Foliage opened in October 2023 in the space vacated by Michelin-starred Marlena, which has since moved to Japantown as the already acclaimed Adams 7 — Japantown’s gain, our loss.
Foliage owners Stephane Roulland and Julia Indovina brought in Chef Mo Béjar to the beautiful corner space by Precita Park. When my editor asked me to review the new restaurant at their publicist’s request, I was salivating at the prospect of trying another somewhat affordable ($75) prix-fixe menu in the area. Béjar hails from the Central Valley, and his dishes have the requisite farm-to-table, sustainable and beautiful aesthetic, and they sounded interesting and fresh, with a few culinary twists and turns.
We started out with the house-made milk bread with cultured butter. The other option was the bread with a spiced salt and Spanish jamón, but we went for the basic.
This gorgeous golden orb came to the table, warm and inviting, with a very generous slab of butter, gleaming with crystals of crunchy salt. Plenty for us to have two wedges apiece, the interior was fluffy and yeasty, and gave us high hopes for the rest of the meal. Besides, who ever gives you enough butter with your bread?
The prix-fixe menu at Foliage offers two options per course, plus some optional add-ons. We decided to get each of the options, so that we would get to taste everything.
First course: Amberjack crudo with lacto-fermented pineapple, banana, macadamia nuts, and thinly sliced kohlrabi.
The vegetarian option: Avocado with essentially the same ingredients.
Both had a little funk, with an inexplicable paprika oil at the bottom of the bowls. The amberjack was lovely, but it was an odd combination of flavors; banana and fish connote a somewhat Caribbean vibe, but it didn’t really work for us. We were also a bit puzzled about the choice to take the same ingredients and simply substitute avocado for the protein. It seemed to me that here was a perfect, missed opportunity to make a wholly different, inventive vegetarian option. While we weren’t thrilled with the amberjack dish, the vegetarian option was lackluster.
Second course: Shrimp toast and ricotta gnocchi.
Beautiful dishes, both. The Foliage shrimp toast was wonderful; super crispy, light, highly spiced, with a Sichuan peppercorn aioli, and perfectly cooked shrimp. I’d get it again (and, in fact, I did). Our only quibble was the Osetra caviar was wasted on this. You literally could not taste it with everything else going on.
The gnocchi dish came with a lovely gorgonzola sauce, pooled under beautifully wilted and browned sweet cabbage, topped with fried sage and toasted nuts. Unfortunately, the cabbage was the best thing on the plate; the ricotta gnocchi themselves were severely tough and dense. We found them inedible, and when the runner eventually came around to ask if he could take the plate (without asking why the dish was untouched), I told him that the gnocchi were very hard. He apologized profusely and said he would tell the chef. When he returned, he informed us the chef admitted that they were usually softer, and asked if we wanted him to try making them again, or did we want another shrimp toast? Perhaps we should have taken him up on the offer for a re-do, but we took the safe-bet toast. My question is: How does that go out to a table? And were others eating those heavy gnocchi without complaint?
At that point, the courses seemed to have slowed down. I’d finished a glass of Cremant bubbly, and asked the runner for the list so I could order a glass of wine. He misheard me, and brought another glass of the same sparkling wine. He apologized, and began to take it back, but my sister said she would just take it so it wouldn’t go to waste. She hadn’t planned on having alcohol with dinner. I ordered a very good cabernet.
Next came our entrée courses. The options were local cod over sweet potato puree with fava greens and charred leeks, or roasted cauliflower with a vadouvan crema for the vegetarian dish. Or, for an additional $15, a coulotte steak (described by our server as “the best cut, the top of the sirloin.”) with mole, chayote, citrus, and chocolate jus. Sold! We ordered the fish and the steak.
The cod was a bit on the small side, slightly overdone, the skin could have been a little crisper for my taste, but overall had good flavor. The underlying sweet potato puree and leeks were good, the garum (an ancient Roman fish sauce) very subtle. I was busy eating my portion of the fish before switching off with my sister, so I didn’t notice she was having trouble with the steak.
When they first put the dish on the table, I asked if the thin brown sauce underneath the steak was the mole, and our runner said no, that’s the chocolate jus. A minute later, the chef himself came by with an extra little ramekin of the orange mole, which had been hiding under the chayote. A nice gesture, though I hadn’t asked for more; I just hadn’t seen it on the plate. We chatted with Chef Béjar a few minutes, asked where he’d cooked before, wished him well.
