Have you seen Anderson Cooper yet? They say he's here already, that salty tart. Do you think any of the media heads will brave the fair this weekend? What fodder they could gather! This Fresh Forkin' Friday is for those who are standing on the sidelines and watching the melee with a little grin.

Barrio is the Hot Hot Hot opening of the week. McKee and Thoma undertake their second opening this year with an adventurous little tequila bar and noshery on Nicollet Mall. The drink list looks sassy, thanks to local booze impresario Johnny Michaels, and I personally am game for the blood orange Macho Comacho margarita muddled with pepper. And yet I am a total slut for a good Pisco Sour or well-crafted Michelada. On the small plates, the potato sopes are calling me, and I can't wait to try the tacos. Make no mistake, this is drinking food.

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On the quieter side of town, Cravings Wine Bar & Grille has opened up in Woodbury. This is the second venture by the family behind Cravings Cafe in White Bear Lake, but the menu is broader and a bit more sophisticated. The wine list culls more than sixty varieties with many organic offerings. It may be a good destination to ride out the fuss.

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Rossi's is closing (I believe we predicted that, no?) and Hell's Kitchen is moving into the underground space. Perfect. I can't wait to see what wonderfully twisted world Omer creates for himself in the cavern below. They're adding dinner and full bar service as well as a grab-n-go lunch express, so you can take hell back to your desk. As if it weren't hellish enough.

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Get your last blast of summer in this weekend at spark24 on Peavey Plaza. Not only will you find twenty-four hours of free entertainment (flamenco, opera, Brave New Workshop, oh my!), but you'll be able to snack with local pride on Manny's Tortas or those killer donuts from the Chef Shack.

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Did you hear that SimonDelivers is being resurrected by local grocer Coborns? CobornsDelivers will launch soon, hopefully with a little more oomph from the St. Cloud-based Minnesota 2008 Grocer of the Year.

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And finally . . . it's the 2nd Annual Iron Pie Challenge at the MCFM this weekend. But watch the clock as the market is closing an hour earlier on Saturday.

When I was in college, I’d go to the Har-Mar Theaters, and I vividly remember signs in the concession area urging customers to upsize popcorn and soda orders. “BIG IS MORE!” they said. No kidding.

I was thinking of those signs Saturday at Manny’s, where I went to checkout the new digs. (Quick score: still a great bar, much more attractive dining room, but deafening sound levels.) As I watched the parade of humanity, it was hard not to notice the servers pushing trolleys of Manny’s signature fare around the room. I found myself taken aback by the portions, which seem to be getting sillier and sillier. Or maybe it’s me.

Let me digress to say that eating out is not a political statement for me. I like steak houses and think Parasole’s Phil Roberts ranks very highly in the pantheon of the people who have shaped Twin Cities eating. But one of Manny’s signatures has outlived its relevance.

As I watched strawberry shortcake for forty being sent to the bin, volcanoes of mashed potatoes congealing on a table, salad plates overflowing with more than five people could eat as part of a large meal, I felt a disconnect with Manny’s. The humor was lost on me. There was no “wow” moment. Just a sense of whistling past the graveyard.

We are a nation in retreat. Fuel and commodity costs are skyrocketing, much of the world cannot afford basic staples, and the beef industry is one of the least ethical and most environmentally destructive out there.

I’m not suggesting we stop eating in steak houses. But I care about the world beyond my belly and grasp that our national profligacy is a luxury we (and the world) can no longer afford. And watching the volume of potatoes and brownie and broccoli being tossed struck me as beyond the pale.

And the steaks! The only one on the menu for less than $40 is a top sirloin “baseball steak” that my server said weighed in at twenty-four ounces (no bone)! I love Manny’s food and could be content to eat there every night, but how about a steak frites with eight ounces of hanger steak or a $20 skirt steak rather than nearly two pounds of a rather mediocre cut just to make an impact?

It feels to me like times are changing. I know that Phil Roberts considers those massive sides, salads, and desserts to be one of Manny’s signatures. But how many of its monied crowd, many staying in hotel rooms, really want the leftovers or will only return if for that large tab they encounter portions well beyond edible.

Manny’s is a brand-new restaurant in some ways. It ought to incorporate that same environmental awareness that lead it to deemphasize bottled water to push steak houses into a new era with a new approach. Let’s leave some strawberries for our grandkids.

