Little Star Pizza — 22nd Feb, 2006

Last night I came home tired. And at loose ends for what to do. I’ve got a giant pile of things that I could (should?) be doing, but I just really couldn’t be bothered.

I was also starving, but not quite ready to eat. I snacked on some savory Tartine leftovers and settled down to study like a good little schoolboy.

The phone went, and it’s Trails in her sexy gravelly voice on the other end saying “Blah blah blah blah Little Star blah blah Pizza blah blah Anchovies.

How could I resist an invitation like that?

I skillfully avoided death by SUV on my motorcycle right where Castro turns into Divis.

(Hey: if you drive a Gold SUV, remember: pushing DOWN on your indicator means you’re turning left. Pushing UP means you’re turning right. If you’re turning the wrong way in traffic, just go around the block. It’s OK. It’ll only take you 1 ½ minutes. Probably less.)

I parked my bike next to Little Blue and went into the restaurant. We were seated within 5 minutes. Little Star was packed. It’s all dark blue and black and glossy and trendy and you’d expect it to be loud but you can hear yourself think and your candlelit companion talk. Even when she’s got a sexyraspy voice. There are about 20 tables: a bunch of four-tops along the wall, a bar where those waiting a table are invited to stand, and a few two-tops down the center. There’s a bit of a traffic problem when the bar gets busy—and the bar patrons start bumping into the two-tops.

The servers all looked a little haggard. No doubt the management hadn’t planned on a 20 minute wait and a packed restaurant on a Wednesday, but the Fulton/Divis area is very much on the up-and-up. I was prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt, not judge them too harshly on prompt service, but the servers displayed teamwork. One brought us their drinks. Another server took our order. I applaud the teamwork at Little Star: I’ve seen customers languish all too often because half the servers are overwhelmed and the other half are only looking out for their tables. We were constantly attended to, yet never rushed.

Trails had a glass of their Rhone ($6), which was fine. It was plain. It was sort of vin ordinaire, but fine. It had nothing special to offer, but it did the job. I skipped down to the Syrah, which, at $6, gave the exact impression. I started to wonder if something untoward had happened to my taste buds: I’d just had Three Thieves Pinot Noir the night before and had had the exact same reaction: It’s Pinot, or Syrah, or Rhone, but there just wasn’t anything to recommend it.

Fortunately, after these wines went down, we moved on to the Zinfandel ($8), which was, refreshingly, a Big Fruity Zin. There’s something about Zin that, even if it’s the same sort of fine, nothing special about it, still manages to shine. Or maybe it was just the comparison. There were subtle hints of blackberry, not too many tannins, all balanced with a refreshing acidity.

Little star also has a good selection of beers on tap, as well as several whites.

We started off with their mixed green salad ($5/$8). It came piled with Gorgonzola, cherry tomatoes, and really great sweet red peppers. I’m generally sort of ambivalent about mild peppers—they so often taste watery and almost flavorless, but these were little blooms of color and subtle flavor that balanced out the whisper of vinaigrette nicely. One brickbat: If you server green salad, you should have a pepper grinder. There are only 20 tables in here. Fresh ground pepper on mixed greens is a bit of a must. Just like on a Caprese. It’s just not the same without it.

Little Star has assorted specialty pizzas in thin crust or deep dish which are $16 -$20, depending on size. You can also build your own. We were in the middle choosing the tempting White pizza off the menu (adding, of course, anchovies), when I looked up at the special’s board.

“Roasted asparagus, Roasted garlic, fresh tomatoes, and Pecorino Romano.”

“That sounds divine. But we need to add anchovies. And remove the asparagus.”

“Hmm.. I agree, but I kind of want the asparagus. I wonder if they’ll put it on the side?”

The waiter was unsure, but they did. And it was really good. The asparagus and anchovies wouldn’t have gone well together, but having a spray of asparagus on the side was a great little palate-cleansing bite through the pizza. The crust was thin and crisp. The cheese was melted with just a hint of dryness. The tomatoes, even in February, were fresh and soft and succulent. The garlic was perhaps a little sparse, but the anchovies made it all worth it. It was plenty for two people, though you might want a little more if you’re extra-hungry.

Little Star carries Cheesecake and assorted Gelato for dessert. We didn’t delve into the sweet end—it would have undercut the loveliness of the anchovies. A split glass of that Zinfandel, however, was a fine end to the meal.

