by Greg Jakovina
Recently, friends from Sacramento who'd read my profile of chef Rosemary Campiformio called to ask if I'd recommend St. Orres for a second-honeymoon weekend. I could, would, and did. They then invited me and mine to join them. They didn't have to ask twice.
Due to relatively short notice, we ate early on Friday night (later seatings and Saturday nights are usually booked weeks in advance). After a glass of wine in the inn's firelit lobby, the restaurant's charming host escorted us to our table.
This was the first of the theatrical statements for which Campiformio is famous. From the wood-paneled lounge, down a short, dark hall, one turns into the split-level dining room with its soaring ceiling, cascading greenery (from a faux balcony), pink linens, glittering glass and flatware, and copper decorative accents.
Seating us, the host launched into a recitation of the evening's specials that left us enthused... and confused. Tastes and combinations sailed past like a flock of flutterbys in a stiff breeze-- one wants a closer look at several but there just isn't time. Leaving us with the wine list I'd describe as limited but satisfactory, she left the stage. Our waiter replaced her and proved to be as accomplished a performer in her role as it has been my pleasure to watch. Indeed, our friends declared her the best they'd ever been served by... not least because her presence was never felt when it wasn't needed and unfailingly there when it was. After reciting, con brio, the evening's soups, salads, and appetizers list, she then repeated the specials list. Her delivery was as good as the host's and came equipped with instant replay and fast-forward options. With menus in hand and choices "made," however, minds changed even as mouths moved to order.
The menu's a program for the North Coast Cuisine that Campiformio invented and is famous for... and, as they say, you can't tell the players without a program. Because the chef is committed to serving locally characteristic food in season, not all items are always available. Here are some from this visit:
From the appetizer list:
The escargot and the goat cheese & boar choices were simply very good. As with all the choic w made at St. Orres, they earned three stars. And, as with all our choices, they paled in the discovery of other, truly transcendental menu items. In the appetizer category, that last description included the Garlic Flan. I felt like a kid with his first chocolate sundae. Fortunately we'd ordered two of this floating phenomenon for our table-- we were able to divide them up evenly and eliminate the need for bloodshed. When the flan was finished, we threw manners to the wind and dipped bread into the demi-glacé sauce of reduced boar and lamb juices-- redolent with flavors of locally foraged mushrooms, with large slices of same in the sauce-- until our plates "shined like the top of the Chrysler Building."
The entrées came accompanied by Campiformio's character salad-- fresh, very flavorful greens accented by polenta stars, popcorn, pomegranate seeds and redhots. It works... very well. The redhots particularly since they offer a flash of intensely peppery flavor that reminds one more of daikon than of candy.
The entrées themselves show the chef's
understanding of the range of her clientele. Filet of Beef
and Rack of Lamb are menu standards which,
with a range of fresh fish specials, offer relatively conservative
options for conservative diners. Calling the options conservative,
however, does not infer that they're mediocre... but more on that
in a minute.
Venison, wild boar, rabbit, and pheasant have been staples on the St. Orres menu for as long it's been in business. Indeed, the restaurant should be given major credit for the resurgence of interest in game dishes in Northern California.The Wild Boar-- hind stuffed with dates and walnuts, served with a Campiformio chutney made from apples fromSt. Orres' orchards-- was appropriately firm/tender and delicious. It was clearly, blessedly not pork and came with a warning from our waiter that the consistency varies for that reason. The game flavors added richness without the over-ripe pungency occasionally found in other restaurants' offerings. It was very good, as was the Pheasant Breast with leeks, Andouille sausage, and pistachios under the skin, in a sauce of St. Orres' own truffle oil and wild mushrooms. We debated, the passed, on Raccoon Pie-- a "savory" stew including carrot, shiitakes, onions, fresh herbs, and pine nuts in an individual crust. It's served with the life-sized tracks of the animal on the plate and a finger bowl to wash in. Our water was sure we'd like it. We weren't. On the orther paw, the honeymooners at the next table certainly seemed to.
The entrée equivalent of the Garlic
Flan at our table was the Baby Steelhead with
dungeness crab, shiitake, spinach, and basil, wrapped in parchament
paper. This choice could could have been eclipsed by its presentation:
it arrived like a birthday present complete with ribbons decorating
the parchment wrap. What was enclosed was one of the lightest
and lovliest fish dishes I've ever enjoyed. It's a crowning jewel
for a kitchen that shows a consistently sure touch with seafood
and a consumate undersanding of how to make the best use of it.
Unfortunately, only one of us ordered it and getting him to share
more than a couple of bites was worth your life.
Desserts at St. Orres also show Campiformio's flair. Chocolate Decadence-- a chocolate fudge cake in a respberry purée with whipped cream-- is just outrageous. A mention of the great Narsai David's version when we were ordering brought a gently reproving arch of eyebrow from our waiter with the admonition that "I don't know where he got his recipe, but we created ours 17 years ago." Also high on the moan and munch scale were the Almond-Praline Cookie Basket filled with espresso ice cream and covered with house-made chocolate sauce, and Jack Daniels Pecan and Maple Syrup Ice Creams (in combo) floared in a warm caramel sauce. The simplest dessert on the list was, however, the most exciting: an order of Crême Caramel, very simply presented, was nothing short of excellent. It achieved the same transcendency of taste and texture that we marveled at it in the Garlic Flan and in the Baby Steelhead.
The prices at St. Orres reflect the tough
trip getting there- quite reasonable by San Francisco standards,
and quite fair for the North Coast (remember that ingredients
have to be trekked over those same spectacular but winding roads).
Wine list prices are quite reasonable.
Good dining experiences can be pleasant, delightful, exceptional,
or memorable. For our party, for reasons you now know, St. Orres
was the last. Knowing that luck had nothing to do with it, with
some confidence, I wish you the same.
