Cote Sud

Neighborhood: Castro
4238 18th St
(between Collingwood St & Diamond St)
San Francisco, CA 94114
(415) 255-6565

www.cotesudsf.com

Is fois gras really one of the culinary world’s greatest treasures? I can understand burying the stuff…but eating it? On purpose, even? So French cuisine is always mentioned in foodie circles as the ultimate and maybe Cote Sud is a perfect representation of the ultimate south of France faire. Or maybe I just don’t dig French food.

So the chef knew I was coming to write about the place in Gloss and upon my arrival had champagne at the ready. Wonderful…how can this turn bad, I thought to myself. The maitere’d asked in the thickest of French accents if we had any allergies or preferences…nah, I said…just surprise us. and surprise us they did.

Course one was, of course, snails. No matter how much I tried to convince myself that I was eating a really garlicky mushroom, I couldn’t choke down the heavenly-scented mollusk. I could still make-out it’s li’l shriveled antennae and all. if I was closer to the balcony I woulda spit it out on the sidewalk. Course two was scallops in a wonderfully light and buttery broth, with just a hint of sand. That’s right…sand. Bummer. Course three was the fois gras. What looked like a slab jelly-covered dog food is supposed to be fab fare? I took a bite of my cracker, smeared the fois gras on it, mashed up a li’l of the slab of fois gras moved it around the plate and feeling all 8-year-old again, patiently waited for the waiter’s reprimand. “What…uh, you, uh…no, uh…like-a-da fois gras,” he asked. I’m sure It’s wonderful fois gras, but I just don’t care for it, sowwy.

Did I mention how wonderful the French wines were? Oh and the bread. The fresh-baked bread was divine. It was too bad that we had to hollow it out and fill it with the veal sausages that were served next. Ugh, I just can’t bring myself to eat veal. I know, I know, wasting food is terrible and this all could have been avoided had I told the waiter that I didn’t really care for meat dishes…but hindsight is always 20/20.

Finally dessert came. I sighed with relief as I enjoyed the light sorbet which faintly tasted like a slightly melted lemon aide slushy toped with a sprig of mint. Wow, that wasn’t too bad, I made it through with only a few dirty looks from the waiter and a few from the other diners around us who were really annoyed by our preferential treatment. As I was in line for the bathroom…the chef said… “Just-a wait…you’z are going to love the main-a-course!” GULP…please don’t let it be frog legs…please don’t let it be frog legs..please don’t let…no, it wasn’t…it was LAMB! An excited dinner next to me leaned over and asked, “Is that the lamb…it looks delicious.” I wanted to just hand the dish over. I mean, why should lamb go to waste, ya know. Instead that lamb burned my outer thigh as it sat wrapped in a napkin, stuffed into my pocket, as I waited in the bathroom line again…to flush it down the toilet.

Aside from sandy scallops, I’m sure Cote Sud is wonderful, if you like meat dishes covered in butter and cream. But then again, you’d think French desserts are divine, right? Uh…no. The vanilla custard, although it contained no meat, was just so-so. Bummer…hey, did I mention the wine?