Saison has grown up and has turned into a glorious restaurant.
Chef-owner Josh Skenes, who opened Saison in the Mission a few years ago, always had a touch of rebel in him. Even now you see him among his white-clad crew in jeans and an untucked shirt.
Last year, Skenes moved the restaurant to a space near AT&T Park - a former warehouse, with concrete floors, exposed duct work wrapped in shiny silver insulation, and no barriers between the kitchen and dining room. When I reviewed the restaurant in April 2013, I gave it four stars for food, but only two for decor and service. At the time, there was no valet parking, which can be a real problem when the Giants are playing a home game.
A few months after the review, management started offering valet: $20 on a normal night and $30 on game nights. It's expensive, but when you're paying $248 for the standard menu (about 18 courses), and $398 for a longer, customized "discovery" menu, it probably doesn't matter.
Skenes also remodeled a few months ago, extending the wall above the bank of stainless steel refrigerators up to the 35-food ceiling, which hides the duct work. The concrete floor was covered with dark blue carpet in the dining area, and wood to define the kitchen.
Both changes add a finishing touch to the decor, but they don't obliterate the organic feel of the brick walls and open ceiling that honors its founding as California Electric, a historic structure built in 1888.
However, Skenes has strengthened the connection between the kitchen and the dining room by having the cook who made the dish deliver it to the table. It brings the food full circle and helps guests understand the intricate preparation that some might think is just sashimi on a plate.
On my recent return visit, we decided to go with the less expensive $248 menu. And, instead of choosing from the extensive wine list - it's grown so much that co-owner Mark Bright has separate leather binders for the whites and the reds - or for ordering the course-by-course wine pairings (an additional $248), we asked the sommelier to select a few wines for matching. His choices went brilliantly with the food.
Shortly after we were seated, the waiter - they are all in suits - poured a splash of Krug Champagne, followed by warm towels for the hands. Then, explaining that Skenes likes to start his meals with tea, he brought out a white cylindrical cup of Meyer lemon and Douglas fir honey infusion with a raffia string hanging down the side tied to a bouquet of herbs balanced on the rim. We dunked it into the pale yellow liquid, sat back and began to enjoy the ride.
Waiters check to see if there are dietary restrictions; once that's out of the way, diners are in the hands of the kitchen - they never really know what will come next, but just about every course is touched by fire. Because many dishes are delicate, precise and refined, and the smoky elements are always subtle, it's a guessing game as to where the flames come in.
The first course was a beautiful domed crystal bowl holding a smoked, cured chunk of sturgeon belly on kelp, topped with caviar resting on an amber pad of gelee made from the grilled sturgeon bones. The dash of smoke, the brininess of the sea and the richness of the fatty fish float around the mouth and come together in a single, integrated bite.
That was followed by a barigoule of artichoke fortified with wild thistle milk becomes a broth that surrounds a chunk of artichoke and scallop, a prelude to three crudo dishes that arrived in rapid succession: sea bream lightly seared in hot coals and topped with a cherry blossom; golden eye snapper, barely warmed under coals and drizzled with vinegar made from the grilled bones; and a glistening chunk of pickled horse mackerel on a thin slice of grilled bread that mirrored the shape of the fillet.
Next came two generous chunks of abalone roasted over embers set on a sauce made from the liver. A pattern became clear: The crew uses different levels of heat and various techniques with the fire to bring out specific qualities in the fish.
One dish will remain a fresh memory every time I think of Saison: a thick chunk of toasted soy-soaked Tartine bread, crisp yet soft at the same time, topped with local sea urchin glazed with soy and egg yolk.
A white bowl that looked like a cloud of foam arrived next. When diners dug through the froth with the wooden spoon, they found bites of smoked white asparagus and refreshing notes of Mandarin. The waiters also brought a six-pack of house-baked pull-apart rolls.
More and more chefs are incorporating Asian flavors into their Western tasting menus and Skenes is no different. He poached a chunk of black cod in sea water and accented it with Thai seasonings - galangal, rangpur and kaffir limes in a puddle of sauce that uses yogurt for creaminess rather than coconut milk. It was topped with a thin slice of dried plantain.
That was rapidly followed by two fat spears of asparagus cooked in their juices and grilled, plated next to bubbly foam and drizzles of several kinds of olive oil.
To segue into the meat course, the waiter brought out a scoop of what looked like ice cream but was actually an olive oil foam and white chocolate ice that carried the flavor of toffee and intensely salty, smoked olives.
That led to the only non-seafood or vegetable offering - wood pigeon aged in-house to intensify its gaminess. It was served rare, tamed with a brushing of sunflower seed butter, accompanied by sunchokes and morels filled with creamy forcemeat.
