Trust - San Diego, Ca

A Matter of Trust
I had pinned Trust as my neighborhood, steady Betty, even if at a first glance it came off as somewhat stark with its high ceilings and warehouse-like dining room, but those bare bones were rounded out beneath the well figured wattage of warm, buttered lighting and the symphonic,“clink-clank-tink”, heard from its open kitchen like an impromptu jam session, which brought an unlikely hominess to the concrete and steel surroundings.

But the true comfort zone emerged from a menu where nostalgia was sprinkled like a tangible ingredient, amongst a concoction of new-wave nuances. Trust was the equivalent of your favorite, old-school, mom and pop joint that was now run by its classically trained kids.

Eats:
WOOD GRILLED CAULIFLOWER golden raisins, mint, serrano aioli, curry vinaigrette ($10)

I called this their “Brain Trust” because: 1) Cauliflower looked like a brain. 2) It was the most brilliant use of cauliflower I’d ever seen.

The thump of its memory came back through daydreams of wood-charred, veggie meatiness, the mint’s delicate, yet essential “ting” like a triangle in the percussion section, bursts of sun from sweet satchels of plumped, golden raisins and the curry vinaigrette, which emoted true enlightenment – genius!

BRUSSELS SPROUTS tortilla strips, cilantro, jalapeño vinaigrette, cotija cheese, tajín ($11)

On the other end of the spectrum, were the Brussels sprouts, which were over-salted, over-cooked and frankly in my opinion, over-done as a menu item.

Trust’s attempt at originality with “Mexican sprouts” was admirable, but between the well-seasoned veggies, the cotija cheese, and the tortilla strips, sodium levels reached record-breaking highs, which made it a low-point of the meal.

HAMACHI CRUDO black sesame, cilantro, avocado, sprouts, cucumber, trout roe, taro root chips ($15)

This was the crudo version of seven layer dip, but more refined with layers of freshly cut Hamachi, creamy chunks of avocado, cucumber’s clean crunch, earthy, black sesame seeds, grassy hints of cilantro, and the paper-thin, fried, taro root chips, which became the perfect vehicle to drive this crudo home.

RICOTTA AGNOLOTTI sunchokes, black garlic streusel, black truffle, panna, basil ($19)

I called this, “Richy Rich,” since the decadence came in layers like a Bentley tricked out with diamond-encrusted tires.

Angel-like agnolotti floated in as a fleeting, squish of euphoria, beneath a velvety, cream sauce dotted with black garlic streusel for some punch before getting caught in a sunchoke-hold of crispiness. Black truffles rained like singles at a strip club. It was glorious.

UNI PASTA shiitake mushrooms, clams, lemon, soft herbs ($18)

The way the description read, I assumed the uni was incorporated in the pasta dough – not the case (though I liked the idea!). Unfortunately, the only flavor I could distinguish were the enormous amounts of al dente onions peppered throughout the dish.

Every time I thought I had a clam or uni, it ended up being onion, which was always a disappointment (especially since it wasn’t listed in the description).

BRAISED OXTAIL RAVIOLINI pine nuts, carrots, oxtail jus, horseradish, whipped ricotta ($19)

“Do you, classic “pot roast” dinner take traditional Italian dinner, as your tastefully paired partner?” It was quite the marriage. Oxtail’s fork-tender lusciousness always reminded me of a classic pot roast dinner, the way it shredded, but stayed saturated in its own juices and rendered fat.

Instead of serving the oxtail with noodles, Trust used it as the pasta’s filling. The “gravy” aka jus, diced carrots, and horseradish mimicked accoutrements found with a roast, while toasted pine nuts and sweet ricotta came in with the Italian uppercut for a solid knockout.

Sweets:
LEMON MERINGUE CHEESECAKE honey rosemary sorbet, almond crunch, pomegranate

I wouldn’t exactly call this a lemon meringue, more of a lemon curd, which I preferred, but it wasn’t worthy of a reorder. Maybe it was because I had major dessert envy from the neighboring table who had been wise enough to order the totem pole of onion-ring shaped PROFITEROLES apple, caramel…next time.

Trust and Believe: And there would be a next time. Besides dinner, I was dying to try their brunch for the PROSCUITTO BREAKFAST SANDWICH (2 fried eggs, basil aioli, asiago cheese, artisan French bread, potatoes - $12) paired with some kiwi-cucumber and pineapple-ginger mimosas. Also, as a Jersey girl who grew up with diners as a statewide staple, the fact that they had the rarely-seen-in-San Diego, SIMPLE BREAKFAST (2 eggs, potatoes, bacon or sausage, toast -$10), brought it all back to that mom and pop simplistic sensibility which bred nothing but Trust.

