The true mark of graciousness and manners lie in the way one reacts to another’s faux pas.

I like to think of myself as a stickler for manners and timeliness but still managed to arrive twenty minutes late for our reservation. Not somehow, really. My friend KT and I had met earlier– but not earlier enough– for a drink at Amnesia to ring in the week after the New Year. We’d had a Duvel each and were chatting away and just lost track of time. I felt terrible arriving so late, but it allowed the staff to prove their graciousness. And prove it they did.

The Maitre’D at Universal Cafe was efficient and polite and squeezed us almost quickly into a quiet two-top at the back. We stood and waited for about ten minutes with a glass of wine each– I’d chosen the Fagan Creek Syrah ($9 glass, St. Helena), which turned out to be a bit heavy and tired. (After reading a couple of reviews, I have to wonder if the bottle hadn’t been open for a bit too long). KT had the Artezin Zinfandel ($8 glass, Mendocino), which stood up and got noticed for its fine, drinkable qualities. She only let me have a single sip.

I was eager to try several of the first courses, but KT and I both were sucked in by the promise of corn-crusted lightly fried oysters. The salad in the center, a combination of fennel, julienned and blanched red peppers, and watermelon slices stood in lovely counterpoint to the creamy sauce on the oysters. The oysters themselves were fresh and clean; the dusting of cornmeal around them provided just the crunch I craved. It brought to mind the thousands of fried oysters I’ve eaten from the Gulf of Mexico– the countless oyster po-boys I would treat myself to as a child. It reminded me of the simplicity of good food, yet these half dozen oysters were clean and crisp without any of the heaviness that I recall from Streetcar Sandwiches in New Orleans– gone these ten years or more. At the same time, these oysters, while reminiscent of an excellent fish-fry joint, surrounded a palate-cleansing salad which reminded that these were top-quality fresh oysters, lacking in any heaviness. The creamy garlicky sauce spooned on top of them had me worried for a minute– it looked so reminiscent of the triple application of mayonnaise one can find on an oyster po-boy, but it didn’t cloy at all.

This appetizer led us to expect good things from the kitchen. We would not be disappointed.

KT was presented with a sizeable filet of grilled steelhead which looked at first to be a tiny bit overdone; the first bite revealed the opposite. The grill was perhaps a bit on the hot side, which served to sear the outside, cook the fish all the way through, and lock in flavor. This succulent piece of fish sat on top of radicchio that’d been coated with balsamic vinegar and grilled along with the trout; underneath was a fine risotto that soaked up any flavor or bits of fish that might have strayed. I was also tempted by this dish, but decided to go with a captivating bowl of house-made herbed noodles with braised beef cheeks. There was almost too much food on each plate, but we somehow soldiered on: I moved on from the syrah to a nice inexpensive Bouchaine Pinot Noir ($9 glass/$32 bottle, Carneros).

Dessert brought us a discussion: Chocolate (always the front-runner) or the Panna Cotta with Grapefruit. Now, I love chocolate desserts, as does KT. I even often love just having a small square of dark chocolate with an espresso. It’s unfortunate that more places won’t do a simple chocolate and coffee dessert. We discussed our options and decided, ultimately, to go with the Panna Cotta with Grapefruit ($8.50). It arrived, the grapefruit sections had been sliced out of their tough skin, and the fruit was juicy and sweet, with just enough pungency to take the edge off of the rich cream in the Panna Cotta. Which was flawless. We toyed with it, each taking tiny bites as we drank our top-notch espresso and continued our excellent conversation until we realized that we just weren’t going to eat any more.

Our waiter was charming: He didn’t hover; he was there when we wanted him; and disappeared when we didn’t; he offered advice when we asked, and showed a good knowledge of his menu and our wine choices; he was pleasant to be around, but didn’t intrude on our dinner. Our water glasses never ran dry; I never felt as though they were being monitored. We were never rushed; the meal was pleasant, leisurely, and conducive to conversation. We ate and drank and continued and never once felt pressured to turn the table, although on Saturday night they probably could have seated us. We ended up talking until almost eleven, and there was never any signal that it was time to go, please. Not a chair was put up. I commend the staff on leaving me with a wonderful dining experience. The food was fresh and well-prepared, delivered in a timely fashion; We were welcomed warmly and courteously; the cafe was clean, neat, and the service was superb. What more can one ask for in a meal?

Not a whole lot. The Universal Cafe scores on all points. I’ll certainly be back.

Universal Cafe
2814 Nineteenth Street (at Bryant)
San Francisco, CA 94110
415.821.4608

Menu changes daily.

Yellow Tail. It’s everywhere. it’s cheap. This one came from Safeway for six bucks. It’s not bad. It’s 60% Shiraz and 40% Cab, but it tastes more Cab-like than Shiraz-like.
A little heaviness to the tannins is apparent. The wine doesn’t seem to benefit too much from airing. This is a totally fine wine to bring to a house party. It’d probably be a fine wine to bring for dinner, but Yellow Tail has gotten so big that everyone knows they’re wines for the under-$10 set. Which is fine, depending on your friends.
You won’t be having any of those moments with your hostess which end with “it’s great, and you wouldn’t believe it, but I got it for six bucks.”
None of that.
This is a nice unwinding wine. It would go OK with food. It doesn’t have much smell or taste. A little sharp, a little strong, a little… just plain, really. There’s nothing whatsoever wrong with it. It’s assertive, tanniny, and would hold up to, say, a lamb shawerma. Or a carne asada burrito, but at that point, why wouldn’t you be drinking a Negra Modelo?
I do try to pick lesser known wines to review, but you all know I’m a cheap bastard. My roommate came home with this from Safeway. It was there. It was open. I’d just finished a very hectic 2 1/2 weeks where I hadn’t really had time to drink or be very social. I’d work from 8 until past 10, and by then I wasn’t in any mood do think clearly.
It’s only six bucks, and it’s totally decent. Have at it. I’m not sad I’m drinking it, and would even pay, say, seven bucks for it and be perfectly OK. But I’d really rather spend a few more dollars and have a Bogle Shiraz, or even a Pepperwood Grove Pinot.

