Fork -- 2005.08.26 -- *****

The town, is it San Anselmo, Larkspur, or Ross, is sleepy at best. But this is sleepy in Marin, which means sleepy rich people.

Which is how it looked walking into Fork. Sleepy, not rich. Neighbor-matching striped canvas awning, white walls and cloth-less tabletops, borderless photos of a house on a lawn, all curiously out of focus. And a ultra-generic ribbed metal door handle that profoundly reminded me of a greasely late night diner, in montreal.

Ordering was cake, as it was decided (without me) that we both shall have the "signature tasting menu". Which was pretty exciting because I've never done a "tasting menu", they are always so praaaaicy. But today, I didn't have to pay ;).

1. Prosciutto-wrapped mission fig. Do one use plural for half of something? Because there was only half of a fig. A scorching-caramelized-prosciutto-strip-wrapped half of a fig. Smoky, salty, tangy mellow sweet. Chewy crispy meets smooth soft. I do not recall the sauce, it obviously didn't matter.

2. Grilled Spicy Shrimp. This was a singular shrimp that was more crawfish than shrimp. Its plump morsel encrusted with char-black spices, cumin, oregano, good wholesome salt; the other components escaped me. Sauce didn't matter again, it was some tangy creme fraiche sauce. I ate the whole shrimp, shelled tail and all (no head). And I could eat three dozen more.

3. Chilled heirloom tomato gazpacho. Now, the days of summer here have been on the wane. But this soup put me right smack back in the middle of it. "It tastes like tomatoes I used to have when I was a kid, in china." I remarked to my friend. "Like summer. Like, TOMATOES." This was liquid fruit-of-the-god tomato essence distilled in a cup. However to be a nitpick, if I was serving that soup, on that particular day, I would've had it sit in the kitchen another 10 or 15 more minutes, just 'cause it was a tad chilly outside. But damn, I could chug that even in a blizzard.

Apparently, before I could complain about the lackluster tomato quality here, I should go live in Holland for a while. Their tomato makes the california ones seem like culinary wonders, or so my friend told.

4. Dungeness Crab & Corn Risotto, shellfish saffron sauce. I don't think crab and corn marry well, and corn and risotto less even. The crunch of corn quite took away the toothiness of the rice. But chuck the risotto! That voluptuous orange red saffron sauce deserves its own course. Bread was my friend, and my bread loved the sauce too, but it can no longer testify to that.

5. Scallops on potato puree. Now I'm a scallops fan, I truly am. Especially huge juicy hunks like that piece on my plate. But my desert-dwelling second cousin can cook scallops. No, a scallop dish is set apart by the sauce.

Except in this case. There was sauce don't get me wrong, as there were in every dish so far you'd notice, and probably a decent one too. But again, sauce didn't matter. The potato puree had me seeing stars. It sat smooth and rounded under the indenture of the scallop. Its unassuming gray porridge appearance gave no hints of the multiplicity of its flavor. Like steak, like mushroom, like scallops, like bite-my-tongue-off what-is-that! But still like potato, wholesome, enveloping. And none of that pulverized slimy crap they call mashed potato, no no, perhaps its why they called it "puree". This was textured, fine rounds of little potato babies embedded like secret bundles of joy, bumping and rolling against my taste buds, not gritty, not chunky, not sandy... just, awesome. I knew right then, there was to be no beating this dish.

6. Herb-crusted lamb loin. Meh. Pun intended.

Oh but interesting sauce. Plum "Gastrique", which the vaguely friendly waitress explained as a sugar and vinegar reduction. The sauce was bloody purple red, tart as the tartiest plums, quite unique.

7. Chocolate Hazelnut cake. The tiny cup cake came concaved on my friend's plate, and slightly imploded on mine, dark chocolate center oozing out of the breach. A huddle of whipped cream, some hazelnut crumbles and a pool of berry coulis square out the plate. I tasted no hazelnut in the chocolate lava, and the cake was much too rich to take in much even with the contrast of the berry coulis.

For a friday night, and for the quality of the food, the double-roomed restaurant was rarely more than half full. And if it weren't for the "rambunctious" woman on the table next to us (read: evil witch laughter), it'd be almost quiet. Only if this wasn't so tucked away. (good half hour from the city).

Service was passable. The first three courses came tumbling over each other. After we told them to slow down, it became almost european in pacing. Good thing we weren't short on conversation.

$59