The September issue of Bon Appetit has a whole section dedicated to the restaurant pre-shift meal, the family meal or staff lunch as it is sometimes called. All the dishes sound pretty yummy—a far cry from my remembered chicken-and-rice meals or the special corn dog day. But hey, I never sat with Batali's people, so who am I?

I do think they missed the boat on the two most important elements of in-kitchen eating, the two watchers of nearly every family meal from which I've ever sneaked a chicken leg: Ms. Cholula and The Rooster.

Ms. Cholula is the hot sauce of choice for many of the line cooks who are, most often, the creators of the family meal (You didn't really think Batali throws together shepherd's pie, did you?). The fact that the majority of line cooks in this city are Latino shouldn't surprise you, so the love for Ms. Cholula shouldn't either. She's powerful yet sweet, dances with your dish without overtaking it, punches you in the mouth and then kisses you to make it feel good.

The Rooster is in the hip pocket of sous chefs. They want it on everything. Everything. I have never walked into a family breakfast without seeing piles of scrambled eggs doused with The Rooster. The sandwich that my husband made me in a kitchen in San Francisco, the one that made me fall in love with him, was dripping with The Rooster. Remember when Casey of Top Chef 3 used it in her ice cream? The results were disastrous, but that should point to the love of this smoky, tart, sharp sriracha sauce that has become one of the kitchen gods.

Before Auriga closed, my husband and I popped in for a late night dinner. I know I had a flatbread, and my husband ordered some kind of pasta. What was placed in front of him was a pasta but not the one he ordered. The dish in front of him looked even better, and smells of The Rooster wafted up with the steam. He looked at me and smiled as he dove into the dish; it was rich and hot and made his eyes water. A few bites in, the server came over and apologized; she had served us the chef's dinner, the one he had concocted for himself after a long night on the line. The server held the correctly ordered dish in her hand.

"Tell Flicker to go cook something else; he's not getting this one back."

In case you missed it, The Wall Street Journal published an insightful article about why wine costs so much in restaurants, with interesting inside information about wine markups and why the price of high-end bottles varies by as much as four figures from restaurant to restaurant.

I see the wine conundrum from both sides. Restaurants need to make a profit, and big wine markups keep the chicken breast from costing $32. Diners who would deny restaurateurs the opportunity to make a buck are only hurting themselves in the end.

On the other hand, to pay so much over the restaurant’s cost for an item you can buy in a store, which the restaurant does nothing to improve (as compared to the raw foods it purchases), strikes me as a waste of money far more than does a $15 plate of pasta with forty cents of ingredients.

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Those awaiting that sexy Todd English restaurant in the old JB Hudson space next to Macy’s in downtown Minneapolis should take a breath. It ain’t happening anytime soon. The recession and real estate meltdown has businesses reevaluating their growth plans. That’s why the south downtown Lunds remains a fantasy and the North Loop Whole Foods keeps shrinking in square footage while never actually getting built.

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Frequently lauded Rick Webb (Ciao Bella, Zelo, Bacio), one of the savviest restaurateurs you could ever hope to know, is, we hear, starting to cut back. Insiders have told us that Webb is in the process of selling his stakes in Zelo and Bacio and will only maintain a consultant’s role in the new Ciao Bella and Webb-inspired steak house to open in Woodbury. Webb will remain lord of the Bloomington Ciao Bella. We’d tell you what Webb says, but the notoriously private restaurateur won’t return our calls.

I'm dedicating this edition of Fresh Forkin' Friday to all fair-goers who have a game plan, a map, a hit list, or some other kind of strategy for knockin' back some seriously fatty, fried, and fabulous fair food. Pig Lickers, ahoy!

If you can't make it to the Great MN Get-Together this weekend, definitely head over on Tuesday the 26th when Minnesota Cooks takes over Carousel Park. All day, your fave local chefs and the producers who grow for them will be hanging around a stage cooking, chatting, and no doubt gossiping. They've got Lucia, JD, Alex, you name it. Maybe one of them will sign your pronto pup, as long as it's organic.

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Many openings this week:

McCormick & Schmick's is now open in the new Westin attached to the Galleria.

Birch's opened in the old Ravello space in Long Lake. Birch trees and fieldstones are in attendance, and the room has been refreshed with a tranquil blue color. There's a mean pan-fried half chicken as well.

