Review: In Trust We Trust

Soon to be classified by the FDA as a Schedule I drug.

San Diego is finally being recognized by Michelin for its burgeoning fine dining scene—about time! Some of the names being thrown around as potential star-earners are Addison, Market and George's at the Cove. After my recent visit, though, I would consider Hillcrest's Trust a dark-horse contender. Let's take a brief look at the items ordered—and how they'd rate on the brutal Michelin scale. (Zero stars can still be good, one is fantastic, two is mind-blowing, and three is so sublime that you'd plan a trip just to try it.)

Dish: Take Two & Trust Cocktail #18
Star Rating: One
Amy's drink was deliciously infused with blackberry; it was fruity, balanced, smooth—and dangerous in that it didn't taste too powerfully of vodka. Mine was stronger with fragrant bourbon, sweet and citrusy with an orangey aroma from the peel garnish.

Dish: Ricotta Agnolotti
Star Rating: Two
The decadent truffle shavings and black garlic streussel certainly helped, but the star of this agnolotti was undoubtedly the incredibly rich, cheesy garlic cream sauce—deceptively labeled simply "panna" on the menu. This sauce latched onto the dopamine receptors of my brain and wouldn't let go. I was momentarily tempted to lick the plate clean—it was that good.

Dish: Baja Hiramasa
Star Rating: One
Nearly as amazing was this crudo: a blast of Japanese flavor full of sweet, soy and sesame. The yellowtail was tender, though the flavor of the fish was hard to discern through that mouthwatering sauce. It's finished with wisp-thin rice cracker and crisp sweet slivers of Asian pear.

Dish: Wood-Grilled Lamb Meatballs
Star Rating: Zero
Meatballs aren't a favorite of mine, but this lamb iteration had good texture and a hearty, slightly gamey flavor. The yogurt tzatziki was clean and tart, augmented with vinegar and spice from the pickled Fresno chiles. Hearty umami lentils, delicious little rings of pickled shallots, and an undertone of garlic rounded out one of the lesser dishes that, tellingly, was still pretty great.

Dish: Wood-Grilled Octopus
Star Rating: One
This was an odd mix of ingredients that still worked because all the flavor elements were there. A strong but not overwhelming hit of vinegar from the olives, the salty minced pepperoni, and the parsley herbaceousness of the salsa verde combine beautifully. Textures were also a strong suit: The octopus was tender, while the lentils and legumes were pleasingly al dente, thankfully avoiding any graininess.

Dish: Maple Pecan Creme Brûlée
Star Rating: Two
At first I was a bit sad that we decided to play it safe by getting the creme brûlée. I have seldom been more wrong. Somehow, they fixed what wasn't broken. They solved creme brûlée. Their secret: a wide cup with almost as much sugar crunch as there is custard. But this is no ordinary caramelized sugar: it's thick, chunky, fully of mapley and nutty flavors. The poached pear and marscapone cream were tasty, but really just along for the ride. Bottom line: This blew the roof off of an already outstanding dinner.

Trust doesn't just settle for having a couple of great specialty dishes. Its food seems to bottom out at excellent and move up from there. If it doesn't get a Michelin star—or at least one of the group's lesser acknowledgements—it'll only prove they've got a lot to learn about San Diego dining.

Score: 10 out of 10

Quick Bite: Monkey King

What exactly is Monkey King? A lot of things, it seems: A cocktail bar, a dim sum spot, and a pan-Asian restaurant. It's cool, trendy, and just about the least authentic place you can go for some Chinese food. Amy and I decided to venture into the wilds of the Gaslamp Quarter this past week to try it out.

The interior is decorated in a funky jungle theme, complete with mock trees above the central bar and a "no evil" monkeys motif. Since it was a quiet Wednesday, we were immediately seated in a comfy side booth without any problem.

The most exciting culinary flourish of the night came right at the beginning. They put down a plate of crispy fried wonton skins and what looked from the texture like one of those cloyingly sweet chile sauces. I was surprised, though, to find that a bright and unusual blend of flavors somewhere between a sweet red chile sauce and a salsa. It sounds bizarre, but it was actually the perfect balance of tangy and slightly sweet with a spicy kick. When I inquired, the waiter explained that it was their house mézé (?) sauce, a pomegranate base blended with herbs, Fresno chiles and white wine vinegar. Weird, yet wonderful.

