cookies accompanied an individual trifle for dessert. An altogether interesting and delicious meal.

To be continued...