Pop! has opened in St. Paul. Swedish meatballs were there to greet the hungry on Sixth and Wabasha.

Tommy Chicago's Pizzeria has debuted in Mendota Heights at 730 Main Street (no web yet, so call 651-209-7701 for info). You guessed it, they're serving Chicago-style pies in a space spiffed up by local restaurant design kings Shea Inc.

Favor Cafe took over the Miami Restaurant a little while back, but I wasn't sure it was solidly open. It is. The family behind Favor Catering Co. is working hard to make it a reality. Look forward to all-you-can-eat crawfish boils!

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If the thought of fanny packs, strollers, and farm kids (oh my!) all crowded together make you want to scream a holy holler, why not just run away to a vineyard. This Sunday, Michael Rostance of Broder's is cooking a dinner at Alexis Bailly for Slow Food MN. Not only is it a benefit for local farmers, but you're assured your food will be stick free.

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Pssst . . . the good Italian burrata, from the nine out of eighteen cases that actually cleared customs, is being served at Salut St. Paul.

When I was at the Chatuchak market in Bangkok, it was approximately a million degrees, and we were sandwiched in with approximately a million people who were all gnawing and munching on delicious-looking snacks as they peered into stall after stall. As I hungrily watched everyone smacking their lips around beef skewers and shrimp-paste buns, not yet having developed the stomach to eat from local carts, I had the realization that I was at the Thai equivalent of The State Fair! Minus the fanny packs and stroller mafia, natch. It's our version of street food, and though we bemoan the brevity of it, an everyday version might lessen the anticipation that builds all summer, nullify the patient development of the Hit List, which must be charted and plotted and parsed out over a few visits.

NEW in 2008

Axel's—Tater tots on a stick (made with hash browns, bacon, cheese, and green onion).

Big Fat Bacon—The talk of the town, BFB is offering fried bacon caramelized with maple syrup . . . breakfast or a dessert?

Blue Moon Dine-In Theater—Wood-fired pizza and shakes . . . meh.

Epiphany Diner—Walking taco (taco stuff crammed into a Dorito bag), already a favorite at soccer tournaments state-wide.

Famous Dave's—Pig lickers! Yes, also on everyone's lips (and soon to be hips) is the chocolate-covered fried bacon from Dave's. Love how they push the envelope every year.

Green Mill—Foot-long pizza on a stick because it just wasn't portable enough.

Holy Land Deli—Welcome! Bring on the falafel, the Halloumi cheese kabob, and that killer hummus.

Isabella's Italian Ice—If you've never had Italian Ice, you ought to beeline it to this frosty, smooth treat.

Island Noodles—Hawaiian buckwheat stir-fried soba noodles with up to twenty-one vegetables. Sounds like a gut-stuffer; don't attempt at the beginning of your day.

McLellan's Grilled Shrimp—Grilled shrimp on a stick or popcorn shrimp.

Midtown Global Market—Wecome!! A lovely rotation of Manny's tortas, La Loma's tamales, Pham's Deli spring rolls, and Jakeeno's wrapped asparagus and hoagies.

O'Gara's—Leprechaun legs, by gosh and by garn. Go ahead and scare the kids, they're just battered and fried green beans with dipping sauces. No bones.

The Preferred Pickle—Pickle pop. I'm a little worried we've gone too far on this one, paying for frozen pickle juice in a push-up? I'll only do it once. Or twice if it's good.

San Felipe Tacos—Fish tacos, beef tacos, jerk chicken tacos, veggie tacos, and nachos, clearly.

Sausage Sister & Me—Loooooove these ladies! This year's new treat is Caribbean jerk sausage on a stick, AKA Jerk-on-a-Stick.

Tejas—Sticky bun burrito is a tortilla filled with cinnamon bread pudding covered with caramel sauce.

West Indies Soul Cafe—One word: grits!

Being the gastronomer, I am obliged to try the new first, but if there's room here's my list of picks:

Corn Fritters—Fried green tomatoes

Der Pretzel Haus—Hand-twisted pretz, even if I'm too full.

French Creperie—Nutella-filled crepe, not quite like the Parisian version, but close.

Fried Fruit—Fried peaches on a stick. Gotta try it.

Minnesota Apples—Frozen cider pop

Spam Burgers—Spam curds. Seriously.

