By
Michael Bauer
April 7, 2013
First, let's establish what Saison is: the unique vision of chef-owner Joshua Skenes, who produces nothing short of brilliant food. It's also the most expensive restaurant in the Bay Area - yes, even more than the French Laundry and the regular menu at Meadowood. The elaborate 18- to 20-course menu is $298; if you want wine pairings, it's $148 more. And it's the most exclusive, with only 18 seats.
Only a little more than two years ago, Saison was a once-a-week pop-up in a barnlike structure in the Mission District. It eventually became permanent and garnered two Michelin stars.
Two months ago, Skenes and his partner and sommelier, Mark Bright, moved the restaurant into the 1888 California Electric building, an historic brick structure a block from AT&T Park. They reprised much of the cold industrial look of the original Folsom Street location, even going as far as to put throws on the back of the upholstered banquettes and Danish-looking wood chairs - a necessity in the old building, where the doors were open so the chef could get to the fireplace, but a legacy gesture here.
Skenes and Bright could have fixed some of the inconveniences inherent in the old space when they moved, but they chose a similar aesthetic: concrete floors, a raw 35-foot-high ceiling with silver-wrapped heating ducts, and a barrier-free open kitchen that spills into the middle of the dining room. One wall is taken up with five built-in stainless steel refrigerator-freezer units. The hard-edged interior throws out the window everything we have come to think of as luxury dining.
A bar at one end seats six, and the adjacent lounge, where Skenes offers a truncated tasting menu for $88, adds 12 more seats. What's on that menu and the number of courses changes from night to night, like the regular menu.
Hospitality challenges
Now let's talk about what Saison isn't: accommodating, which should be a given at the price.
On my first visit, when I arrived a few minutes before my guest, the host refused to seat me. The policy is not to seat anyone until the entire party has arrived.
On my second visit, we arrived together a few minutes after the appointed 6 p.m. reservation, but were asked to wait in the lounge. Skenes and his crew prepare the 18 to 20 courses in batches, so want to keep several tables on the same schedule. I understand the desire of the chef to have everything perfect, but at times it feels as if making things convenient for the kitchen comes at the expense of the guest.
John Storey, Special To The Chronicle
Miller Macrae pours a sauce for diners at Saison, and Jonny Ortiz works with a fire pit. Above right: Bitter vegetables get a bit of contrast from nasturtium honey.
The reason we were late leads to the second inconvenience - there is no valet. In this congested area, parking can be difficult to find. And when the Giants are in town, it's just about impossible - not to mention very expensive.
When I asked Bright about the situation, he said they planned to warn people there might be difficulty parking. Good luck with that.
The restaurant's website gives diners very little information about what they might be eating. There's no online menu, but there is a warning: "Please understand that there are no substitutions." No substitutions, even though diners have no idea what the chef will prepare.
Minimalist menu
The menu handed out at the table isn't particularly helpful, either. Each course is described by a single word: soda, custard, caviar, cru, vegetables, brassicas, toffee, bird, Perigord truffle, nut and tea, for example. On my first visit, when I took a friend who doesn't eat meat, the kitchen did make some substitutions; fortunately, few dishes contain animal protein.
Skenes has always been somewhat of a rebel; he refuses to wear chef's whites, and stands out from his crew in his plaid shirt and jeans.
This alternative streak works better with the menu than it does with the service and ambience. So let's go back to what the food is: spectacular. Skenes has a flawless technique and a creative mind.
John Storey, Special To The Chronicle
Miller Macrae pours a sauce for diners at Saison, and Jonny Ortiz works with a fire pit. Above right: Bitter vegetables get a bit of contrast from nasturtium honey.
With just one menu served each night, the dishes arrive with the regularity of a metronome. The service is as precise as the progression of dishes, although it still takes three hours to complete a meal.
The evening begins with a celebratory splash of Krug Champagne and a half glass of a rhubarb and grapefruit seltzer, poured into a sugar- and spice-rimmed glass with two tiny purple forget-me-nots balanced on either side. The focus quickly moves to a rich, silken custard made with a bouillon of seaweed and dried fish and infused with grilled Perigord truffles.
Each dish is unlike what's found at other restaurants. A star one night was a delicately etched glass with pumpkin mousse at the bottom, topped with fire-smoked caviar, then partly covered with a translucent sheet of dehydrated pigeon jus, as clear as stained glass.
Fire informs just about every dish, but it can be so subtle that at times you wouldn't know it was there.
One night Skenes seared a chunk of seaweed-cured blue-wing sea robin with a glowing ember to crisp the skin, then draped the fish with a gelee made from grilled fish bones. He topped that with fried kelp, herring roe clinging to its branches; it's a delicacy available just a couple of weeks a year.
For this and the following course, waiters bring out lacquered chopsticks from Christofle, with sterling silver caps on the ends. Presentations are breathtaking, and it's clear that no expense has been spared on ingredients, plates and glassware.
Another course features abalone that picks up subtle smokiness from being cooked in embers. The bowl is layered with a puree of nettles and other wild coastal greens, caper juice gelee, marinated artichokes, a few grains of Koshihikari rice and a sauce made from the abalone liver, artichokes and brown butter. The juicy crunch of ice plants and a liver bouillon foam top the dish.
The brassica offering, which has been on the menu in different guises since Skenes first opened in the Mission, featured mustard and other greens dehydrated over the flames and served with a poached quail egg, at least five different toasted wild grains for crunch, and seaweed bouillon poured tableside.
