There is a strange phenomenon that I have become more familiar with over the last two years or so. See, one of my co-workers is very indecisive when it comes to ordering at restaurants – not just at proper sit down places, but at fast food joints as well. It is an amazing thing to behold – he even has a hard time deciding where to go in the first place. Inevitably, when we go somewhere as simple as First Watch or as nice as Trio, he will always look across the table, frown, and say, “Yours looks so much better than mine. Why are you so good at ordering?”

I’ve decided to dub this habit “Order Envy”. It has only happened to me a handful of times, usually because of three things: 1.) I have confidence when I order; 2.) I know what I like; 3.) I rarely have food regrets.

The last time it happened, Cody, Joel, Zach and I were at Chez Panisse in Berkeley (another one I can cross off the Wish List and add to the Honor Roll). I ordered the grilled grass-fed beef ribeye with potato & sorrel gratin, watercress & shallots, and a 2002 Chinon. When I go to a restaurant for the first time, if they don’t have a specialite de la maison, I’ll usually judge it by how they treat a steak – pretty safe, right?

The ribeye at Chez Panisse was perfectly cooked to medium-rare, and had a wonderful, beefy flavor that definitely allowed it’s grass-fed nature to shine through.  Their commitment to local and organic ingredients mirrors one of my great culinary philosophies, and I applaud them for it.  However, the beef lacked the kind of crust I would expect out of a fine-dining preparation, probably due to it’s size. The steak was only a 10 ounce portion (compared to larger ribeye cuts at traditional steak houses or bistros), and it was certainly enough to satisfy me, but not make me uncomfortably full. Had it been thicker, there would have been opportunity to expose it to the high heat required for a good, crunchy crust without overcooking – it’s thinness may have been it’s undoing. The watercress salad was a bit too salty, and the potato & sorrel gratin was just good – not memorable. The sauteed shallots were fine, but I wouldn’t say necessary.  Am I really panning Chez Panisse!?  Hold on.

Zach ordered the Northern Halibut with asparagus, beet relish & aioli; Cody ordered the cheese ravioli with peas; and Joel – in true Joel fashion – ordered the duck, pan roasted in Chez Panisse’s wood-fired oven. Joel loves duck. We passed around bites of our respective dishes; the ravioli was good – simple, rustic, delicious; the halibut was better – delicately prepared, very fresh, with wonderful accompaniments; but the duck was killer. My steak was good; the duck was a monster. It melted in your mouth and made you drop to your knees and beg for more. I found myself questioning my choice of entree for the first time in a long time – how could the duck outdo a grass-fed beef ribeye? It boggled the mind, but should not have totally surprised me. Alice Waters’ restaurant is widely considered among the most progressive in No.Cal, rated among the finest in the country, and has been heralded as one of the spearheads of California cuisine since they opened in the early 1970s.

If there was a secondary highlight to the evening, beyond Joel’s duck, it was the order envy I inspired in others when I received my salad – a fresh mixture of garden lettuces & spring greens in a lovely, light vinaigrette, served with two generous portions of baked goat cheese from Andante Dairy. The cheese was breaded in a crispy panko-style crust and served still-warm from the oven, but not hot. Incredible. Cody was a late arrival and I encouraged him to order it, seeing as I had finished mine.  Everyone who tried it was floored.

The Ohio redneck in us decided that it would be hilarious if we exited the restaurant while loudly extolling the virtues of their potato salad & shit-on-a-shingle, then deciding that we would tell our hillbilly friends that the next time they went to Berkeley, they should go to this great little spot called “Cheez Penis.” We are as sophomoric and classless as we are refined.

Yet, dining at Chez Panisse made me realize one important thing about the American gastronomy: the strongholds of cuisine in this country are starting to have very powerful rivals emerge in the most unlikely of places. I believe that any number of restaurants in Cincinnati could hold their own against New York, Chicago or San Francisco establishments. I’ll take my chances with David Falk & Jean-Robert Pigall against anyone that the “big cities” have to offer. I’m pretty certain that not only would it be close, but Cincy might win a round or two. Who would have the Order Envy then?