Herb and Wood (San Diego, Ca)

A Tale of Restaurant Redemption

I arrived wearing my favorite, steel-studded sneer; my shoulder adorned with a chip larger than the Hope Diamond. This was yet another venture by Brian “Mediocre” Malarkey, the former, Top Chef contestant who traded his culinary soul to any investor looking to make a buck off his newfound celebrity. But every layer Malarkey piled on his fabric-themed, restaurant empire (including Gingham [CLOSED], Gabardine [CLOSED], Seersucker), exposed one common thread - the Emperor had no clothes (aka full of Malarkey).

But my judgmental dress made me look a fool, as Herb and Wood (H&W) emerged the stunning fashionista, subtly dressed to the nines, in classy grays and museum-like lighting dimmed over vibrant canvases; the front bar, sleek and glittering like a crowned jewel, beckoning us in…or out (seating for both), to this forgotten warehouse transformed into a larger-than-life, Pinterest wet dream of design, art, and space.

Drinks: Mocktails

Non-alcoholic drink menus were usually absentmindedly thrown together, similar to the way vegetarians were endlessly offered the same, generic option of pasta primavera. There wasn’t much thought put into these elixirs, which only seemed to exist out of an exhausted politeness for the dry duds and former drunks, who wouldn’t be bulking up the tab with booze. But this mocktail menu was surprisingly thorough, and my concoction of pineapple juice, soda, lime, and cinnamon syrup doled out a heavy-handed, fizzy, brain buzz. Cinnamon syrup = my new obsession.

Eats: Small Plates/ Entrees

Wood-fired pizza: Pesto, Cippolini Onion, Escargot, Bone Marrow

Let's be honest. Bone marrow had become the Justin Beiber of the restaurant world. It was everywhere - annoyingly so - though you still couldn’t help but love it, no matter how hard you tried.

Especially when it sprang up in an extra catchy version of wood-fired pizza topped with pesto, escargot, Cippolini onions, and a bone sawed in half, left open-faced, and brimming with gelatinous globs of grandeur. Wait, was that a miniature spoon for scooping?! So dainty! A schmear of marrow as a pizza topping?! Genius!! I had to admit it…they “Beibered” the shit out of this one.

Gnocchi, Oxtail, Roasted Garlic, Parsley, Chive, Sherry, Parmesan & Horseradish

The fine dining world had learned long ago that they could charge big money for cheaper cuts of meat like short ribs and oxtail - the ones that most home cooks weren’t willing to take on because of the extensive amount of fatty tissue woven throughout. But when braised long enough, every inch of their fatty highways melted away, bathing the meat until it morphed into a succulent, shreddable, treasure.

H&W's oxtail wafted nostalgic notes of grandma’s pot roast, but with heightened luxury from a potent, sherry-infused influence and horseradish kicker. My guess was the gnocchi was homemade because it squished like a bite of Play-Doh in a subtly, soft pillow of pasta = worthy of a reorder.

Crispy Potato, Lemon Vinaigrette, Black Pepper, Fresh Horseradish, Parmesan

Ah, here was the "mediocre" Malarkey I knew. I'd imagined the preparation much differently than a stark plate of whole, red potatoes topped with Parmesan and thrown in the oven. Just sub-par enough to bring back those resentful feelings of Malarkey’s past.


Dessert: Twix (Caramel, Crème Friache, Milk Chocolate & Lava Salt)

I felt like I was eating the back of a particle board shelf from Ikea. Grainy, chalky, chokingly dry. Need I say more? Fix your Twix!

H&W Earns an A

But as bitchy as I was, I couldn’t deny my obsession with H&W and my plans to return whenever I had the chance. H&W’s taste left its mark on both the eye and palate in a way that hit all the right olfactory senses and left you wanting more. I hated having to eat my words, but it was a little easier with a mouthful of bone marrow pizza.  

Amaya at the Grand Del Mar - San Diego, Ca

The Grand Del Mar was saved for grand occasions and my birthday seemed like a good enough reason to indulge at Amaya. We’d already eaten at Addison’s, the second restaurant on the property, and it remained one of my most cherished dining memories to date, which meant Amaya had some impressing to do.

