Toby Tullis

Brass Bear Delicatessen

August 10, 2014 by Toby Tullis 2 Comments

I am almost ashamed of myself… almost. Why you ask? Because this column should have been written well over a year ago. I pine over where I want to bring you every month. How can I use 650 words to allow you get to know me a little better than you did last month? We may never meet in person, but I consider us to be forming a very real, if not very one-sided, relationship. I love introducing parts of myself, which very few get to know, through the places I like to frequent, eat, celebrate, see and be seen. How then, in the name of all that is holy, could I only now be getting to Brass Bear Delicatessen in Alamo?

First, a couple of qualifiers. I will only refer to Brass Bear Delicatessen in long form. On occasion, around the house, I may be overheard yelling, “Let’s go to Brass Bear,” but that brevity does not follow me into public. Brass Bear Delicatessen earned its full name rights. Secondly, I am writing about my long time affair with the Alamo location. They opened a second in Walnut Creek, and I hear it is just as wonderful (why wouldn’t it be) but my frame of mind is, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Alamo is my home.

Let’s reminisce… Back in the time of dinosaurs and gas lamps, I was the assistant manager at Blockbuster Video (six- time Gold WOW Pin decorated). Tuesday mornings were my favorite shift. Yes, Tuesdays in the vid biz were “new release day,” but that’s not it. Tuesdays were one of very few opening shifts for me. I would sit at the manager’s desk doing the morning paperwork with one eye on the FOS Report and one eagerly waiting for the bright yellow Colombo Bread truck. As soon as (I think his name was Dan) would pull up, I was off. I would always ask what Sheida’s soup of the day was, but it didn’t matter. I was getting a quart and a fresh sourdough roll, and I would retreat back to my desk with no other thought in the world except the heaven I was headed to.

Mehran and Sheida Hamzeh have owned and operated Brass Bear Delicatessen since 1980. I haven’t done anything, except breathe, for 34 years straight, and not even all that well at times. They are like family to me. Their son and my brother were friends in school, and of course my Blockbuster days. Mehran still asks how my brother is whenever I see him. His wife asks after my kids now, and they both make you feel known just by their smile. This is our last stop before the ballpark every opening day for the A’s.

Their food is amazing because they care. Seriously, this makes a huge difference. They still make all of their salads by hand, daily. They make the soup at home. Slice their own meat and cheeses. Shred (not cut) the lettuce. Roll their own dolmas. They show up every day. They support Monte Vista (my alma mater) and reward a few students with the coveted counter job. They don’t try to be something they’re not. They decorate with hanging salami and teddy bears, because they can.

The name of this article is “I’ll have what he’s having,” and to truly live up to that standard, you must be having Brass Bear Delicatessen. It is so much more than a place to get a sandwich. It’s where you are reminded of the community that we are lucky enough to be a part of. My apologies to for not getting to this article sooner. I will double my visits to Alamo Plaza to teach myself a valuable lesson.
190 E Alamo Plaza, Alamo, CA 925-820-4798

Mixed Grain

July 6, 2014 by Toby Tullis Leave a Comment

First of all, an admission of my current un-ease: I am in downtown San Francisco killing time before I jump onstage at a dear friends’ Variety Hour at the Exit Theatre on Eddy. As proven by my recent wide eyed adventures in Los Angeles, I really do enjoy inner-weaving myself into the fabric of a culture. Today should not be an exception, but it is for some reason.

This city is (or at least was once) my city. I had a bar and grille in the financial district and have walked (stumbled) over every square inch here. In my quest to locate the theater hours before we start tonight I wandered, like I do, and located “The Exit,” one block… in the wrong direction. I turned the corner into urine and pot smoke—loud, scary people eyeing me suspiciously. I felt unsafe and appalled. Have I become that reliant upon my own vacuumed life that I can’t wander around a place I used to be a part of? I walked ten blocks in vain, trying to find my comfort, and finally found it at a diner in Union Square surrounded by tourists. Really sad.
Ok-enough. Let’s talk good food!

Mixed Grain in Walnut Creek gets it! A new Korean restaurant specializing in the healthy way to eat, isn’t that big of a stretch because Korean food is generally healthier. Their specialty is their purple rice. Their menu talks about it, their shirts yell about it and everybody eating it sells it with their smiles! It is a combination of white, sweet white, barley brown and sweet brown rice. You feel super eating it. No really, like you have powers all of a sudden.

