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San Francisco Chronicle
25-07-2025
- Entertainment
- San Francisco Chronicle
The S.F. restaurant that divided our critics: Why its format is no gimmick — it's essential
Editor's note: Food critics MacKenzie Chung Fegan and Cesar Hernandez are facing off this week over one iconic restaurant: State Bird Provisions. This is Fegan's response to Hernandez's review yesterday. Remember dessert trays? I think of them fondly and often. 'Ladyfingers, coffee and mascarpone' meant nothing to me at age 7, but ogling layers of oozing sponge and cocoa powder dusted over swooshes of cream — yes, whatever that is, I'll please have that. Dessert trays were left in the '90s along with smoking sections and those click-clack carbon paper credit card machines. Dim sum carts, another vestige of my childhood, survived a while longer. But post-COVID, they too are on the verge of extinction. In San Francisco, I can think of only two restaurants that still have them: Yank Sing and State Bird Provisions. State Bird's concept was built around dim sum carts when it debuted 13 years ago, immediately winning over the food world. It remains an exceptional restaurant, landing on our Top 100 list this year alongside sister establishment The Progress. But in his review yesterday — which I'd encourage you to read first since this is, effectively, a rebuttal — my colleague Cesar Hernandez argued that those dim sum carts are now a liability for the Michelin-starred restaurant. I respectfully but vocally disagree. While I concede that State Bird Provisions' most memorable dishes are found on the main menu, it's the cart service that makes it one of the jolliest and most distinctive dining experiences in the Bay Area. Extra! Extra! Dueling reviews San Francisco Chronicle critics MacKenzie Chung Fegan and Cesar Hernandez are dueling this week over one restaurant: State Bird Provisions. Check out Hernandez's take on the famous restaurant here. 'The dim sum schtick,' Cesar wrote, 'feels more customary than essential, more cute than efficient, more showy than delicious.' To this I say, to hell with efficiency, I'll optimize when I'm dead. Menus are surely the most sensible way to assemble a meal, all your choices laid out in front of you at once in a neatly organized fashion. They're also boring, a list of nouns and, if you're lucky, a jejune adjective or two. Select your appetizer, entrée, a side if you're feeling zany. You'll get exactly what you've ordered, and I congratulate you on making responsible life choices. But what State Bird's dim sum cart offers me is felicity. If I had seen 'steamed egg tofu' ($9) on the menu, I likely would have passed. But when a server waved it before my eyes, a quivering butter yellow square glistening with crimson, sesame-flecked chile oil, topped with pickled mushrooms, I had to have it. Cesar cast State Bird's dim sum offerings as a 'roller coaster,' delivering thrilling highs and dismal lows. He's not wrong that there are weak links, and we are mostly in accord about which they are. The garlic bread with burrata ($13) is shockingly a dud — tough and not very garlicky at all — and an attractive wedge salad needed to work harder. However, I disagree with his assessment that an avocado dish 'failed to delight.' It delighted me, the accompanying tonnato sauce a reminder that punchy tuna salad-and-avo sandwiches need to be brought back into the lunch rotation. I also concur that some of the strongest dishes coming out of State Bird's kitchen can be found on the main menu, not on the carts or trays that servers ferry around the room like peanut vendors at a ballpark. Standouts from the 'pancakes and toast' section during my visits included the sourdough sauerkraut pancakes ($15), sprinkled with caraway seeds, and the brown butter morel roti ($32), earthy and richly spiced. Cesar's favorite large-format dishes, which State Bird calls 'commandables,' are mine as well. Do as he says and build your meal around the slippery hand-cut noodles ($30) and the tofu and bean donabe, a dish inspired by mapo tofu but entirely its own thing ($30). With all this kumbaya agreement, where do Cesar and I diverge? In his review, he writes, 'I was constantly in this conundrum of choice, where the implied ephemeral state of the dim sum compelled me to act fast or miss out like a loser.' It's rare, in a restaurant setting, that we are afforded the opportunity