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

Dish Spotlight: Carne Cruda Asada at Juniper & Ivy

Little Italy's Juniper & Ivy is one of my favorite restaurants in the city. It ticks a lot of boxes for me: A wide array of unique small plates, a great cocktail list, an inventive menu that changes throughout the year—and most importantly, a few permanent menu items that are among my favorite dishes, period. One of those is the carne cruda asada.

Not-so-quick aside: Leading up to our recent visit, I'd planned to profile a different one of their mainstays, the incredible yodel cake. Its wild combination of textures (crunch! powder! ice cream!) and flavors (coffee! chocolate! strawberry!) mingle and combine in wonderful ways. It's a perfect dessert... but on our visit they'd ruined it, tampering with the flavor profile to create a far-inferior apple and matcha version. When we told the waiter as much, he confided: "You're preaching to the choir." Turns out much of the staff is lobbying to get the original back. Fingers crossed!

Now, back to the topic at hand.

The carne cruda asada has no right be as good as it is—not with ingredients that are so seemingly simple. It's just toast stacked with steak tartare, jalapeño, cotija cheese, quail egg and scallion, sliced into four pieces for sharing. And yet...

Flashback: The year is 2014. We're visiting J&I for the first time, soon after its grand opening, and I spot an odd and intriguing tartare toast on the menu. We order. I grab a slice. The toast is thick-cut, hardy enough to support a huge helping of tartare, so tender it's creamy, infused with jalapeño heat. The adorably tiny sunny-side-up quail eggs amplify that luscious texture. It's like the perfect savory breakfast, but I'm having it for dinner. A smattering of scallions and hint of lime and provide the springiness needed to lighten the heavy steak-and-eggs combo. And finally, the cotija supplies the critical salt element that unites the rest into a Mexican-influenced masterpiece. Months after this first encounter, I continue to think back on it longingly.

Here in 2018, the cruda asada is still one of the best dishes in San Diego. No outrageous flavors, just subtle, hearty and satisfying. It's the first dish to make me really love steak tartare, the kind of dish where every ingredient has an essential role to play. A true instant classic—let's just hope they don't go adding apples and matcha powder.

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: Din Tai Fung

It's finally here.

Since first opening in Taipei in 1972, Din Tai Fung has slowly expanded across the globe, spreading its gospel of xiao long bao (soup dumplings) along the way. After 46 years, they've opened at UTC Mall to give San Diegans a chance to see what the fuss is about. Finally.

Confession time: I'm a total neophyte in the ways of dim sum. I've been to Jasmine once, years ago, and was thoroughly underwhelmed. That experience was all I had to go on—that and the massive buzz. I was only able to snag a table for Sunday lunch about a month in advance, and that's when it dawned on me just what a phenomenon Din Tai Fung really is. By the time the day came, I was brimming with anticipation.

Drink squad, assemble.

The dining space is elegant and modern with neutral tones and huge windows that let in plenty of light. After a brief wait on the patio, we were shown to our booth, past the kitchen where about a dozen people behind the glass were tirelessly assembling dumplings.

I got the Shanghai Flame, a vodka cocktail that started off sweet from the lychee juice and finished with tart passion fruit puree. The cayenne on the rim was mixed with sugar to ensure it was balanced and not too spicy. The other drinks at the table were a peach green tea (fruity but not too much so as to overpower the tea's natural bitterness), and lychee green tea with boba (sweet with big chewy globules of tapioca).

But you're not here for that, are you? You came for soup dumplings, and soup dumplings you shall have.

Juuust a li'l peek of that good filling.

Xiao long bao are essentially self-contained pockets of pork and broth, which you can dip in a soy-and-vinegar sauce, then puncture with your chopsticks or a quick nibble to help the inside cool. Once you do, the soup immediately pours (or if you're not careful, spurts!) out into your spoon. You can then eat your morsel in a couple of bites (which I have dubbed "the coward's method") or down the whole thing in one go like a shooter.

The ritual of careful opening makes each dumpling feel like something truly precious—which they are, because they are absolutely delicious.

