Hard Working Meal

Camino has always been like wine to me. Don’t get too excited, I’m the rare person who (admits) doesn’t love wine. There. I said it. I lament the cruel things people do to perfectly good grape juice so they can charge $10 or $15 a glass. But that is another discussion for a later date. the point is that I want to love wine. I want to be like all of the people in northern California and around the world who clamor to visit vineyards and spit expensive grape juice into silver spitoons as they marvel over berries and barrels and whatever other undercurrent flavors that seem to whisper from delicate glasses. I want to unlock the magic that i alone, seem to be immune to.

I want to love wine. But I don’t. And the same is true for Camino. 

My lack of love explains the many years it has been since i last visited Camino. And i wouldn’t have gone last night if it weren’t for Karma (surly woman that she is) calling me 15 minutes before her reservation because her dinner partner was stuck on the bridge in some strange travel vortex. 

Not in love with being second fiddle, my ambivalence toward Camino, and my declaration (to self) that I would not be eating out again until February (at least) were broken by Karma’s request. After all, there was crab on the menu. It is crab season. I relented. 

And so I found myself transported years back into the heart of Camino – recalling both its quirks (read irritants) and its charms.

The light is low. Perfect for romance but countered by the communal tables. I don’t mind communal tables – they can be fun when people are open to them and don’t simply pretend they are alone when clearly we are bumping elbows. In our case, one friendly woman and her dinner partner were replaced with a couple attempting romance. It felt a little too exposed and Karma rolled her eyes.  Of course the other point on the low romantic lighting is that a) Karma and i weren’t looking for romance and b) Karma has trouble reading the menu in the low light.

Then there are the chairs. Reclaimed church pew chairs I believe, or school, something with a wooden holder on the back to place your books or your bible, a wonderful kitschy touch but so not suitable for a comfortable and lingering meal. Karma wiggled her self-described ample derriere and harrumphed.

“These chairs are too small,” then she giggled deviously for no particular reason. 

Warm fire in the distance and soft lull of music aside, we were there for the food. Perusing the menu i was reminded that the cocktail menu is substantially longer than the food menu and the food menu, short in the way bay area menus are typically short, seldom has anything that screams “you must have me.”

As winging as this all sounds, let me assure you, the food was good. It was solidly tasty. 

The highlight was easily the salad: Kobocha squash and grilled new onion with yogurt, pomegranate and almonds. Reading it on the menu i was skeptically hopeful – I’ve decided based on this salad that is possible. I wanted it to be good. The flavors were random enough that i had never imagined them together and at the same time they didn’t scream bad idea (like hot avocado pesto does…I had a roommate once who was surprised that didn’t taste good!). When it arrived it was like nothing I expected although for the life of you I can’t tell you what I expected. 

The textures were balanced. The squash was firm yet yielding and held its form as bright orange crescents on the plate. The yogurt had just a touch of tang and held the squash in place. The onions were crinkly, tiny flurries with the subtle sound of rustling wrapping paper under the teeth. Meanwhile, counter to all of the textures the few almonds crunched authoritatively with scraps of sweet pomegranate wrapping themselves around them like sweet little cardigans with flashes of color. 

It was a delightful way to start the meal. A delightful surprise i wasn’t expecting.

The crab came out next. Plated beautifully, a mound of pre-cracked legs stacked in the corner with a green garlic mayonnaise to the side and an assortment of grilled and raw vegetables. The crab portions were generous, tedious work, but no one who orders crab (still in the share) can expect anything else. Grilled in the fireplace there was a light but satisfying char on parts of the shell, providing some depth to the orangey-pink claws and despite the open flame that cooked them they were meaty and retained the moisture necessary in a well-executed crab. And the mayonnaise was surprisingly flavorful and a delicious accent to the mellowness of the crab.

Karma sighed a lot. She sounded a bit like a balloon with a pin prick of a hole loosing air. Her interest in working for her meal was the same as her interest in watching the faux romantic couple beside us. For her (a daughter of the Mid-Atlantic) crabs are a starter not the main course precisely because they require so much effort.

“Hell you burn off all your calories before you eat them,” she remarked. Still, even she admitted the portion was filling and the taste appealing.

The entire dish was colorful and appetizing; however, the squash made – what Karma adamantly declared- an unnecessary and unwanted reappearance and the rutabaga and radish salad was beautiful to look at but unimpressive in both flavor and texture. Chewing on those vegetables felt not like eating so much as an experiment whose point would be revealed once we finished. Sadly, there was no big reveal and beautification aside it left no real impression beyond disappointment.

The final dish of the evening was a Tunisian orange cake. 

Aromatic and a little nutty, I smiled. Karma, on the other hand, ate half of it but wasn’t sold.

“I’m not sure how I feel about this cake.”

“I think it is lovely,” I countered. “I mean, could do without the actual garnish of dates but the crunch is satisfying and I like how moist it is.”

“Too moist,” Karma stared at it a little longer and then put her fork down. “It’s wet.”

She didn’t finish hers but I found the dollop of yogurt a satisfying alternative to cream and the whole thing…well…pleasant. 

Like I said, I liked the food. I’m just not wowed, and given the price (this prix fixe meal was $40) there are other places I’d rather spend that 40 bucks. But it is worth a try if you’ve never been. Worth a try if you like cocktails because their list is unique and extensive. So drink and see if you find magic there.
Obviously people do, it is an Oakland staple.