I won’t dive too much further into the menu past their specialty entrees because if you haven’t been there, this is what you should get—The Works (Bibimbop). Twelve different veggies served over rice with your choice of protein (beef, chicken, pork, salmon, shrimp, tofu or mung bean pancake). Throw a sunny side up egg on top of it all and side that with Korean spicy chili paste and you are set for the night. Mind you that this meal comes with all of the accoutrements that come with traditional Korean eating.

I am not sure if we went there why all the staff still had that new restaurant haze, but the staff seemed to be hoarding Prozac. So happy and helpful. Not nearly the jaded individuals that I usually encounter with any establishment that has been open longer than a month. Food and beverage has a way of doing that to us over time. This staff acknowledged and played with my son before bringing him a tiny yogurt drink for finishing his meal and then spent time cooing my new daughter. Always smiling, always happy and securing that we will make this a regular stop.

Mixed Grain is located across the street from the Walnut Creek Yacht Club, where I used to call home as a manager once upon a lifetime ago, and is actually housed in the structure of an older Korean restaurant of yester-year. I actually didn’t want to go to Mixed Grain because I had an affinity for the old place. Their menu saw me through a bout of salmonella poisoning and if nothing else I am a loyal patron, but my wife had seen a write up on the place and in her infinite quest to improve our health (I love her for that) we packed up the brood and went. Boy am I glad I did.
Since that first time we have ordered food for pick-up, not expecting much, and once again got floored with service. “Water while you wait sir?”

Bottom line is if you like feeling good after a meal, then Mixed Grain is your place physically and emotionally. Have I steered you wrong before? Don’t answer that.

1546 Bonanza St. Walnut Creek ,925-938-5959

Scooby’s

June 7, 2014 by Toby Tullis 2 Comments

Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery! In that cord, I have followed my hero Anthony Bordain into the bowels of “meat in tube form.” I’m just a sucker for it. Some of my fondest memories go back to hot dog days. The Hound Dog in Downtown Danville, Oakland Coliseum, Fourth of July, and many others set the tone and catalyst in which I fondly remember yesteryear. I don’t have one memory of eating a hot dog at work or crying while applying mustard.

The hot dog (now more sausage) is the oxymoron that has become my diet. As stated many times in the past (if you are new, welcome), my wife and I have exposed ourselves to truths about food that have forever changed the way we eat and what we feed our children. We have teetered on the edge of vegetarianism only to be pulled back by necessities like sushi, prime rib and for me hot dogs. I know what is in them and I know that my wife will never feed one willingly to my children, and for that I admire her and love her more. But hot dogs are nostalgic.

Let’s then go back down to the land of stars and food trucks from last month. Back to Holly-weird! I had less than an hour before I blew town and was contemplating my fuel options for my vehicle as well as myself. I reflected on my starry journey down Hollywood Blvd. the night before and remembered seeing a store front that differed from the rest. Not just because it wasn’t a tattoo parlor or 5 for $5 t-shirt stand, but because it was clean, colorful and had outdoor seating. Most businesses on Hollywood Boulevard decorate their outside with pee stains and pan handlers. So I went!

Scooby’s boasted the type of colors that are synonymous with hot doggeries and nostalgia. Bright red, white and yellows abound and most are in that shiny plastic composite material reserved for the construction of amusement part rides. Did I mention clean? Sparkling clean. A clean only accepted by their framed “A” rating by the health department.

A simple menu of 8 items (all dog minus the Philly cheesesteak (how did that get in there) and 6 ways to do fries). Chili, chili and cheese, cheese, bacon and cheese, you get the idea. I chose the Jalapeno dog and regular fries then went and took my seat next to the ponytailed local that had been coming here every week since they opened in 2002.

The dog had that classic POP in the casing that brings me right back to yesteryear and I experienced it just as ponytail was telling me about it. Also the bun was not a bun but three connected, square dinner rolls split down the middle. Brilliant! The fries were a collection of hand cut criss-cut fries and the traditional shoestring. I really didn’t know where to start.

So I just jumped right in. Applied my mustard (the only acceptable condiment for dogs) and listened to ponytail tell me about his Hollywood from the 1960’s. I floated down I-5 over the grapevine fueled properly on Scooby’s and stories and couldn’t wait to share it all with you when I got back.

