Feeding frenzy weekend

Click here for pictures of the weekend's highlights.

I have been unable to post for the past few days because I have been too busy stuffing myself at every possible opportunity. And happily, there have been many, many opportunities.

This weekend was truly wonderful, and it wasn’t just because every single meal I ate was delicious. It was because my pal Eliz was here, and because I got to see lots of other friends, and because I got to meet Laura and Andy, whose encyclopedic knowledge of Bay Area restaurants and all other things food- and wine-related puts me absolutely to shame. I rarely meet people my own age who are passionate about eating well, so the combination of a succession of big, beautiful meals and obsessive food conversation was enough to make me weep mastic tears of joy.

THURSDAY
On Thursday I met my old friend Jeff for brunch at the Anchorage 5 Diner in Sausalito. We hadn’t seen each other in years, and I don’t think either one of us has changed much. He still loves the color orange and has a million jobs, and I still lack direction and focus.

For him: the pancake sandwich. For me: the fried egg sandwich. Lo, what a glorious creation is the fried egg sandwich! It’s similar to a plate of eggs and bacon, but more portable and more properly suited to bridge that pesky breakfast/lunch gap than, say, a BLT.

FRIDAY
On Friday morning, my dear friend Eliz arrived for the weekend from Eugene. I anticipated that sustained feasting would occur during her visit, but truly I was unprepared for the feats of culinary excess that were about to transpire.

We immediately headed up to Yountville, where we convinced ourselves that we would order a budget-conscious late lunch at Bouchon. We both should have known that whenever we’re together, we’re unable to exercise any kind of restraint and always veer directly towards the most deliriously indulgent offerings on any menu. Resigned to this mutual weakness, we ordered a $45 petit plateau of seafood that featured a meaty-looking lobster perched atop a gorgeous array of clams, mussels, oysters and shrimp. I swear, the petit plateau immediately made us the envy of everybody in that room, even the snooty-looking “Wine Country Couple” seated at a neighboring table (you know, polarfleece and diamonds). We also ordered a carafe of Sancerre, and a few appetizers to accompany our shellfish bonanza, including beignets de brandade de morue and salade de poireaux frais. Both were fine, but not mind-blowing. We concluded our first 2 ½ hour, $105 lunch with a tarte au citron that had the lightest, fluffiest crust ever. Decadence on a Roman scale, I tell you. After this weekend, I have been seriously rethinking our century’s aversion to the vomitorium.

We couldn’t possibly eat another bite, so naturally we headed next door to the Bouchon Bakery and purchased a sack of cookies, pates de fruits and small cakes that we wolfed down in the courtyard outside. Still flushed from our brush with Thomas Keller (or at least his fish and macaroons), we popped into the Niebaum-Coppola winery where I fondled the Sofia Blanc de Blancs lovingly without purchasing it, thanks to a rare moment of fiscal restraint. I think I'm just attracted to it because deep in my heart I believe that drinking it might make me as cool as Sofia herself. Also, I like its little pink bag. We then headed up to Calistoga to take mud baths at the Golden Haven Spa, laughing hysterically throughout the entire treatment.

Pseudo-scientifically cleansed of toxins, we returned to Fairfax, virtuously sampled some raw vegan entrees at Lydia’s Lovin’ Foods and then collapsed into bed, keenly aware that a challenging day of gorging lay ahead of us.

SATURDAY
The next morning, we hustled down to Noe Valley to meet Lacey and Zak for breakfast at Miss Millie’s. I guess we need to work on our hustle, because we were very late. The highlight of the meal was a starter of delicate prosciutto, gorgonzola, peach and fig wraps that we shared as a group. I had never thought of ordering a starter at brunch, but clearly I have much to learn.

Later, we took the BART to the Ferry Terminal Building, met Laura, and proceeded to eat everything that caught our collective eye. This included but was not limited to many chocolate truffles from Scharffen Berger and Recchiuti, macaroons in every flavor from Miette, expensive plum yogurt from Cowgirl Creamery, and a groaning platter (ok, two platters) of oysters from Hog Island Oyster Company.

After a quick tour of Hayes Valley and the many kinds of expensive plastic furniture available for purchase there, we changed into slinky clothes and met up for a vegan extravaganza (two words I have never before used together) at Millennium. Our cocktails weren’t so great, but the food was quite wonderful. We grew giddy with delight and passed around endless plates of complicated dishes featuring things like oyster mushrooms, kombu noodles, tofu, hubbard squash and pomegranate seeds. I ate so much so quickly that I really lost track of everything that we ordered. That night we went home early in order to rest up for the next scheduled round of excess.

SUNDAY
Eliz and I had to set the alarm and drag ourselves out of bed at 8 a.m. in order to meet Laura and Andy at La Note in Berkeley, before the crowds descended upon that establishment’s pillowy orange-cardamom brioche French toast, gingerbread pancakes and creamy goat cheese scrambled eggs. The café au lait comes in bowls, the hostess has an adorable French accent, and merguez sausage is available as a side. What more can you ask for in a breakfast place?

Laura then took us on a tour of the Berkeley Bowl supermarket, which was astonishing, and kindly offered to show us around Oakland in her double-cream-colored Mini. Our friend Rachael joined us, and we wiled away the hours until it was time to eat again, this time at Vik’s, an Indian place with great food and an ambience that reminded me of dining in a well-lit warehouse. By this point I was reaching a limit that I had never before even come close to testing, and the piles of chaat we had ordered began to swim sickeningly before my eyes.

But I pressed on past the point of no return, and we all later managed to sample approximately eight kinds of sake at the Takara Sake tasting room. The insanity reached its conclusion at the Albatross, where we ate countless bowls of popcorn and drank more, more, more. I finally went home and beached myself, eating only a handful of the previous day’s smashed Miette macaroons for dinner. The rest of the group ended up at Cesar. How they managed that final meal, I will never know.