Sorry. I blew it on Friday. I had to drive my first and only daughter to college, so I was a wee bit preoccupied and forgot to post. So here it is, all the fresh news with your Monday morning cuppa Joe.

Everyone is talking about Blake Richardson's new Moto-i restaurant that will go into the old Machu Picchu space. What no one has said yet, which is odd, is that the Japanese restaurant will be a sake brew pub. Richardson will be one of the only US sites that brews sake (You knew it was brewed, right?) and has begun the brewing process just recently. I caught up with Rachel Rubin, who is consulting on the menu, and she said that because Tiger Sushi is going in down the street (Lyndale and 28th), Moto-i will not do sushi but rather focus on other Japanese and Pan-Asian food.

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I hear that construction has begun on a new branch of the The Bulldog, which will open in St. Paul across from Mears Park at Sixth and Wacouta where the ill-fated Knight's Tale was supposed to be. Good fit; who in St. Paul doesn't like tater tots? And apparently Pop! in St. Paul has beaten the construction odds and may open early. Some whisper about this week, maybe August 20? Some say August 25. I say stroll by the formerly-Fhima's space, and see if you happen to catch them during a training dinner . . . you might get fed.

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Have you heard about The Saturn? Maybe you should consider skipping your office donut and making a field trip to Lake Nokomis this afternoon. Big Bell Ice Cream (your source of ice cream happiness in Minnesota) is dishing up The Saturn: a warm, glazed donut topped with your choice of ice cream. Warm donut, cold ice cream? What kind of brilliant science is this?

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Expansion is the thing: Midori's Floating World of the East Lake Street dining enclave is moving across the street to a bigger location. Glacier's Custard of Wayzata is opening in the Cafe of the America's spot in that same East Lake Street neighborhood. And Gianni's Steakhouse in Wayzata will be expanding into the former Cosi space next door. Turn, turn, turn.

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Coming this week: my State Fair Hit List (getchyer gullet ready!)

Was that you at Manny's last Saturday night? The last night in the Hyatt?

Were you one of the people crammed into the bar looking to make one last lascivious memory in the wood-paneled den of iniquity?

Maybe. Maybe not. I don't think you'd own up to it if you were.

Because people were nuts. They were trying to steal anything that wasn't nailed down. Some guy was busted trying to load a bar stool into his car in the ramp. People were trying to take the pictures off the walls. A lady walked out with one of the red-checkered tablecloths stuffed under her shirt. If you you're a guy who's ever peed at Manny's, you know the photo of the millionth bull to go through the Chicago stockyards that was posted over the urinal. A man took a knife and tried to pry it from the wall. Thank goodness Patricia had been secreted away earlier.

Even though it wasn't closing, even though Buster the Bull would be welcoming them to dinner again in less than a week, people were acting as if everything was about to go up in a blaze. By the end of the last day of Manny's on Nicollet, there were spanking machines requested by half-clothed patrons, suggestive photos taken on nearly every surface in the restaurant, and encouraging, if not semi-pornographic, words scrawled with Sharpies on the walls by loving guests who just had to leave their mark.

Because clearly, Manny's has left its mark on many.

Today heralds the first day in its new location at the Foshay. Go in and have a fat drink with Jocko at the bar, salute Buster in his new place of honor, have a big steak, and begin building your next twenty years of debauchery. Just don't steal anything.

I had two other unassuming but notable meals in the Napa Valley worth a mention.

BarBersQ is a contemporary barbecue house in a Napa shopping center, between a Target and Whole Foods (explain to me why this city of 75,000 rates a better Whole Foods than Minneapolis or St. Paul?). It's an informal but upscale spot with table service and a menu full of craveability. As we dined, the owner sat next to us discussing expansion plans. We'll see.

It was lunch so we didn't go whole hog, but had a great starter of fresh-fried Key West pink shrimp; I guess the owner has a jones for them and flies them in. Fresh domestic shrimp taste incomparable, the habañero tartar was not quite hot enough to kill their flavor. A Memphis pulled-pork sandwich was not as good as Mustard's Grill's, but eminently scarfable; a smoked pulled chicken sandwich with white cheddar and blue cheese mayo would bring me back. There's skirt steak, lamb mini-burgers, smoked baby backs, chicken, and brisket. Hit BarBersQ on your way in or out of Napa.

