Golden Bubbly Showers

Editors’ Note: Our newly relocated friend Westcoast, has, as you can guess, finally moved to the West Coast. San Fransisco to be exact.  In his first month out there he’s already been tasked with an Endless Simmer assignment. Grueling. Miserable. Terrible. Assignment. Party for Pride. Here’s his story, turned into a drinking game.

Disclaimer: If you are looking for a drinking game (since drinking has become muy popular on ES this summer) you’re in for a Pride 2010 treat!  Drink each time you find a gay-themed word (some are sexual, some not and some are disguised as other words, but spelled the same as their naughty cousins).

Second Disclaimer: I am writing this from my new home in San Francisco and you might find some of the content offensive. That sucks for you.  [Drink.]

Ok.  So San Francisco Pride is kind of a big deal.  For a gay, err, queer (have to use the new left coast lingo) young man like myself, coming to San Francisco Pride is like being welcomed home to the mothership.  Two years ago Lady Gaga headlined the festival before we even knew what a poker face was or meant.  This year the Backstreet Boys are the headlining act.  Next year maybe we’ll have Paula Abdul and MC Skat Kat (obligatory use of scat complete).  Because sometimes moving forward in time is like moving backward in time, to a time you don’t really miss that much (two steps forward…two steps backstreet boys).

Supperclub San Francisco once again invited ES to experience one of its amazing events.  If you have never been to a Supperclub (Los Angeles opens soon), I strongly encourage you to consider.  It is truly an experience you won’t regret.  All of your senses are dazzled at Supperclub…there’s amazing food and drink, a DJ spinning funky thump lounge, a VJ opening up your brain to dramatic, yet artistic visuals and live performance art throughout the night, all culminating in a huge dance party.  Oh, and we had a spectacular hostess extraordinaire, Miss Vee, who poured sparkling wine all over herself during a dance number.

This event was billed as an official San Francisco Pride Event and birthday bash for all Geminis.  It just so happens that my best friend, who just turned 30 himself, is a Gemini and likes to paint live performers with paint brushes in front of an audience (we all have our fetishes).  His arm also makes a nice prop for pictures.  Though we weren’t ever completely sure that we were at a pride event, we certainly had a blast.  On tap for the night was a surprise four-course dinner created by Executive Chef Daan Jetten and event-specific, yummy drinks.  Here’s where the review begins and the blow-by-blow of the food, since we all like to eat out.

Upon entering and checking in for our table (read: bed, also reference: Mariah Carey’s friend’s post for more on the bed situation), we were asked to enter the lounge for a drink before heading into the restaurant-cum-bedroom-cum-performance space.  The low-lit bar area is adorned in red leather wallpaper with quite a few disco balls closely hung together from the ceiling.

It’s like you walked in to Gloria Gaynor’s dungeon to be spanked.

While waiting for drinks, I noticed mini-muffin tins scattered around the bar with small plastic cups of something in them.  After my friend assured me it was ok to try it, we found lovely white truffle oil, lime and micro cilantro popcorn to nosh on.

After our drinks we were escorted to our bed in the big room, we were asked about food allergies or restrictions, and in full disclosure, we both ordered the vegetarian plus fish setup.   Soon after, we started with our first course, Jetten’s corn chowder with micro cilantro and crème fraiche.  For those of you genetically predisposed to hate cilantro as much as Julia Child did, micro cilantro is a very cute and much milder tasting version of its daddy cilantro.  You may still think it tastes like soap, but I think it was well used (and how have I missed it all this time?)

Our second course was a salad of panko-encrusted goat cheese, caramelized onions, dandelion greens, orange slices and local honey.  The piece of goat cheese was huge, which wasn’t a problem for either of the two of us, because we both like big things in our mouth.  The greens were super bitter and thus the goat cheese and honey provided an excellent counter with the orange offering a little burst of sunshine.  This dish scores for presentation and careful balance.

Our last savory course was a California white bass with a farro and currant salad atop a tomato and anchovy coulis.  This dish sounded great.  It looked spectacular.  Annnnd…the fish was overcooked.  In this moment, any sort of usual disappointment was assuaged by the fact that…

…there was a drag queen stripping to nearly nothing and pouring sparkling wine all over herself.

If you took the time to pan away from the performers and check out what was else going on with the rest of the restaurant space, it was quickly noted that the kitchen and servers were calmly and efficiently commanding quite an assembly line operation.  In fact, things were happening so seamlessly that they all faded into the background (I am sure intentionally.)  So, perhaps something sat too long under a warmer or stayed a little too long in the oven.  At any rate, this dish didn’t raise eyebrows for the right reasons.

For dessert, there was a shocker.  Not that type of shocker, you sicko, I am a gay man, we don’t know about those things unless it’s a private, girls-only conversation between friends.  A bread pudding shocker.

Ok, I know you are thinking, how is bread pudding a shocker…everyone does it.  *I. HATE. BREAD. PUDDING.*  I repeat, it’s disgusting.  I have tried over and over again to like it.  It always sounds amazing, the thought of banana bread or croissants turned into a goopy, warm dessert.  I have ordered it time and time again to ultimately be very disappointed by my poor judgment. And I love pastries and make some pretty damn good ones, just ask Gansie (though for some reason in her bio section she forgot “westcoast’s desserts” in the listing of her favorite foods…hmmm).

This bread pudding was served in a glass ashtray with a warm Kahlúa crème anglaise.  So there I am, having had such a wonderful experience thus far, with what I suspect is about to be the ultimate disappointment in front of me.  Fuck.  I have to write a review about this, I think.  But I was shocked.  It was truly fantastic.  The bread pudding tasted heavenly.  It was full of buttery rich flavor and the crème anglaise matched that perfectly.  I have no idea what bread they used to make the bread pudding, but props to Jetten for making me eat my words (and his bread pudding out of an ashtray.)

To put this post to bed, Supperclub never disappoints.