6654 Hollywood Blvd.
323-HOT-DOGS

Love and a Truck

May 8, 2014 by Toby Tullis Leave a Comment

I just returned back to my motel room on Vine in Hollywood. There may or may not have been a murder in this room once but there most certainly has been illegal sex and drugs, perhaps within the last week. The secret part is that I love that. It’s clean…enough. Safe…enough. Just the type of place that brings us artist types back to the edge of real.

I only drove into town for a day and some change for some business. After a quick 20 minute snooze to rest off the road trip, I hit the streets with my rose color glasses. I know that if I were to stay more than a day, the desolation and filthiness of the street would be more prevalent, but today it is romantic. Every little collection of individuals is a street-play being acted just for me. People with mustaches and tattoos, short skirts and long cigarettes, some with stuff and many without, but they all seem oddly happy.

I walked without a destination the six blocks to Hollywood Blvd and then followed the sidewalk stars the 20+ blocks to the Chinese Theatre; all the while my private performance continued. I wove the many blocks back through side streets and connectors, past Sunset, then to Santa Monica. This is when my stomach reminded me that my dream like walk had created an awakening in my depths. Must eat food.

All of a sudden, where there was once a plethora of eateries, there were none. I was not about to top my adventure off with El Pollo Loco or Winchell’s. Down Santa Monica back to Vine and that’s when I saw it. A real food truck. Not the Portland spin-off of fancy food in a pristine truck or the San Francisco spin-off of Asian Fusion from a repurposed ice cream truck—a real cafeteria food truck slinging authentic Mexican food. Pop up tents out front with Christmas tree lights around, a multitude of folding tables and chairs with a separate folding table with Costco packages of napkins and buckets (literally buckets) of Mexican food accoutrements. Pickled carrots and radishes, six types of homemade hot sauces ranging from “spicy” to “remove your finger prints,” plastic forks and knives, finely sliced onions and cilantro and diced onions and jalapeños.

I ordered the Carne Asada Burrito. There were no questions like pinto or black? White or brown rice? Cheese or sour cream? This was the real deal. Spanish rice and steak. Something about the food truck requires that you drink a bright colored sugary beverage out of a bottle with your meal, so I pulled the Orange Fanta from the shaved ice in front, paid the $7 and began to gather my tiny plastic ramekins to accompany my meal then sat down at a chair with questionable integrity.

All around me was a sub section of everything I had just witnessed on my Hollywood adventure, ordering or waiting for their paper plates of authenticity. Men in fedoras; a table of Muslim gentlemen in suits; two dainty twenty-something girls looking at their iPhones; the spitting image of the lead singer of the Spin Doctors, and quite a few Mexicans (which is always a good sign).

Then it came, wrapped in foil and ready to devour. I alternated between liberally dousing each bite with the habanero and diced onion/jalapeño blend, or the lesser but still spicy red salsa and pickled onions/cilantro blend. One napkin was for my hands and the other for my runny nose. Many napkins were used. Pauses were only taken to wipe or swig orange soda to temporarily halt the fire in my mouth.

At a time in life where I am delightfully busy carving out a career and raising a family, this small stitch of time for just me was brilliant, but the meal at the end was cathartic.

Voodoo Doughnuts

April 2, 2014 by Toby Tullis Leave a Comment

As readers and a loyal audience, you should have never let me roam outside the boundaries of Alive Magazines circulation. You see, I am an explorer, and the act of staying put resembles trying to herd cats. The most wonderful aspect of this article is whenever I do break the lock on my own kennel; my first thought is that I can’t wait to bring you all with me. Today we are going to Portland!

There is a belief—a philosophy if you will—that I have about doughnuts. Somewhere around toddler-hood, the deep connection between a kid and a doughnut is formed. Perhaps this even precedes physical memory, but that does not deter from the power that is generated. Then, as we grow and mature, we see the doughnuts as security. An item that brings nostalgia, comfort, understanding, does not change and will always be there for you when you need it most. In adulthood, we veer a little further off course and even lose our connection for a bit, while we look at the effects that pastries and sugars have on our aging bodies. We examine our intake to preserve our waistlines and start making crucial cuts. Doughnuts are the poster children for dropped habits. I believe that they are the first to go because we know that if ever we change our minds, they will be there, waiting for us. Never questioning where we have been, never wondering why it took us so long to get back, and probably served by the same person in a hair net that we knew from so very long ago,

I have recently arrived at an amazing part of my life. I am now in possession of the body that I will be buried with one day. No more 20lb swings in either direction—a little soft in the middle, but comfortable. I love what I am and it requires little effort, outside my current routine. This allowed me to shake hands again with my old friends; maple bar and chocolate old-fashioned, and oh, how I have missed them!