We got three kinds, and each one was succulent and amazing in its own way. Each dumpling's broth is so infused with the essence of its filling that it feels like you're getting a double dose of flavor in every bite. The standard pork dumpling functions as the classic, timeless original. It's mouthwateringly savory with touches of garlic and ginger. The dipping sauce adds another layer of salty, tangy complexity. It's warm, soothing comfort food, so wonderful that it makes me wish I'd grown up with it.

Behold the pinnacle of human achievement.
...What? Why are you looking at me like that?

The truffle pork dumpling was something else: decadent, the inside speckled with countless bits of black, earthy mushroom. It was deeply, luxuriously truffly and delicious. One caveat: An order of regular pork dumplings is ten for about $12, but this order is five for $24—four times the PPD (price per dumpling). As good as they are, you may want to go for many the other tasty items unless you're a true truffle fiend.

Finally, the crab and pork dumpling: soft and intense with sweet seafood flavor (again, both in broth and filling) and just a bit of that savory pork base. Definitely worth a try if you enjoy the taste of crab. (My mom found them a bit fishy; I disagree. Thankfully we're still on speaking terms.)

We got two veggie sides. The garlic broccoli was reminiscent of a classic Chinese takeout order, but perfected. made with infinitely more care; not limp or soggy as it too often is. It was firm and slightly smoky with light garlic and ginger notes. The garlic spinach was similar, again slightly garlicky, but a bit too wilty for my taste—not to the point of being mushy but definitely on the soft side.

What's hiding under that crust?
Something tasty, that's what.

But there are still many more dishes to see. The Shanghai rice cakes, rather than being crispy as I'd expected, actually had a chewy and satisfyingly glutinous texture. They actually put up a fight when you chewed them, which was actually a welcome difference from the softness of some of the other dishes. They came in a lovely brown sauce with a salty caramel taste. Unusual and good, though not among the high points. The shrimp and pork potstickers were an eye-catcher: They're connected by a thin, brittle sheet of crust and served crust-side-up so that all you see initially is a rectangle of golden crispness. Break through that crust with a chopstick to reveal the tender dumplings beneath. It's a great texture contrast. The flavors of shrimp and pork both come through distinctly and meld beautifully with the salty, slightly acidic dipping sauce.

Pictured: Sauce of the gods. (Oh, also wontons.)

I haven't yet mentioned the best dish of the meal—yes, better than the soup dumplings. The vegetable and pork wontons were soft, luscious parcels, but the filling was almost irrelevant: The chili sauce they came in was clearly the star here. It was ten flavors at once: sweet and vinegared, with a perfect, even heat and a melange of caramelized garlic, ginger and scallion. It's the kind of sauce that you hoard, that you put on stuff it wasn't even meant for, that you eat spoonfuls of all on its own, because it's just that good.

Finally, dessert: More xiao long bao.

...Yes, really! This time, though, they were filled with melted milk chocolate. It felt like guilty pleasure, biting in to let the pure candy goodness come oozing out. Clearly a western bastardization of the dumpling arts, but who cares when it's this delightful?

It's... kinda cute?

Just as good, and arguably more interesting, was the sesame bao bun. The outside has the thick, fluffy and lightly sweet qualities typical of a steamed bun. It's a bready, gratifying chew that's typically accompanied by a filling of savory meat or veggies. Here, though, the filling is a molten, nutty paste of delicious black sesame sweetness. Oddly, it reminded me a bit of a peanut butter sandwich, but more understated and complex. It was a fitting way to end: A simple yet totally unique dish taken from a page in the traditional Chinese cookbook that I've never experienced before. (That, and it's a dumpling.)

The food at Din Tai Fung is outstanding. It feels familiar, not far from the Chinese cuisine I've come to know and enjoy, but heightened, subtly elevated at every turn. Their devotion to the craft shines through in just about every dish. And it's got one more quality that only the best restaurants can boast of: a dish or two that you'll be dreaming about long after you've left full and happy.

Score: 9.5 out of 10 (Incredible)

Travel Eats: Coqueta (San Francisco)

For lunch on Sunday we went to Coqueta, a Spanish tapas place by the water in San Francisco. It's run by one Michael Chiarello, a celeb chef with a Food Network show who took third place on a season of Next Iron Chef.

We went light on the drinks. Amy got a Juniper & Tonic, which was slightly sweet and bitter much like a gin and tonic. I had a sparkling rosemary lemonade, which was excellent: piney and fresh, tart with just a little sugar.

