Cindy's Backstreet Kitchen - St. Helena, CA - 5/2008

It seems that the lunch crowd at Yelp is disappointed by Cindy's in recent reviews; we however went for dinner and weren't disappointed whatsoever. It should be noted, though, that some wine tasting and the fact that we were staying down the street meant that we were feeling... festive... and the 1/2 bottle of Conundrum did help us maintain that nice Napa Valley warm fuzzy feeling.

Cindy's got immediate bonus points for a nice patio where we sat under a fig tree. Also bonus points for two busboys that were so attentive that we ended up tipping them as well. But I'm skipping ahead.

The bread here is warm, fresh and awesome. I love good bread and it's a detail that really shouldn't be overlooked by any higher-end restaurant serious about impressing its diners.

We started with the rabbit tostada. This was absolutely delicious and lacked any lettuce - all cabbage means no sogginess from the black bean chili layer. It also means that you don't get the full irony of eating a rabbit *and his evening meal, so perhaps this is a way to subconsciously remove the diner from thoughts of eating the Easter Bunny. (No carrots in this salad either.)

In any case, mmm. Black beans in mole-type sauce = yum. And the tostada piece itself held up to the beans and dressing. Yay.

We then moved into eating game birds - my Partner in Chow (PIC) had quail and I went for the oven-roasted duck.

We were told that Giada deLaurentiis had the duck when she dined at Cindy's. This brought up the unwelcome image of Giada (and her boobs), both of which annoy the holy bajeez out of me - and I've tried so hard to like her being Italian myself and all, but watching her whine her way through the "Iron Chef" battle and then roll her eyes after Rachel Ray and Mario Batali whomped on her and Bobby Flay was the last straw. And I don't care if you speak Italian, your over-enunciation of every goddamned Italian food word is irritating and unnecessary and hearkens back to that old SNL skit with Jimmy Smits and Kevin Nealon... "You mean a tornado?..." Work with me here, Giada. Just tone it down and make it about the food, not about you. Sheesh!

Oh dear, I've been distracted. ARGH Giada.

In any case: I had the duck despite knowing that Giada had reviewed it, and that her review would invariably annoy me and lead me to wish I'd ordered something else. The duck was oven-roasted, not greasy at all, and delicious. There were two big leg pieces and some sort of mashed potato cake that was sinful and probably full of cream and butter. Yum.

The quail, though, was the standout. PIC did a little puppet show with her quail (ah, Conundrum) and had the little body dancing around the potatoes when we realized that the busboy was laughing at us - but in a nice "that girl may be crazy, but she's entertaining" kind of way. PIC enjoys eating things that were once cute (lamb, duck) and quail definitely fits. (Note: she doesn't eat them because they're cute, mind you. It's a coincidence that leads to a guilty conscience and not much meat eating.)

In any case: the quail was fantastic. Not super filling - quail are wee - but there were 2 of them and that's twice as many as you'll get on a plate at A Cote. The potatoes that came with the quail were kinda boring and a couple were undercooked, but the quail itself was great and I was sharing my potato cake.

If you're really hungry, get the duck. Or something else. But if you haven't had quail and you're not starving, go for it.

At this point we were stuffed and could eat no more, though the waitress brought me guava sorbet because it was my birthday.

Would we eat there again? Sure. There's only so many times one can eat at Market or the Rutherford Grill, after all.

Eating up... everywhere

The Eating up Telegraph project is what started it all.

Well, maybe that's not entirely the case. What probably started it all is Little Joe's, which my great-great grandfather started back in 1908.

The restaurant was an L.A. institution until my Dad (and Uncle Bob a'course) decided to shut down in the late 90's - as Uncle Bob put it, "We've had a good run - no need to ride it until the wheels fall off."

The downside of the restaurant shutting down: I was unable to become a twentysomething restaurateur, which had been the eventual plan. (Assuming they'd retire and leave it to me/my cousins to run - all those long hours of wearing a ridiculous VonTrapp Family Waitstaff uniform complete with nylons - eek! - had been due penance, after all.) The upside: I moved to Northern California and landed in the Internet industry. And that's been a fun ride. And I got a "Little Joe's" tattoo, so hey - there's always something there to remind me... (warning: earworm alert.)

And yes, the part about the tattoo is true. No, I won't show you a picture - I dropped my pants at a family reunion to prove that I had this tat enough that I started to feel like I was at a [insert state/region with vaguely believable incest claims here] wedding. But I digress...

Growing up in a restaurant family replete with noisy Italians meant an appreciation for food (and the lively conversation/celebration that surrounds it) from an early age. It also meant that I was able to be an adventurous diner from day 1 - which made one of us, since my sister ate spaghetti and steak and chicken and that was about it.

I was always willing to try new, unpronounceable things (saying "calamari" is hard when you're wee) - if just once. The glaring exception here is the Durian fruit, which once made its way home with me and had to be summarily tossed once we split it open and it smelled like a just-found mob hit after a week in sweltering summer sun.

Which is to say it stunk. But I digress. Again.

Anyway, I like to eat. And living in San Francisco and then Oakland have afforded me no lack of awesome restaurants. So one day, after realizing the tendency to hit the same establishments over and over again, an idea was born: eat from one end of Telegraph Avenue to the other in the spirit of discovering, through food, a reflection of the various neighborhoods that this Avenue bisects. Food doesn't have to be fancy to give you a great dining experience. It's all about what you're looking to experience. And eat.

And so I convinced my Partner-in-Chow to do that project with me. But in the meantime there's so many other restaurants and other food adventures that hit the radar, and it seemed silly to shelve writing about those just because these adventures weren't occurring on any of the many eating thoroughfares we'd decided to hit at some point.

So we figured we'd start a main foodie blog to talk about any food topic that doesn't fit within the "Eating Up [insert street here]" projects.

And that is this blog.

If I can ever figure out how to permanently put links to the other blogs in the right-hand nav, I will. Otherwise, the naming convention is: eatingup[street].blogspot.com

If you need to reach us, that's easy. Take the spaces out of eat up eat well at g mail dot com - we'll get back to you. Maybe. If you're not screeching at us for something.