Yogurtsoda

Several months ago, my family and I visited Mirepoix in Windsor to celebrate my sister’s birthday. I was looking forward to trying it out, especially since I used to drive past the restaurant every day when I worked in Sonoma County’s wine country.

The interior is small, cozy and warm, evoking the French countryside feel that I imagine they’re going for. The food is rustic and very French in its generous use of butter on just about everything.

We started with the frisee salad with poached egg and duck liver, which was delicious. The pickled onions provided the perfect contrast to the fried and battered liver.

We also shared a plate of the braised mussels in white wine and garlic broth. The mussels were tiny but the broth was comforting and full of flavor. 

This is where things started to go wrong. I must have had a Tony Bourdain moment or something, because the next thing I knew, I was ordering the braised sweetbreads with frites. I guess I thought that because I love offal in general, I’d love sweetbreads too. It turns out I’m incorrect. Maybe sweetbreads need to be prepared a certain way to be palatable, but you know something is wrong when the table next to you is whispering “she ordered the sweetbreads!” in horror.

My sister was luckier. She took the safe route and ordered the tempura steak sandwich, which was rich and crispy. My dad ordered the hanger steak and my mom ordered the lamb. All of us had too-greasy frites doused in too much salt.

In retrospect, I don’t know whether to blame my dissapointment at Mirepoix on my own overly-adventurous entree choice or on the restaurant itself. The dishes seemed hit or miss, so I’m inclined to give it another try someday.

If you’ve ever been to the Bay Area, chances are you’ve had something baked by the Bay Bread group. Their range of sweet and savory loaves are scattered throughout San Francisco’s best restaurants and shops, and the Bay Bread group has their own mini-chain of bakery-cafes as well: La Boulange.

My cousin, sister and I shared coffee and sweets at La Boulange at Fillmore in San Francisco on a rainy afternoon, and the place was packed. I tried my first macarons here, which were almost too pretty to eat.

I enjoyed the pistachio-flavored one better than the passion-fruit mango, not only because it was more traditional, but because it was less overwhelmingly sweet.

La Boulange also has a selection of soups, salads and sandwiches, but I prefer their breads. Their canelés are also delicious, but I love canelés in general so perhaps I’m biased.

Everyone says the best macarons are in France, but I forgot to try them in Paris. And until I have another chance, La Boulange’s will keep me satisfied.

A16 is San Francisco’s darling of an Italian restaurant. It is doted upon by magazines, bloggers and eaters eager to dine at the city’s hippest establishments. The restaurant’s meatballs night on Mondays is its most popular draw, but it was a Friday evening when a friend and I arrived for dinner to celebrate my birthday. (Uh, last January. Since I’m catching up on reviews and all.)

We started with the mozzarella burrata with olive oil, sea salt and crostini.

I don’t know if this was intentional, but the crostini were a bit too crisp, or dare I say, burned. The mozzarella burrata was good, though it wasn’t out of this world. Still, it was a satisfying compliment to our bottle of G&K Grillo Sicilia.

For my entree I chose the casareccia with baccala, tomato, green olives, garlic, chiles, basil and breadcrumbs.

It was all right, but I couldn’t help but feel dissapointed. I expected something more exciting, something more flavorful. Maybe it’s me, I kept thinking. I mean, isn’t A16 where all the cool kids eat?

I hate to compare restaurants, but I couldn’t help but think of the Italian restaurant that I had eaten at a month earlier. I won’t name names, but I’ll just say that I love offal. And Chris Cosentino.

I’m more than willing to give A16 another chance. Maybe they were having an off night. After all, an entire city can’t be wrong. Right?