If you're at the other end of the valley in Calistoga, which is a bit challenged for interesting fare, give Solbar a go. This all-day poolside restaurant at a stylish, youthful resort run by the Auberge du Soleil folks. It has a French Laundry alum in the kitchen, an attractive menu balancing comfort and spa fare, and superbly cooked and conceived dishes. We had a three-bean salad with prosciutto (and bibb lettuce), killer sliders over onions sweated for ten hours, and an heirloom tomato and avocado BLT on sourdough toast that nearly made me cry, and surely will when I see a crap hothouse tomato on some local plate this week.

Best Meal: Ad Hoc
Worst Meal: Press (and it wasn't bad).

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Hungry? If you're headed to Napa Valley, here's some advice to avoid crowds, traffic jams, and hassles, which there can be plenty of.

• Avoid weekends. Napa is closer to SFO than Brainerd is to MSP. 'Nuff said.
• September and October (crush season) is the busiest time of year. March through May can be idyllic, particularly when the wild mustard carpeting the valley is in bloom in March. Winter gets some rain, but lodging bottoms out and there are plenty of sunny days in the 50s.
• Make reservations and create a dining plan-not all eateries serve lunch; many close one day or another, and unless you're there during a dead time, places fill up almost every night. A day or two out is all you need to book unless you're going to French Laundry.
• The Valley is not huge, but it's a solid forty-five to sixty minutes from Calistoga to Napa. Look at a detailed map of wineries, attractions, and restaurants before you lay out an itinerary. Otherwise you'll be driving back and forth like a madman.
• Highway 29: slow. Silverado Trail: fast.
• Many wineries are open by reservation only. If you only visit the ones who take all comers, you'll only get half the picture.

This edition of Fresh Forkin' Friday is brought to you by the nummy little critters that infest our lakes and streams. Call them crayfish, call them crawfish, call them dinner.

Today and tomorrow is Ikea's (you know how I feel about Ikea) 2nd annual Crawfish Party, known as Kraftskiva in Sweden. A mere $9.99 will get you all the crawdads you can eat, as well as unlimited cheese, soup and softdrinks. This is a long held tradition in Sweden, where crawfish parties are well greased with aquavit and last long into the never-ending sunset. If you can't make it this weekend, you can cure your mudbug cravings at Floyd's in Victoria where they hold a crawdad boil every Wednesday in the summer.

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Restaurant Max will open tonight in The Hotel Minneapolis. The restaurant promises "lifestyle cuisine" and will be run by the Morrissey Group of Pazzaluna, St. Paul Grill and Tria fame. Just a preview quote from their website: "You will be surrounded with fresh food and drink selections that confirm your lifestyle choices with the natural and seasonal offerings of the region." I need need need confirmation, thank the maker you've arrived.

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Common Roots is having a big ol' birthday party this Saturday! There'll be local beer and wine, heirloom tomato tasting, grilling and live music. Plus, you can meet some of their fabulous producers like the Ames Farm honey guy or Todd from Thousand Hills grass-fed beef. If you stay too late and have too much fun, you can always return to the scene of the crime on Sunday and comfort yourself with their amazing bagels and cream cheese.

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On Saturday, Lakewinds is kicking off the national Eat Local America Challenge with sampling and accordian music at its stores. The challenge is to eat only locally produced foods from August 15th to September 15th to raise awareness of the impact of eating and buying locally. Plus there's accordian awareness, to boot.

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These cats just sent me their CSA journey blog ... I dig it.

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Feel like expressing your opinions and snacking at the same time? Get down to Franklin Street Bakery where you can purchase a donkey or elephant cookie and rock the vote. Each purchase will be a vote, so be sure to buy a lot and stack the ballot box. Daily tallies will be displayed behind the counter, weekly tallies will be posted on the website and all hanging chads will be eaten.

Skidooosh.

The Napa Valley’s other restaurant mogul is Cindy Pawlcyn, who was part of Real Restaurants, the group that created some of San Francisco’s most notable dining experiences in the days before the city’s foodie boomlet of the last decade. Pawlcyn parted ways with Real nearly a decade ago and took one of her creations with her, Mustard’s Grill (shown left) in Oakville (Napa Valley), which opened in 1983.