Last week, my wife, son and I took a quick pilgrimage to the Pacific North West. This trip served two purposes. One: I got to meet some people that will be carrying my book, “What Seems to Be the Problem?” in their stores and two: One last trip before we meet my daughter, set to arrive in April!

While there, we had a short list of “musts,” coinciding with our short amount of time, but on that list was Voodoo Doughnuts!

Here’s the skinny (great word here)—Kenneth “Cat Daddy,” Pogson and Tres Shannon are longtime friends. These two operate as one and always wanted to create a business in Portland. They landed on doughnuts as an un-tapped reservoir of “creativity meets business sense,” but how? They knew nothing about confections, so the two infiltrated LA and the doughnut masters that would teach them like samurais in the fine art of doughnut rolling, frying, flipping and creating. They returned to Portland with stories of fame and not only created amazing donuts, but shapes and styles. Dead body doughnuts filled with raspberry jam, frosting “Xs”over the eyes and pretzels protruding outward from the chest. Maple doughnuts with crushed Oreos, drizzled with peanut butter. Maple bars with bacon on top (ridiculously good food), and don’t get me started about the cream-filled éclair in the shape of man parts. But the best part is that each bite is cathartic. Something about the bright pink building with Mrs. Pac Man and pinball inside, the traditional doughnut shop smell of coffee, pastry and frosting, and “cash only” nuance secured our breakfast heaven.

We introduced my son that day to what I am sure will be a lifelong relationship to a food that will provide comfort when we can’t.

Voodoo Doughnuts, 22 SW 3^rd Ave, Portland Oregon 503-241-4704

Rodney Worth of the Pear Restaurant Group

March 1, 2014 by Toby Tullis Leave a Comment

Fresh from our field trip the Big City, today we continue to redraw our lines of content.

Today we visit a local star with reaches that are surpassing our circulation and explore a little of why we will continue to see Chef Rodney Worth’s empire grow exponentially for years to come.

When I started out on this writing endeavor, my aim was to bring you the reader a taste (from experience) of why some restaurants experience success while others go dark and pack up in the dead of night. Food plays such a surprisingly small attribute to the formula that sets notable places apart. In my upcoming book, What Seem to be the Problem?, I draw the thick line in the sand that separates those that “get it” and those that don’t. Rodney Worth GETS IT!

Born and raised right here in the area of ALIVE’s circulation, Rodney has always had his finger on the pulse of the Tri-Valley, simply because it is his pulse as well. He understands what we want and how we want to feel, and he has never over complicated that. With his business sense coming from grocery store operations (his first job) and his food passions coming from the kitchen at Wente Vineyards as well as Bizou (now Coco 500), Rodney is no stranger to fine food and high end clientele.

What sets Rodney apart from most is that he only wants to give it all away! His desire is that we, as consumers, experience what he knows to be true. Those truths are that farm to table is the best way to eat in a close-knit, family-friendly community. That ALL food served needs to be raised sustainably or needs to not be served at all. That certification of food prepared is crucial. Certified “line caught” fish, certified “wild”, certified “grass-fed” and “free-range.” This is the food that is important and this is the food that will make you feel good. This is food that will not poison you but rather feed your soul.

Then he brings in his strong family values and blurs the line to non-existent between family and his professional life. He opened Ferraris Cucina Italiana as homage to his wife Natalie, her heritage, and their family recipes. He hosts his son’s baseball parties at his restaurants. He brings his kids with him to work so they can see what he does and he brings us all along for the ride on Facebook where I have never seen his children not smiling (they get that from him too).

Rodney is a bit of a hero to me personally because I admire this man for showing us all that success can come from doing what you love the right way.

