Balancing rustic and refined.
Talented team puts out consistently vibrant dishes but falters with its tasting menu
It says a lot about the viability of our dining culture when talented chefs consciously decide to stake their claim in San Francisco. Carrie and Rupert Blease did just that when they moved here from New York.
The couple, who in June debuted Lord Stanley at the corner of Polk and Broadway, met a decade ago while working at Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons, Raymond Blanc’s two-star Michelin restaurant in Oxfordshire, England. They then moved to New York where Rupert, who is English, went to Per Se, and Carrie, who is American and graduated from the California Culinary Academy, headed to Blue Hill, two of the most celebrated restaurants in that city.
When they decided to make San Francisco their home four years ago, they followed a path similar to that of another pair of newcomers, Sarah and Evan Rich at Rich Table: They first worked in other local restaurants before opening their own place. Rupert gained insight into the Bay Area palate by working as a sous chef at Central Kitchen, and Carrie held a similar position at Commonwealth.
What they learned is on display in their 40-seat restaurant. The space had been a dingy, cluttered Thai restaurant. The Bleases did a design 180, painting the walls white and gray, polishing the concrete floors and opening up the windows to highlight the two prominent corners. The feel is modern and minimal, but with a finished edge.
They have certainly absorbed the California ethos. The food has a clean, vibrant underpinning that shows up in dish after dish: Shelling beans in a broth informed by carrots and dill set next to a mound of fresh ricotta. A manicured rectangle of salmon ($17) with an almost spreadable texture next to an intense beurre blanc garnished with leaves of sorrel with the needed acidic component, and partly hiding a steamed Yukon gold potato that tastes like it was just unearthed.
The elements are straightforward — it’s the execution and restraint that sets the combination apart. Even what should be a rustic slow-cooked and grilled lamb shoulder ($29) displayed a distinct refinement. Tender chunks of meat are placed on a drizzle of sauce, and dollops of intense lemon puree lighten the effect, as does the accompanying collection of alliums, including grilled spring onions and cippollini.
The compact menu is divided into four sections, and all prices include service with no extra San Francisco surcharges — making a meal here a good deal. It was ironic then that the waiters, who need more seasoning, started by telling us “how the menu
worked” but failed to reveal the most important fact that the price is inclusive. Instead, diners have to read small print at the bottom of the velum menu that says “tipping is neither required nor expected.”
There are three snack options: Sea urchin in puff pastry ($7), onion petals with sherry vinegar ($6), and pickled mussels flavored with fennel and dill ($8). That’s followed by four starters, four mains and four desserts.
The menu vacillates between rustic and refined. Marinated tomatoes, on a thick slice of toasted pain d’ epices ($16), is something you might find in a casual bistro, but the products are pristine — heirloom chunks of tomatoes and Pantaleo, a nutty aged goat milk cheese. The presentation is given an artistic turn by being plated offcenter on the oversized white plate next to a scoop of black garlic tapenade.
Bouillabaisse ($30) is a deconstructed version dominated by a filet of ling cod surrounded by a seafood broth, two roasted and peeled tomatoes, sauteed baby squid and flecks of black olives. Shaved fennel drapes across the stew like satin ribbons from a just-unwrapped package, with a few delicate herb fronds.
I was so impressed with the à la carte menu on the first visit, I was really looking forward to the tasting menu ($83). It was ultimately disappointing. There were standouts such as an Early Girl tomato gazpacho with a spoonful of whey; and a chilled dome of squash, sliced and set in a light broth with green dots of olive oil next to fresh ricotta mint and squash blossom petals. Other dishes such as salt cod were so salty they were hard to eat. While the accompaniment to Wagyu beef — charred cucumber and a puddle of oyster emulsion — was a good idea, the meat didn’t have the expected fatty gush of flavor.
However, the big disappointment was the wine pairings ($42). None of the wines successfully showed off the food. For example, the Valdespino Inocente Macharnudo Vineyards Dry Fino Sherry became medicinal with the salt cod. Next time I would just order glasses or a bottle.
On all visits, desserts were less impressive than savory courses. Chocolate chiboust was better for the crisp flares of chocolate pastry but worse for the smoked tea cream that didn’t enhance anything. A grilled nectarine half, barely sweet, pleasantly transmitted the flavors of Castelvetrano olive and chilled Lillet; a perfect dessert for those who don’t want sugary endings.
The couple is a quick study, and as they settle in, the food will likely take on added dimension, enhanced by their international background.