Our drinks were tasty though not too unusual. Amy's Salt Collins was, as advertised, a bit salty from the salted plum-infused rum, but was otherwise very much a Tom Collins, right down to the touches of citrus. The Mai Tai I had was tropical and classic, with a tinge of almondy orgeat in the aftertaste.

Since we changed our appetizer order from calamari to hamachi sashimi. The tender slices were laid in a base of ginger soy and topped with a basic seaweed salad and red chiles. It was fairly simple yet mouthwateringly good, layered with toasted sesame and a heaping dose of heat.

Cashew chicken isn't exciting to look at
so here's hamachi instead.

The entrées weren't bad, but seemed to be stuck in a creative rut. My cashew chicken was lightly spicy and a little sweet, with cashews toasted to bring out their nutty flavor. I appreciated the delicately sautéed scallions and the fresh crunch of water chestnut. Nothing much to complain about, but then, nothing to rave about either. Amy's honey lemongrass chicken was, in a word, boring. That's not to say it was flavorless—it was mildly honey-sweet with strong onion overtones—just that it was lacking in complexity. Even the lemongrass was MIA.

There are certainly dishes to like at Monkey King, but it seems the optimal strategy is to skip the too-conventional entrées and double down on the drinks and dim sum (which, really, is just their word for appetizers). And put that sauce on everything, because why not?

Score: 6.5 out of 10 (Good)

Event Bites: Rum Socials at Oceana

Over the past couple of months, Amy and I went to a couple of Rum Socials put on by the Catamaran Resort in PB, in association with Malahat Spirits, a local rum distillery.

Tickets were $35 a person—not bad considering events like this often cost double or triple that. Located on the back patio of Oceana Coastal Kitchen, they both featured live music, a rum tasting, two signature cocktails and a seemingly endless supply of hors d'oeuvres. (I dream of one day being able to spell "hors d'oeuvres" on my first try.)

Let's get all the drinks outta the way first. To be honest, I'm not as discerning about alcohol as I am about food, but I do still think rums we tasted were excellent. The Malahat co-founder stressed to us how, unlike most other rums, theirs are designed for sipping neat, and though I can't see myself doing that, these were definitely much smoother. First was a cabernet-barrel-aged rum, simple and lightly sweet. The second was clean and bright with light citrus notes. Finally, my personal favorite was the spiced rum, full of vanilla and cinnamon flavors.

Our mojitos at the first event featured the barrel-aged rum. They were sweet, fresh and deliciously strong. The "cannibal coladas" at the second event were equally tasty and a bit more interesting. It was a piña colada using the spiced rum and mango purée. The result was tasted tropical and sweet but also pumpkin-spiced, which sounds bizarre, but somehow it worked out great.

Phew. Now that those pesky drinks are dealt with, we can get to the food.

(I know, I'm weird. I just like food I guess.)

The first event back in August was probably the better of the two. It featured a table with charcuterie board and smoked trout hand rolls. Both delicious, and I'm not even a big smoked fish fan. My favorite passed bite of the evening was probably the endive with bacon-wrapped fig, topped with balsamic and creme fraiche. There's a reason this type of hors d'eouvre is popular to the point of being cliché: They work really well. The salt of the bacon plus the fruitiness of the fig and the tang of the toppings are swept up in the fresh crunch of the endive to create a mini masterpiece.

(Fun fact: "hors d'eouvre" is not pronounced "horse dover." French is dumb.)

Dessert was a fantastic array of petit fours, but there were a couple of highlights for me. The pyramid of chocolate mousse was rich in its chocolate shell, coated with finely chopped nuts. The macaron was perfectly packed with sweet, toasty vanilla and a hint of coconut.

The second social was a bit less impressive, but still a good time. It was pirate themed, so each table had a sprinkle of chocolate coins and a sugar skull centerpiece.