Just a Victim of Circa’s Stance (San Diego)

Sold on California Soul Food

The dude with white hair down past his shoulders motioned to us from behind the bar, asking if we had a reservation since the place was packed on Friday at 8:30pm. Even though we shook our heads, he gave us a friendly nod and worked his way through the crowded dining room, proudly waving us towards the only remaining table.

Circa looked like a working, shoebox diorama of a restaurant. Seating was almost too close for comfort, eking by with only an inch of elbow room in between tables. But this community of close eaters was about to teach me an important lesson: how to love thy neighbor’s dinner.

Circa's Stance

Circa claimed to have “California soul food”, conjuring images of fat-free chicken and gluten-free waffles or whole wheat “faux” mac-n-cheese or something equally gag-worthy. But instead, Circa delivered a magical mash-up that blended farm-to-table freshness and comfort food favorites (i.e. Green Bean Casserole: organic brown beech mushrooms, goat cheese cream, fresh oregano, crisp onions - $8).

Dinner

Cast Iron Fried Jidori Chicken: duck fat roasted fingerling potatoes, bacon braised collard greens, blonde ale gravy ($17)

My decision was easy enough since the woman at the table to my left ordered the cast iron fried chicken and I thought, “I want that.” It came wrapped up in a neat package with lots of moving parts, all fitted together in a well thought out plan of edible engineering. Every element was more than I’d hoped for: golden coins of potatoes were fork tender, yet still firm, crisped with duck fat. The bacon waved in identifiable slices amid a pile of rich, collard greens, stewed and lush, but not mushy. The chicken’s skin came off in crispy pulls to expose the tender flesh, ripe with natural juices, and bright notes from the blonde ale gravy brought a bouncy bite to a potentially heavy dish. The portion was on the small side, but enough to sooth the beast (= my appetite) and I truly enjoyed every bite.

Dessert

“It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor. Won’t you be mine? Won’t you be mine? Won’t you be my neighbor?”

I felt like Mr. Rogers as my gaze gallivanted around neighboring tables, winking hello and studying every dish that put down roots in my area. I longed to make friends with them all. And I went for it...by awkwardly gawking at the couple on my right while they plunged into their desserts, and I nodded admiringly, knowing I would soon follow suit by ordering the same.

Cast Iron Skillet Apple Pie: spiced date vanilla bean ice cream, caramel ($10)

I felt like Laura Ingalls celebrating some special occasion where Ma busted out the cast iron skillet for a personal-pan-style apple pie, and its novel presentation and flaky top crust were praiseworthy.

Berries & Cream: fresh berries, lemon lavender anglaise, pistachio ice cream ($7)  

The lemon, lavender anglaise daintily fluffed itself beneath a skirt of fresh berries, leaving behind a perfumed trace of lavender and the clean cut of citrus = a palate’s happy ending.

Coming Full Circa

Bratwursts, pork belly, lamb shanks, pork and beans, burgers – Circa had comfort food covered. Their beer menu had a bounty of microbrews and desserts were given the same attention to detail as dinner. I was also interested in checking out their brunch menu for the Chilaquiles Skillet: corn tortilla chips, pork chorizo, stewed white beans, poached eggs, red chile sauce, cilantro, pickled radish, farmer’s cheese ($12.50) and BBQ Benny: slow-cooked bbq pork butt, poblano cornbread, cilantro, poached eggs, hollandaise, homefries ($13), along with the $5 Happy Hour menu during the week.

Although I hated the idea of trendy, niche markets, I had to admit that Circa pulled off their concept of “California Soul Food”. Their sunny disposition worked like enchanted chlorophyll nourishing the food, the staff, and the even the stifled surroundings. In fact, their cramped quarters only added to the experience and made me realize that the world would be a much friendlier place if everyone was Circa-sized.

Juniper and Ivy - San Diego

Trail Blais-ing in San Diego

Everyone had been jawing about Juniper and Ivy since it opened in March, and they all had something different to say – interesting, over-priced, crowded, inventive - but I really needed to see for myself.  As a Top Chef fan from the start, I’d considered Chef Richard Blais to be one of the most dynamic of all the seasons.

