DINING OUT: MICHAEL BAUER REVIEWS THE SWEDISH-INSPIRED VOLTA.
Modern brasserie Volta takes inspiration from Sweden, France
When I mentioned to friends I was going to Volta, they said: “Really? It’s in a shopping mall.”
That thought had never occurred to me, but maybe it’s a residual from my time in Dallas several decades ago when many of the best restaurants were in strip malls. But more likely it’s because Volta’s connection to the mall is tenuous. Its entrance is on the back corner of Westfield San Francisco Centre, across the street from the Fifth and Mission parking garage. That’s about as far as its association with the mall goes. For nearly a decade the space housed ’Wichcraft, Tom Colicchio’s sandwich chain that struggled from its inception.
Instead of a mall restaurant, I peg Volta as the grandest restaurant to open since Mourad a year ago. In our affluent economy, it might seem logical that restaurants would reflect that wealth, but it’s had the inverse reaction — most new places today are smaller and more modest. That’s not the case with Volta.
Umberto Gibin and chef Staffan Terje, who also own Perbacco and Barbacco, have created a restaurant that reflects a modern approach to the Scandinavian and French menu.
As ’Wichcraft, the space was cold and impersonal with high ceilings and a sea of tables leading up to the open counter and kitchen in back. For Volta, designer Cass Calder Smith broke up the space into several distinct areas allowing for generously sized tables — with tablecloths! — alongside banquettes and comfortable upholstered chairs. A lounge dominates one side of the restaurant, and the floorto-ceiling windows behind the bar are lined with shelves that make the hundreds of bottles of liquor sparkle like jewels in a display case.
A row of banquettes lines the front side, giving diners an urban view of Mission Street. The center of the restaurant is divided by a partition, making the space feel more intimate. Those who desire even more privacy can sit in the room in back, lined with comfortable banquettes. Light wood covers the upper walls, leading to a mezzanine used for private events. Sky blue-and-white tile covers the floor and becomes the focal point of the design.
Terje has been cooking Italian for so many years — he was the longtime chef of Scala’s Bistro before opening Perbacco a decade ago — so everyone associates him with pasta and charcuterie. However, his slight accent gives away his Swedish origins, and for this restaurant, he taps into his background to create a menu that celebrates the modern Swedish brasserie that has strong French influences.
The clean modern lines of the interior is an accurate reflection of his cooking, even on such traditional dishes as pickled herring, which will surely be an item that will have a permanent place among the appetizers. It’s a carnival of color and a riot of flavor on a platter that accommodates five preparations ($19): pan-fried and pickled; blanketed in creamy mustard dill sauce; spiked with curry and apples; stained red from the accompanying beet salad; and soused in vinegar. The plate also includes wafer crackers and slices of vasterbotten, an aged cow’s milk cheese from Sweden.
Other dishes we think we know have been gently updated such as the skagen ($18), where the shrimp are coated in a dill and horseradish sauce on a brick of toasted brioche. Janssons frestelse ($12) is a potato and anchovy casserole baked in an anchovy tin and presented on a black tray next to a pile of pickled vegetables topped with trout roe. His gravlax ($17), generous slices of salmon served with a mustard dill sauce, is an artful balance of competing elements: creamy, soft, acidic and mild.
The French-inspired selections, randomly mixed in with Scandinavian offerings, include a whimsical version of escargot ($14) simmered in the licorice-scented pastis, placed into potato boats and doused with a veal jus reinforced with pastis and herb garlic butter. Be sure to ask for bread to soak up all the glorious sauce. Another classic is sweetbreads ($18) served in a bowl with coins of leeks and truffle juice and the smear of black truffle mushroom purée on the side.
At most restaurants, appetizers are often the most exciting part of the meal; at Volta, the main courses star.
Every time dining companions looked at the kotbullar ($24), Swedish meatballs, they mentioned Ikea, where this staple has become as famous as the furniture. Terje’s are a nearly bite-size blend of pork and beef, sauteed in butter until browned. They’re piled on one side of the plate next to a yellow puddle of potato purée that tastes as if it has an equal amount of butter, along with the expected lingonberries and a knob of pressed cucumber slices.
While most menus in San Francisco are increasingly shorter, Volta bucks that trend with a dozen appetizers, not counting charcuterie and shellfish, and 11 main courses. Many give a strong nod to France such as poulet vert ($25), where the plump poached chicken is coated in a creamy sauce green with fresh herbs, creating a pure, freshtasting dish. Beef bourguigon ($29) is a deconstructed ver- sion: chunks of braised beef curve around one side of the plate, becoming the building blocks for an arrangement of lardons, carrots, mushrooms, pearl onions and more of the rich potato purée, much like what’s on the meatballs. Note: I’m not complaining.
Terje’s aged duck preparation is among the best around. The breast ($31) is cut in two lengthwise, echoing the shape of the Seville orange panade, kind of like a bread
pudding, stacked with roasted turnips, mandarins and thin coins of radishes tucked in between. The meat has a firm but ultimately tender texture with a deep, pleasant gaminess tempered by the citrus.
Diners can also order lightly smoked sea bass ($31) with poached shrimp, cabbage and shrimp sauce; steak frites ($28); and several meatless main courses, including pan fried gnocchi with wild mushrooms ($21) and the most fully realized vegetable entree I’ve encountered in some time. The Market Pot au Feu ($22) is a potato cut to look like a section of bone, complete with the “marrow”; it dominates the center of the plate, surrounded by a mushroom and vegetable stew that includes turnips, beets, carrots, radish wafers and delicate sprigs of parsley and chervil. It’s light and fresh, but the earthy broth and fleshy chunks of mushrooms give it substantial richness.
When it comes to dessert, Volta’s take on the Princess cake ($11) — torn cottony chunks of cake arranged with quenelles of vanilla custard, dots of raspberry confiture and grated snowflakes of marzipan — dovetails with the modern approach to the food and the decor. The eclair ($11) is gently reworked with pecan butter and caramelized nuts, and the baba ($11), with a hefty dose of rum and a garnish of poached pears with dried plouts and candied walnuts, also showcases pastry chef Laura Cronin’s work.
Gibin is one of the last great front-of-the-house owners, always nattily dressed and greeting people at the door. He adds a warm personal touch to the experience, and it shows how much restaurants that put inexperienced employees at the host stand are missing.
While I appreciate this level of attention at the door, after guests are seated the waiters need to chill. At times they seem so anxious to please it becomes annoying. Other times they walk by tables unaware that diners are finished or may need something. It shows how difficult it is these days to train staff and strike the right balance. However, if anyone can focus the experience over time, Gibin can.
Even now Volta is a great package with a fully realized interior and a menu that offers something a little different for San Francisco’s already-rich resume of great restaurants.