In the ensuing years she opened Cindy’s Backstreet Kitchen and Go Fish, both in St. Helena. Mustard’s feels like an upscale diner/roadhouse, Backstreet a comfortable home, and Go Fish is one of the most comfortably beautiful restaurants I’ve seen in years, informal but classy, in shades of blue and white, pillows fronting upholstered banquettes.

Pawlcyn’s genius is not necessarily in ambience, but in adulterating classic American and global fare just enough to render it something different, yet not enough to be accused of fixing what wasn’t broken. Her Cobb sandwich at Fog City Diner was a stroke of genius, not in the idea, but the execution. It’s the difference between slices of smoked turkey and a chicken breast, which is how the sandwich was dumbed-down after she left.

Her cooking is difficult to categorize, impossible even. The flavors are bold, the twists often evoke Latin and Asian influences. She says her Golden Valley roots show in the pure Americana in the food—fruit crisps and pies, meatloaf, and sandwiches at every meal. There’s nothing fussy or delicate about her dishes, and her signature is unmistakable.

During a lunch at Mustard’s, I ate a grilled Mediterranean vegetable sandwich with melted fontina and black olive aioli on a crusty fresh roll (right). It came sided with a thick-cut creamy horseradish slaw and crispy onion strings—greaseless and addictive. From the menu: Calves liver with coarse grain mustard, caramelized onions, and bacon; lamb shank with garlic mashed potatoes and toasted pumpkin seed pesto; Sonoma rabbit, oven-roasted tomato, and goat cheese polenta.

Dinner at Backstreet, where Pawlcyn can most frequently be found, included piquillo peppers stuffed with cumin-braised beef over charred tomato salsa; tamales made with creamy grits wrapped in Swiss chard leaves, smothered in roasted mushrooms (bottom left); classic roasted artichoke with lemon and a creamy romesco sauce; and a superb charcoal-grilled burger with house-made pickles.

This is, love it or hate it, modern American eating at its very essence, manifesting all the cross-cultural, assertive, both pro- and anti-traditional, aspects of American life in a way that could easily come off as showy and obnoxious, but instead melds into something honest and original.

On Wednesday nights in summer, Pawlcyn offers a $40 four-course menu at Backstreet, and on August 28, it’s a salute to the land of 10,000 lakes. Walleye is being sourced and there are threats of wild rice soup thickening the air. This now middle-aged and white-haired child of postwar Minneapolis is no longer setting the fanciful ying to Alice Waters’ yang across the Bay, but instead proving that even after a quarter century, her brand of Midwest/California culinary alchemy sings more soulfully than twenty CIA grads with an armada of sous vide equipment.

Steph’s back Friday with F3 and I’ll wrap up my Wine Country diary on Monday with a couple more restaurant recommendations and some advice on making the most of a Napa dining trip. 

I promised Keller with mustard today, and by that I meant Thomas Keller (and Mustard’s Grill, which for reasons of space I’ll deal with on Thursday). When I told our Bizarre Foodie Zimmern that I was skipping his night at the Metrodome to head to the Napa Valley, he asked me “are you eating at French Laundry, and are you eating at Cyrus?” No, and no, in fact.

I have far less interest than most foodies in the artistic flights of fancy of today’s star chefs. And though I know that French Laundry is regularly deemed the best restaurant in America, I doubt it would move me. I am in love with what is on the plate: the flavors, the quality, the harmony, the technical proficiency but less so the imagination and originality it took to make it so. Thomas Keller created Ad Hoc for me (shown at left).

In the old Yountville Diner space, intended to become Keller’s higher-end burger concept, Ad Hoc was created as a placeholder that just won’t run out of energy. Here’s the program: four courses—starter, main, cheese, sweet. There are no choices, no kids menu, no decisions to make (wine, perhaps). The concept would be hard to pull off in most of America and impossible without Keller’s name attached to it. I mean, how many of us want to cede all control of our restaurant experience? Maybe we have too many choices.

So I was not surprised to find Ad Hoc to be my favorite meal in my first three days in Napa Valley. It was simple fare: green goddess salad, flank steak, local cheese, panna cotta with berries. But it was Kellerized—meaning nothing was taken for granted.

Most restaurants would not put fresh tarragon and pickled red onions in a simple green salad (shown at left), but the contrasting flavors gave the whole thing a fresh and exciting edge of flavors. And the artistry was not in the presentation; it was in the quality of ingredients and melding of flavors. Anchovy and crème fraiche in green goddess? I’ll take it.

