Props to the Peeps at Bistro Amasa

Doesn't it seem like restaurants should have more fun? Yeah, it's a business in a shitty time for businesses. Yeah, we're often paying serious money--especially given the price for produce and all foodstuffs right now (thanks, Obama)--so it's easy to think patrons need a mature, nothing but respectful, nothing approaching jokey, luxe repast. But shy of fart jokes at the table, shouldn't we all just loosen up a bit?

The already delightful on "regular" days Bistro Amasa (see my article when they opened last fall) clearly has chosen to heed that more whimsical call, for on Friday, July 10 they offered up--in addition to the regular menu--A Totally Rad 90s Night. Witness Exhibit A up top, a special cocktail, Fruit Loops. The Boring Bar, led by Doug Boring who crafted Amasa's regular list of drinks, too, was whipping up these special tipples, with the team all bedecked in bucket caps like they would be extras in a music video when their shifts were over. So, every sip that rainbow ring of loops would knock you on the nose, ensuring your olfactory senses sang you a nostalgic tune sung by a toucan. Clever. And then the drink itself, clear as a Nordic fjord, yet lively with lemongrass, makrut lime, pixies juice (the ones from Ojai, not the band trying to find their mind). Somehow the liquor was a house gin and rum blend--obviously not a usual pairing but the two came to a lovely meeting of the angular and round, probably thanks to a cereal milk wash. These were cocktails that read like stunts but sure didn't drink like them. (Turns out this one was originally created by Doug Boring for executive chef Julian Martinez's wedding at Julian's request.)

There's the full special menu, ready to replenish any exhausted skateboarder with a parent's credit card in hand. We opted to do a bit of it and some of the regular menu, partially because one of us is pescatarian, and evidently that distinction wasn't invented 35 years ago (I kid). In addition to the 90s menu and the regular menu, there was also a special dish, a beet salad, which, come to think of it is a throwback a different 1990s dining scene (thanks, Alice Waters). But once again, the Amasa team brought something new and fresh. Those roasted beets were sliced just above paper thin, yet still vividly earthy. A hit of anchovy kicked up the sparse "dressing," pistachio gave it a needed crunch, the sprinkle of sprouts just enough green. Then the carrots were pickled, and even more finely sliced than the beets. Then some mighty fine burrata for creamy indulgence. Such balance on a plate.

I'm going to try to speed this post up or it will take you longer to read it than it took us to eat our meal. Burt behold the Cool Ranch Crudo, and if only Doritos came as quiveringly-fresh kampachi, with this elegant a buttermilk-lime cream. The serrano pepper slices soared this dish up the Scoville scale, but that's why god made handkerchiefs. And the brilliance of toasting masa to become crispy bits atop. Once more an item that could have been awfully awkward turned into a glorious, elegant swan.

Take the ingenuity the Cold Pizza. The Boring Bar admits it's a riff on a similarly named drink from lauded Lower East Side Manhattan spot Double Chicken Please, but two drinks in the line between borrowing and homage is a blurry one. Somehow it brings together blanco tequila, Parmigiano Reggiano, burnt toast (I wish I had a chance to ask how--I assume double strained out as you don't get a single carbon speck in the glass), tomato water, basil, honey, and egg white for that lovely foamy texture. Again, this one gets you on the nose, leaving you thinking, "Sure smells like 'za!" Then yes, you get the agave as you sip, but it's blended so well with all the other flavors and aromatics you just keep desiring more. For who doesn't want a second slice of pizza?

Maybe someone with this plate of Nuggets in front of them. Unlike Mickey D's, these kind of explode open when you puncture the crunch of the perfectly toasted crust (I assume panko?), revealing a tender surprise of confit chicken and the delightful, mild funk of duck liver mousse as a binder that would prefer to just taste great and not hold everything together too much. (They were offally good!) It was hard to choose which of the three rethunk sauces to dip each bite in, from a vinegar over sweet bbq, to a sweet 'n sour that deliciously twirled between those two poles, to a spiced honey mustard that would be the king of any condiment tray.

So I have been going on and on, haven't I. Here are the roasted carrots from the regular menu, all piled up like Lincoln Logs cosplaying Jenga. To double down on rootsy heartiness, there's a quick smear of parsnip puree underneath, giving the carrots' sweetness, even more prevalent from roasting, a proper contrasting note. The sauce is a sophisticated mix of brown butter miso and sherry, there are some plump, surprisingly in the best way pickled sultanas (don't tell me you don't like raisins), some hazelnuts to make up for everything else on the plate being so little of a chewing challenge, and again, a sprinkling of micro-greens giving you color and fresh pop. Simple, and not so, but simply delicious.

