Eat Here Now is a first look at some of the newest, hottest restaurants around – the ones we think are worth visiting. We dine once, serve forth our thoughts, and let you take it from there.
Not every Old Faithful involves a scalding geyser. Sometimes, it involves something far gentler — say, the soft tang of buttermilk-poached cabbage and the umami kiss of Santa Barbara uni bottarga, with a whisper of dill oil.
At Wolfsbane (opens in new tab), a 6-week-old restaurant in Dogpatch, this dish is the true Old Faithful. It’s one of several showstoppers the owners carried over from Michelin-starred Lord Stanley, which closed in May. Other familiar bites include a delicate onion petal that functions as a spoon filled with alliums and black garlic, as well as a pain au jus, a hunk of sourdough with cultured butter and a red-wine reduction for dipping.
To Carrie Blease, who operates Wolfsbane along with her husband, Rupert, and chef Tommy Halvorson — formerly of Serpentine, which was located at the same address until closing early in the pandemic — these dishes were just too good to let go. “It was always a favorite,” she says of the cabbage, a decadent yet refreshing gem with an appealing crunch. “It was on our opening tasting menu, and it was one of those ones that hit really hard.”
All this upcycling and cross-pollination might make it sound like Wolfsbane is a resumption of Lord Stanley, but that wouldn’t be fair. Instead, Wolfsbane pays respect to its roots without being strangled by them. The city’s closest analogue is probably David Fisher and Serena Chow Fisher’s 7 Adams, which maintains a connection to its storied predecessor, Marlena, while crafting a distinct identity. But in the case of Wolfsbane, the jump in price is so significant that even a wide-ranging menu with many excellent dishes may make you yearn for what came before.
Unlike Lord Stanley, Wolfsbane has a full bar and cocktail program and lacks a takeout window. But like its antecedent, it’s anchored by a 10-course tasting menu, something Carrie Blease pushed back against. “Rupert wanted to do fine dining,” she says.
And fine dining this is. Wolfsbane’s tasting menu is $248 per person, or $390 with the wine pairing, and a 20% service charge is automatically added. With surcharges, going that route means dinner for two comes to an eye-popping $1,060, and that’s before those ubiquitous, expense-account supplements like caviar and A5 wagyu.
A cabbage course — featuring house buttermilk, sea urchin bottarga, and dill — is what co-owner Carrie Blease calls the menu’s “Old Faithful.” | Source: Morgan Ellis/The Standard
However, you don’t have to commit to 10 courses, with most items available à la carte, including a few that aren’t on the tasting menu, like dried wagyu jerky and Early Girl tomato focaccia with black garlic. Wine pairings are generous, with each pour corresponding to a dish. In particular, a Petite Arvine from the Swiss-French border has a phenomenal salinity that plays beautifully off striped bass braised in verjus.
The menu strives to hit every temperature and texture, and presentations are fun — even theatrical. The squash soup — a rich and very cold puree with pain d’epices, pickled matsutake mushrooms, aged Gouda, and dabs of pine oil — arrives in a hollow gourd. That striped bass, accented with the flavors of black chestnut and vanilla, lands buried in foam. A maple-y slice of Liberty Farms duck, coated in a cocoa-juniper aigre-doux, is about as beefy as fowl can be.
Carrie Blease, Rupert Blease, and Jason Halvorson teamed up to open Wolfsbane. | Source: Wolfsbane
One rare misstep is the lobster, a crisis of over-ambition with too many ingredients (shiso, ginger, finger lime, and more). It’s served in two parts: a grilled tail with mustard greens and near-flavorless golden beet smothered in a buttery curry poured tableside, plus a tempura-battered claw with instructions to eat it like a taco. Everything felt lost in the shuffle.
Cold weather be damned, dessert begins on a summery note: a milk oolong “sno-ball” palate cleanser. Then the menu goes all in on late fall, smuggling Fuyu and Hachiya persimmons, winter melon, and umeboshi plums into a bowl of cake and ice cream.
It’s a strong finish to a great meal, no doubt about it. But whether San Francisco needs another upscale tasting temple is up for debate. During Lord Stanley’s decade of twists and turns, the Bleases made their name with surprisingly affordable 10-course meals for $100. At Wolfsbane, they’re swinging for the fences and dramatically upping the price. Consequently, much of the beloved rusticity that made the old spot what it was has fallen to the side.
Diners may just have to decide what they value more: paying top dollar to enjoy a magnificent dinner or remembering the lost charms for what they were.