We started off with some pintxo skewers. The chorizo was good, rich and salty (as it should be!) with some vinegar from the artichoke and the piquillo pepper. The manchego was a satisfying bite, mixing salt with sweet fruitiness from the apricot conserva. The quail egg diablo was maybe the least exciting; not particularly "diablo", just lightly flavored from the mustard seed.

Next up was a pretty unusual rendition of deviled eggs. The yolk was blended with pimento aioli, creating an intensely tangy and smoky filling. It was topped with oil-poached bonito, which was nice but had a bit of the grainy texture that full-cooked tuna often does.

The larger plates, the pulpo and the patatas bravas, might have been the two highlights. The octopus was a thing of beauty, savory and tender, charred almost to burnt but not quite, so that it was crunchy on the edges. It had a pleasant sprinkling of herbs, though the potatoes it came with were less exciting—especially compared to the bravas. These earthy bite-size potato morsels were individually topped with daubs of garlicky aioli. The brava sauce was almost like a tomato cream sauce, but there was a bit of spicy, smoky oil in the center that I wish there'd been more of, as it really brought everything together.

We ended with a set of chicken croquetas, which were delicious and unexpectedly creamy and cheesy, with some occasional garden sweetness from the peas inside. Sadly, the chicharron crust seemed no different from a typical croqueta breading. They came with skewers of tangerine—an odd choice and not really integrated with the main part of the dish, but somehow it worked.

Though San Francisco is teeming with great restaurants, good food can be hard to find near the touristy pier area. For anyone sick of clam chowder and willing to walk a ways from the most trafficked part of the shoreline, Croqueta is a great alternative.

Score: 8.5 out of 10 (Excellent)

Happy Hour Bite: Nine-Ten

Nine-Ten is the kind of place that would have a Michelin star or two if those lazy bums would bother to make their way down to San Diego. It's seriously one of my favorite restaurants in the entire city, but today I'm going to talk about their happy hour.

Due to my work schedule, happy hour for me usually translates to "very late lunch," so while I may occasionally grab a drink, my focus is always on the food. During happy hour, Nine-Ten offers half off the bar food, putting their masterful small plates in the $6–8 range.

The hamachi sashimi is a great light dish. The freshness of the hamachi really comes through, enhanced with a touch of salt. The scallion vinaigrette adds a delicious vibrant acidity; I almost wished I had a spoon to scoop up every drop. My only real issue with this plate was that the marinated mushrooms soaked up a lot of the vinegar flavor, making them a bit more intense than I'd like.

While I'm at it, I'll mention another of my favorite bar plates that I didn't have on my last visit: the avocado shrimp toast. I know avocado toast is has attained memetic status at this point, but I don't care when it's this good. This dish looks and tastes like a spring garden on bread. The luxuriously creamy guacamole base is topped generously with cilantro, thinly sliced radish, and serrano for a nice prickle of heat. While the salty queso fresco crumbles are essential, the perfectly cooked shrimp are the star of the show, sweet and tender with just the lightest of chars. Even my wife, who usually hates the texture of shrimp, admitted they weren't bad. Truly, this must be a magical place.

Now, it says something about how much I trust head chef Jason Knibb and his team that, rather than being disappointed when I saw their fantastic mushroom agnolotti had been replaced with a different one, I was excited to try their latest creation. The roasted corn and ricotta agnolotti seamlessly blends Italian tradition, Mexican flavors and the comfort food richness into a plate that feels familiar yet totally unique. The sweet corn sauce is reminiscent of a hearty corn chowder, and it meshes well with the salty cotija, fresh cilantro, and lime-spicy Tajín. Biting into these pasta pillows lets the ricotta come gushing out. The agnolotti's al dente bite provides an important contrast in such a creamy dish. I would welcome a bit more heat to cut through the cream and round out the Mexican flavors, but that's just one quibble in an otherwise outstanding plate.

In addition to being one of the best special occasion restaurants in the city, Nine-Ten has become my go-to when I want to treat myself after a taxing work day. There just aren't many places here putting out creative plates at this level of refinement, at this price point. I only hope I'm not spoiling one of San Diego's best-kept food secrets!

Score: 10 out of 10 (Phenomenal)