PLOUF: Frenchy Bi-valves and Giant Hissing Crawdads
Written: Aug 26 '02 (Updated Aug 26 '02)
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Pros: On a warm day, it's a great place to sit and have some bi-valve.
Cons: The fin on one of the fake sailfishes is broke.
The Bottom Line: Brains.
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| Mr.Eyore's Full Review: Plouf |
It's the giant hissing cockroaches, I guess, that makes me think that everything in Madagascar grows bigger than in the rest of the world. I've never been there - Madagascar - but it makes sense to me somehow, that different evolutionary rules would apply, what with it being an isolated island and all where you would never dream of sticking more than one army when you're playing Risk. And nobody can attack that army from anywhere else but, like, Mozambique or Botswana or something, so your one army is safe to just sit. Likewise, you figure, out on some Land of the Lost island, things are free to sit unmolested and become genetic freaks, like those giant hissing cockroaches or Marlon Brando, because, well, that's just the way I figure natural selection works.
But my point is, whenever something's just way bigger than it needs to be, like the women in Barstow, or the lamb chops at Fringale, or Ron Jeremy, I just kind of assume that it originally came from Madagascar. And nothing you say, short of "Dude, you don't really believe that, do you?" is likely to convince me otherwise.
Which brings me to the Giant Madagascar Hissing Crawdad's they serve up at Plouff, in downtown San Francisco. Well, it doesn't bring me to them just yet, but I'll get to 'em, I swear.
"Plouf" according to Jazzbocrow, is the French word for the English word "Plop," which, I'm not really sure why that would have any relevance, but there ya have it. Pleuff is also one of a half dozen restaurants in an alley called Beldon Place, between Montgomery and Kearney, Bush and Sutter, in what I lovingly refer to as The French 16th. San Francisco's Frenchy district isn't really big enough to call a quarter. And not everything on Beldon Place is even French. In fact, none of the other places is. They are Italian and Meditteranean and some other things. Well, and Cafe Bastille; probably French also. But my point is, they all feel kind of French, because there's tons of outdoor seating and lots of arrogant young waiters who haven't shaved and lots of hostess-slash-barkers who wear pants that show off their camel-toes.
ambiance
And if camel-toes aren't enough ambiance for you, Plouf also has little brushed steel tables and brushed steel chairs, both inside and out. And inside, they also have a whole mess of fake big game fishes hanging up on the walls between their really chic Frenchy sconces. And what else. Um, really dirty bathrooms. And a bar that has wines and beers, and maybe other stuff, like Frenchy bartenders commenting in French on the size of patrons' breasts. So, there, ambiance.
But it's nicer than I'm describing it, really. Except that during the lunch hour it's a little too loud inside. But you'd want to sit outside anyway, to soak up all the Frenchiness.
food
Plouf specializes in the fishes, mainly in the shell-fishes, and more mainly in the bi-valves, and even more mainly in the mussels. And it's some pretty damn good specializing they do, what with like eight different types of bowls of mussels, and not a single one of those bowls costing more than $13.50. Trust me, it's a lot o' bi-valve for thirteen-fitty.
On my first visit, I had the Plouf Mussels, since I figured if they named it after themselves it must be the best one. But also because my boss took me there, and she didn't want to split the ones that I really wanted. The Plouf Mussels were served up in a big giant bowl, filled with a broth of, I think, broth. And also sherry and garlic. Lots of garlic. Real good, especially with some of that dippin' french bread they serve you. But also, the mussels themselves are just perfect. Perfectly cooked. Perfectly not too big or too small. Perfectly surreal in their orange-ness. Perfectly whatever-the-opposite-of-phallic-is with their moist, wrinkled, dark edged lips. I mean, seriously, good stuff.