The flank steak (no inquiry of doneness—slices ranged from medium well to medium rare) was wonderful but a relatively scant portion, probably no more than four ounces per person, over fresh corn, haricot vert, and roasted peppers, in pan juices (shown below). The accompanying potato wedges illustrate Keller’s standard and genius. The Yukon Golds were twice fried in peanut oil, crisp outside, melting within, slicked with the most modest essence of sofrito. Try making them at home.

The cheese course was Sonoma’s own Vella Dry Jack with warm roasted peach wedges drizzled with local honey. Sensational. It all ended with a buttermilk panna cotta over a shortbread cookie and some fresh local berries. Panna cotta doesn’t do much for me, but this one was textbook excellent (shown below, last photo).

Is that worth $48 per person? You bet. It is a lot of food, everything but the meat came in large, family-style portions. There’s a ton of staff—probably the staff-to-covers ratio is equal to any fine dining restaurant in the Twin Cities. The ambience is simple but studied, contemporary with a few winks (menu presented clipped in a brown dossier-style folder). I’m not sure most of us want to eat this much every night, but we sure want to eat this well, and many of regulars do just that.

Only the weekly fried chicken shows up more than once a quarter, say staff. I pondered—what if Ad Hoc took seven nights of menus, built a two, three, or four-course option, and rolled it out nationally? Keller is providing honest meals equal to the best farm-to-table kitchens in the Twin Cities but with better service and more consistency.

Ad Hoc is an important restaurant not because it is so good but because it is so simple. It is a shining spotlight into everything that is wrong with restaurants today—both upmarket and down. People who love restaurants need to come to Yountville and experience Ad Hoc and then go home and demand a return to real food, honest hospitality, and the value in values.

Tomorrow: The Napa’s other restaurant mogul: Cindy Pawlcyn’s Wine Country empire. (Hint: She’s one of us!)

The Oxbow Public Market in the town of Napa, California, is an attempt by some of the founders of the lauded and lovely Ferry Building Market in San Francisco to create a food hall in the Napa Valley for its artisanal purveyors, growers, retailers, and restaurateurs. The Market, which opened less than a year ago, is a work in progress and its contemporary lines and yuppie sensibility rub some the wrong way; but at maturity, it will be the perfect complement to a vibrant weekend farmers’ market down the road, alas.

Today the visitor is treated to satellite versions of some of Napa Valley’s favorite food destinations—Taylor’s Automatic Refresher’s great burgers and snacks (top left), Model Bakery’s sweets and savories, and Fatted Calf’s amazing charcuterie, and raw and prepared meats (an unctuous stuffed roast pork was being carved warm for sale during our visit). There is a large wine store/tasting room, a separate wine bar, and purveyor stands selling everything from Venezuelan arepas to Hog Island oysters. Oxbow is a worthy stop on your way in or out of the Valley.

One of the Valley’s newer restaurants and its only steakhouse of note is Press (bottom left), adjacent to Dean & Deluca in St. Helena. Housed in a striking high-ceilinged, purpose-built space, it is a pricey but unpretentious place for dinner, quickly legendary for its steak tartare (Alas, I gave up steak tartare after too many Michael Pollan essays.).

Much of what I tasted was delicious nonetheless, starting with a beautifully conceived breadbasket of crisp rosemary bread sticks, slightly sweet Parker House rolls, and savory biscuits.

A composed and stacked salad of Dungeness crab, tiny cubed pieces of melon, and crispy prosciutto was a pretty and light starter. An 8 oz. American Wagyu flatiron steak ($27) proved tasty but did nothing to diminish my conviction that American Wagyu is a gimmick designed to inflate restaurant tabs at the expense of nouveau riche, herd-mentality diners. More impressive were sides of crisp roast potato-and-garlic cake and a summer bean ragout of at least four types crowned with breadcrumbs.

Service is impressive, without a hint of hauteur; the local wine list is pricey but interesting; and the space is stunning—a striking mix of whites and rough-hewn warm woods under a white cathedral ceiling. There is not a bit of marble in evidence. Make Press a stop on your next trip up, even if just for a drink at the glass-walled bar.

