Jackson Fillmore should be no more
One of the major inconveniences of living at the crown of Pacific Heights would be having to eat at the Jackson Fillmore Trattoria. It is of course in close proximity to many of the glorious homes that make the area known throughout the world. Too bad the food in the worn, rundown, eatery doesn't compare to the sheds that conceal the trash of most of these elaborate homes.
On a recent Saturday night visit, my wife suggested we grab a quick bowl of pasta at this once, well run neighborhood Italian storefront restaurant. I had never been because the lack of ambiance was noticeable when looking in the window. But, we had spent a good part of the day in The City and we wanted to indulge in some good food, not great food, before heading back to Sonoma county.
When we showed up at 5:15p.m. the Trattoria wasn't opened yet, and it was still in somewhat of a state of disarray. The host was nice and told us we wouldn't need a reservation and that they opened at 5:30. At 5:45 when we came back we sat at the county and the experience began.
The bar behind the counter was worn and tattered, laden with a combo of filth, and clutter. The lights were dim, not in a romantic way, but in a way to throw off a dinge rather than a soft glow. Within the restaurant biz there is an old saying- "If you've got time to lean, you've got time to clean". Nobody at Jackson Fillmore ever heard those words spoken. The coffee grinder, circa 1975 Safeway, was as dirty as they come. The wall next to it was disgustingly caked with spatters from various grinding cycles.. The bartender made a variety of salads in front of our eyes, which explains in part why he is one of the few without a show on the Food Network. While continuously touching his face, and his hair, and bottles of wine, and pens, and guest checks, he never once washed his hands before grabbing heads of Romaine, or Raddichio, tearing them apart to toss into a salad.
Not wanting to experience any part of the bartender's bodily residue in my food, we opted for an appetizer of Calamari and two entrees of pasta. I chose the Gnocchi with cheese and smoked chicken and my wife decided on the Ravioli.
The Calamari when delivered was a tone of brownish gray. It had supposedly been seasoned with pepper but did not have any other flavor. It's eye appeal resembled something on E.R. and it's flavor was equally as bad.
However, I would have gladly had a double portion of Squid circles and tentacles, which were abundant, rather than have to have fought through the offer sodium laden dish of Gnocchi's rendition of Macaroni and Cheese. The cheese which was layered on top of the gnocchi and then melted under a broiler was as thick and as flavorful as any white topping at Dominoe's. And, the smoked chicken obviously had made it through the kitchen without losing much more than a toe, for the meat in the dish was so miniscule that thankfully it added nothing to the palate or the eye.
The accompanying Ravioli was a rendition of pasta strips folded over and pinched around a filling of cheese and squash. The oil on the plate, which resembled something that I will discuss in a moment, was stomach turning.
Now, granted, the restaurant business is tough, especially in a competitive market like The City's. But in order to succeed, every restaurant must have either great ambiance, great food, cleanliness, great service, a combination of all the above, or just be convenient. Well, the latter holds true for this restaurant. It has to be the convenience factor. And that however brings us to another problem.
It wasn't until I went through the kitchen to get to the bathroom that the real picture was painted. As I stood in the hall by an open door that overlooked a pitch black alley- a perfect runway for mice and other rodent, I noticed the grease seeping from the other side of the ceiling, down the wall and almost dripping onto the floor. Looking around the kitchen, which I stood almost in the middle of, was a combination of spattered , tattered wallboard and containers of cooking ingredients on the floor. The place was a maid's nightmare and it had only opened 30 minutes before. It would have been a reasonable excuse if I saw what I saw at 10:30, after a busy Saturday night. But to let customers in a kitchen that looked like this one is almost culinary suicide.
I spoke with Timothy Ing about the problems at the eatery and he inspected the restaurant in August of this year, found violations and wnet back a week l;ater and many of those violations were corrected. But that isn't the problem.Currently the Health Department is seven inspectors short. That is a problem.
Has the city of San Francisco finally hit its maximum capacity for restaurants and other type eateries? Has the Health Department, which was bulging at its manpower seams finally gotten so busy that they cannot even answer their phones?
One comforting thought that everyone subliminally focuses on, is that the health department, the food inspection police, if you will, have the public's best interest at stake. They are the people who go into the dark, dungenous basements, and in the corner of the smelly coolers, and underneath the slim soaked bars and look to see what they find. And, in many instances they don't find anything other than what they should. But, if they are too busy to answer their phones, and kitchens of restaurants look like the one at Jackson Fillmore Trattoria, who is really out there watching?
That is more than a half baked question.
A typical health inspector used to cover and inspect 175 restaurants. Now, the number is up to 500. It is an insurmountable task. An impossibility. The city needs more health inspectors. And, they need them now. In the meantime, meander down the hill. It may be inconvenient but the grass is greener, and the food is certainly better at almost any place you could find.
