Upper Heights in Lower Haight

This past week's trip to San Francisco definitely took me to some foodie heights, but none was quite as soaring as my evening in the Lower Haight district.

The restaurant in question: RNM.

A hip, happening spot recommended by a fellow gourmet geek, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. She had promised scrumptious "Small Plates" and desserts that were moan-worthy, but hadn't given much more detail. A perfunctory look-see at the SF Chronicle's Web site, let me know that RNM's chef, Justine Miller, was definitely a hot property, spotlighting Miner as one of the Bay Area's "Rising Young Chefs":

Some chefs are born with a knife in one hand and a saute pan in the other. But not Justine Miner.

She could have done anything, what with her Pacific Heights upbringing, her Hamlin School and University High education and a degree in French and economics from UC Davis.

But a love of cooking and strong culinary instincts were steeped in her bones - thanks to a European mother who whipped up her favorite French and Italian dishes every night for dinner and a father who took the family to France, Italy and Germany for three summers, checking out markets and restaurants along the way.

So it's natural that Miner, at 29, is chef-owner of her own restaurant, the hip and stylish RNM in the Haight. Her intuitive riffs on classics and on seasonal dishes have drawn raves since RNM opened in August.

That was enough for me. One step into the restaurant's sophisticated, energized dining room (pictured above) and an exuberant greeting from its host, Robert, and Mo and I were off to a good start. A bracing Negroni and sweet, bubbly Kir Royale later and we were off to a very good start.

The menu was enticing. It was hard to narrow the field, but somehow we did. We figured we'd start off simply - with a basic salad. But, biting into Miller's Grilled Hearts of Romaine with Anjou Pears, Saint Agur, Toasted Hazelnuts and a Champagne Vinaigrette we realized that we missed basic by a mile. The warmth and softness that the grill imparted the greens was counterpointed beautifully by the crispness of the pears. The textural play between the crunch of the nuts and the soft, butter of the Saint Agur blue cheese intensified the dish.

We had to pause before the next course. Luckily, we'd ordered a robust bottle of Miner 2001 Zinfandel to sip and ponder - the pause that refreshes.

Next came a lusty Soft-Shell Crab that was heavenly. Don't ask me to describe the flavors that it married. I was enjoying the honeymoon too much to take notes.

Heaving a sigh of satisfaction, the "Large Plate" arrived: Pan Roasted Ribeye Steak with Pancetta Wrapped Red Irish Potatoes, Wild Nettles, Oakville Ranch Cabernet Butter & Shaved Black Himalayan Truffles. Now, those of you who read this Web site, are well-aware of my love for truffles, but that Cabernet Butter was to-die. I don't have a recipe for it yet - but trust me that I'll find one. It was amazingly rich and elegant. Just perfect with the ruby centered steak.

At this point the words "moan-worthy" and "desserts" were echoing in my head.

The dessert menu was perused as we polished off the last of the Zin. And, no sooner did we make "all gone," when a plate of nirvana arrived. RNM's Bread Pudding with Dried Apricots, Toasted Pecans & Brandy Caramel sauce was a revelation. Sweet bliss. It put New Orleans to shame. Need I say more?

It took all of our will-power to leave the restaurant, but our gracious waitress Lori along with Robert insisted that we pay call to Alberta Straub - the goddess/bartender who holds court at the nearby Orbit Room.

The ebulliant Straub, gussied up in funky glasses and bright-red pouty lipstick just recieved SF Weekly's "Best Bartender" award and the staff at RNM promised that the accolades were more than well deserved. According to the Weekly:

As Alice Waters is to a bushel of organic produce, the Orbit Room's quirky Alberta Straub is to a shelf of top-notch booze. Part of being a great bartender -- next to a Sam Malone-ish sympathetic ear and some seen-it-all, commonsensical advice -- is, well, knowing your way around a cocktail. "I just like to make people happy," says Straub. And she does. Not only does she use her very own homemade brandied cherries, tarragon- and lemongrass-infused vodkas, old-fashioned glass seltzer bottles, and specially sifted salts (to rim one of the finest Bloody Marys in town), but she also employs her improvisational skills to help her devise astounding concoctions.

I have never in my life met a bartender more enthralled with the art of the cocktail - and what makes her truly unique is that she is self-taught. With a historian's passion and lush's lust, she acquired her cocktail know-how by reading a series of tomes focusing on the development of the luxury class.

All I can say is this: Straub should be the spokeswoman for RIF: Reading Is Fundemental.

I gave her my card, hoping that she calls if she ever makes it to NYC. I feel like someone should set her free with her own kind at the Flatiron Lounge or Bemelman's.

Needless to say, after a round at the Orbit, Mo and I had our heads in the clouds. (Or, was it the fog?) It was impossible for the Bay area to top this evening. San Francisco couldn't do better. What to do? Where to go next, that wouldn't be a let-down in comparison?

Thank goodness, we had return tickets to New York...