The Innard World
I’m
not accustomed to the pick of seats but I took full advantage of it, scanning
the dining area for the prime real estate in the back with a panoramic view.
The few times I’ve been to Hog’s
Apothecary the place is brimming with bodies sipping on one of the 38 beers
(and wine) on tap and talking and laughing in pub-like fashion. Of course, by
the time I left the place looked like I expected, but at 6 pm there was a
family, young boy in tow, eating quietly on one of the sparsely populated
communal tables and a smattering of people seated at the bar and on stools
against the window.
A
complete newbie to HA, Sonia couldn’t concentrate on the menu, the beer selection,
and our New Year’s catch up.
“Do
I want beer?” she mused. “I haven’t had been in so long.”
She
turned the menu over for the fourth time.
Our
waitress stopped by, “Can I help you with anything?”
“Yes
please,” I replied before Sonia could politely shoe her away. “She needs help
figuring out what she’d like to drink.”
She
smiled and crouched behind Sonia and began asking questions about her preferences
and then began pointing out probable matches. “The Harlot and Luminesce are
both possible matches for you; would you like to taste them?”
Two
tastes later and Sonia was happily sipping on her Luminesce and I managed to
sneak in our Butcher’s Coffer- a beautiful plate of potted pork, hogs head
terrine, and chicken liver mousse (the selections change fairly often). I’m
generally not a fan of innards. In the past I’ve steered clear of anything
other than foie gras (illegal in California). But the innards are what draw me
into Hog’s Apothecary. Not that that their food isn’t good, it is, but “oh my!”
the innards.
The
mousse, presented on rounds of olive oil drizzled toast, spread like silk. A
dollop of jam added a touch of rouge and sweetness as a counterpoint. The hogs
head terrine is chunkier in nature with some distinct and welcomed texture that
yielded pleasantly with each bite. It was paired with pungent grained mustard
which I subdued with a little jam to mellow it all out. The potted pork had a
layer of unappetizing fat congealed across the top, but once the knife breaks
through and meat and fat are spread, it melts into a delightful spread accented
with sauerkraut to intensify the subtle flavor.
Sonia
smiled at me eagerly, which was good because I’d been pretty bossy about
ordering it.
We
followed the Coffer with a mixed green salad. Sonia was thrilled but it seemed
lacking to me, beautiful greens with little else to distance it from any decent
produce section in the Bay Area. The mixed grill. On the other hand, was epic. A
small quail nestled beneath lamb chops and pork belly against a field of
farrow. Everything was moist and distinct in flavor. The meat was tender. Our
waitress dropped off our food and a few minutes later circled back with steak
knives that we never used. The meat was fork tender.
The
standout of the mixed grill was by far the lamb. It had a touch of gamey flavor
in the best way. It was aromatic and pink. The pork belly – delicious, if a
little fatty, and the quail which tasted a little smoky and earthy and more
flavorful than I’d expected, were both delightful and would have been standouts
on any number of plates, but contrasted against the lamb there was no question.
I saved my lamb for last. After the last trails of farrow and cabbage and pork
and quail were swept onto my fork and disappeared behind my lips, I savored my
last pieces of lamb so it would linger indefinitely on my tongue.
We
could have left our meal there – two out of three for me, three out of three
for Sonia – but we were feeling lucky. And so we scanned the short dessert menu
and settled on a Meyers lemon crumble. What arrived looked more like a way to
hide a fallen cake, a bowl full of literal crumbles of lemon cake mixed with
fresh blueberries and a dollop of yogurt on top.
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