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.

 

Ewe Owe Yourself a Cocktail at Black Sheep

Owner-GM-maitre 'd Ruben Perez admits his head's swimming a bit, and it's because his lovely brasserie Black Sheep has just begun a cocktail program, having landed a full liquor license. Don't blame the drinks themselves--Ruben is an always sober if jovial host--but the way a bar program led to a revamp of what Black Sheep is. (Don't worry, nothing is messing with Wednesday moules-frites night.) It's just the goal is to loosen the mood bit--a bit less expensive, a bit less formal, a bit more raucous. And, yes, to provide some kick-ass drinks. It's made for the past few days to be a bit of a business blur for him.

Speaking of blur, sorry the photo above doesn't do the drinks we enjoyed justice--it's dim but not too dark in the dining room, and it seemed rude to illuminate or flash. But both cocktails were winners, the further an Aztec Goddess which fully earns its name as its base liquor is Casa del Sol Añejo, aged in barrels for 14 months, usually just sipped. It's luxurious and rich and round and a fine offering to Mayahuel, the Aztec goddess of agave. (Hence the drink's name.) And don't even think it's merely a high test Marg, for its other ingredients are Yuzu, egg whites, bitters, and Thai basil. It truly takes you on an adventure.

The nearer drink is from the Classics list, a Corpse Reviver #2. Long time readers of this blog might know it's one of my favorite cocktails, witness a post waxing poetic about them way back in 2012. Black Sheep nails it, starting with the absinthe wash that brings the anise to your nose as much as to your tongue. And then the Sipsmith gin, Lillet Blanc, Cointreau, and lemon all do their magic conjoining trick, leading to a sweet-n-sour, Goldilocks approved utter delight. Also crucial--they got some elegant glassware to show off their creations, an essential touch for an elevated cocktail service.

And the cocktails better be elevated to keep up with the fine food coming out of Chefs Jake Reimer and Robert Perez's kitchen. Start, as we did, with the salt-roasted pickled beets, pictured above. You pick up a lick of that salt but then all the good earthiness you expect from the tender beets, although it's all that sauce that sends the dish into the stratosphere. It's an aji, blood orange, and Yuzu kosho citronette, with both a heat kick from the first and last ingredients and then the tang from all of them, all neatly rounded by sweet and salt. We ordered baguette to sop up what was left. That Pt. Reyes blue cheese espuma is something else, too, like whipped cream and blue cheese had a baby, and now you're all for infant munching. (Hmm...metaphor took a dark corner, sorry.) An effortlessly sophisticated, wildly pleasing dish. 

Chryss got to sing the praises of the sea with the local catch--this evening a Channel Islands halibut--served moqueca baiana style, that is a Brazilian fish stew/curry. It's zippy with coconut milk, lime juice, red palm oil, tomatoes, and red bell peppers all reduced and whirred into a smooth sauce. The cucumbers keep things a refreshing cool, sort of yogurtless raita.

We shared a side of fried fingerling potatoes that were a wonder of texture and smokiness--I've got to assume they had a moment directly in some open fire or were buried in embers? Crisp and crackly on the outside, moist and meaty in the middle. Plenty of Maldon salt making it clear why finishing salt's a thing. What set the dish truly apart was the romesco, the Catalan wonder paste that makes everything extra delicious--more red peppers, almonds and maybe hazelnuts pine nuts, etc. Also note the wide-ranging influences that weave through the kitchen. The chefs know their stuff, and will make whatever is certain to please you. (This dish really reminded me of something you'd get at Gjelina down in Venice.)

Last but not least for me was this steak. Sure, ordering the filet mignon can feel like waving your hand high when they ask, "Who lacks a culinary imagination?" But I was celebrating and feeling carnivorous. Even more, it comes bathed in a double-Cognac peppercorn Bordelaise, which is so my jam I wish someone made actual jam from it. (Note to self: start new business.) Some of that sauce even, sloppily, got on some potatoes. It's great to eat messy, you know. If you want a steak that the kitchen nails, you aren't going to do better than this one.

We had no room for dessert. We have a great desire to go back.