When I was in college, my then-girlfriend moved to Germany -- an understandable choice given that she was German, but also a bummer, since Germany's a long way from Berkeley. I visited her twice before we realized that the long-distance thing wouldn't work. Her hometown, Braunschweig, wasn't the most exciting place I'd been, but I got to hang out with Germans and pick up a little of the language. I like Germans, but I don't always agree with the way they run their education system, in which a student's path is chosen by around the age of 10.
Anthony Pidgeon
Feelin' Bloo: This Lower Haight eatery's spare, artsy interior is reminiscent of the all-white Neo -- though it'd be even more fun to dine here if the food were consistently good.
Anthony Pidgeon
Feelin' Bloo: This Lower Haight eatery's spare, artsy interior is reminiscent of the all-white Neo -- though it'd be even more fun to dine here if the food were consistently good.
Details
Caesar salad $4.95
Bloo burger $7.95
New York steak $15.95
Black rice pudding $5
François Lamarche pinot noir $29/bottle
Buttermilk pancakes $5.95
252-5862
Open for dinner Tuesday through Saturday from 5 to 10 p.m., for brunch Saturday and Sunday from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m.
Reservations accepted for parties of six or more
Wheelchair accessible
Parking: difficult
Muni: 6, 7, 61, 71
Noise level: moderate
400 Haight (at Webster)
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Personally, I prefer the freewheeling American program. For example, I'm a high school dropout who went on to earn a master's degree in creative writing. Throw in a lot of reading and the fact that I've never been wrong about whether I like a dish, and I'm perfectly qualified to be a food critic. If I wanted to become a chef, I'd probably follow the example of Isa's Luke Sung, who left the food program at City College to log stints at Masa's, La Folie, and the Ritz, among other places. I gave Mr. Sung a glowing review about a year ago, and have been back to Isa perhaps six times since. His cooking remains simple, refined, and brilliantly executed, and makes me wonder how necessary a formal education is in an industry where you can learn by doing.
Haight Street's Bloo represents the opposite side of the coin. Two Class of 2000 graduates of the city's California Culinary Academy own the place. I've watched them working in the open kitchen and have talked to one of them on the phone. They seem like nice people, but no one gets a free ride on my watch, so I'll be blunt: From what I've seen, the operation is prone to the kind of mistakes that simply don't happen under the direction of more experienced chefs. The concept, "people food," lacks focus. The execution is poor, with too many repeated ingredients (mushrooms appeared on the menu a whopping five times), and some dishes feel downright amateurish.
Still, I do like the idea: an affordable, pseudo-upscale restaurant located in the thriving bohemian enclave of the Lower Haight. My friends and I scored rock star parking out front, so we got a brief taste of the local street life -- a skinny doorman smoking in front of the Top, a drunk woman screaming at the top of her lungs -- before stepping into Bloo. It's a boxy space reminiscent of the now-defunct Neo, with pale hardwood floors and gauzy white curtains that give it a spare, artsy feel. Unlike Neo, however, it's a fun place to dine. House music wafted from the sound system, the servers were friendly and enthusiastic, and a cup of crayons at the table allowed us to draw on the paper table mats between courses.
Other than the food quality -- which ranged from decent to abominable -- my main gripe with Bloo is that I'm not sure how to judge the place. The 14-bottle wine list ($18-32, mostly French vintages) includes the descriptives one finds so often these days, which makes me think the owners take wine service seriously. We selected the Francois Lamarche pinot noir, a smooth, dry sip that was a bit tannic at first but took on a nice fruitiness as it breathed. Instead of following the standard practice of allowing one of us to taste the wine, though, a waiter simply filled our glasses -- a minor faux pas, but also a bad sign. Then came a freebie, grapes rolled with goat cheese and chopped walnuts. They made a fine little snack, but eight savory dishes later, the grapes were the best things we'd tasted.
Among the appetizers, the "freckled" prawns -- shrimp dusted with black pepper, deep fried in wonton skins, and served with a sweet-sour dipping sauce -- were more reminiscent of cocktail party fare than something I'd pay money for in a restaurant. Thin, dry salmon cakes with a bland red sauce tasted fishy, making me think someone was cutting costs by recycling the scraps from a grilled salmon entree. A classic Caesar salad had a good, sharp anchovy bite. It's not the most daring item to put on a menu, but exploring new territory has its downside, as evidenced by an order of curry fries. Here we received a mountain of limp, thick-cut potatoes served with roast chicken, carrots, mushrooms, and a thin, Indian-style yellow sauce. The portion was absurdly large (appetizers should whet the appetite, not sate it), and the flavors never melded. The dish felt like an experiment that should have been abandoned after a few tries.
Entrees continued to disappoint. The best was a Bloo burger with feta, bacon, and more mushrooms, served with the same fries as the curry appetizer. (In other words, don't order both unless you really like mushrooms and fries.) The most expensive item on the menu -- a thin New York steak topped with mushrooms (yet again) -- came with a robust merlot sauce, green beans, and mashed potatoes so suffused with cream that it was hard to eat more than a few bites. Medallions of pork tenderloin were raw in the middle. "I keep telling them to cook it more," said our waitress as I sent it back. A few minutes later, I was eating medium-rare pork topped with a salty, one-dimensional miso sauce, accompanied by basmati rice and flaccid, overcooked baby bok choy. Bloo's vegetarian take on moussaka was a leaden, ill-conceived mélange of potatoes, eggplant, corn, wild rice, and béchamel. I took a few bites (it's my job); my companions proclaimed it inedible.
