I can’t believe that the night has come. In six and a half hours, Laiola will close its doors after a 2 1/2 year tenure. That’s the bitter part. The sweet part comes with the opening of Tacolicious in a couple weeks.
Of course we all have to believe in fate. It helps us get through decades like this one. And I owe a lot to Laiola because it’s where I met Joe. I firmly believe that it is your right to unapologetically judge a man by his taste in food. (My former marriage had some major issues, but the red flag went up one night when I was presented with an all-steamed dinner.) With Joe, I knew before I’d even met him that he had good taste because he was the owner of Laiola and he’d hired Mark Denham as his chef.
Joe came up with the idea to invite Mark back to the Laiola kitchen for the last four nights of Laiola’s existence. I dined there yesterday evening with Joe and our friends. We ordered the entire menu, most of was made up of Mark’s Laiola signatures: the morcilla and chickpeas, the bold lamb meatballs wrapped in caul fat, the requeson cheese drizzled in olive oil, the lincoln log-shaped croquettas, tender slices of lamb with its own juice, a salad of thinly sliced Brussels sprouts with a nutty cheese. I couldn’t eat any more by the time the skate with fried lemon and greens arrived, but there was a lot of moaning in reaction (moaning in a good way).
There was not one dish that didn’t strike a perfect balance of soulful and simple. Everyone talks the California cuisine talk here in SF (“let the food speak for itself! let the ingredients shine!”), but few chefs can really pull it off. Mark has the gift of restraint as well as a true respect for the food he’s cooking. He’s like the perfect student of Chez Panisse.
And because food tends to trigger memories more vividly than anything, I looked at Joe and felt a little heart pang, recalling the night that Laiola brought us together. (In other words, do not deny the power of blood sausage.)
As for Mark, Joe and I wish him so much luck in his new venture as he looks for a space to open his own restaurant called Bishop. I promise you that it’ll be one of the best restaurants in SF the minute it opens. Or maybe simply the best.
As for the fate headed our way in 2010? An omen came last night when on our way to dine at Laiola, we dropped my friends’ beautiful baby off at her parents who are Korean. They’d just gotten back from Cabo, where Jina’s father was so taken by the tacos they’d had there that he’d spent time in the kitchen at one of the Cabo restaurants just watching in admiration. (The Korean/Spanish language barrier didn’t allow for much else.) He came back pumped, to use Kelly’s word.
When we arrived, the Park family was eating dinner. And what had Jina’s father made? Tacos.
I’m just sayin’: Things are looking up.
Happy New Year everyone.