He was the kitchen’s answer to Dr. Frankenstein with a cerebral magnificence that many times left him teetering on the edge of sanity. But right before falling victim to an anxiety-ridden, food-fueled fit, Blais usually rallied as the unlikely hero, who not only recovered, but doubled-down, performing above (and beyond) board.

Style

We were met by a firm handshake of masculine minimalism that mixed modern log cabin with industrial warehouse – was this what "glamping" looked like?  Its unassuming luxury brought a genuine air of comfort and offered polished ruggedness amongst the eye-catching duct work and raised rafters.

The kitchen’s long, low counter brought a full view of its inner workings to the dining room. The accessibility made it seem informal, almost familial (if your OCD uncle ran the kitchen, because boy, was it clean!), and I had to hold myself back from wandering in and grabbing a macaron off the dessert station.  

Food

I went there craving crab fritters and the bone marrow toast I’d heard so much about, but these had already been wiped off the menu and replaced by more recent creations from the never-ending storyboard in Blais’ head. But that was how he worked. He never admired any of his dishes for too long, so it was wise not to get too attached to any favorites here.

Amuse bread: Gruyere puff

Though this "amuse bouche" was really just a bread course, it still made me feel like a lady to have this fluffy, cheese puff formally introduced to me.

SMALL PLATES

Squash Blossom Relleno: White Cheddar/ Poblano/ Tomatillo

Special delivery: one petite, fried parcel! Surrounded in a bow of batter, my fried squash blossom was perched like a demur flower before it took a sharp turn with cheddar, which oozed with biting intensity. But that was quickly evened out with the mildness of tomatillo, tangy crumbles of queso, and dabs of thick, balsamic reduction that brought out a slightly sweet note.

Boniato Potato: Nori Butter/ Pork Belly/ Yuzu Sour Cream
Ok. This dish right here, was the reason I came. Not that I immediately recognized it. In fact, when we ordered this, I agreed it sounded good (yawn), if not somewhat run of the mill. But I was about to get served (literally and figuratively). This was how it went down:

Me: “Yeah, yeah, I get it – like a play on a baked potato with bacon and sour cream. Big deal.”

Potatoes (aka The Po’s) show up. Squat, puffed up, crisp coats.

The Po’s: “Why you being such a tater hater?”

Me: “I’m bored. Show me something I haven’t seen before.”

The Po’s: “Check this out! You ever seen real “belly” dancing?!”

Potatoes fan out and reveal thick slices of caramelized, crispy pork belly. Snags of miniature seaweed bathed in butter sprout from the top, balls of mustard seed start spinning, squirts of citrusy, Yuzu sour cream rain down, and all land on my tongue in one electric boogaloo of a bite.

Me, staring with mouth agape (and full of potato) in awe and amazement.

Alright, I had to admit it - these Po’s were pros - this was by far my favorite.

TOAST

Pear Toast: Walnut Butter/ Fennel/ Pt Reyes Blue

All the ingredients sounded like a flawless marriage, but so many times with “toasts”, there was the structural foundation to consider. How many times had I eaten bruschetta where the toast had broken, became soggy, or all the ingredients had slid off in one bite? Too many to count.

But Blais had picked a sturdy, ciabatta-like bread that was browned, but not "break your teeth" tough, to layer his ingredients. His engineer mind created the perfect equation of toppings - from weight, to height, to depth - everything stayed where it should. Walnut butter acted like nutty mortar to sweet slices of pear laid into the framework, while the Pt Reyes Blue stuck between the crevices in one of the only instances where mold in a structure could be seen as a positive, and passed my inspection with flying colors.

PASTA

Prawn and Pork: Smoked Rigatoni/ Spicy Italian Sausage/ Prawns
When I read this on the menu, my mind immediately whipped up an image of two prawns still in their armor with heads and antennae attached, attacking a sausage link above a battleground of smoky rigatoni. That's not what happened...though it did taste as horrifying as war.

A couple of beheaded, de-shelled, chopped, overcooked shrimp (and yes, by a couple I mean two) could be foraged from the mush of tasteless rigatoni. But even worse, was what Blais deemed as “sausage”. First of all, this "sausage" was square. Not that I'm a shape discriminator, and I'm not a huge fan of casing, but this pre-formed patty looked like it had been hung out to (bone) dry in a mini-meatloaf pan. This looked/tasted like no sausage I'd ever seen or would ever want to encounter again.

