I grew up reading San Francisco Chronicle columnist Herb Caen. I spent a few years as a young teenager delivering the Chron to a handful of porches in the South Bay and used to set aside a copy to read while I was rubber-banding the rest of the papers for delivery. I didn't udnerstand some of Caen's references until much later but his "three-dot" journalism had a profound effect on how I write today. The "..." (ellipsis) is one of my favorite embellishments in less, um... formal writing.
There was big Herb Caen tribute in the Chronicle last week because it would it would have been his 93rd birthday had he lived this long. So it's even more appropriate to have the Washington Square Bar and Grill re-open a few weeks ago after a thorough scrub and remodel. The "Washbag" was one of Caen's haunts and he wrote about it often and spent even more time there. Since I had been putting it off for well over 30 years with no real reason for doing so, it was time to take the plunge.
Up to the point where I actually went to the Washbag, my imagination (with Caen's help) painted it as a high-ceilinged, wood-paneled room with a smoky, boozy haze...filled with fatcats, miscreants and low-key hipsters-about-town with a large, worn wood and brass bar as a focal point. Except for the smoke, it was exactly as my mind pictured it. Replications and originals of Chronicle front pages, pictures of Washbag regulars and celebrities lining the walls added a slightly misty (for me) nostalgia.
calamari and meyer lemon salad (photo by wm. christman)
Food-wise, WSBG is classic bar and grill. New owners Liam and Susan Tiernan took great care to keep much of the original atmosphere of the room and they applied that to the menu as well: grilled or braised beef or pork entrees, grilled fish, classic sandwiches, savory starters, sweet desserts.
The calamari with a Meyer lemon salad starter matched nicely with an expertly made Manhattan. (Michael McCourt, one of the original WSBG bartenders, was hired back as part of the reopening.) WSBG hits the portion dead-on - just the right amount for a leisurely one-cocktail quaff. The bright/tart Meyer lemon salad nicely plays counterpoint to the slightly salty, nearly-perfectly cooked calamari rings and tentacles.
Wood-paneled anything (save for late 70's American station wagons) makes me think steak so the flat iron steak was the clear choice for my entree. Unfortunately, the waiter didn't know what the term "bleu" meant so I ordered rare to keep from having to explain in detail...it was just easier that way...
flat iron steak with cabernet butter (photo by wm. christman)
When the steak arrived, I was surprised that it had been cut on a bias. It almost looked like chef nervousness with meat doneness...since it was rare cutting it wouldn't help the moderately cold cabernet butter to melt any faster. Weird. Fortunately, the steak was cooked to order and the butter melted and added extra richness to the already meaty cut. The frites were crisp and hot and plentiful. If only the glass of wine had made its arrival with the entree.
It could have been first-week jitters, but the service was poor. A computer snag hampered the waitstaff and the three waiters in my section all relayed this to their tables. To a waiter, they said that all of the orders would be delayed because of it. Apparently, there's no way to talk directly to the kitchen even to expedite orders which would spare customers the backroom drama.
Suggesting that even though the computers were down, they would do everything they could to keep the food coming or that there might be a slight delay would have been much better. But the computer glitch alone, seemed to affect absolutely everything they did, even the non-computer portions of good service. The waitstaff looked and acted as if they were paralyzed.
The end result was that the waiters literally disappeared for long stretches of time and flagging down someone (anyone!) was a chore. My flat iron steak waited and waited for the glass of red wine to accompany it. And the same thing happened with coffee and dessert. Dessert arrived, coffee didn't. I had to get up and fetch a different waiter (mine was still MIA) to get it. Other patrons weren't so nice.
Purely from a service standpoint, it was a lousy experience - hopefully, they'll fine tune this for the future. But the food, the room and the ghost of Herb Caen did much to make up for it. It's not the penultimate SF experience...but I would definitely...go back.
