Quick Bite: Poke It

For some reason this interior design makes
me crave watermelon. Can't imagine why.

These days, you can't walk down the street without accidentally stumbling into a poké joint. It takes some wild creativity to stand out from the literally dozens of raw fish shops lining the sidewalk like so many toppled electric scooters.

Poke It in Hillcrest has made an admirable effort, though. Billing themselves as "premium raw with a Mexican twist, they naturally offer the now-pedestrian poké bowl and nori-wrapped burrito. But they venture further, toying with the limits of seafood propriety: riceburgers (with crispy rice as the bun), ricetadas (crispy rice tostadas), and tacos made with fried, panko-crusted nori shells. When will the madness end?

Today I stopped by for the salmon al pastor tacos. They were a bit small, but four to an order. The most impressive thing about them, I think, was actually the shell. I expected them to be brittle, breaking apart and leaving behind a pile of taco debris. But no! Though crunchy, they had just the right amount of give so as not to break apart, aided by a bed of white rice acting as a shock absorber. These shells had an addictive, snacky texture; they really ought to be on store shelves for bingeing at home.

Will man's hubris ever be quenched?

When I ordered, my one concern was that when the menu described "cooked" adobo salmon, it really meant "overcooked." As it turned out, I was right to worry: The chunks of salmon had the grainy well-done texture that every seafood lover dreads. The adobo marinade was okay—it was pleasantly salty and savory, but the flavor profile didn't go much deeper than that.

Thankfully, the salmon texture was mostly masked by all the other ingredients: The tang of the pickled onion, the creamy guacamole to complement the shell, the sweet and spicy pineapple with a hint of cinnamon, and an herbaceous dash of oregano. The flavors sound a bit odd together, and are a bit strong on their own, but when combined they balance each other to form a cohesive whole.

I'm a sucker for innovation. These tacos were far from perfect, but there's a lot I can forgive when a restaurant is willing to try something different. While I'm not in a rush to return, eventually the call of ricetadas will be enough to draw me back in.

Score: 6.5 out of 10 (Good)

Review: Brigantine Coronado

If there's a classic San Diego seafood restaurant, it's probably Brigantine. It's been around almost 50 years, and has since expanded to no less than seven locations sprinkled across the county. Amy and I tried out the Coronado location for our Saturdate night.

I got a raspberry mojito, which was sweet and very raspberry (both natural and artificial) with a hint of mint. Amy's paloma mule really was like two drinks in one, with the citrus up front followed by a sweet, gingery finish.

Our calamari strips were a mixed bag. Presentation was lacking; the nine or ten floppy strips barely filled a small plate. The thin breading also left a lot to be desired; these strips could have been an irresistible had they had a thick, crisp batter. The jalapeño white sauce was the saving grace of this dish. The dipping sauce is a signature of Miguel's, Brigantine's sister restaurant; it's rich, creamy and comfortable with a mild heat, like the best nacho cheese ever.

My pan-seared salmon light yet satisfying, cooked medium and tender. The butter avocado sauce had that browned, caramelized glow that amplified the natural butteriness of the fish. A bed of chorizo, roasted poblano and sweet corn served as a delightful complement, adding a dose of tanginess and salt. It was finished with sprouty, herby sprinkle of microgreens. In sum, a good dish that was more than the sum of its parts.

Amy's lobster tacos were the best part of dinner. I can best describe them as "lobster and chips" in taco form. Massive chunks of lobster were swathed in a thick layer of beer batter, combined in a taco with a fresh cucumber and jicama slaw and creamy cilantro sauce. It was delicious, at least as good as any fish 'n' chips I've ever had and probably better from light natural sweetness of the lobster. The fries had a prominent (but not too prominent) truffle taste and a sprinkle of parmesan, though they definitely should have been crisper and could have used a sauce.

We ended the meal with a slice of flourless chocolate toffee cake. It was definitely tasty, with a rich dark chocolate flavor that topped with (what else?) a smooth chocolate ganache. The only issue here was that there was very little actual... toffee. Some shards of thick caramelized crunch would have really put this cake over the top, but instead we got a few small bits with almost no texture to them. The vanilla ice cream helped, but I couldn't help but feel let down just a bit.

Brigantine occupies a distinct niche in our restaurant ecosystem as the "default" seafood place: It's solid cuisine that you can find in locations from Imperial Beach to Poway. It's certainly true that there are better options in its category—Herringbone and The Marine Room come to mind. Still, I wouldn't be surprised if Brigantine's upscale yet approachable atmosphere helps preserve its status as a San Diego mainstay for another 50 years to come.

Score: 7 out of 10 (Very Good)

Dish Spotlight: Rub My Belly at Good Time Poke

Some places have one dish that stands out among the rest—not because the other menu items are bad, but because this one thing is so good that it feels like a betrayal to get anything else. For Good Time Poke in Pacific Beach, that dish is the Rub My Belly.

The $14 Rub My Belly bowl is probably my favorite poke in San Diego, though it arguably isn't technically poke at all. It consists of a bed of white rice topped with torched salmon belly—no shoyu marinade here—and a variety of veggies and toppings. (I always add jalapeño for some extra heat.)

Not one ingredient feels out of place in this bowl. The salmon belly is luscious: It's tender and raw on one side, the lightest of sears on the other, creating a mouthwatering contrast of textures. The nori is salty, rough and crisp, and brings with it that classic essence of the sea. The greenery of the avocado, scallions and jalapeño make the dish feel fresh and light without taking too much focus off the fish. The real chopped wasabi feels like an indulgence—it tastes brighter and sharper than the usual green-dyed horseradish. The tosazu (Japanese bonito rice vinegar) is slightly tangy mixed with a touch of soy sauce.

This bowl has become a favorite in my family over the past couple of years. My dad has said more than once that it might actually be his favorite thing to eat, period. I won't go that far, but I love how any single bite is guaranteed to have a melange of three or four delicious elements that play perfectly together. The salmon, nori and vinegared rice coalesce into a symphony of flavor. Occasionally the wasabi lightly burns my nose, and I chuckle at my miscalculation in assembling the perfect bite.

The Rub My Belly feels like a San Diego summer. You could grab a bowl to go, walk three blocks to the ocean and eat it beachside under an umbrella. You could even pretend you just caught the fish yourself from the pier—it tastes fresh enough, after all. You could finish every precious morsel (feeling full yet wishing there'd been just a little more), then walk to the water and let the cold waves wash over your feet.

What am I trying to say here? Well... the best food doesn't feel like it's limited to a dining table. It feels like part of life. It brings people together. The best food makes memories.