Plus, was this teeny, tiny bowl REALLY $24??!! For two shrimp, meatloaf mush and some craptastic rigatoni?! Pfft. When the waitress took our plates and asked how it was, I made a grimace and said, "Definitely not my favorite. It's so different from the other dishes."

She answered, “Yeah, it’s a more rustic dish.”

Is that what they called it? Myself? I had a few other choice words that came to mind.

DESSERT

Yodel: Devil’s Cake/ White Chocolate/ Hazelnut Brittle/ Hot Chocolate
Yodel-ay-hee-hooo...hoooly shit! This was one of the best desserts I’d ever had. Just like my prejudiced perspective on the potatoes, I thought, “Great, another chocolate dessert. Been there, done that.”

And not being much of a sweets person, I wasn’t too enthralled, until they brought an edible construction site of sugar to the table, forcing me to sit up straight in my seat as a miniature pitcher of hot chocolate was poured like a cauldron of melted steel over a dark chocolate cylinder, which partially melted away to reveal an interior filled with some type of chocolate mousse/gnanche-like substance.

Besides the pipeline of chocolate, dessert debris was scattered everywhere – white and milk chocolate pearls, small squishes of fresh strawberry, and the best piece of sugar shrapnel: hazelnut brittle. Even though there seemed to be endless components, they all worked as one. We didn't leave one bite on the plate and I was sad to see this scavenger hunt for the senses end so quickly.

Bittersweet, brown butter goodbyes

The last goodbye from Blais came in two, barely memorable, brown butter cookies, but it was still a nice touch. Overall, I was impressed with Juniper and Ivy - interestingly enough, most of my enthusiasm was for items that seemed tired and played out, but the unexplored interpretation from the mad chef made me shift my perspective and see a fresh side to classic ingredients. The cerebral track was Chef Blais' strong suit and next time I'd stay away from the entree section (which seemed forced - did his investors insist on that?) and stick with the smaller plates.

La Bastide Bistro - Scripps Ranch, CA

Feasting Flashbacks: North County Noshing
Hot down, summer in…North County. Tiff and Matt had moved out of the city a few months before and even though I’d been enjoying their new Playboy-Mansion-sized pool, I was still pouting about how far away they were. And tonight was no different, especially since we were meeting them for dinner at some strip-mall in Scripps Ranch.

North County’s strip-malls were strung like pearls, plentiful and lined in neat rows, but more like gaudy, costume jewelry than precious gems. Though I had to admit, La Bastide Bistro seemed to possess some real value. My ears perked to the rustle of butcher paper, smoothed on tabletops for a crisp, clean canvas as my nostrils filled with food fumes that could rival pheromones aroused by Chanel No.5.

The intoxication didn’t stop there. A sprite-ly Chateau de St. Martin flitted on my tongue with the lithe of a diver's spring on the board before leaping into delicate flight - a refreshing plunge for the palate.

A plateful of nosh-ables arrived and though I found the pâté a bit passé, the rest of the group gobbled it up greedily, along with the cured meats that provided a perfect distraction from my farm fresh salad.

Jersey girls have a thing about their tomatoes and these were juicy, sweet and ripe. A good yellow tomato is like eating the sun – it encompasses all that is summer. Simple greens and a splash of good balsamic was all the dressing up these beauties needed. Clumps of goat cheese + tomato juices = nature’s vinaigrette.

The halibut was a hellava one with tomatoes, artichokes and baby red potatoes in a lemon/white wine broth, but Bubba was lucky we both ordered the same thing because when the two came to the table, mine was visibly larger. True to my wifely duties, I switched with him, but other table members wouldn’t necessarily have parted with the fuller fillet - uniform portions please!

The hanger steak was cooked with finesse and left tender in its red wine/ cherry reduction, but got a bit mired down with ingredients - the spice rub and sauce seemed to compete with each other. And though the meat paired well with a side of brocollini, you could crack a tooth on the rice.

The rice also acted as a weapon in the paella and I didn't even understand why this dish was appearing on a "Country French" menu. Why have a random, Spanish, specialty dish if you can’t execute it well? The rice was undercooked, the shellfish overcooked - it was a failure in every possible way.

Truffle mac-n-cheese was ok, nothing stand-out and in the end, I felt lucky with my selections – the wine, salad and fish were all a hit – but other orders weren’t so lucky. Worth the hike? Probably not, but I’d keep it in mind when I came up for a swim.