The table setup served sliders with roasted suckling pig, pickled onion and sweet chili sauce. The meat was tender and moist, but the golden-crisp skin was the real star: full of melty, collagenous textures and savory flavors. The passed bites were a little less varied but still tasty. The salmon puffs may have been the best, filled with cream cheese and garnished chives, like a posh, fluffy lox and bagel. The andouille crostini was a bit dull and one-note, as the sausage was the only prominent flavor. I did like the vegetables with crisped rice, which had a nice vinegar component and a pleasing crunch from the crisped rice.

Sadly, there were no dessert bites this time (aside from the coins, which we eagerly plundered)—probably because our tickets came with a Mission Bay cocktail cruise, and they didn't want to spoil us too much. It was a weeknight, though, so we cut out early like the wet blankets that we are.

I've gotten more than a few culinary event emails hawking tickets for several hundred dollars a pop. These Rum Socials weren't exactly black tie galas, but they still let you enjoy some great food and drink while feeling fancy for a relative bargain. I certainly hope the Catamaran decides to put on a few more next year.

Score: 7.5 out of 10 (Great)

Review: El Roy's

Fun fact: El Roy's has the same owners as Leroy's. No, really!

It was Restaurant Week last week, which naturally means something fun for date night. I chose El Roy's Tequila Bar & Kitchen in Coronado, a newly-opened Mexican place from Blue Bridge Hospitality (which practically has a monopoly on Coronado restaurants). It was offering a pretty interesting $30 3-course prix fixe menu, so I saw this as a good opportunity to try it out.

The view and the vibe are the immediate draw at El Roy's. It's located by the San Diego Bay waterfront, giving diners a fantastic view of the downtown skyline through the floor-to-ceiling glass. The guitarist played classic rock and some Mexican classics, which created a warm atmosphere despite the slow weekday evening. The psychedelic Día de los Muertos style mural on the wall gave the dining area some character.

First course! My Mexican corn pudding was excellent and one of the best parts of the meal. The cornbread-like base was topped with a heaping helping of elote. That mix of roasted corn, poblano, cotija, green onion and lime was a tart, salty complement to the sweetness of the cornbread. A great appetizer, but I'd recommend sharing because it's quite filling.

Amy's duck confit empanadas were good, though they may have been crisper if they weren't placed on a bed of salsa verde. The acidity of the salsa and pickled onion worked well to balance out that fried dough. The duck filling was meaty and satisfying but hard to pick up at times among the other flavors. She also had the Hibiscus Cooler cocktail, which was nothing unusual but nice, like a faintly floral sangria.

The entrée course was frankly a little lackluster. The sweetness of Amy's short rib tacos drowned out the other flavors for me—a shame, because crispy shallots and chile-tomato jam sound like they should have been great accompaniments. On a positive note, the actual tortillas were actually thick and slightly crisped with a definite masa flavor. The Brussels sprouts had that great crispy charred texture on the leaves. They had a pretty sweet foretaste due to the honey-based sauce (which ended up coating the plate—not ideal), followed by a light vinegar flavor. I liked them more than Amy, so I helped her out with them. I'm nothing if not a gentleman.

My pork belly tacos (yep, pork belly again—someone start a drinking game!) had their own issues. The flavors were good, including the very nutty peanut aioli and some sourness from the pickled veggies as great complements to the pork. The main problem was the pork belly itself, which came in massively thick slabs. That still could've been delicious if it were done right, but unfortunately it wasn't tender at all, and the fat wasn't properly rendered, making for an unpleasant bite. My cucumber slaw was okay, with a nice vinegar foretaste that faded a bit too quickly into something lemony and slightly bitter.

Dessert put things back on track. I got the dirty horchata cocktail, which was sweet and strong—they definitely didn't skimp on the horchata-flavored vodka. It was also pleasantly creamy from the white chocolate liqueur and coconut milk. I definitely got the cinnamon from the cinnamon–coffee simple syrup. It's not far from what I imagine a White Russian might taste like (never mind that I've never had one). Not all that much like horchata, but definitely tasty.

The highlight of the evening, though, was easily the Mexican chocolate pot de crème. Incredibly decadent, the chocolate custard was infused with just the right amount of cinnamon: not overpowering, just enough to stick around. It was topped with a layer of thick golden salty caramel—the kind of caramel with that deeper, darker sweetness. There was even a second (!) caramel dolloped onto it, a lighter one spiced with a little cayenne. All of that came with a blob of whipped cream on top. (Because... why not?) This was so good that the fact that it was too rich to finish may come back to haunt my dreams.