Five years ago our family lost our patriarch and since that time, the carving of the Thanksgiving bird has become more a scene from Saw than function. Rodney’s YouTube tutorial on how to properly prepare and carve a Turkey saved our holiday! When I was told by Eric here at ALIVE that I should gather testimonials from celebrities for the back cover of my book, Rodney was the only person I approached, because his is the only testimonial I wanted. I forwarded the book to him so that he could form a valid opinion and then decide if he wanted to endorse. To my delight, he connected. Just knowing that Rodney and I speak a similar language and that both of us want to share that secret language with the public makes me want to put his baseball card in the spokes of my bike.

Rodney has six restaurants listed here in order of opening: Peasant and the Pear (Danville), Peasants Courtyard (Alamo), Little Pear, Prickly Pear and Ferraris (Blackhawk) and Pear Southern Bistro (Napa).

Pick one and go!

Fog City

January 31, 2014 by Toby Tullis Leave a Comment

All right, does everybody have their permission slips signed and have you teamed up with your travel buddies? Today we are going on a field trip outside the comfort of Alive Magazine’s Circulation for the first time since this column’s inception.

Today we visit a San Francisco icon that recently did for me what I certainly hope it will soon do for you. It peeled back the layer of my analytical restaurant mind and altered my perception of “messing with greatness” as if to say, “you aren’t ready for this level of the game.” Let’s step back for a minute.

Fog City Diner was opened in 1985 but the property has always been a food and drink haven. At one time, it was for sailors first and last meal before shipping off or arriving from duty overseas in WWII or serving the railroad workers as the city seemed to spring up around the location on the waterfront.

I remember my parents making special trips there to feel a part of the “city lifestyle” so when I got to go my first time; I was awash in nostalgia for a time I never knew myself.

The restaurant was boxy, toting a small but traditional bar and heavy wooden tables, with low-lining, bulky booths along the windows. Brass handles on the bar accompanied the brass plaque letting me know some history of the place. The retro metal exterior made the outside look like an airstream trailer, and the inside felt like a train car, and I loved it. Being there just felt like the fog was coming in off the bay, and the many television shows and movie representations made me feel as if I was in the place where I might run into a celebrity at any minute.

Then I didn’t go for a while, as East Bay life got in the way, but when a business colleague of mine suggested we meet there, I was instantly giddy.

I walked in only to find the place had been given a massive facelift. Enter the proverbial surgical tools that proceeded to peel my skull back. The site I beheld was remarkable. Never, in all my time in the business, had I seen a full renovation bring a small space into the current century, all the while still protecting the old world charm and classic San Francisco feel.

Soft light throughout the now angular floor space allows the huge wood fire oven in the exhibition kitchen to be the focal point that local Architect Michael Guthrie intended. And as if the oven weren’t enough of a vehicle to inject the smoky goodness of open fire to not only the food but the very ambiance, he placed a seven foot grill right next to it. Ask yourself: Have you ever been pelted in the olfactory senses with the nuance of wood smoke and said, “eww, gross?” I .didn’t think so. We think lodge, comfort, warm, inviting—and then we think, yum!

They didn’t close for six months and gut the place, simply to rebuild the interior and lose the “diner” in the title; they overhauled the menu as well, and nailed the sights and smells with the tastes.

Small bites and shareable entrees promote family style eating, with classics like deviled eggs but with a quinoa bacon bit or Brussels Sprouts with Asian Pear Ponzu. Entrees have smoke, like the Whole Wood Fired Chicken or Smoked Trout served on an alder plank with veggie options to accompany them, like the Grilled Mission Fig Salad served with Point Reyes Blue Prosciutto.

The low-lining booths along the windows are still there but there are a lot more of them to look through, and there are no worries about finding a seat at the bar to enjoy their 16 wines on tap—that’s right—on tap!

Usually renovation is desperate, but here it is just right!

Fog City 1300 Battery St, San Francisco, California ‎ (415) 982-2000 ‎ · fogcitydiner.com

Danville Market

January 2, 2014 by Toby Tullis Leave a Comment

I am so excited! Wait, really though…like tippy-toe-dancing-in-place with wavy-flappy hands excited!

By now you must realize I am a Danville native, which in general terms means that for the very longest of times, Danville was all I knew. Couldn’t wait to get out as a youth and couldn’t wait to get back as an adult. My travels took me much further and broader than I could even have dreamed from my bedroom in Sycamore, once I did have the opportunity to go.