I'm still not sure where we fit dessert beyond our covetous for more eyes. We returned to the 90s menu for a tribute to Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal in cheesecake form (and, yes, scattered on the plate too). I certainly never had, even in nostalgia's rosy glow, a breakfast as dessert this good. Both light yet substantial, as a good cheesecake should be, the crème fraîche quenelle offered more lift and just the right bit of puckering sour, and the cereal milk caramel we only wished there was more of, to slather onto every last bite.

All in all a sick, bangin', off the hook dinner. I'd call it the shit but that doesn't work for a fine meal, does it, no matter how much fun the kitchen, the dressed for the evening staff (sorry I didn't mention how wonderful everyone working there was, too!), and the fine bar surely seemed to have and share.

 

Traditional with Some Tasty Tweaks

Consider that the year Santa Barbara’s Upham Hotel opened was 1871. Other big news that year: Stanley encountered Livingstone, Jesse James’s gang was robbing banks, and the Great Chicago Fire raged. So, the Upham is truly history.

Much more recently, the hotel’s restaurant space, with its inviting veranda on Sola Street, had been the home to Louie’s, a beloved institution. Fortunately, the weight of that history isn’t lost on the Bistro Amasa team that has just taken over the space. Executive Chef Julian Martinez and GM Jesse Gaddy certainly appreciate the roots of things, as anyone who has dined at their first restaurant — Barbareño — knows. After all, it’s named after a Chumash language, and one of its signature dishes, Eggamuffins, is a nod to Mickey D’s breakfast sandwich invented in our town.

Care to read the rest then do so at the Independent's site.

New Barbareño Cookbook Captures a Chef’s Journey

 You won’t hit a recipe in the just-published Barbareño: Cuisine of California’s Central Coast, until page 27 and, at that, it’s just one for Bread and Butter. The author Julian Martinez, who is the West Canon Perdido Street restaurant’s chef and co-owner (with Jesse Gaddy), has been on quite a journey, and this book is all about his path of discovery. 

So prepare for thoughtful consideration of not just why anyone should open a restaurant, but of how one finds oneself in the first place. This impressive book is kind of a memoir shot through with lots of great cooking ideas, plenty of food porn photos (thanks to Carter Hiyama), and, since Martinez has done a lot of reading to develop his thinking, 70 endnotes.

Care to read the rest then do so at the Independent's site.

Quokka Kitchen Delivers Delicious and Nutritious to Your Door

“Quokka” sounds like a word to be challenged while playing Scrabble — it’s worth 69 points, triple score! — but it just may be the cutest creature in the world: a cat-sized Australian marsupial that seems to smile.

That’s what Kevin Lunn learned when googling in search of a catchy name for the nutrition-planning and meal-delivery business he was cofounding. His business partner Hunter Rusack warmed to the name upon learning that quokkas eat a special diet that adjusts to seasons. “It serves as a good mascot and representation of diet, in its own way,” said Rusack.

Care to read the rest then do so at the Indy's site.

Barbareño Hires New Head Chef Justin Snyder

Chef Justin Snyder’s very tatted arms delicately place down a black bowl with what looks like an exquisite sea creature. But it’s not from the sea at all; it’s a mound of Wagyu tri-tip tartare, with translucent crisps of crostini set in it like fins, sprinkled with delicate sorrel and red mustard greens. His secret, very local ingredient is Bragg’s Liquid Aminos. That, along with his house-made Sriracha sauce, gives the dish length and lift, so the deep beef deliciousness lingers as long as a classic cabernet. “Santa Barbara has such a rich history of food. It’s waiting to boom; it’s going to pop,” he exclaims. “Here I get to have fun and open up my creativity.”

Want to read the rest then do so at the Independent's site.

Barbareño Does Santa Barbara by the Book

At one point during my interview with Julian Martinez and Jesse Gaddy — the two twentysomethings behind the new Barbareño restaurant in the old yet very remodeled D’Vine Café space at De la Vina and Canon Perdido streets — the latter leaves abruptly, only to return with a heavy tome that he tosses onto the table. The book, which lands with a dull thud, is beloved historian Walter A. Tompkins’s The Yankee Barbareños: The Americanization of Santa Barbara County, California 1796-1925. “So many books we just read and read,” said head chef Martinez about their search for a concept and name. “The book’s pretty interesting, pretty dry,” adds Gaddy, the general manager, before Martinez concludes, “But now we’re filled with plenty of fun facts.”

Want to read the rest then do so at the Indy's site.