On the same visit I had the Duck Confit salad, with which I was a tad disappointed. The duck itself was, I think, a little greasier than it needed to be, and not as salty as I like. It was served on a bed of dressed whole watercress, which was just a mess to try and eat, and the dressing itself was bland and added nothing to the dish. Nor did the bing cherries really serve whatever purpose I think the chef wanted it to serve. But then, my fault, right, for forgetting that just because ducks live in water, it doesn't make 'em fish. And yes, I really forget that sometimes, the way that some vegetarians I know sometimes forget that you don't call eggs "dairy."
So yeah, Plouf specializes in fish, and mainly the bi-valves. So that's what I'll be sticking to from here on out.
On my second visit, I got the mussels I wanted on my first visit, except this time I asked them to give me a "mixed bowl" which is apparently an option, and which includes clams with the mussels. Except that I also asked them to mix in some crawdads, if they had any, and they did. The mussels were every bit as good this time as they had been on my first visit. The clams were also quite nice. I'm typically a little disappointed with clams I get on the west coast, because most restaurants here serve the little Manillas instead of the Cherry Stone steamers from back east that I sometimes dream about. These were somewhere in between. They were sizeable and meaty, but not as chunky and black-gunk filled as the clams I grew up with.
The crawdads, as I guess you figured by now, were monstrous. I mean, not even of the same genus as those little burgundy "mud-bugs" they serve by the lunch-tray full at bars in New Orleans or twenty-bucks a dozen at Zuni Cafe. These were about half the size of a lobster. Their tails were a solid two bites of meat. The claws were legitimate targets and nobody here can honestly tell me they ever bothered to crack open a crawdad claw to pull out a nugget of meat.
And the brains! Oh the brains! There were so many brains and guts and tomaly and whatever in the central carapace it coulda almost made a meal in itself.
And the broth on this one was just the perfect accompaniment. Nothing goes quite as well with crawdad brains as cream and garlic and wine and bacon. Yes, bacon. Steamed bacon. Nasty, I know, but when you're eatin' crawdad pancreas, suddenly steamed bacon doesn't sound so abnormal. And it isn't. It's a little fatty, but the smokiness really does add a little something to the mussels especially. So, try the mussel dish with the cream in it. That's the best one, I think. And get it with crawdads and clams. Like I needed to tell you.
I also had some kind of crab roll that wasn't half bad.
My friend had sea scallops with mashed potatoes and some kind of what smelled like a citrus sauce. I don't know, with the citrus and the mashies. Plus, I don't like scallops. But she said it was good. And generally I trust her opinions, so, try it, I guess.
On my third visit, I tried the Ahi Tuna Nicoise Salad that one of my bosses had had on my first visit. It was damn fine, but like a lot of the other things I've now tried there, there just wasn't enough bite to it. The tiny little cold cooked potatoes and green beans, and delicious roasted red bell peppers and everything were just great. The ahi was cooked to almost raw perfection. Even the little croutons with the olive spread stuff were pretty good. But the dressing needed a little something vinegar? lemon? much like the dressing that had come on my duck confit salad on the previous visit. I recommend it anyway, but I'd like to see these people fix this kind of stuff.
On that third visit, my big boss had the butternut squash soup, which he said was great, and offered me some, but I didn't want to get any boss cooties, so you'll have to trust his recommendation sight unseen. He also recommends the chicken sandwich and that you put us on retainer before you get sued, because then you'll get a 20% discount on all litigation expenses.
I am told that Plouf has the best creme brulee in the city. But I haven't had it, or any of their other deserts.
conclusion
In conclusion, Plouf is a very nice restaurant to go to for business lunches if you sit outside on a nice day and you get one of the mussel dishes or ask for a slice of lemon with any of their salads. If you go at night, sit inside, get some of them Madagascars, and suck brains to your heart's delight.
Recommended:
Yes
Kid Friendliness: No
Vegetarian Friendly: No
Best Suited For: Business
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Epinions.com ID:
Mr.Eyore
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Reviews written: 129
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About Me:
I come for the pervasive sense of elitist self-importance and semi-witty expressions of faux camaraderie
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