Tomorrow: Napa classics—Thomas Keller with mustard

I gave myself a challenge this summer (easy work, admittedly). I had spent half days in Napa Valley, California, during annual trips to visit friends in Oakland, but my disdain for Napa’s predominant wines—those big fruit bomb cabs and buttery oaky chardonnays—meant that I never found much pleasure in traipsing from tasting room to tasting room. But with a few days alone with the missus up for grabs, a process of elimination I won’t get into left us in Napa. My goal: find the best of the Foodie scene without drinking a drop of Big Red or Butter Oak.

I set a course for some of the region’s top tables but with notable absences. French Laundry was not on the agenda, nor Cyrus, nor Redd, nor any of the temples of refined cuisine that are as much about the look and the wow as the taste. I was in the mood for rustic, regional, and robust: more affordable fare that retains an essence of the energy of Napa’s winemakers, farmers, and landed gentry.

So what was I doing at a vegetarian restaurant known for its plating finesse? Because even after stating my focus to my foodie pals up there, everyone said “gotta try Ubuntu.” It is no thrown-together hippie hangout but a warm, high-ceilinged, stone-walled bistro (and yoga studio, natch) on Napa’s main drag. Our lunch there was really interesting fare, and the crowds indicate that chef Jeremy Fox is connecting in the way that all great cooks do. Much of the fare is grown in the restaurant’s own gardens, incidentally.

We started with addictive chickpea fries (these would sell at any tavern) with romesco sauce—lighter and more melting than the best French fries. Things went upmarket with a first course of hunks of yellow cucumber, thick fingerling potato chips, pieces of a plant called Ficoide Glaciale (meaty, with a musky essence), and shavings of Parmesan, all laid atop a creamy miso garlic sauce. This was a complex construction of flavors and textures and wholly delicious. My main course was a small Staub pot of different presentations of deep green summer squash (puree, raw, roasted) with Indian vadouvan spices and garlic toast alongside. At $13, I felt a bit had at first, but the flavors were amazing. Ubuntu, like the groundbreaking San Francisco restaurant Greens before it, is showing what you can do with vegetables when you make them the centerpiece of your meal, and I came away impressed.

Told by my spouse to get back to basics for the evening meal (she found Ubuntu too experimental), we decided classic was the order of the day. Bistro Jeanty in Yountville is paces from Thomas Keller’s Bouchon, but whereas both are French brasseries, Bouchon is precise and corporate feeling while Philippe Jeanty’s spot is homey and idiosyncratic with a rarely changing menu but a long nightly list of specials.

I started with a grilled leek salad from the specials list, several whole leeks covered in diced tomato and shards of hard-boiled egg in a classic French vinaigrette. My main course was a traditional sole meuniere in a lemon caper butter over potato puree. Both were delicious. Jeanty’s cassoulet is tremendous—white beans, duck confit, house-made sausage, and bacon crowned by delicious garlic and parsley breadcrumbs. Finally, daube de boeuf, basically a deconstructed beef stew, was another winner, meltingly braised beef, peas, carrots, and whipped potatoes.

An amazing diversity of meals in one day, both tremendous and both of a style and caliber not currently available in the Twin Cities.

It's Art Fair weekend! This actually means a lot of hassle for the restaurants of Uptown. They usually have booths blocking their storefronts, their regular guests run away in droves, and the people who do come in to use the bathroom and take a table usually order iced tea and fries. As one of my chef buddies once put it, "It's not art, and it's not fair."

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Have you seen the politico chocolates by Celeste? She's playing fair.

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The new McCormick & Schmick's will finally be opening in Edina's Westin Galleria on August 21. It will be big enough to quench Edina's cravings for seafood, seating around 300 in the 8,000-sqare-foot space. Unlike their other properties in town, they'll be serving breakfast, too. If they have crab scrambled eggs, I'm in.

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As a danger to your mozzie stix fix, Bennigan's will be closing down nationwide (hungry young restaurateurs will want to scope sites for bargains!). The Two Guys From Italy in Apple Valley is no longer open. And where will you get your plank fries now that the Steak and Ale in Bloomington has closed?

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Who says August has no holidays? This Sunday is National Bratwurst Day. Let's be honest, nobody goes out for brats (unless they find themselves in Sheboygan this weekend). Brats are a backyard celebration of fast and snacky food. They are also, in my mind, the best way to kick off the last month of lovely, humid, sticky, wonderment that is a Minnesota summer.

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PS: I have SO much good stuff for next week's post!