Drinks
Jalapeno margarita: Jalapeno infused vodka with a few slices of the actual pepper sassed up this classic, as the spice naturally fell in step with the soft burn of tequila and rocky rim of salt.

Margarita with grapefruit juice and elderflower syrup: This played a little softer than the jalapeno version, but still had its own kick. Grapefruit juice grabbed at the throat as elderflower soothed the sour with its delicate, floral syrup.


Apps
Shrimp with chili and lime broth: I couldn’t fathom how the chef had cooked these shrimp so perfectly - down to the second. Shrimp’s short window of turning pink, but retaining its succulent, springiness was as elusive as glimpsing the green flash at sunset* – almost impossible. The chili/lime sauce was thick with butter and the squeeze of citrus turned up the chili’s heat, while keeping it tamed enough to spotlight every individual ingredient. Toasted baguette slices were there to sop up any remaining sauce and I assume to keep patrons from licking the bowl.

*Not sure if I only know about the green flash since living in San Diego, but it’s the rarely seen, green flash of light that lasts only a millisecond as the sun hits the horizon during sunset.


Duck proscuitto flatbread with arugula and Manchego cheese
Crispy dough, flat as a quarter, was the platform for paper thin slices of the deep maroon, duck proscuitto, whose salty, earthiness was mirrored like a twin in the Manchego's creamy tang, with arugula playing their peppery sister.

Entree
Duo of lamb: Little Bo Peep should have checked here when she went looking for her herd because this was where they were all hiding. Rib-eye of lamb fanned itself out in slices like a demur Southern Belle flaunting its rosy, (true) medium rare center, circled with a cracked crust of sea salt and ground pepper. Lamb chops crisscrossed themselves above with delicate Frenched bones grounded to the plate by their swollen lollipop heads, thick with meat.

Both the chops and rib-eye were seasoned better than most lamb I’ve eaten in my life and there was absolutely no negative critique I could give to this dish…other than I needed more lamb pancetta in the white beans and greens concoction beneath the meat. Yes, you heard me correctly: LAMB PANCETTA!! That’s when this duo turned into my type of threesome. What can I say? I’m a glutton for mutton.

Dessert
Frozen lemon meringue pie with raspberry coulis: This pie was served with a lemon twist = lemon curd ice cream. If you haven’t been lucky enough to try lemon curd, then hustle down to Trader Joe’s and grab a jar. It’s meant for muffins and breakfast toasts, but not only was it fitting as a filling, but was easily one of the best ideas since someone realized that chocolate could rival jelly when it came to peanut butter. The topping wasn’t a true meringue because instead of whipped egg whites and sugar, the lightly bruleed top was thicker and had a texture like marshmallow (maybe to withstand the freezer?). But surprisingly I loved it, which impressed me all the more since I usually hate marshmallow. Bottom line: Curd is the word.

Pecan pie tart with buttermilk ice cream: Their buttermilk ice cream tasted pretty vanilla and the pecan tart seemed like it could have been bought anywhere. My guess? Dudsville, USA. Not bad, but nothing special.

A to A comparisons: Amaya’s food was perfectly seasoned, executed and presented. But Amaya cost around the same as Addison’s and the two weren’t even in the same ball park when it came to service or experience.

Addison’s
1. We were greeted by name
2. Hostesses and waiters performed a seemingly choreographed production of service while welcoming us
3. Giant tweezers were used to lay our napkins on our laps
4. Individually wrapped pieces of house-made shortbread and a printed version of the tasting and wine choices from our evening’s four-course menu were received as a parting gift.

Amaya
1. Our waiter went missing for a bit, maybe since there was an event going on outside, but we were left unattended for a good while and were left waiting to order.
2. The sommelier was very attentive, genuine, funny, and seemed to be more present as a server than our actual waiter, but service was still spotty.


Conclusion: Amaya fan? Yes. But for the money, I’m all about Addison's.