Dessert included pastry chef Shawn Gawle's manicured disk of jasmine cream and rhubarb, kumquat slices, a tangle of raw rhubarb threads, and rocky chunks of sorrel granita. With staccato precision, a black walnut souffle arrived next, accompanied by a pingpong-size ball of ice cream that echoed the flavor of the souffle.
When we thought we were done, out came buckwheat tea - ending the meal the way we began - and a collection of mignardises. Those included a truffle-like candy that held another surprise - a gush of vanilla-scented liquid.
As we were sipping the tea, the waiter brought out a bamboo steamer basket with two canneles, and as we headed toward the door we received a muffin-like cardamom brioche cake for the next day's breakfast, and a copy of the menu.
In the year since my last visit, the restaurant has found its center, and the service has become smooth, understated and seemingly effortless. Saison is now playing in the big leagues.
At my weeknight dinner, the restaurant's 18 seats were filled with a young, casual crowd - one diner even wore shorts, a white V-neck undershirt and Converse high tops. Saison might have upgraded, but it still hasn't lost its edge.
For all these reasons, Saison is The Chronicle's newest four-star restaurant.
(415) 828-7990. www.saisonsf.com.
Dinner 6-10 pm. Tuesday-Saturday. Full bar. Reservations and credit cards accepted. Valet $20; $30 if the Giants are playing at AT&T Park.
Overall: Rating: FOUR STARS
Food: Rating: FOUR STARS
Service: Rating: FOUR STARS
Atmosphere: Rating: THREE AND A HALF STARS
Prices: $$$$ (Fixed-price menu $248 or $398; wine pairings, $248)
Noise rating: Noise Rating: TWO BELLS Can talk easily (65-70 decibels)
Rating: FOUR STARS Extraordinary Rating: THREE STARS Excellent Rating: TWO STARS Good Rating: ONE STAR Fair Noise Rating: BOMB Poor
Article, Rating, and Photos Sourced From: http://www.sfgate.com/default/article/Saison-grows-up-and-gets-four-stars-5485414.php#page-2
Chef-owner Josh Skenes, who opened Saison in the Mission a few years ago, always had a touch of rebel in him. Even now you see him among his white-clad crew in jeans and an untucked shirt.
Last year, Skenes moved the restaurant to a space near AT&T Park - a former warehouse, with concrete floors, exposed duct work wrapped in shiny silver insulation, and no barriers between the kitchen and dining room. When I reviewed the restaurant in April 2013, I gave it four stars for food, but only two for decor and service. At the time, there was no valet parking, which can be a real problem when the Giants are playing a home game.
A few months after the review, management started offering valet: $20 on a normal night and $30 on game nights. It's expensive, but when you're paying $248 for the standard menu (about 18 courses), and $398 for a longer, customized "discovery" menu, it probably doesn't matter.
Skenes also remodeled a few months ago, extending the wall above the bank of stainless steel refrigerators up to the 35-food ceiling, which hides the duct work. The concrete floor was covered with dark blue carpet in the dining area, and wood to define the kitchen.
Both changes add a finishing touch to the decor, but they don't obliterate the organic feel of the brick walls and open ceiling that honors its founding as California Electric, a historic structure built in 1888.
However, Skenes has strengthened the connection between the kitchen and the dining room by having the cook who made the dish deliver it to the table. It brings the food full circle and helps guests understand the intricate preparation that some might think is just sashimi on a plate.
Flavors, textures
And, believe me, it's much more than that. Skenes and his crew create a unique ballet of flavors and textures, coaxing unexpected nuances from the ingredients.On my recent return visit, we decided to go with the less expensive $248 menu. And, instead of choosing from the extensive wine list - it's grown so much that co-owner Mark Bright has separate leather binders for the whites and the reds - or for ordering the course-by-course wine pairings (an additional $248), we asked the sommelier to select a few wines for matching. His choices went brilliantly with the food.
 |
| Kumquat discs, a tangle of rhubarb threads and dabs of sorrel granita top a dessert at Saison. Photo: John Storey, Special To The Chronicle |
Shortly after we were seated, the waiter - they are all in suits - poured a splash of Krug Champagne, followed by warm towels for the hands. Then, explaining that Skenes likes to start his meals with tea, he brought out a white cylindrical cup of Meyer lemon and Douglas fir honey infusion with a raffia string hanging down the side tied to a bouquet of herbs balanced on the rim. We dunked it into the pale yellow liquid, sat back and began to enjoy the ride.
Waiters check to see if there are dietary restrictions; once that's out of the way, diners are in the hands of the kitchen - they never really know what will come next, but just about every course is touched by fire. Because many dishes are delicate, precise and refined, and the smoky elements are always subtle, it's a guessing game as to where the flames come in.
