Tableau Vivante

There were many great dining experiences while we were wandering around Sonoma. But there was one that truly stuck out – a hidden gem of a place, off the main streets and mentioned only in passing here and there. “It’s the kind of restaurant that shouldn’t work,” said one article. The chef changes the menu regularly according to what’s available and what he feels like serving. He melds together things off the mainstream palate, or things we wish we had thought of, or things we had thought of but only dared to consume in the privacy of our own homes, shrouded by guilt. The restaurant I speak of is Saint Rose in Sebastapol. And I’d have them move to Pasadena tomorrow if I thought we could handle the truth.

The Saint Rose, which up until recently called Santa Rosa home, is housed in a brick red cottage off the main drag in Sebastopol. Wind your way down Bodega Highway until downtown fades behind you and you start zipping past tall trees and homesteads. Saint Rose is at 9890. Don’t bother looking for the address on their blog – there’s only a vague off-scale map with lines and some crows. I finally found it in a very recent article on sfgate.com. We had stumbled into town just after they had reopened in the new, and much larger, space. And lucky us, they were serving brunch.

Some of the ingredients come from the parking lot-adjacent Bohemian Groove garden. Some seem to spring forth from some sort of culinary Alice in Wonderland. Melons in Absinthe. Lucky Charms in Half and Half. The later isn’t really groundbreaking in any way other than the fact that it’s actually on a menu and we can eat it, without shame, in the full light of day among complete strangers. The former? Tweaked the creativity bulb in my brain. The rest of the menu, as you can see, is spilling over with gastronomic keywords – suckling pig, sheep’s milk ricotta, salmon belly, lavender honey, toasted fennel, and the simplistic crema. How Mark Malicki, the chef/owner, can bring all this to the table at these price points is a bit confusing. Surely the execution is flawed - experimental, maybe, and lacking in a certain culinary mastery or presentation on the plate?

The first hint that we were in for a treat was in the liquids. Unless we’re talking about a bougie bar with a mixmaster present or an extraordinary wine list, beverages almost always get neglected in restaurants. I’ve had fabulous breakfasts at wonderful restaurants that were disappointingly coupled with generic Stash tea, bitter coffee, or water tainted with stale and off-putting ice cubes. These crimes of bev would not be occurring at Saint Rose anytime soon. Oh no. The water was cucumber-scented and poured from large Erlenmeyer flasks – a nice touch that tickled the former lab rat in me. The tea, pictured above, was a beautiful whole-leafed English Breakfast style infusion that was so mellow and soothing, I almost abstained from the sugar, which was presented in raw, amber-colored cubes. JJ’s coffee was apparently equally impressive, coming from a local roaster that we would end up visiting at the Santa Rosa market. These subtleties boded well for the coming meal. We got a little excited. When was the last time you were excited about your restaurant food? For me, it’s been too long.

I went with the eggs and salmon belly. The potatoes were perfectly browned and roasted, possibly in duck fat but I was too busy being enamored to ask. The eggs were light, fluffy, and French in their creaminess. The salmon? I’ve often found salmon to be the neglected stepchild of the kitchen. So plain. So usual. You put it on the menu to appease, not because it draws you in. It almost seems to demand from chefs that it be as dull as it is common. This salmon was in every way the opposite of what I’ve just described. Perfectly seared on the skin side to an almost Japanese-style crispness. The meat was tender and pliable, melting in the mouth and full of the every reason why people really love this fish. It was topped with an arugula and apple relish that added a lovely counterpoint. I think the best compliment I could give this is the following picture.

Yup. My only complaint is that I will probably never have this again. One – the man who made it is up north in Sebastopol, a place I’m not likely to visit again in the near future. Two – the man who made it never looks back as it distracts from the now. If you happen to see it on the menu again, I would suggest you order it. It was delightful.

JJ had the aforementioned suckling pig hash with egg. JJ was pretty much silent throughout the meal, only occasionally asking me questions about this food bit or that flavor. I did manage a bite of the hash and was amazed that you could get pork to be, well, fluffy. Pleasantly fluffy pork hash. Well, shoot. I really have nothing more to add to that. Frankly, he had me at the cucumber water. But he done killed me with fluffy pork hash.

We asked the waiter if we could take a look at the dinner menu to see if we would end up coming back (*I* wanted to…JJ was of the mind to make sure we weren’t missing any other gems out there.) Sadly, we didn’t make it back, though I have rss’d their blog since it looks like they’ll occasionally post new menus. The culture of food up north is demanding more and more that everything be sustainable, organic, and local wherever possible. Saint Rose tries to accommodate that in their menus and it appears that they’ve managed to turn that challenge into a hearty asset. No matter where you are up north, a meal at Saint Rose is worth the trek, if only for the surprise of, “well, what’s he thought of now?” I’m adding this to the list of places I miss from my travels – my local patisserie when I was in Paris, Teshima’s on the Big Island, and now Saint Rose in Sebastapol.

Saint Rose
9890 Bodega Hwy. (near Montgomery)
Sebastopol, CA
(707) 546-2459
Dinner Wednesday-Sunday; brunch is offered on Saturdays and Sundays