Okay, so Rohnert Park isn’t exactly the first place I think of when I’m craving a top-quality Japanese meal. Don’t judge a book by it’s cover, though, as an unassuming shopping center in this sleepy Sonoma County town is home to some of the freshest sushi and crispiest tempura north of the Golden Gate.
I grew up in Sonoma County, and the occasional visit to Hana is a treat. They offer so much more than sushi — not that you’d be able to deviate from their impressive nigiri and maki menu. During my last visit, I enjoyed their lunch bento: tuna sashimi, goma-ae (spinach with sesame sauce), tempura, a maki roll, pickles, rice, and a solid yet humble miso soup. The quality is outstanding and left me full but wanting more.
In an area with few and far between solid Japanese restaurants, Hana is a welcome sight. Maybe it’s a good thing Hana isn’t located in San Francisco or the East Bay — I’d probably be there every week.
Folks have been tipping me over to Kirala for years now. The trouble is, I didn’t get around to visiting this Berkeley mainstay of Japanese cuisine until last winter. I’ve been making up for it ever since.
Kirala is hands down the best Japanese restaurant that I’ve been to in the East Bay, and their sushi is exceptional. The first time I went, I ordered a plate of gyoza to share with my dining companion. These dumplings were delicate, slightly crispy, and piping full of oniony meat.
We also had a plate of unagi and avocado roll along with a spicy tuna roll. I’m usually not a fan of spicy tuna, but this was good, though the unagi and avocado were even better. Savory, salty, creamy, crispy…oh man. These maki hit all the right notes.
The real standout of our meal, though, was the sashimi. Our plate included tuna, bonito, salmon, albacore, and yellowtail. It’s among the freshest sashimi I’ve ever tasted, and gorgeously presented at that. So delicious, so simple!
I’ve visited Kirala several times since this first visit and the food and service have been solid. Quality comes at a price, though, so be prepared to wait. Even on a weeknight, expect to see a line of hungry visitors waiting for a seat. Kirala is worth the wait.
Do you like Skrillex with your sushi? No? How about A Tribe Called Quest? Either way, I hope you like your nigiri with a heavy dose of bass, because Ryoko’s in San Francisco’s Union Square is part industrial strength speakers, part sushi restaurant.
Okay, I’m exaggerating. Still, the first time I visited Ryoko’s for dinner, I was not prepared for the house dj spinning his tunes at full blast, and right in the center of the crowded restaurant at that. This is good in my case if it’s Tribe, but not so much if it’s Skrillex.
Let’s talk about the food, though. On this visit, my dining companions and I started with a plate of agedashi tofu: slightly crispy on the outside, and oh-so-soft and molten on the inside. A healthy dusting of bonito flakes held us over while we waited for our sushi.
Our plate of toro nigiri was tasty and fresh and the slabs of tuna felt more like butter than meat. Our maki sushi was a treat, too, and while the yellowtail was on the bland side, the futomaki were just right.
Dining at Ryoko’s can be hit or miss depending on what the dj is playing and what iterations of sushi you order. And oh, be prepared for a wait. Very prepared. Ryoko’s may be a bit of a dining gamble, but it’s a popular one at that.
Our time in Montreal was already half over, so we spent our third morning making a difficult decision: Fairmount (bagels) or Schwartz’s (smoked meat sandwiches)? Our practical side won over our gluttonous side, so we headed over to the Plateau-Mount-Royal neighborhood in search of these famed bagels, among Montreal’s best.
I hate to say it, but I’m not sure what the fuss is all about. Did we order incorrectly? Did we go on an off day? Our bagels tasted fine, but they were cold and I wasn’t sure what made them famous. Still, I’d happily go back and order again, this time getting them warm.
Bellies full of cold bagel, we headed to Marche Jean-Talon, the farmers market I’d been so excited to visit. This market is huge, and includes over 300 vendors during the summer months. But even during the cold Canadian winter Marche Jean-Talon was bustling full of stalls selling everything from honey to mushrooms to sausages to pastries.
I stopped at Epices de Cru, a beautiful spice market full of hard-to-find spices and picked up a few packets of Iranian saffron for a fraction of what they’d cost in the States. Over at The de Cru, a tea shop owned by the sister of the guy who runs Epices de Cru, I bought a few tins of tea. The owner let us try a few samples and heralded stories of her favorite blend, a silk road chai inspired by her time spent in western China.
