Eat Here Now is a first look at some of the newest, hottest restaurants around – the ones we think are worth visiting, and the ones we suggest you skip. We dine once, serve forth our thoughts, and let you take it from there.
The poor tomato was drawn and quartered.
I was 30 minutes into a meal at Saam (opens in new tab), which opened three months ago in SoMa, when the tuna za jin landed on the table: four chunks of yellow tomato concealed under pieces of fish and accompanied by crispy shallots and a deep-green coriander sauce. At first glance, it was the very embodiment of the season — the cusp of autumn — and Cal-Thai fusion. But the presentation of the tomato, which came from Fresno’s organic Balakian Farms, made it feel more like a medical specimen than a late-summer delicacy.
The bigger problem was that it wasn’t quite ripe, which distracted from the pleasingly slow-burning heat imparted by the shallots and sauce. My stupefied dinner date compared it to something you’d get at a grocery store.
As the first U.S. project from executive chef Thitid “Ton” Tassanakajohn, Saam is one of San Francisco’s most high-profile debuts of the year. Two of Tassanakajohn’s three Bangkok restaurants — Le Du and Nusara — hold Michelin stars, yet Saam feels less like a grand entrance than a walk through the mud. Anyone looking for a Southeast Asian culinary adventure with varying heat levels and inventive flavors is likely to come away wanting, maybe an indication that smashing success in a distant city is no guarantee the vision will translate here.
Tuna za jin.
A garlicky, deep-black bowl of muek nam dam, or squid atop squid-ink glass noodles, fared better than the tuna, its peppery sheaf of crown daisy leaves crackling to life with a squirt of lime. But not so the khao soi haeng seafood, a dry-noodle version of the Thai curry dish typically served as a soup. Although widely understood to be a Northern-style dish, Tassanakajohn says it originated in Burma, where it’s considerably more austere. “I make it with much less coconut milk, and a lot more toasted spice,” he says. Despite all the mussels coated in shrimp paste, it was mellow even with a liberal use of chile oil.
Equally disappointing was the gaeng khack yawa, an underseasoned Javanese beef curry that was beautifully presented but whose backbone of Beeman Ranch bavette steak was overcooked. The highlight was the roti, as flaky and buttery as any pastry from a Paris boulangerie and a reflection of the strength of Thailand’s Indian community. “It’s the only bread we have in Thailand,” Tassanakajohn says.
“Saam,” the number three in Thai, refers in this case to the trio of heavyweights behind the restaurant: Tassanakajohn; general manager Tee Atthapon, who’s also the chef-owner of the Lower Haight’s Song Wat and Daly City’s Kan Kiin; and chef de cuisine Ty Choosowan.
Dinner is a master class in the power and range of coriander (which we call cilantro), from roots to tips. It’s “our key ingredient,” Tassanakajohn says, and one of the main reasons he opened here and not in L.A. or New York. “You usually cannot find coriander root anywhere in the U.S.” he says. “We’re very happy to work with the farmers who can provide us this, because it’s quite essential.”
Tee, who goes by Attapon Inkhong, left, and Thitid Tassanakajohn, who goes by Chef Ton.
Muek nam dam.
Same goes for makrut lime. As he’s played with the menu since Saam’s July opening, Tassanakajohn has grown enamored of Northern California’s stone fruit and persimmons too. But while he professes to be tweaking the menu based on feedback — “Some people say we need some more rice dishes, curry dishes, and so on” — it feels as though the chef is restraining himself; notably, nothing on the menu can be found at any of his Bangkok restaurants.
Still, the debut comes at a fortuitous moment. A spate of high-profile openings has vaulted Thailand back to center stage, including the Mission’s Sawaan Thai Kitchen, the Castro’s Ka Kai, and West Portal’s Tur, all of which specialize in underrepresented regions or offer hard-to-find dishes. It’s not as if you need a docent to go beyond pad kee mao these days.
Of this bumper crop, Saam has the most thoughtful wine list; a glass of orange Gewürztraminer blend from the Central Coast is the sprightliest, most versatile pairing. But this prestige restaurant is also the most expensive of the bunch — by a mile. At this point in America’s journey of ever-higher prices, it’s becoming harder to suss out value. (Is that $8 slice of pizza worth it? How about this $25 glass of wine?) Regardless, I’m confident that $39 for squid noodles and $68 for a bowl of beef curry is pushing the limits. Indeed, two diners, ordering one drink, one appetizer, and one entree each, may find themselves dropping almost $300, which is a lot of buck for the bang.
All this might be less jarring if the room itself had personality. But Saam, housed in the former Sun and Moon space one block from Oracle Park, has an earth-toned interior that’s elegant but safe, like a restaurant on an upper floor of an international chain hotel. The most interesting design component is an arrangement of dried herbs that could be an altar to some fertility deity.
In all, it might be best to enjoy Saam as part of a compare-and-contrast survey of San Francisco’s nouveau Thai scene, appreciated as much for its pedigree and approach as for what’s on the plate.