The first course was a beautiful domed crystal bowl holding a smoked, cured chunk of sturgeon belly on kelp, topped with caviar resting on an amber pad of gelee made from the grilled sturgeon bones. The dash of smoke, the brininess of the sea and the richness of the fatty fish float around the mouth and come together in a single, integrated bite.
That was followed by a barigoule of artichoke fortified with wild thistle milk becomes a broth that surrounds a chunk of artichoke and scallop, a prelude to three crudo dishes that arrived in rapid succession: sea bream lightly seared in hot coals and topped with a cherry blossom; golden eye snapper, barely warmed under coals and drizzled with vinegar made from the grilled bones; and a glistening chunk of pickled horse mackerel on a thin slice of grilled bread that mirrored the shape of the fillet.
 |
| Trout, smoked in a wood oven at Saison in San Francisco. Photo: John Storey, Special To The Chronicle |
 |
| Trout, smoked in a wood oven at Saison in San Francisco. Photo: John Storey, Special To The Chronicle |
Next came two generous chunks of abalone roasted over embers set on a sauce made from the liver. A pattern became clear: The crew uses different levels of heat and various techniques with the fire to bring out specific qualities in the fish.
One dish will remain a fresh memory every time I think of Saison: a thick chunk of toasted soy-soaked Tartine bread, crisp yet soft at the same time, topped with local sea urchin glazed with soy and egg yolk.
Simple twist
After such a complex play of flavors, it was soothing to have the more familiar flavor of trout smoked in the wood oven, mellowed by a brush of sauce made from the bones.A white bowl that looked like a cloud of foam arrived next. When diners dug through the froth with the wooden spoon, they found bites of smoked white asparagus and refreshing notes of Mandarin. The waiters also brought a six-pack of house-baked pull-apart rolls.
More and more chefs are incorporating Asian flavors into their Western tasting menus and Skenes is no different. He poached a chunk of black cod in sea water and accented it with Thai seasonings - galangal, rangpur and kaffir limes in a puddle of sauce that uses yogurt for creaminess rather than coconut milk. It was topped with a thin slice of dried plantain.
That was rapidly followed by two fat spears of asparagus cooked in their juices and grilled, plated next to bubbly foam and drizzles of several kinds of olive oil.
To segue into the meat course, the waiter brought out a scoop of what looked like ice cream but was actually an olive oil foam and white chocolate ice that carried the flavor of toffee and intensely salty, smoked olives.
That led to the only non-seafood or vegetable offering - wood pigeon aged in-house to intensify its gaminess. It was served rare, tamed with a brushing of sunflower seed butter, accompanied by sunchokes and morels filled with creamy forcemeat.
Dessert included pastry chef Shawn Gawle's manicured disk of jasmine cream and rhubarb, kumquat slices, a tangle of raw rhubarb threads, and rocky chunks of sorrel granita. With staccato precision, a black walnut souffle arrived next, accompanied by a pingpong-size ball of ice cream that echoed the flavor of the souffle.
When we thought we were done, out came buckwheat tea - ending the meal the way we began - and a collection of mignardises. Those included a truffle-like candy that held another surprise - a gush of vanilla-scented liquid.
As we were sipping the tea, the waiter brought out a bamboo steamer basket with two canneles, and as we headed toward the door we received a muffin-like cardamom brioche cake for the next day's breakfast, and a copy of the menu.
In the year since my last visit, the restaurant has found its center, and the service has become smooth, understated and seemingly effortless. Saison is now playing in the big leagues.
At my weeknight dinner, the restaurant's 18 seats were filled with a young, casual crowd - one diner even wore shorts, a white V-neck undershirt and Converse high tops. Saison might have upgraded, but it still hasn't lost its edge.
For all these reasons, Saison is The Chronicle's newest four-star restaurant.
Saison
178 Townsend St. (near Second Street), San Francisco(415) 828-7990. www.saisonsf.com.
Dinner 6-10 pm. Tuesday-Saturday. Full bar. Reservations and credit cards accepted. Valet $20; $30 if the Giants are playing at AT&T Park.
Overall: Rating: FOUR STARS
Food: Rating: FOUR STARS
Service: Rating: FOUR STARS
Atmosphere: Rating: THREE AND A HALF STARS
Prices: $$$$ (Fixed-price menu $248 or $398; wine pairings, $248)
Noise rating: Noise Rating: TWO BELLS Can talk easily (65-70 decibels)
Rating: FOUR STARS Extraordinary Rating: THREE STARS Excellent Rating: TWO STARS Good Rating: ONE STAR Fair Noise Rating: BOMB Poor
Article, Rating, and Photos Sourced From: http://www.sfgate.com/default/article/Saison-grows-up-and-gets-four-stars-5485414.php#page-2
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