A16. Or, Let Me Tell You How Much I Love Wood-Burning Ovens

Lou and I finally ate at A16 last night. I first read about the restaurant long ago, and I’ve wanted to try it for months. Our plans fell through last night, so I suggested that we head over to the Marina to add our name to the walk-in list for a table. Lou readily agreed and we jumped into the car and drove into the wind and fog to check it out (for you non-San Franciscans, this time of year the temperatures in the city often hover in the mid-50s and the wind and fog usually rush in late in the afternoon, leaving the air cold and damp; that was more of less the scene last night).

A16 is set on the ground floor of a brick, Georgian-like building on Chestnut Street in the Marina District of San Francisco. Lou said he thought that the building looked like it belonged in Boston, and I countered, saying that it looked like something you’d see in Georgetown. Either way, it looked slightly out of place.

He dropped me off to add our name to the list and he drove off to find parking. Inside, the restaurant was packed. The small bar area inside the front door was full of people—mostly couples—drinking and sampling appetizers. The hostess told me that the wait would be less than thirty minutes, so I stood outside on the sidewalk to wait for Lou. Once he arrived, we moved inside to shield ourselves from the cold. Not long after Lou arrived—after waiting a total of about 20 minutes—the hostess ushered us back to the “Chef’s Counter,” which turned out to be a bar overlooking the two wood burning ovens and food preparation areas for the line cooks overseeing the ovens. Without asking, they gave us the foodie seats!

I was thrilled to be seated five feet or less from the ovens. First of all, we could feel the heat from the ovens, and after standing in the cold I was happy to warm up. Secondly, the smells coming out of the oven were scrumptious, and, third, I was fascinated watching the cooks prepare food for the ovens and use them for cooking.

The two cooks worked vigorously, one, right in front of us, making pizza after pizza, and the other, roasting vegetables and meats in the other oven (a little down the counter from where we were sitting). I was fascinated by the pizza making in particular. I watched the cook shape the dough by hand, pour sauce on top of the dough and add some toppings and some cheese to finish off the pizza. Then, she wedged the long-handled pizza peel between the oven and the countertop where she had been working. She would then gently pull the pizza onto the peel, rearrange it into a perfect round and slide it into the oven. Seconds after the pizza entered the oven, thick black smoke would begin to circulate around the roof of the oven and seep out the door (one note about the oven: there is no flue inside the oven; rather, smoke exits the oven by the one oven door (the same one you’d use to put in both the wood and the food). The smoke ventilates by means of a separate exhaust pipe or flue above the oven. Very cool design.) After 3 minutes or so, she would rotate the pizza in order to thoroughly cook the dough and blacken the crust. Then, after only a few more minutes, she would lift up the pizza to evenly blacken the edge of the crust and pull it out of the oven. Done! In all, she would not cook the pizzas for more than 5 or 6 minutes.

(One more note about wood-burning ovens: my friend, Dan, who built his own wood-burning oven in back of his house in San Francisco is the inspiration for this blog. I spent a day with him, shortly before the birth of Foodphiles, way back in November of 2005, while he prepared for a pizza party he and his wife, Jennifer, were hosting that night as a benefit for their children’s school. We made dough, shopped for ingredients for the toppings at the Ferry Building Farm’s Market and then the three of us and Lou spent the night making pizzas for their 8 guests. It was awesome, and I’ve never written about it. Lou took lots of video footage, and I fully intended to make a video story of the experience, but I could never figure out how to edit the footage and so I’ve never done a story about it. Foodphiles was meant to tell the stories of other people’s interest in food, and I was fascinated by Dan’s passion for his wood-burning oven. Not only did he build the oven himself, but he enthusiastically cooks in it and champions roasting, baking and pizza-making. Ever since, I’ve wanted my own wood-burning oven.)

So, back to A16. We ordered a series of things from each of the categories on the menu: a crostini of cured tuna, soft-boiled eggs, radishes, fennel, celery and onion; Lonza (house cured, fatty and smooth pork); a pizza with tomato sauce, anchovies, olives and pancetta; squid ink pasta with squid and squash blossoms; and oven-baked cannellini beans with bread crumbs. The food was delicious. The pizza was particularly good. The crust was burned in several spots along the edge, and it was thin, moist and very hot. The pasta was also excellent, with a nice balance of squid and squash blossoms in a light tomato sauce. The cannelloni beans were creamy and warm. The only disappointment was that the flavor of the tuna was milder than I expected in the crostini. The service was top-notch as well. Both of our servers were attentive and engaging, and several people—one of the servers and the pizza cook in particular—commented on Lou’s tie.

For wine, since neither one of us knows much about Italian wines, we relied upon the sommelier to recommend a bottle for us. We told how much we’ve been enjoying wines from Burgundy recently and that we have also fallen for many Pinot Noirs from Oregon. He suggested a Palari, ‘Faro’ 2001, and it was delightful. The wine was slightly fruity, with notes of cherry, raspberry and strawberry, along with subtle hints of grass. It was lovely with all our food.

All together, the food bill came to only $70, not bad for so much good food. For good food and a pleasant dining experience, A16 is well worth it.

The Fear of the Foodie Host

I've been away from the blog for a few weeks. I'm sorry about that. There's no good excuse. I was in Hawaii and in New York City in May, and I've cooked and eaten some great meals since my last posting, but I just haven't felt like writing. I'll write up something soon. I have at least one very good story to tell.

This was in the NYT Dining In/Dining Out section today. It's an interesting piece about the anxiety foodies feel when they cook for other foodies. I think I'm fairly relaxed in the kitchen, no matter who is coming to dinner, but I know that I stress out at least one person: my mom. The funny thing is that I feel like my mother is one of the people who most influenced me as a host, though perhaps not as a cook. Even though she freaks out before her guests arrive, she is thorough about planning parties and thinking through every detail. She is also a gracious host, and I think that may have rubbed off on me. Who knows. For whatever reason, I love to entertain as much as I love to delight guests with tastes, flavors and presentations, and I think that might be the key to hosting other foodies. Also, a willingness to accept that dinner may not turn out perfectly also helps. Think of it as Foodie Zen.