Fig Tree Cafe (Hillcrest) - San Diego, Ca

A Tree grows in Hillcrest
I guess MLK really liked his eggs because whenever his designated day rolled around, everyone celebrated by going out to breakfast. Well, that’s how it seemed when Tiff and I spotted a Disneyland-like line outside of Snooze before hearing there was an hour wait. Since we’d just dumped all of our change into the meter, we needed a close by contender to make up for our nickel-less knickers and rounding the corner, there was Fig Tree.

Tree huggers: A metal railing lassoed sidewalk tables, but missed us as we ducked into Fig Tree's narrow corridor comprised of exposed brick on the right, and stocked, wooden wine shelves stretching to the ceiling on the left, leaking enough space between bottles to peek in the dining room. And it was packed. Luckily, we spotted a couple of open seats at the bar that gave us an up-close-and-personal glimpse into the kitchen and an aerial view of the dining room’s marriage of metal and Mother Nature.

There was a raw element to Fig Tree, especially the back wall of brushed concrete showcasing a super-sized, steel square of industrial art, whose hole-punched front displayed a flourishing tree when lit up at night (almost like a new age Light-Brite). Exposed, Edison-style light bulbs and coarse, thick rope wound around overhead lights brought a little tangled chaos to the clean edge. I felt like I was in the nest of a very stylish bird.

Eats

Meatloaf Hash: three eggs any style + spinach + diced meatloaf + pesto + house potatoes

We were tempted to try some “man candy” (thick bacon + brown sugar + paprika), but decided to hit a heartier note with the meatloaf hash. I wouldn’t necessarily say the potatoes were crispy, though they were well-seasoned and added some needed texture, but it was the pesto finish that gave this hash a more potent high than THC, keeping the beef incredibly moist, while adding some herbaceous depth. A few loose leaves of spinach let me pretend this was healthy, but all I really had my eye on were the eggs.

I have to admit that I’m a total egg snob and rarely order them out because I’m always disappointed, but these over easy eggs were like angels’ eyeballs…and I couldn’t wait to poke them out. The whites were at that almost never achieved point of completely cooked, but still buttery without brown edges and the yolks could have won a marathon with the way they ran. Loaded on a piece of sourdough, I’m talking serious egg ecstasy (it probably helped that Fig Tree bought their eggs fresh from Ramona).


Flatbread: mozzarella + braised short ribs + rosemary potatoes + horseradish crème fraiche

As hard as I am on eggs, I’m even a worse critic of crust - I’m talking Judge Judy level of scrutiny here. Fig Tree called this flatbread, but to me, it tasted like some serious east coast style, pizza crust*. Its thin profile was barely puffed from the pizza oven, but the heat had formed a simple sturdiness and the rare ability to hold its shape – no front nose-flops here!

Besides holding its shape (and my attention), the crust stayed solid under the bulk of meat and potatoes. The short rib was aptly named because it fell a little short in the flavor department and its thin slices were overshadowed by the sizzling “carb on carb” action taking place between the crust and rosemary potatoes. Though, the horseradish crème fraiche worked its sensory magic of heating the tongue, yet cooling in the same instant and spicing up the somewhat timid short rib.

*They also offer pizza, but the crust looked a bit thicker.

Strange fruit: I was happy with our choices, but for some reason I couldn’t see myself choosing Fig Tree when planning an “eating outing” – can’t really say why. We hit high points and not necessarily any lows, but I was left with the feeling that it was just “ok”. Fig Tree reminded me of a likeable booty call. I’d remember them fondly when they were brought up, even if I had no plans on seeing them again soon. But if I was in the area and feeling a little hungry, I’d definitely hit them up…because I had to admit, they had some tasty junk in the Fig Tree trunk.

How Lebanon gets it on - Mama’s Bakery (San Diego)

Chef Luz called me up for a quiet lunch, so that meant Mama’s Bakery for the perfect, midday hideaway with its unassuming structure camouflaged by shaggy brush and a summer coat of green paint, hidden just a few doors down from Live Wire’s dive-bar antics.

Mama’s size helped protect her incognito, mosquito net of isolation. It was as if someone had started building a Craftsman cottage and decided to stop halfway through, leaving this postage stamp sized space that only read of the dining room's snug, dollhouse fit, a tiny kitchen and a few tables out front.

Maybe the builders went on a lunch break and never came back…I could understand why - more Lebanese, please! I wasn’t all that familiar with Lebanese food before our visit and even though Mama’s menu raised some questions, Mama didn’t raise no fools. Happy to educate about the cuisine, full descriptions were listed below each menu item and effortless explanations from the staff were recited like beloved bedtime stories.

