A Night At Chez Durwood

Just in time for the rainy season, Peter and I just finished renovating our backyard into what is essentially two outdoor rooms that more than doubles the living space of our little bedroom suite. You now open the door to the once pathetic mess of cracked concrete and under the upstairs deck there is now a stylish barrier of corrugated galvanized metal. The sleek curving metal transforms the space into a cool post-industrial loft space in SoHo. In one corner, my grill, soon to be retired for the winter. In the other corner, our new dishwashing system that we hope will relieve Peter from the burden of doing the dishes in the shower stall. Stepping out towards the new brand new deck, please take a moment to admire the brick work that I did myself to cover up a former patch of dust and dirt. The deck, freshly stained reconstructed back fence, strategically positioned lighting and simple table and chairs create a bistro like effect. In my tradition of writing fake reviews of things that I make up myself, here's a review of Chez Durwood, my favorite new bistro:

The Frolicking Foodie
Last Tuesday I had the most remarkable experience at one of San Francisco's new underground restaurants, Chez Durwood. These small-scale eateries evoke the black market, family-run restaurants of Havana or Budapest before the fall of the wall but this one is in Bernal Heights and is run by a delightful gay couple. You find Chez Durwood by word of mouth, a neighbor or Facebook friend who likes you enough to share their secret. I'm breaking protocol here, but I promised I would not divulge its location, a nondescript, tiny backyard behind a two flat Edwardian building that you enter from a brick path in what the City calls "unimproved space." Once inside, the host greets you and seats you at one of the four tables on a warmly stained redwood deck surrounded by heat lamps. What proceeds from that moment is basic, simple, and well worth the $100 per person ticket. Fussy eaters beware: There are no choices at Chez Durwood. After you walk in the door your only decision is whether to ask for seconds. We started with a glass of Kir Royale and a simple amouse bouche of sliced baguettes spread with tapenade. As a fan of things salty and bitter, I expected to enjoy my little taste but was more than pleastantly surprised to find that the tapenade had a subtle hint of preserved lemon in it. From this point, I knew the evening would not be just any old backyard barbecue. The next course was a simple roasted tomato soup partnered with a Hawley Viognier. Turns out the chef is also an organic farmer in Sonoma county and the tomatoes came from his harvest of heirlooms, slow roasted. After slurping up the soup, I was treated to a piece of local cod set on a bed of wilted arugula and fresh mint and a drizzle of meyer lemon jus. I still had some Viognier in my glass, but that did not discourage them from bringing a glass of Husch Renegade Sauvignon Blanc. The fish was great but the wine selection broke me of my resistance to Sauvignon Blanc. Fermented with wild yeast and aged in oak, Renegade has none of that cat pissy, eucalyptus and grape fruit tone that I find challenging. Renegade tasted like a Chardonnay with cajones and was the perfect partner to the fish. The next course was at first a bit jarring, but I rolled with the punches and thoroughly enjoyed wild boar chili over a goat cheese infused polenta. The wine pairing was a Meeker Barberian, a blend of Barbera and Zinfandel that is the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup (it was created by accident) of Big Red Wines that go well with game. Before dessert came, I had to take a deep breath and chat with my hosts. Turns out that Chez Durwood has a secret. Everything I ate was not cooked in a kitchen. It was cooked primarily in a bathroom (and a gas grill). A special bathroom equipped with a toaster oven, microwave and electric hot plate, but there was no Wolf range. I did not know whether to be impressed or disturbed. The dessert, paired with an Eric Ross Old Vine Zinfandel Port was a simple collection of roasted figs and pears grilled with bubbling hot topping mascarpone. To be honest, my evening at Chez Durwood did not make me want to give up on more elegant dining experiences. It's not Chez Panisse or Michael Minna. It's more like one of the best dinner you've ever had a friend serve you in his backyard. Isn't that worth $100?