Restaurant Week

Although the current economic recession is certainly playing a role, Jane and I have been steering clear of restaurants since last summer largely due to our CSA membership and the weekly harvests we're now forced to shape our meals around. I've been living in the San Diego area for going on four years now, and one thing I've been struck by is how the area's food culture, and especially dining culture, is trapped in a lethal combination of being forced to cater to tourists (often quite non-adventurous tourists) while jacking prices sky high to counter any image of playing second-fiddle to either Los Angeles or Las Vegas. Not surprisingly, the quality of the food rarely justifies the prices. Flavors are often downplayed, spices run mild, vegetables get overcooked, and there's often far too much fussiness with too little whoomph. Perhaps the nadir of last year's food experiences came in the guise of a self-proclaimed "deconstructed insalata caprese," a riff on the traditional Italian assemblage of diced tomatoes, fresh basil leaves, mozzarella and vinaigrette. Reduced to several cherry tomatoes sliced in half with a few kernels of spongy cheese and an oil/vinegar blend, the concoction was presented inside a stemless wine glass, with a lone chive stalk drooping over the side. I found the dish gimmicky and unconvincing, and got pissed off at how difficult it proved to spear the tomatoes with my fork. No doubt it made some easily-impressed foodies squeal with delight - I'm not easily impressed, and I recognize an empty gesture when I see one.

(takes a deep breath)

However, San Diego is (or was) on the way to a successful reinvention as a serious food and dining city, which makes sense for an urban area that has continued to swell in size and attract outsiders from around the country. And one way to sample the many fine restaurants San Diego has, without spending the obscene amounts of cash ordinarily required, is to take advantage of the ongoing Restaurant Week, in which restaurants around the city offer fixed price set meals for reasonable prices - $20, $30 or $40.

Other cities are currently hosting Restaurant Week, of course (all have their own website, easily Googled, with lists of participating restaurants). New York's is perhaps the trendsetter in this regard, and it was New York's heavily advertised Restaurant Week shortly after the World Trade Center attacks that drew added scrutiny to the concept. Back then, it was pointed to as a device to get people out on the streets and into restaurants again, bringing back business to a damaged downtown. These days, it's the destroyed economy that's worrying restaurateurs across the entire country, and Restaurant Week 2009 is a good opportunity to throw some much-needed business at the struggling dining industry.

We've taken part in Restaurant Week several times since moving to San Diego, and the results have been mixed. With menus set at $30 per person, it's easier to try a new place or take a chance than if one feared dropping $100 or much more, and we have discovered restaurants we otherwise might never have tried. Some places clearly lack enthusiasm for the venture, trotting out tired or even low-quality fare for what they apparently assume will be an invasion by clumsy hayseeds - our experience at the preeningly condescending 1500 Ocean inside the famed Coronado Del Hotel was little short of a disaster. But other high-end restaurants go out of their way to showcase a varied and top-quality menu for customers they realize might not ordinarily make the trip - Bertrand at Mr. A's is about as fancy, upper tiered and well-regarded as any restaurant in San Diego, and yet Bertrand Hug showcases his regular menu and has given numerous interviews for the press in loud praise of Restaurant Week. Our late-night dinner at Mr. A's a year ago was a dining highlight for us, and we might never have tried it were it not for the special.

So, here we are, midway into San Diego Restaurant Week 2009. We visited the Kensington neighborhood's Blue Boheme on Sunday night, an authentic French bistro with a wonderful atmosphere, and a place I've often looked longingly at while standing in line to buy tickets at the nearby Ken Cinema. Truth be told, their regular menu looked more enticing than their special menu, but that may only be due to my weakness for moules, especially when offered up in seven different means of preparations with a healthy (or unhealthy) side of frites. Tonight we head up to La Jolla with a friend for a meal at Nine-Ten, a place with a fabled reputation we've haven't yet braved. This Friday, we stick closer to home with Shelter Island's Bali Hai, of which I know very little, other than the atmosphere screams pure Martin Denny.

It's worth supporting this venture, not only to enjoy great food without the sticker shock, but to help toss a lifeline to an industry that needs some help. Sure beats corporate welfare by a country mile.