The kitchen was rolled up as efficiently as their sandwiches. The Sajj (ancient oven dating back to BC used to cook flatbread) steamed like a fog machine’s special effects and revealed a smiling, middle-aged woman behind a glass counter ready to take our order. Leaning against the glass that separated us, I looked down to see the bottom shelf lined in baklawa (spelled differently than the Greek baklava, but basically the same) and other Lebanese pastries, which time-tripped me back to the candy counters of my Jersey youth, where each shelf had a value - the bottom one being the most precious (Fun-Dip for 50 cents was always the top prize) – I guess the same rules applied here…bottom shelf = top drawer.

But maybe my nostalgic mooning was brought on by the close quarters, similar to a relative’s kitchen, where you happened to stop by and they insisted you stay for lunch. The kafta sandwich was worthy of a schedule change. Countless, bite-sized meatballs of ground beef, onions and parsley fit into a clown-car of flatbread – it was like guessing at a jar of jelly beans. I couldn’t approximate how many meatballs were in there, but they kept coming like non-stop pitches at a batting cage.

Pickle crunched in a satisfying, “CRACK!” like a bat connecting with the ball. Hummus brought its creamy, tahini tang with a body bigger than the Babe and became more than just another condiment – this was a game changer.

But the homemade flatbread, hot off the Sajj, was the crowning achievement: crispy, browned outside; doughy, fluffy inside. For me, bread has always been the true test of a sandwich's sanctity and Mama’s bread breathed a mote of Mediterranean into the air - just enough to add a touch of foreign to the familiar - and linked its loving arm of Lebanon around me.

Things to try next time:
Drinks: Yogurt drinks? Chai cola? I’m in!…and extremely curious.
Food: Schawarma – similar to a gyro with shaved meat on flatbread;
hot pies; baba ghanouj; feta and olives

Things Mama raises:
1) No fools
2) The roof (the builders might have stopped halfway, but Mama didn’t)
3) San Diego’s sandwich standard (hummus is the new mayo!)

Mama also caters!!
Mama's Bakery
4237 Alabama St
San Diego, Ca 92104
(619) 688-0717

The Supper Standby - Urban Solace (San Diego)

Urban Solace is one of my San Diego staples when speaking/pleasing out-of-towner tongue. Even finicky Aunt Mabel can find something that registers on the familiar scale with dishes rooted in the traditional, but flashing a haute new look.

Like taking the standard Mule, known for its ginger-beer base with fresh limes and upping the ante with saffron vodka for a bit of the exotic. This Golden Mule was good in theory , but I’d probably rate it more of a bronze (saffron flavor wasn’t very present)- though I'd be happier with copper...they missed a key component when bypassing the traditional, copper mug with one more suitable for a campsite.

Fried green tomatoes topped with blended goat cheese and crème fraiche - I couldn’t have been more impressed with the delicate cornmeal coating that held its own and held on (actually gripping the tomato – sometimes they can be like bad onion rings where the outer batter just peels off.) But what really blew me away was the tenderness of the fried fruit. So many times I find these either completely unripe or tasteless - this was not the case here…and Jersey girls know their tomatoes.

Not your Momma’s meatloaf = ground lamb wrapped in bacon with figs, feta, pine nuts and fig jus. Who the hell’s Momma anyway? I forgot as soon as this newfangled, formed meat hit my mouth. Bacon acted as the loaf’s crispy corset (not like the floppy, fatty slices when old "what’s her name" used to make it). Though, I did find it a bit heavy on the fig this time, but usually the ingredients are more evenly distributed. It could have also been because the sweet mash beneath had already brought enough candy-like quality to the plate. Still, Mama didn’t raise no fool and this was always worth a re-order.

Duckaroni = mac 'n cheese with duck confit, blue cheese, roasted garlic, arugula, scallion - True Confessions: Sometimes, (gulp) I think about my precious Duck-a-roni…during the day in traffic, awake in my bed at night…and wonder what it’s doing. Is it thinking about me? Should I stop over after work? I feel like a stalker in a relationship where I just can’t seem to get enough. But my favorite part is that even if I stray from my ever faithful ‘Roni when choosing an entree, I can order it as a side and pretend that I’ll share with the rest of the table (hands off - it's mine!).

Don’t worry Mabel, we didn’t forget about you. A standard found on any menu is done to perfection here with the Niman Ranch burger. Ground chuck makes all the difference when achieving the coveted, "juices-running-down-the-arm" effect, but the sturdy egg bun stood up to chuck with a sweetness similar to potato bread and offset by the sharpness of aged white cheddar. Add bacon? Don’t mind if I do. Fries are always plentiful and on point.

Besides being a hit for visitors, it makes an easy, in-the-neighborhood evening out (but get their early or make reservations because everyone else has figured this out too) - though it was a bit pricier than I remembered. What used to be in the $12-$14 range is now in the $18 -$20 - enough of an increase to make it feel more like a splurge than the weekly norm. Still, it’s a solid save whenever the craving for couture comfort food arises with an itching for dishes that can’t be found anywhere else in the city.

Also check out their Bluegrass Brunch featuring live music and treats like pork belly benedict every Sunday (or try the "blunch" on Saturdays 10:30am-4pm).