Meat is big in Quebec, and this market was no exception. For lunch, we feasted on a Romanian sausage sandwich, heaped with sauerkraut and grainy mustard. Delicious.
We spent the rest of the evening exploring downtown Montreal and I happily discovered The Bay. Who knew Canadian shopping was so good?
For dinner, we headed to the infamous Au Pied de Cochon, a bastion of excess, offal, maple syrup and beloved by none other than Anthony Bourdain. Dinner there was exactly what I expected it to be: loud, inebriated, and full of heart. The chefs in the open kitchen were probably drunk, the diners most likely on their third or fourth drink, and our waiter — well, he was red in the face and stumbling with such grace that I was amazed he hadn’t yet dropped anything. “What do you recommend on the menu?” I asked him. “Menu? Eez good. Eez all good oui?”
Oui indeed. We started with the tarragon bison tongue. So tender and succulent, and surprisingly not gamey at all. A rich herb-inflected sauce left me wanting more.
We also shared a dish of poutine temaki, which was well, amazeballs. Poutine plus crab sushi. Genius. Need I say more?
Nishan had the eel-wrapped foie gras and if that isn’t excess, I don’t know what is. I’m not the biggest fois gras fan, but the eel was crispy and the gravy-soaked onions served alongside the meat were drool-inducing.
Surprisingly, my least favorite dish of the evening was my entree. I ordered a dish mysteriously named PDC’s melting pot and well, let’s say Mr. Drunk Waiter didn’t explain the dish so well. “Eez good!” Let’s see. I had a classic sausage, a blood sausage, a pork belly, more pork, all sitting atop a bed of cheese and mashed potatoes. The sausage and potatoes were fine but I steered clear of the pork and oh man, they should really just rename this dish PDC’s clogged arteries. Despite the entree, Au Pied de Cochon was my favorite meal in Montreal (along with the poutine, of course).
We woke up the next morning in a meat-induced stupor and went easy on lunch, opting for a salad before spending the day leisurely exploring the Latin Quarter. By evening, we made our way back to Old Montreal and had dinner at Da Emma, a former women’s prison turned Italian restaurant.
We started with what we thought would be a light appetizer of burrata, basil, and prosciutto with tomatoes. I kept forgetting that Quebecers don’t play when it comes to meat and cheese. Our serving was huge and I was full before our appetizer was finished. Which was a shame, since my veal ravioli entree was delicious. Four pieces in though and I was done for the evening.
We woke up early the next morning and headed to the airport for our flights home. Montreal had fed us well and had earned a spot as one of my new favorite cities. I can’t wait to return. After all, there’s more poutine to be had.
We woke up early on our second day in Montreal and headed straight to Olive & Gourmando. (Why leave a good thing?)
I went for a pot of Earl Grey tea and panini pomme, which had apples, ham, and smoked cheddar. I rarely go for the fruit and meat combination, but this was pretty good. A little bit salty, a little bit savory, and a little bit sweet, this panini hit all the right notes.
After we were all fueled up, we took the metro to Parc Jean-Drapeau, an island in Montreal on the Saint Lawrence River. We were there to see the Biosphere, the site of the 1967 World Fair, now repurposed into the Biosphere Environment Museum. With its interactive exhibits and naturistic surroundings, it reminded me a little of San Francisco’s Exploratorium. The geodesic dome was the highlight, and we spent sunset on the biosphere’s domes taking in a cityscape of Montreal.
Now comes the good part. Word on the street (and by street, I mean Internet) was that Restaurant Ma-Am-M Bolduc serves up Montreal’s best poutine. And if the best poutine in the world is in Montreal, well then, that must mean Ma-Am-M Bolduc serves the world’s best poutine. Right?
This was my first poutine, so I didn’t have much to compare to, but I feel pretty confident that Ma-Am-M Bolduc’s poutine is among the best. I ordered a classic poutine (who knew there are so many variants?) and Nishan, who is an Official Canadian, concurred that this was indeed the best poutine he’d ever tasted.
Mission accomplished. Only two days into my trip and we’d already found the best poutine.