My travels took me to Africa, Vietnam, Pakistan, Indonesia and India while I traversed the globe brining affordable healthcare to developing countries. While in each of these places I immersed myself in the culture and I ate the way they ate. Hence my love for pho, nyamachoma, padang, nihari, and biryani. And those loves do not go away. (Side note: this article may/should result in multiple google searches for terminology unknown as to enhance the readers’ experience.)

By and large, the best eating is Middle Eastern. The dishes are clean and bountiful and cater more to the vegetarian but waste none of the animal when used. They are colorful and flavorful and always seem to focus on community sharing or gatherings. I always leave a Middle Eastern table with that “right kind of full,” that I have spoken of in the past—never that greasy-gut, bowling-ball feeling that American food leaves me with.

This love affair with food is wonderful when you find yourself at a back alley hawker stand in faraway worlds, but what am I to do once I return to the fish bowl from which I came. These desires don’t just diminish, and sometimes I NEED dolmas.

Danville Market was the only place within 20 miles that I knew of where I could go to pick up true Middle Easter Groceries in which to make my own versions of classics at home, but the people there were so terribly rude. By now you know me to be a man of substance and while the store had so many things I wanted, I refused to go there on principal based on my third unsuccessful attempt. The owner clearly wasn’t happy to have me as his customer, so I was content to oblige…not happy. Content.

All of a sudden I need Tahini, and I need it now. I’ll just run in, grunt at the man, pay and go.

As I walk in, Malisa Meemari is making fresh coffee and looks up to smile and welcome me. This isn’t the Gargamel I was expecting. Then I hear the sounds of a jovial husband and wife (Morad and Minou) coming from behind the lunch counter. They are loudly welcoming me in with her hands full of fresh vegetation and his with a sword and spiced meat creating true kabob.

This isn’t the market I remember. The items on the shelves are the same. The kitchen looks the same. But there is no little dark cloud. The place is sunny, happy and full of positive energy. The inhabitants are elated to see me! TRULY elated to see me. I quickly ask if the store had changed owners. Why yes, it has!

The Meemaris (formally of the Kabob House in Walnut Creek) gave up 30 years of restaurant success for the quieter (we’ll see) life of grocery and counter. Daughters Malisa and Mahsa have taken their spots amid their busy lives to craft the lunch menu and help launch to day-to-day operations, and I have a place to shop again!

I got my tahini, and six other things I didn’t come in for. Shook all their hands. Was promised a wonderful hand-crafted meal by mom and floated to my car.

My Christmas has come early!

508 San Ramon Valley Blvd., Danville

925-820-2319

Pho Asian Bistro

December 5, 2013 by Toby Tullis Leave a Comment

Pho is to me as “meat in tube form” is to Anthony Bourdain—top billing! Therefore it is not out of the ordinary to find that this is the second pho restaurant that I am reviewing in the last year.

My last article on Vietnamese Food came from a place that I call “my place;” that is to say that they know my wife and me there. That was the first restaurant I went to when I returned home from Africa. They have great pho!

This article is based on other aspects that transcend menu fare, and are applicable to anybody that wants to run a successful business.

Pho Asian Bistro in Dublin is a small, unassuming one door/one window establishment, situated in a shopping center where every other building is mammoth in comparison. The astronauts could easily shop at Hacienda Crossings from the comfort of orbit. Not only that, but the restaurant is tucked away down a side alley, which actually plays very well to the Vietnamese authenticity, as many of the best noodle places in Hanoi and Ho Chi Min are tucked away as well. Split the alley between Mega-Fudruckers (also a past article nod) and Cold Stone Creamery and look for the bamboo out front.

Once inside you will not be hard pressed to find Toan Phung. He is the owner, and wears a smile that after multiple visits has proven to be un-removable. Toan is the type of owner that culinary classes should bring their students to, simply to watch for a day. He waits every table, pays attention, know what he’s talking about (for they are his creations) and affects people deeply with his passion. What is not taken into consideration for the lay diner but has always impressed me tenfold is that by simply doing the above mentioned actions, he is controlling his labor costs, assuring the continuity of his brand, and providing his diners with a reason to come back. This is what sets this place apart.