Having opened just a month ago, El Roy's may still be in the process finding its footing. They've clearly got some dishes down to an art, while others are just as clearly in need of some tweaks. Hopefully with the backing of the Blue Bridge Mafi—er, Hospitality Group—they can take their promising start and flourish into something truly great.

Score: 6.5 out of 10 (Good)

Review: Single Fin Kitchen (& Little Italy Food Hall)

The hamachi bowl comes everything,
including the kitchen sink.

Poké is over.

Food halls are the hot new culinary trend. They're popping up across San Diego County, and while they're similar in format to your classic mall-rat, Hot-Dog-On-A-Stick food courts, they're generally more sophisticated and thoughtful about the cuisine on offer.

The newly opened Little Italy Food Hall, where Amy and I went for date night, is a great example. Its six gourmet food (and drink) options include killer Milanese pizzas from Ambrogio15 and Sam the Cooking Guy's decidedly non-traditional Not Not Tacos.

We first grabbed a couple of drinks from the Food Hall Bar. Amy got the Piazza Spritz, a bright, fresh blend of prosecco, aperol, grapefruit liqueur and blackberry. I got the daiquiri italiano, which was nice and sweet with a prominent nutty amaretto flavor.

For dinner we opted for Single Fin Kitchen, which specializes in Japanese-style seafood. We started off with some shishito peppers. Usually about one in ten of these are actually hot, but in this batch I'd say at least half of them brought some serious pain. The ponzu and topping of smoky bonito flakes were pleasant additions (when I wasn't dying of spice!).

Single Fin's main attraction is its elaborate donburi rice bowls—and I do mean elaborate. As we watched their creation, it was almost comical how many sprinklings of extra ingredients they got, even after they looked finished. To give you an idea: Amy's bowl contained rice, hamachi sashimi, hamachi tartare with green onion, shiso leaf, cucumber, chile threads, avocado, radish, pickled veggies, smoked bonito flakes, microgreens, seaweed and furikake. Whew!

Was all that complexity really worth it? Well... actually yes, for the most part. It could easily have been overwrought, but instead it was like a whole ecosystem of harmonious flavors. You could create a forkful of hamachi tartare with a bit of minty herb fragrance from the shiso and some hearty bonito... or maybe a delicate bite of sashimi that balances chile threads with cooling cucumber.

My bowl, the Salmon 360, included three types of salmon—sashimi, tartare and torched belly—as well as sake-marinated salmon roe, microgreens and a thin slice of fried egg. The salmon belly was delicious and tender. The egg, too, was almost melt-in-your-mouth. I really liked the ocean flavors of the seaweed and spices. If there's one problem with these bowls, it's all too easy for the taste of the fish to get lost in the jungle of ingredients.

The staff was friendly and funny—and apparently in a good mood too, because they also gave us a free scoop of black sesame ice cream. Let me tell you, they weren't messing around; it was so rich with sesame seeds that it tasted almost like a peanut or almond butter. The trade-off, though, was in the texture: Since it was so packed with ground seeds, it really wasn't all that creamy. Still, we finished every bite just to savor the uniqueness of that sweet sesame flavor.

The creativity on display at Single Fin was positively kaleidoscopic. Sure, maybe not every element in the bowls really needed to be there. And by the time we finished, I actually felt slightly exhausted from the variety (and maybe those peppers had something to do with it too). But there also something exciting about having such a host of ingredients lovingly assembled by folks who obviously care about their craft. I want to try the other stations in Little Italy Food Hall, but it'll be hard when Single Fin is right there tempting me.

Score: 8.5 out of 10 (Excellent)

Review: Lola 55

I should probably start blogging with a bunch of introduction, but... do I have to? I'd rather jump right into talking about some really delicious food... so I'm gonna do that instead.

Lola 55 is a new taco spot on the outskirts of downtown San Diego, and after visiting three times, I can say it's probably the best "gourmet" taqueria in the city. The experience here is all about infusing the traditional with the modern. As you walk into the stylish, airy space full of concrete and glass, someone behind the counter is pressing masa into tortillas using a wooden press. The tacos include carnitas and carne asada, but also vegan rainbow cauliflower and baby carrot adobada.

