Gastronomique: Dan Leone, Part II
We continue and conclude our interview with Dan Leone, San Francisco icon and food writer extraordinaire at the Guardian. If you haven't read it yet, Part I is here. Part II is where we ask our fav food reviewer about food. And the butter song. Since Last Tango we have been oddly fascinated with butter, so you know we had to ask. And we were not disappointed, oh no. Butter my brother, mmmm...
Any changes to the Top 5 places from the list you gave for the 10th anniversary last year?
Dan Leone: Um, I’ve since discovered a soul food place called Your Neighborhood Restaurant or Your Community Restaurant, or something. It’s on 3rd Street at Shafter, and their fried-to-order chickens and fishes rival the late great Gravy’s. Way better than Powell’s.
More after the jump. Cover of the Guardian courtesy of the Guardian. All rights to the lyrics of the Butter song: Dan Leone
And another one I haven’t written about yet – so I know it’s in no danger of going under . . . Have you ever been to the Alley, in Oakland, somewhere near the Grand Lake theater? I can’t believe I never knew about this place! See, this is why I can’t take myself seriously as an actual authority on Bay Area eats. How did I not know about the Alley for over ten years? It used to be a speakeasy in the 20s, and now it’s a piano bar that serves two things: steaks, and fried chicken. And burgers. Three things. Nothing special, foodwise, but placewise, it’s the funkiest, most atmospheric restaurant/bar going. It’s a legend. Everyone knows -- and now me too.
I don’t remember what my top five were a year ago, but I’m sure at least two of them are belly-up. If not, I’ll bump any two for these two: Your Whatever, and the Alley.
What ever happened to Chava's?
Dan: Burned down, didn’t it? I still see it there, the shell of it, and my heart bleeds. But that’s the mark of a top-tier greasy spoon, in my book. It burns down. The Pit, my favorite barbecue place in Ohio (and the world) burned down and they had to send kids home from school and people home from work. Nobody could get anything done because it smelled so good.
Chavas reopened on Mission between 24th and 25th. They still have the best and biggest huevos rancheros I know of, but the atmosphere doesn’t come close to the old place, so I never go.
We are French. We feel a little ostracized by your column, which ignores French restaurants. Are French people terrorists? Are you a freedom-loving Republican? It sure seems so.
Dan: I wish French people were terrorists. My problem with the French is much more insurmountable than that. They’re vegetarians. Or at least vegetarian sympathizers. All I know is I have a brother, a sister, and a brother-in-law who are French, and not a one of them eats meat. What’s up with that? I went to France once with Jean-Gene the Frenchman; we ate home-cooked meals the whole time. We were in the South of France, I think, in the countryside and in some mountains. It was spectacular. Everyone there knew and loved Jean-Gene. In deference to him they made these elaborately beautiful no-meat meals. By the time we got into Italy, I was completely crazy. My brother knew everyone there too, and they all loved him, but they filled the table with meat meat meat and let him munch on greens and bread, while I regained my composure. My sister lives in France now, with her French husband. They’re ridiculously poor. If I ever figure out how to visit them, I’m going to take them out to eat and they’re going to munch greens and bread and watch me work.
Here is a chance to redeem your French creds: best French place, best cheap French place, best crepes place?
Dan: I don’t know of a cheap French place. You redeem my French creds. Tell me where to go. For crepes I like the Crepevine. It’s cheaper than Ti Couz. (I think. I haven’t been to Ti Couz in forever.)
Cheap Eats places in Paris are oftentimes North African restaurant serving couscous (the dish, not the grain). We typically answer Bissap Baobab when asked about the best cheap French place. Where is your favorite couscous?
Dan: I love Baobab. This is one of those places I messed up on, Cheap Eatswise. I went on opening night because I lived in the neighborhood back then and saw they were having free food. A party! So I went, ate out of a big bin, and wrote about it – luke warmly. Since then I’ve been back several times and the food is way, way, way better than I ever let on, in print.
Egg is good, butter is good. Ergo hollandaise is good. But doesn't it taste like mayo?
Dan: Your math is bad. Egg + butter (or egg + olive oil) = an evil chemical reaction that my worst nightmares are made of. It’s a case of two rights making a wrong.
Point taken. Ok, the butter poem, can we hear it?
Dan: It’s a song and there are two of them. One’s all philosophical and profoundly sad and beautiful and shit, so I’ll give you the other one, which is just plain goofy:
BUTTER MY BROTHER MY BUDDY MY FRIEND
BUTTER MY LOVER UNTIL THE BITTER END
BUTTER BUTTER BUTTER, TILL DEATH DO WE PART
BUTTER IS BETTER THAN LOVE FOR THE HEART
Butter is better than bleu cheese dressing
Butter is better than glue
Butter is better than any medicine
Butter is better than you
Butter is better than peanut butter
Or Prozac or Thera-Flu
Butter works better than WD-40
Butter is better than you
BUTTER MY BROTHER…
Butter is better than margarine
Better than Margaret too
Butter is better than KY-Jelly
Butter is better than you
Butter is better than happiness or health
Butter beats making whoopee
Butter is better than existence itself
Ergo: butter’s even better than me
BUTTER MY BROTHER…
Let’s see, we’ve got butter on bread
And butter on toast
But I like butter-fried chicken,
I think, the most
Butter on a burger
On a plate, in a glass
I’d even butter up a wiener
And stick it up my –
BUTTER MY BROTHER and so on, over, and out.