All too often I hear of new restaurants popping up and I will go to discover them, and unfortunately, all too often the owner is not in and there are children (a relative term) being the face of the newly opened eatery. The owner has committed what I consider the first mistake of restaurant ownership and one that could prove to be a nail in their coffin. The internal dialogue goes like this-

“I love to eat out, so I will open a restaurant.” Or “I want to free up time in my personal schedule so I will open a restaurant.”

No dice! Does not work like that. Walnut Creek Yacht Club has been the top “award winning” seafood restaurant this side of San Francisco for 16 years because the owners are there EVERY DAY and “touch” almost every table that comes in! That is what it takes, and Toan knows this.

By now, Toan’s food speaks for itself, and I am assuming that he has built up enough regular business to comfortably come in only a couple times a week, but this will never happen. Toan is not working with autopilot as his goal. He is working because he knows he has been blessed with the opportunity to do something that he loves to do and provide a decent life for himself and anybody that relies on him, and that is the goal. That should be the goal.

Let me tell you as well, the pho here is PHENOMENAL. The broth, which is the foundation for any Vietnamese soup and usually handed down from another generation, holds that old worldly, 100+ year, “made with love,” flavor. It lands on the all-spice side of broth that some places either have or do not. I (of course) love both.

But it is Toan’s attention to the individual patron that has made me a believer.

4920 Dublin Blvd. #420 (Hacienda Crossings)

Forbes Mill Steakhouse

November 3, 2013 by Toby Tullis Leave a Comment

If I owned a car dealership, Forbes Mill would be my car out front on risers, slightly tilted to attract the passer-by, but quite possibly without any pricing stickers because deep down, I have such an affinity for her, I wouldn’t want to see her go.

Forbes Mill is where I finely tuned my management skills. Prior to the Steakhouse, I was the food and beverage director at Ruby Hill Golf Club and was a sweat-equity partner in a bar and grille in San Francisco, but Forbes Mill was (pardon the expression) the meat and potatoes of my time in the trenches.

Opened 2003 in Los Gatos by three gentlemen in the Marie Calendars family, Forbes Mill didn’t get to Danville until 2006, riding the mighty coat tails of her predecessor. Therein laid the challenge. I arrived on January 1, 2007 to introduce Forbes to the community that raised me, and for the next three years I proceeded to make that challenge the focal point of my life.

When Forbes set up shop in the back of the Danville Livery, the challenges were mighty. Number one: Everything in the Livery is wood colored, set back from the street, in…you guessed it…the woods. Hard, if not impossible, for any passerby to see the building out of the corner of their eye and allow themselves to be drawn in. Number two: They opened on the platform of, “the place to get Kobe Beef.” This brought the curious elite of Danville in droves, concentrating on just one of the many menu items and splurging to indulge, but quickly deducing that to go to Forbes Mill was an expensive experience and to be done only once in a while. Well, “once in a while” doesn’t pay the rent, so the next three years of my life was getting people to understand just how much more is available there on any budget.

Yes, the tables are covered in white linen, and yes, the wine list makes Napa blush, and yes, you can still create a bill there that might cut the kids’ college education short, but wait…there’s more!

Forbes offers the best lunches for the money than anybody in town. They have combo plates that are directly in the price wheelhouse of any lunch; all while being served to you by a professional server. Your bill won’t reflect that. And their salads were invented and created by a knowledgeable executive chef, so it’s not just your standard, “Caesar,” or “Mixed Greens.”

The bar is amazing! Granite tops with space between stools, tear-drop blown glass lights and a back bar that you would find in Vegas with two televisions for the sporting event of the day.

The colors, sights and sounds of Forbes were a delight to go to everyday, and often I miss the energy. The lights are low, and on any given evening there are professional servers scurrying about spewing knowledge and finely tuned skills at every table. The murmur of fellow diners in the open dining room does not overpower the clinking of crystal wine glasses and even if you are there to spend $25.00 a person (which you can do) for dinner, you feel as though you valet parked your private jet.

Call ahead to make reservations for your special occasion and the management will make sure that you get a wonderful, take-home, personalized menu acknowledging your day.

As I stated before, my personal choices have led me to greener pastures and I am all but a vegetarian. The reason that I can never full go vegan or veggie is that I understand that as primal man, sometimes you just need a steak. I made the decision long ago that when that primal urge arises, the only place I will go is Forbes Mill Steakhouse—and no, it won’t cost me an organ. Just go!

200 Sycamore Valley Road West, Danville