The "Indian Summer."

The drink setup is a bit odd; I ended up ordering food at the counter and then drinks separately at the bar. My cucumber strawberry cocktail, muddled with cilantro, was sweet and refreshing, and my wife's fairly conventional mule thankfully wasn't too overbearing with the ginger.

The masa frita is as good a place as any to start eating. These fried round chips are like a fancy version of Fritos, except with chili powder and a non-lethal level of salt. The two sauces, a sweet mole and an avocado cream, keep things interesting and are even better when combined.

And now the tacos. I overheard the manager saying the menu has been whittled down from fourteen tacos during their soft opening to the current nine, so they've clearly given some thought to the lineup—and it shows. I've tried six of them, and impressively there hasn't been a single dud so far.

The squash blossom relleno is well battered and comes with a good approximation of a beef chorizo that coaxes some admirable meatiness out of its soy base. The almond "cream cheese" has a nice fluffy texture, and though it's not as pungent as the real thing, that also means it doesn't overassert itself. Overall, not a standout, but non-vegans such as myself will still enjoy it.

Approach with caution!

The spicy smoked fish is delicious, but beware: It's aptly named. The flaky white fish has the right level of smokiness, and the tacos include a pleasant mix of bitter greens, citrus and even some bacon, but all of that seems secondary once the Carolina Reaper salsa hits. It's probably not going to kill you if you're a fan of spice—the dose makes the poison, after all—but I would peg this salsa at roughly habanero-tier heat. If you're debating whether to get it, maybe you shouldn't. There's so much else to try!

The flavors on the pork belly al pastor—and just those four words together should be making your mouth water—are as good as they sound. It comes with some bits of grilled pineapple, as any good al pastor should. When combined with what looks like a lusciously thick-cut bacon strip, the result is something sweet, savory, tropical and wonderful. My only gripe is that the pork belly has a bit of chew to it, and so it doesn't quite achieve that ideal combination of crispiness and melt-in-your-mouth tenderness.

The ribeye carne asada is another big winner. I'm a sucker for crispy leeks, and those little straws of crunchy goodness are used perfectly here. A mild heat from the jalapeño and a daub of salty mashed potato provide a terrific base for the ribeye, which is cooked about medium and seasoned well. The only slight issue, again, is tenderness: It's not that chewy, but the pieces are quite large, so a long strip can come sliding out all at once if you don't manage to bite all the way through.

Ribeye carne asada & pork belly al pastor. A mouse musta taken a bite of the tortilla.

The baja fish is among the best in a city famous for its fish tacos. As with the squash blossom, it's got a nice coating of crisp golden batter. The chorizo-tomato vinaigrette, while not so appealing visually, is a great salty-savory complement. The remoulade, as it's called on the menu, is basically a very garlicky aioli—but there is no universe where I'm going to complain about aioli. Aioli is never not good.

Carnitasssss.

The smoked carnitas might be the most traditional of the six tacos I tried, and it also might be the best. The key here is the two preparations of pork at play: one is confited for maximum tenderness, while the other is crisped to perfection to create a satisfying texture. The pickled red onion and thinly shaved tomatillo create contrasting colors and add much-needed acidity. A creamy avocado mousse and a generous sprinkle of cilantro round out one of the best carnitas tacos I've had anywhere.

Lastly, I made the impulse decision to get not one but two orders of churros, because we're dessert people and specifically churro people. Best decision I ever made. (Okay, best decision of the night.) We each got four fresh churro pieces that nailed that classic crisp-outside, soft-inside texture. They were also unusually craggy on the outside, which allowed for more crunchy, cinnamon-sugary surface area. The two sauces, a light caramel and a salted milk chocolate, were both delightful. I scraped my chocolate cup clean with my fork.

I've thought about writing a food blog for a while now. I'm not exactly sure why, but it was after eating at Lola 55 that I decided to start. Maybe it's because Lola combines a lot of what I love about food in San Diego: really great Mexican cuisine, tons of small plates to try (tacos are small plates, right? why not?), and thoughtful, creative use of ingredients. Whatever the reason, I'm coming back for more.

Score: 9 out of 10 (Fantastic)