Be Well.
On a recent Saturday night visit, my wife suggested we grab a quick bowl of pasta at this once, well run neighborhood Italian storefront restaurant. I had never been because the lack of ambiance was noticeable when looking in the window. But, we had spent a good part of the day in The City and we wanted to indulge in some good food, not great food, before heading back to Sonoma county.
When we showed up at 5:15p.m. the Trattoria wasn't opened yet, and it was still in somewhat of a state of disarray. The host was nice and told us we wouldn't need a reservation and that they opened at 5:30. At 5:45 when we came back we sat at the county and the experience began.
The bar behind the counter was worn and tattered, laden with a combo of filth, and clutter. The lights were dim, not in a romantic way, but in a way to throw off a dinge rather than a soft glow. Within the restaurant biz there is an old saying- "If you've got time to lean, you've got time to clean". Nobody at Jackson Fillmore ever heard those words spoken. The coffee grinder, circa 1975 Safeway, was as dirty as they come. The wall next to it was disgustingly caked with spatters from various grinding cycles.. The bartender made a variety of salads in front of our eyes, which explains in part why he is one of the few without a show on the Food Network. While continuously touching his face, and his hair, and bottles of wine, and pens, and guest checks, he never once washed his hands before grabbing heads of Romaine, or Raddichio, tearing them apart to toss into a salad.
Not wanting to experience any part of the bartender's bodily residue in my food, we opted for an appetizer of Calamari and two entrees of pasta. I chose the Gnocchi with cheese and smoked chicken and my wife decided on the Ravioli.
The Calamari when delivered was a tone of brownish gray. It had supposedly been seasoned with pepper but did not have any other flavor. It's eye appeal resembled something on E.R. and it's flavor was equally as bad.
However, I would have gladly had a double portion of Squid circles and tentacles, which were abundant, rather than have to have fought through the offer sodium laden dish of Gnocchi's rendition of Macaroni and Cheese. The cheese which was layered on top of the gnocchi and then melted under a broiler was as thick and as flavorful as any white topping at Dominoe's. And, the smoked chicken obviously had made it through the kitchen without losing much more than a toe, for the meat in the dish was so miniscule that thankfully it added nothing to the palate or the eye.
The accompanying Ravioli was a rendition of pasta strips folded over and pinched around a filling of cheese and squash. The oil on the plate, which resembled something that I will discuss in a moment, was stomach turning.
Now, granted, the restaurant business is tough, especially in a competitive market like The City's. But in order to succeed, every restaurant must have either great ambiance, great food, cleanliness, great service, a combination of all the above, or just be convenient. Well, the latter holds true for this restaurant. It has to be the convenience factor. And that however brings us to another problem.
It wasn't until I went through the kitchen to get to the bathroom that the real picture was painted. As I stood in the hall by an open door that overlooked a pitch black alley- a perfect runway for mice and other rodent, I noticed the grease seeping from the other side of the ceiling, down the wall and almost dripping onto the floor. Looking around the kitchen, which I stood almost in the middle of, was a combination of spattered , tattered wallboard and containers of cooking ingredients on the floor. The place was a maid's nightmare and it had only opened 30 minutes before. It would have been a reasonable excuse if I saw what I saw at 10:30, after a busy Saturday night. But to let customers in a kitchen that looked like this one is almost culinary suicide.
I spoke with Timothy Ing about the problems at the eatery and he inspected the restaurant in August of this year, found violations and wnet back a week l;ater and many of those violations were corrected. But that isn't the problem.Currently the Health Department is seven inspectors short. That is a problem.
Has the city of San Francisco finally hit its maximum capacity for restaurants and other type eateries? Has the Health Department, which was bulging at its manpower seams finally gotten so busy that they cannot even answer their phones?
One comforting thought that everyone subliminally focuses on, is that the health department, the food inspection police, if you will, have the public's best interest at stake. They are the people who go into the dark, dungenous basements, and in the corner of the smelly coolers, and underneath the slim soaked bars and look to see what they find. And, in many instances they don't find anything other than what they should. But, if they are too busy to answer their phones, and kitchens of restaurants look like the one at Jackson Fillmore Trattoria, who is really out there watching?
That is more than a half baked question.
A typical health inspector used to cover and inspect 175 restaurants. Now, the number is up to 500. It is an insurmountable task. An impossibility. The city needs more health inspectors. And, they need them now. In the meantime, meander down the hill. It may be inconvenient but the grass is greener, and the food is certainly better at almost any place you could find.
Be Well.
posted by J.F.Foley at 8:03 AM
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