Crack the cork. Splash it as I pour– can’t really hurt to get a little oxygen to the wine. Swirl. Taste.
Big fruity Zin.Not too bad.
Wait… what’s that? Some kind of sweet cloying aftertaste. Weird. Let’s try that one again.
Sniff.
Smells like… red wine. A teensy bit of a sour note, like a big French Burgundy. That’s OK. A little maybe off.
Sip again. Do it with that slurpy sound that I learned when I learned to cup coffee and taste wine. Big Fruity Zin. Tannins… none, really, to speak of. Hardly any, anyway.
But there it is again. It’s all cloying on the back side. Like there’s some too-sweet wine trying to hide a slightly sour taste. It’s not bad, but it’s just sort of annoying. To me. Some people might like it. I’m not so sure. Without it, the wine is a plain old big fruity zin. It’s fine, but nothing to speak of. With this cloying taste, the wine does have a sense of mystery. Unfortunately, the mystery is more along the lines of “what are you trying to hide?” or “what do we have to blend with this 2000 gallons to make it drinkable?” rather than, say, “do I serve this with that anchovy and garlic stuffed Olive Tapenade roasted Leg of Lamb, or the pepper-crusted pork tenderloin?” (the tenderloin, definitley), or “what will my lover’s kisses taste like with all these flavors in her mouth?”
I don’t want to say that this wine is bad, exactly. In fact, it’s just not quite sure what it is. It’s perfectly acceptable. But it does look a little cheap and Trader Joe’s-y, what with the pink pastels on the label. They don’t really work with the deep green of the trees. And it’s really not bad, this wine. It works pretty well with food, at least if the food is half a carne asada burrito and slices of that ham that you really need to cook with spicy red salsa cooked with eggs. Like a French student’s dinner.
Trader Joe’s has led me much further astray at times, though usually for under five bucks. It’s OK, this wine, but it’s kind of like two buck chuck for nine bucks. Which isn’t really all that great of a deal.
Get it here.

Another excellent eminently drinkable Pinot Noir.. Man, do I like me some Pinot, Sideways’ annoying commentary notwithstanding. It’s apparently a very tough grape to grow. Takes care, attention, the right soil, drainage, sun, moon, wind, rain. Too much or too little of anything and the year’s crop is down the drain, spat freely by tasters who can’t be bothered to drink the stuff. The two-buck-chuck guys buy it all up for a song and add sugar and make a decent, but not that great wine. Or else it turns into airline wine.

I don’t really care, though: If I can get a good bottle of wine for ten bucks, I figure I’m all set.

I’m in Atlanta for work. The trip might be a waste of time, but I get to see my friend Em. She pulls this wine out and tells me it’s 8 bucks at Kroger. Kroger is Safeway Peachtreeland. Her roommate Sudesh asked why we always talk about wine by price, not grape or region or whatever. What could we say? We’re cheap bastards and we like to drink wine. You can drink twice as much 10 dollar wine as you can 20 dollar wine, with the added bonus that it’s like going on a quest.

That’s why I do it, after all: The quest. I want to find the perfect ten dollar wine to suck down to my heart’s content. I think I may be at this for a while.

I think I had earlier incarnation a couple of years ago from Trader Joe’s. You still might be able to get it there, I’m honestly not really sure. I did visit this Kroger place, and it was there for $7.99. And they had an empty spot on the shelf which said “Pepperwood Grove Syrah, $6.59.” If there’s one thing I like more than a tasty Pinot for 8 bucks, it’s a decent Syrah for under 7.

I’m a cheap bastard, after all. Plus, I like Syrah. Stands up to more food. Pinot is a wine for drinking with friends, maybe some light food, but it tends to lose out when it starts to battle strong flavors in your mouth. At least the ones I buy do. Just a little bit, mind you. It’s still enchanting and delicious and all fermented grape juicy.

It goes down smooth-like It has some legs, but not a whole lot of legs. It smells a little thin, and when you get it in your mouth, you just swish it around a little before you swallow it and then reach for the glass again. It might be a little thin, a danger that Pinot Noir dances with. That’s OK. You’ll still want to drink it down until you run out of wine and throw your friends out and fall in bed with your lover. It has hardly any tannins at all which strikes me as odd, however, it means that you can feel just fine about cracking this 2004 wine open right now and drinking it down. It might develop a little bit in the bottle, but it’s really ready to suck down right now. I may try to lay in a few bottles for drinking later, but what’ll happen is that Katawin will come over and then we’ll just drink it down.

This might be the best value I’ve had in Pinot Noir in quite some time. Either that, or else I should start writing the reviews before I’m at the end of the bottle. I dunno. At eight dollars and easy to drink, you’re not going to go wrong.