The steak was rare (which we both like), and I finally noticed my sister sawing away at the meat for an interminable amount of time. She looked at me in disbelief. “You need to cut this into really small pieces, or you won’t be able to chew it.” I tried my hand at it and, sure enough, it took at least 10 seconds to hack free a tiny piece, and then another 10 to chew it until it was soft enough to swallow. Again, we just could not eat it. The Foliage mole itself was — sorry, the only word I can think of is strange — citrusy, and unlike any other mole I’d ever had. The chayote was hard and flavorless. Our server finally came by and asked us how we were enjoying the course as she stared at the full plate. I demonstrated how hard it was to cut through the meat. She replied, “Yes, because it’s a very chewy cut.” Before I could show my amazement at this explanation, she quickly asked if she should take it away and I said “yes, please.”
In all the time I’ve been reviewing for Mission Local, I really can’t remember sending a dish back, much less two in one meal. By this point, we were looking around at the quite full restaurant and wondering if it was just us? We’re normally not that picky (in fact, I often get accused of liking everything indiscriminately), and we don’t relish making a scene. It was baffling, as no one else seemed to be having an issue, but seemed to be enjoying their meals thoroughly.
Dessert course: One was a mango semifreddo with tuile crumbles, a little mango jelly, and mint.
“Semifreddo” means “partially frozen.” The ice cream here, unfortunately, was a solid disk, and we had to wait a bit for it to soften. It tasted fine, however; very subtly mango flavored.
The other dessert was a white chocolate panna cotta with huckleberries. The panna cotta was nicely creamy and, thankfully, not too sweet. All in all, there was nothing wrong with the desserts; they were simply unremarkable.
And the perfect ending to our meal? As I reached for the bill, my hand hit my glass which still had some wine in it — only my second glass of the evening, mind you — and in dramatic fashion knocked it onto the table, smashing it loudly, flinging wine and bits of glass everywhere. A shard actually drew blood from my sister’s hand. Mortified, I now saw myself through the eyes of our servers and chef: “Oh, was that the drunk woman who complained about everything?” I apologized over and over, all were gracious, mopping up the mess and making light of the incident. The Foliage staff handled it with class and kindness.
They also graciously took the $15 steak off our bill without my asking, charged us for the wine that was a mistake (which, yes, we’d drank), and handed us a bill for close to $250.
It truly pains me to write a review like this. Anyone can make a mistake; a bad dish can happen to any kitchen, but don’t send it out. If a cut of beef is so chewy, cook it some other way. The deficiencies in the dishes we disliked were basic errors in execution. I know it is an excruciatingly difficult thing to open, run, and maintain a restaurant for any length of time, in this city, or anywhere. What a feather in Chef Béjar’s cap to have opened in this lovely space, with a ready-made clientele mourning the loss of their beloved Marlena. (NB: I never told anyone at the restaurant that I was reviewing that night, even though we’d been asked to do so.)
I’m hoping this was simply an anomaly, as I’m rooting for Chef Béjar to achieve success in that space, and for Foliage to become a neighborhood mainstay, as I’m sure the Precita Park community is hoping as well.
Foliage SF (website)
300 Precita Ave.
Most reviewers go to a new restaurant several times before reviewing, to see if their first impression was valid.
The “ Precita Park Community” is not hoping that this outrageously priced pretentious restaurant that offers nothing to the neighborhood. It’s misguided to think that Precita Park neighbors would value this out of place establishment.
I live up the street and their wealthy patrons park in front of my house, taking up scarce parking spaces.
I think you should visit Charlie’s Cafe across the street on Folsom if you want to get a feel for the true vibe of Precita Park.
We are decade-long Bernal residents and we love the new restaurant. Coming here to dunk on a newly opened business; Good for you, Anne. Oh, by the way, the parking is public , it ain’t isn’t yours.
I don’t know you, but i am happy to learn that we are wealthy.
As for the restaurant we only purchase organic, local and responsibly produced food, and this comes with a cost, which we do all possible efforts to keep it at an affordable price.
I agree with you about Charlie’s Cafe, as we are big fans of it.