to commune with our hunger. In a previous era, I might have put in an order for appetizers while I considered the full menu, but now, my server will caution that the kitchen prefers to receive the entire order at once — tough but fair. Rarely do I not ask, 'Have I ordered enough? Too much?' Cesar's conundrum of choice, the pressure to smash or pass while a server waits for your table's decision, is because this is not how we are accustomed to eating. But what a gift to be pushed to know your desires, to see a pile of glossy cherries abutting a foamy pool of brie ($10) and ask yourself, 'Do I want that right now? Is this what I crave?' Dine with a small group and you'll find yourself enrolled in a crash-course in collective decision making. Three people may shrug and dither, but the fourth might catch the server as he turns to go: 'I do want that.' You could request a printed version of the dim sum menu and order as you would at a more conventional menu, as Cesar revealed in his review. But this is the path of control. It's uncomfortable not to know what's coming next. The person you're dating is great, but what if there's someone better on the apps? Those persimmons with black sesame and kinako dressing that you liked so much and are now circling back — should you get a second helping or save room for the unknown? Being present takes practice. I suggest you start at State Bird Provisions. Accessibility: All on one floor. Wheelchair accessible tables, although aisles are narrow. No outdoor seating. Noise level: Loud. Meal for two, without drinks: $75-$150 What to order: Donabe ($30), hand-cut noodles with salsa macha ($30), whichever dim sum dishes make your heart leap Drinks: Beer and wine. 'Exceptional house-made non-alchoholic drinks like shiso-yuzu soda ($9) and Raspberry Julius ($10),' Cesar writes, and he is correct. Best practices: Order a couple of standout dishes off the main menu and then live in the moment! Let the sliding doors of fate direct your meal! And once again I agree with Cesar: Peanut milk ($4) is non-negotiable.
San Francisco Chronicle
24-07-2025
- Entertainment
- San Francisco Chronicle
This Michelin-starred S.F. restaurant's quirky format made it famous. Now it's just distracting
For one glorious summer, my grandma bought season passes to Universal Studios Hollywood for my cousins and me. I became close associates with the 'E.T.' — nice guy — and visited every attraction multiple times. But that much exposure to a good thing brings downsides: The surprises of the grounds tour no longer moved me, the 'Back to the Future' ride became a high-tech arcade game. The illusion was shattered. More recently in San Francisco, I've felt a similar shift at State Bird Provisions. When it opened on New Year's Eve in 2011, State Bird set a new standard of creativity for Bay Area restaurants. Chefs Nicole Krasinski and Stuart Brioza introduced a novel dim sum-style presentation of small plates, emulsifying California's bounty with French, Italian, Japanese and Chinese flavors and technique. It earned State Bird nearly every national honor: Bon Appétit's Best New Restaurant in America, multiple James Beard awards, a Michelin star. The staff, carrying trays or pushing carts, pirouette through the dining room, tempting tables with tiny salads, gleaming riblets and potato chips with aerated dip. Steamy siu mai? Not in this building. This spirited exhibition was fun and endearing on my first visit. Now, it's my least favorite thing about the restaurant. Extra! Extra! San Francisco Chronicle critics MacKenzie Chung Fegan and Cesar Hernandez are dueling this week over one restaurant: State Bird Provisions. Don't miss Fegan's response on Friday — sign up for the Chronicle Food newsletter to make sure it lands in your inbox. The dim sum schtick feels more customary than essential, more cute than efficient, more showy than delicious. The dim sum plates can feel like a roller coaster on a day where the weather won't make up its mind; sunny and thrilling one moment, gray and dull the next. I gleefully gnawed on immaculate ribs, lacquered in a fiery, tart passion fruit sauce ($16), then puzzled over a bland wedge salad of yellowing golf ball-sized lettuces ($6). Avocados in Caesar dressing ($8), wearing a fuzzy fur coat of cheese curls, failed to delight like the cherries accompanied by a cloud of savory-sweet whipped cheese ($10). Egg tofu custard ($9)? Beautifully silky. But the