A Carnivore's Dream
In El Raigon, finally a steakhouse that can be highly recommended
http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2004/07/11/
CMGPU6V3J01.DTL>
- Michael Bauer <mailto:mbauer@sfchronicle.com>
Sunday, July 11, 2004
Rarely a week goes by without a reader requesting recommendations on
steakhouses in San Francisco. In the past I could recommend places to
enjoy a good piece of meat, but my suggestions were qualified because I
had yet to eat at a steakhouse here that I could wholeheartedly endorse.
Fortunately, the situation changed with the opening in April of El Raigon,
an Argentine restaurant in North Beach that took over an abandoned space
that several years before housed Lo Coco's.
Steaks emerge from the charcoal and almond-wood grill about as perfect as
I've found: The tenderloin ($25) practically melts like butter, bite after
bite; the center-cut rib-eye ($24) is devoid of fat but packed with rangy
flavor; and the bife de chorizo, a classic Argentine cut similar to a New
York Strip ($24) is marbled and tender with a salty, seared exterior.
All the steaks are from the Piedmontese breed, grass-fed in Montana, and
you can almost taste the Big Sky country in each juicy, salty, smoky bite.
All the steaks are topped with a restrained dollop of relish with smoked
red peppers, green bell peppers and onions in a punchy vinegar marinade.
Each bare-wood table, made from old Napa Valley wine tanks, is topped with
a crock of chimichurri sauce, a traditional Argentine accompaniment made
with garlic, oregano, vinegar and olive oil. While I tend to think a good
steak needs no adornment, both enhance the robustness of the meat.
El Raigon combines the efforts of Will Harris, who owns a cattle ranch in
Argentina, Alberto Lataliste, a wine importer from Argentina; and his
wife, Consuelo Lyonnet, an actor and model. The Latin connection continues
with chef Eric Hollis, who has worked for more than a decade in San
Sushi Ran. Hollis has had an eclectic cooking career, but now he's back to
interpreting his native cuisine, foods not unlike his mom used to cook.
Yet his years of experience haven't gone to waste at El Raigon.
Many steak houses serve pretty good cuts of meat, but they often fall down
on other elements that make up a satisfying experience. While El Raigon's
menu is simple, as it should be, everything is perfectly done. Grilled
asparagus ($4) retains a modicum of crispness but greets the heat long
enough to absorb smoky nuances from the fire, pushing the sweet notes to
the forefront; spinach ($4) is sauteed just enough to wilt and still
retain the vivid spring hues, flecked with garlic and chives. Mashed
potatoes ($4) are as rich and buttery as what I remember from Masa's
during Julian Serrano's tenure, and the roasted potatoes are superb.
mostly boned and comes out with a browned crusty exterior that accentuates
the moist meat of the pleasantly gamey bird, a free-range taste that's
missing from much of today's poultry. Lamb loin ($18) gets a gentle nudge
from the salt and charcoal that enhance the refined balance of this New
Zealand product.
Halibut ($17) is the only fish offered, and it reminds me of what you'd
find at a really good but classic North Beach restaurant. The snowy fillet
is snuggled into a tomato sauce touched with an edge of vinegar and chunks
of stewed fennel.
In a nod to vegetarians, Hollis features a fettuccine with salsa marinara
($12), similar to the Italian version of tomato sauce with an acidic kick,
but it's one of the less enticing options. The pasta can also be served
with peppers, onions and olives, and the chef also offers steamed
vegetables ($15) with quinoa.
While the steaks are some of the best I've had, a couple of other beef
dishes could use a little help. I enjoyed the chewiness of the skirt steak
($16), but it wasn't in the same league as other offerings, and grilled
short rib ($16) was simply tough without a whole lot of flavor, confirming
the idea that this cut should be slow-cooked and braised.
Appetizers and salads are refreshingly simple. Grilled sweetbreads ($9)
need nothing else to make them star; the natural smoky juices pool on the
plate. Shrimp have a fresh saltwater taste, and are served in a peppery
sauce with garlic; empanadas ($5) have a golden, almost flaky crust, and
are stuffed with seasoned ground beef redolent of cumin. If you really
want to get into the meat of things and eat like Argentines do when they
go to an Estancia- style establishment, the menu features very good
chorizo and blood sausage ($5).
All four of the salads ($6) are simple, but with each bite you know the
chef has clearly and cleverly thought them out. On a takeoff of classic
fare, Hollis mounds greens in the center with hearts of palm coins and
dollops of Louie dressing around the perimeter. Arugula is paired with
avocado, Parmesan and red-wine vinaigrette. Blue cheese and grilled pears
highlight frisee and mixed lettuces.
Desserts (all $7) are just as homey and straightforward. I loved the
panqueques con dulce de leche, two thin pancakes filled with soft, rich
caramel; and the country-style flan ($7), with the consistency of creme
brulee, surrounded by a caramel sauce. The chocolate mousse bombe with red
and yellow rings of fruit puree has a festive touch and a deep, satisfying
flavor.
The interior of the restaurant also meets the criteria of what a serious
steak house should be -- rustic, warm and inviting. All the walls are
brick and the owners ripped out the finished ceiling to reveal handsome
beams. They're stained brown and accented with old-fashioned school
lights. The heavy wooden tables are paired with surprisingly comfortable
ladder-back chairs. White shutters frame the windows; squares of cowhide,
stretched like art, break the monotony of the brick walls. The putty-color
cement floor and free- form redwood bar fronted in cowhide make the gaucho
culture come alive, accented with a grouping of black-and-white
photographs.
The warmth of the interior carries over to the service, which is still
short on professionalism. Waiters seem to be chosen for their friendliness
rather than their skill, and are put on the floor without nearly enough
training. They sometimes drip wine on the table when they pour, bring out
pasta ordered as an appetizer with the main course and seem unsure of how
to answer questions. Even the best servers can be a bit awkward at the
table; a little training would build confidence and bring the staff up to
the level of the food and interior.
In a strange way their casual attitude is charming; you almost think
you're enjoying a feast in a private dining hall of an affluent ranch.
Many times the owners will come over to converse about the wine, or to
educate diners about food and restaurants of their native country. They're
so polished in their approach that they should be on retainer with the
Argentina tourist office. In fact, just thinking about those steaks has
planted a trip to South America firmly on my horizon.

It's Best to Bring Your Own
If you have foresight and are budget-minded, you'd do best to bring your
own wine to El Raigon and pay the $15 corkage.
About half the list is made up of Argentine wines that are marked up so
high as to make some knowledgeable wine drinkers feel gouged. It's too
bad, because the restaurant misses the opportunity to educate diners and
turn them on to some really great value-priced wine coming out of this
South American country.
If you're going to choose something from the 18 red wines, my top choice
would be the 2001 Felipe Rutini Malbec ($42), which has luscious berry
fruit and is probably worth the price even though it's marked up more than
three times what the restaurant paid for it. If you paid retail for the
wine it would be about $20, and if you paid $15 corkage at the restaurant,
you'd still save $7. This is not necessarily something I routinely
advocate, but prices here border on the ludicrous. The 2003 Wild Gaucho
Torrontes, for example, is $22 and you can find it at retail for about $6.
The 2002 Honig Sauvignon Blanc is $45 and you can buy it at retail for
around $15.
While I realize the restaurant business has inherently a low profit margin
and operators need to make money where they can, the list here sports one
of the highest markups I've encountered in the last several years.
If you want to forgo the wine, there are several beers (all $4) including
Quilmes, an Argentine pilsner, Heineken, Budweiser or Bud Light.
-- M.B.

Email us at NAPA by clicking on the name.