Another course is a "crudite" served in a free-form bark-covered wood bowl with a pat of anchovy paste on the bottom topped by a collection of fresh greens such as miner's lettuce, chickweed, nasturtium and other items picked by the restaurant's full-time forager. There are also shaved carrots and other seasonal vegetables such as fennel and turnips, along with some fire-dehydrated dandelion leaves. Right before serving, the leaves are sprayed lightly with olive oil infused with anchovy and vegetables. No utensils are provided, and waiters instruct guests to use their fingers. They return with warm towels to prepare for the next course.
One of the few meat courses on my visits was pigeon and liver mousse steamed in savoy cabbage leaves, surrounded by turnips and black mushrooms roasted over coffee beans. It was accompanied by dehydrated vegetable chips, mustard flowers, a sauce made from the roasting juices, and piles of wild mustard seeds balanced by a hint of maple syrup and mascarpone.
Building intensity
Each dish builds in intensity, as do the wines selected by Bright.
One of the brilliant finales was a pine nut souffle. It seemed so classic and traditional, given all the modern techniques used in the savory courses. Yet it got me thinking how extraordinary a souffle really is. It's the ultimate manipulation, puffing up like a down pillow but with a deceptively intense flavor. It's a brilliant way to put everything Skenes does into context.
Before sending us off to find our parking place, the waiters serve a pot of toasted buckwheat tea surrounded by bite-size sweets: an oatmeal madeleine, a square of layered rhubarb gelee skewered with a silver toothpick and a truffle with a liquid center of Earl Gray tea.
Then came a final treat: two canneles nestled in a cinnamon bark box.
After sampling one of the rich pastries, with a caramelized crust surrounding a custard-like center, we asked the waiter if the pastries could be boxed up to take home, which they were, along with the muffin-like coffee cake that's given to all departing diners.
The next morning, with lovely memories of the night before, we took out the canneles to enjoy with coffee. But only the partly eaten one was included. What did they do with the untouched one?
It reminded me again of what Saison isn't - a restaurant that treats the customer with as much respect as it treats the food.
Saison
178 Townsend St, (near Third Street), San Francisco
(415) 828-7990.
www.saisonsf.com
Dinner 6-10 p.m. Tuesday-Saturday; seatings on the hour from 6-9 p.m. Full bar. Reservations and credit cards accepted. No S.F. surcharges. Street parking, particularly difficult during Giants games.
Overall: Rating: THREE STARS
Food: Rating: FOUR STARS
Service: Rating: TWO STARS
Atmosphere: Rating: TWO STARS
Prices: $$$$ ($298 fixed-price menu; $88 tasting menu in the bar)
Noise rating: Noise Rating: TWO BELLS Can talk easily (65-70 decibels)
RATINGS KEY
FOUR STARS = Extraordinary; THREE STARS = Excellent; TWO STARS = Good; ONE STAR = Fair; NO STARS = Poor
$ = Inexpensive: entrees $10 and under; $$ = Moderate: $11-$17; $$$ = Expensive: $18-$24; $$$$ = Very Expensive: more than $25
ONE BELL = Pleasantly quiet (less than 65 decibels); TWO BELLS = Can talk easily (65-70); THREE BELLS = Talking normally gets difficult (70-75); FOUR BELLS = Can talk only in raised voices (75-80); BOMB = Too noisy for normal conversation (80+)
Prices are based on main courses. When entrees fall between these categories, the prices of appetizers help determine the dollar ratings. Chronicle critics make every attempt to remain anonymous. All meals are paid for by The Chronicle. Star ratings are based on a minimum of three visits. Ratings are updated continually based on at least one revisit.
The wine list
Mark Bright is a shining presence at Saison. Co-owner and wine director, he is also expert at pairing the wines. While diners have no idea what the dishes will be like on Joshua Skenes one-word-per-course menu, the exact wine pairings ($148) are handwritten in.
Under one night's course described as "vegetables," Bright selected the 2011 Domaine Vacheron Sancerre from the Loire. That wine retails for about $30; most of the pairings are $20 to $60 retail.
Even though the markup is high, the wine pairings are the way I'd go. Bright has a knack for matching Skenes' food, and otherwise you'll be matching blind. In some cases, the wine works for several courses, and at times Bright might bring out something spontaneously.
Should you care to peruse the impressive list, Bright can help. The wine service is exceptional, as are the glassware and storage. The list reads like a book, counting out to 80 pages; it's little wonder that it starts with a preface, then goes on to acknowledge the eight collectors who contributed to the list.
It could take you an entire night to get through the amazing collection of French wines, in particular, with a nod to other countries. Meursault alone has 50 entries; the American Chardonnay section lists 12, with names like Peay, Kistler and Stony Hill.
If you're a fan of Echezeaux, you'll find multiple vintages from Domaine de la Romanee Conti ($1,508 for the 2004), Domain Dujac ($598 for the 1998), Domaine Meo Camuzet ($698 for the 2004), Emmanuel Rouget ($1,248 for the 1996) and Henry Jayer ($6,888 for the 1993). Obviously you can find less expensive wines, but this gives an indication of the amazing scope of the list.
If you like Krug Champagne, this is the place for you. Not only does Bright pour a splash to welcome diners, he has nine vintage/sizes on the list. It seems that if it's French and it's collectible, it's on the Saison list.
There are also 11 wines by the glass, including the 2011 Pastou Le Cote de Sury Sancerre ($16) and the 2011 Kutch Pinot Noir ($22).
Last week, the restaurant received its liquor license, so expect a full bar program in the future.
If you bring your own wine, corkage is $50.
Michael Bauer is The San Francisco Chronicle's restaurant critic. Blog: insidescoopsf.sfgate.com E-mail:
mbauer@sfchronicle.com Twitter:
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