burrata-capped garlic bread ($13) was dense enough to give your mandibles a workout. This aspect of the experience may be the initial draw, but it does not actually represent the restaurant's best efforts. Instead, State Bird's spoils are on the printed dinner menu. If the roving snacks are a jam session, built on and stymied by improvisation, the standard menu dishes are albums: expressive, precise, fleshed-out thoughts. Toothsome, hand-cut noodles ($30) come doused in a peppery pumpkin seed salsa macha, with an egg on top that melts into pudding. A treasure chest of a donabe ($30) contained chewy tofu cubes, ready-to-burst beans and springy mushrooms in a slightly viscous, unctuous green broth; each sip felt like a massage for my soul. The restaurant's namesake specialty is always on the dinner menu: juicy fried quail (half for $24) lording over lemony, stewed onions. These entrees are in the major leagues. The small plates are playing varsity. On one visit, I had my eye on roti with lentil hummus off the printed menu. But I abandoned that plot for a couple of dim sum bites with lower price tags. The next outing, I ordered the flaky flatbread, and I realized the gravity of my mistake. I was constantly in this conundrum of choice, where the implied ephemeral state of the dim sum compelled me to act fast or miss out like a loser. When I rejected the servers' edible propositions, I saw a flicker of defeat on their faces, and felt as though I was letting them down. Not to Penn & Teller the magic trick, but the appetizer scarcity is artificial, as you can order the dim sum items a la carte. In fact, there's a printed version of the menu, if you want to skip the tableside advertising and cherry-pick your snacks. The dining room — a veritable vortex of hors d'oeuvres — is constantly animated, if a bit chaotic. The cart and tray circulation contributes to the commotion. The lanes between tables are already tight, and traffic is stalled by servers giving neighboring tables their best Don Draper sales pitch. If you visit the facilities, be prepared to play human Tetris to get back your seat. The staff is well-informed on the menu, but their ample responsibilities can impact service: the occasional forgotten drink, a tardy entree, tables crowded with empty plates. While hordes of patrons no longer camp outside of State Bird, as they did for years, demand is still high. Prime time reservations evaporate swiftly. If you don't book weeks in advance, you're likely to only find slots past 8 p.m. Or you can try showing up early: The bar is reserved for walk-ins. I don't question State Bird's aptitude for brilliant cooking. I'm interested in seeing State Bird evolve. While the dim sum-style presentation brought the restaurant glory, today it seems to be an albatross, an inescapable presence, an unskippable ad. Noise level: Loud. Meal for two, without drinks: $75-$150 What to order: Fried quail (half for $24), pork ribs ($16) Drinks: Beer and wine. Exceptional house-made non-alcoholic drinks like shiso-yuzu soda ($9) and Raspberry Julius ($10). Best practices: Skip the dim sum-style plates. Instead, order a starter on the dinner menu like roti or pancakes and an entree like donabe or quail. Peanut milk ($4) is non-negotiable.
New York Times
02-05-2025
- Health
- New York Times
Some Restaurants Are Ditching Seed Oils. It Could Cost Them.
Stuart Brioza, a chef and an owner of the acclaimed San Francisco restaurants State Bird Provisions, the Progress and the Anchovy Bar, never imagined that switching kitchen oils could be so political. Two years ago, he stopped using grapeseed oil in favor of sugar-cane oil, which he thought was less processed and more flavorful, adding a buttery note to vinaigrettes and aiolis. Mr. Brioza only recently realized that the decision to stop using seed oil aligned him with Robert F. Kennedy Jr., the health secretary, who is known for espousing conspiracy theories about vaccines, fluoride and other public health issues. Mr. Kennedy and his Make America Healthy Again movement have rallied against seed oils, including canola, soybean and corn oils, declaring — without meaningful scientific evidence — that they are harmful for health. 'I have no association with that movement,' said Mr. Brioza, whose restaurant hosted a fund-raiser for Kamala Harris last year, 'or anything that has a funny acronym and rhymes with MAGA.' Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