Little Star Pizzeria

846 Divisadero (between McAllister and Fulton), San Francisco

Sun-Thurs 5-10pm
Fri & Sat 5-11pm

415.441.1118

Cash only

Three Thieves Pinot Noir: $9.99, Rainbow Grocery

I reviewed the Three Thieves Zinfandel a few months back. It was great. Loved it. It was ten bucks, you got a liter instead of 75 cl, and it was a big, fruit-forward Zin. Mm mm good. Nice for a picnic, and I even didn’t mind the screw top. It was, after all wine in a jug.
So I was pretty excited when, while shopping for over $10 bottles of Alsatian whites for a crab feast, I looked down at the Three Thieves display, thinking “Hey, I’ve got room in my saddlebags, why don’t I get a bottle of that big fruity Zin?” What did I spy with my little eye but a Pinot Noir.
I had to get it. And drink it. And tell you all about it.
So it sat while I went through all the whites. Then it sat for another couple of days while I finished a fantastic three day weekend. And finally, I cracked it open. It was one of those “I could really use a glass of wine” days.
It’s got a nice nose. Smells like wine. It’s only 13% alcohol, which isn’t too bad, especially when you’re trying to keep your wits about you. It has almost no tannins, few legs in the glass. It’s a beautiful color– clear rubies through any light.
And the taste… It’s fine. It’s even kind of good, but there’s just not much to the taste. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s fine table wine. It’s just Pinot Noir without any of the hidden subtlety, the care in growing, the secret little flavors that sneak out each day.
Don’t get me wrong: I like this wine. I just think that it could be a little more… well, just a little more. I think that plain jane works out a little bit better with a Zin than with a Pinot Noir. I’d drink it again– but I’d probably open it after a couple of bottles of Heron, Echelon, or, better yet, David Bruce Pinot Noir.

Hidden behind Flybar (or is it Barfly?) on Divisadero and Fulton there used to be a little hole-in-the-wall Jamaican place. I always wanted to eat there, but never could.

Why?

It wasn’t ever open. Never, ever. It was there back in the days when your Divisadero dining choices were Popeye’s Famous Fried Chicken, a bagel at the Bean Bag from before they had actual food, and Phuket Thai, who would at least deliver enormous thai iced teas and lots of peanut sauce. Not much, and the Jamaican place always made me want to eat at Palmer’s back in New Orleans, which was more problematic than trying to get to a restaurant with no hours.

Khatmandu has opened in the spot behind FlyBarFly. They serve Himalayan food, the promise of which brought me and D-Yo out on a quietish Wednesday night, where I’d give her my feedback on a couple of chapters of her Africa book.

Khatmandu is pretty spare and unassuming inside: Eight or so tables covered with white tablecloths and glass on top, plain wallpaper with the requisite posters of the homeland cover the walls, and a divider leading to a hidden kitchen area. The place looks like it was carved out of the back room of another building and spruced up by new tenants who hoped to do better later. It probably was back in its Jamaican days.

We were warmly greeted after seating ourselves, and browsed the menu. There were a lot of familiar words and dishes that reminded me of the geographical closeness between Nepal, India, and Pakistan. The dishes are similar, but spiced differently; there’s generally less heat and more subtle smoky flavors; a whisper of a curry rather than a shout.

We started off with an order of vegetable pakora ($3.50). This was, perhaps, a mistake; the waitress said it was as good as the ground chicken dumplings, but any ground chicken dumpling would be better than the thickly breaded bunch of onions that arrived. It was little heavy and didn’t contain much flavor, and unfortunately no sauces came along with it. Fortunately, a little complimentary raita had come in along with complmentary Chapati before, which helped the thick breading go down.

Our entrees were much better, particularly the fish curry ($9.95). The curry came in a small metal bowl with a creamy (but not cream-based) sauce that was full of subtle flavors. It was like a Tikka Masala that decided to hide and make you seek it out. After the fish was gone, D-Yo and I soaked it up with the whole wheat Paratha ($2), a wafery layered bread that was baked and spread with butter. We passed over the wonderfully named butter chicken ($8.95) for the sautéed chicken ($8.95), which promised mixed vegetables and chicken in a slightly sour sauce. The dish was fine: the chicken was juicy and tender; the sauce was pleasantly sweet with the tiniest hint of sour; but the vegetables, green and red peppers and onions, were barely cooked enough to heat them up, but they still released all their raw flavor, which didn’t seem to fit in with the rest of the meal.

Kathmandu has a wide selection of beers—appropriately, mostly lagers, a smaller selection of inexpensive wines, as well as delectable lassi—both mango as well as an enchanting rosewater lassi. ($3) The large Taj Mahal complimented our meals nicely.

All in all it was a pleasant experience—if I’m in the neighborhood, I’ll likely go back. The temptation of a number of other sauces awaits; if they can just weed out a few iffy dishes the place could become one of those fabulous holes in the wall that you’d be excited to take your friends to.

Kathmandu
1279 Fulton St (at Divisadero)
San Francisco, 94117
(415) 567-5100
Beer and wine