RANT - Eddie Izzard at The Golden Gate Theater

Eddie Izzard is, I guess, my favorite comedian. We've seen him a couple times before, and each time he has been innovative, informative, and above all hysterical.

Last night his show was full of fresh material, covering everything from human sacrifice, to Charles I and the reformation - even including jokes in French and German.

But, he was in the end disappointing. So much so that when the intermission arrived, we decided to leave rather than stick around and listen to more silliness.

Sorry Eddie, but three times is enough.

REVIEW - Spoon at Fox Theatre

Spoon have been around for 20 years, but have managed to do so without me hearing anything by them. Anyhow, our friends Tom and Holly bought tickets for the four of us.

While the show was a sell out, the music was polished but without one hook, one memorable tune.

I might download something to listen at my leisure, but I didn't become a new fan after this show.

REVIEW - Entourage

Based loosely on the exploits of Mark Wahlberg and his entourage as he rose to stardom, this used to be one of our favorite TV shows.

This movie version, 7 years after the TV series, seemed full of the same crew who now appear over the hill, but still full of the same material. Not only did they seem beyond their sell by date, but the babes were all leathery from too much sun, fake-boobed and neurotic.

Then there were the cameos: everyone from Warren Buffet, Mark Cuban, Gary Busey, Bob Saget, Andrew Dice Clay, and a hundred other non-celebrities. Every one of them could have been, and should have been nixed.

And don't get me started on the dreadful product placement: from Avion Tequila, to Johnny Drama Black Label Whisky, through to the unforgivable replacement of the crew's TV Aston Martins with revolting, plasticky Cadillacs.

Don't get me wrong: the film is funny, but there's nothing new here that wasn't already covered in the TV series.

RAVE - San Andreas

This was half great, half pedestrian.

The pedestrian half, caused by the schmaltzy sub-plot that involved Dwayne Johnson and his wife rescuing their daughter from San Francisco, during a mega earthquake, and the pointless half wits that padded that sub-plot - including a dopey English guy there for an interview, and for some implausible reason his 10-year old brother who was there for company.

The great half was the earthquake - the devastation caused to the whole city, and the accompanying tsunami that flooded the city.

The effect was very scary, specially so for those of us who live in SF. After we left the theater, we even drove beyond our house on Potrero Hill, which research shows is only 200 feet above sea level, to the highest point on the Hill. I was given strict instructions to get the cats into a carrying bag and take them to the highest point on the hill, to await Mrs P who will presumably battle her way there from her office on the peninsula.

That's all of course, if it actually happens.

RANT - The Girl and The Fig, Sonoma

I didn't want to go to this place again. We went a year ago, after Mrs P saw a glowing review on Check Please, Bay Area, and I was thoroughly underwhelmed.

Her excuse was that we went for brunch, and therefore the menu was predictably dull. Anyhow, this time, armed with another positive review from Check Please, my lady had booked us dinner at The Girl and The Fig.

Not only did I have a negative predisposition to the restaurant, but thanks to my food poisoning - kindly donated by El Dorado Kitchen earlier in the day - I was keen to leave the moment we sat down.

The food was ordinary, but its the clientele attracted to the place that proves to be its biggest turn-off. It was full of noisy women cackling and screaming their way through buckets of Prosecco, producing much the same effect as can be suffered at Town Hall.

I'm sorry my darling, but I was bad company. But you booked it, and I won't let you do that again.

RANT - El Dorado Kitchen, Sonoma

This place didn't earn its RANT through its location - right on the square in Sonoma, on a sunny Memorial Day; nor its staff - who were plentiful and helpful; nor even its food (or at least not at first) - which was tasty.

Mrs P had the fish tacos while I chose the ham and greens omelet - this was lunch after all. Neither of us had wine.

However, my omelet came with a little surprise ingredient - food poisoning. The effects crept up on me through the evening and into the next couple of days. I was lethargic, grumpy, dizzy, and ached.

Therefore, all the other good stuff was negated.

RAVE - Aster

At last! A new, date-worthy spot, with a cool, relaxed vibe, and excellent food.

Plate sizes are small-ish, so it's fine to have 3 courses. 

My gorgeous date had the King Salmon, with peach, almond, chili oil, and basil. Then the Delta Asparagus, ham hock, spring onion, egg yolk, and sorrel, followed by the Black Cod, chard leaves & stems, and smoked bone broth. She wasn't as pleased as I was with my choices:

I had the Porchetta di Testa, pickled summer squash, and nasturtium. Then the Soft-cooked egg, crispy potato, nori, and caviar vinaigrette, followed by the Pork Shoulder, sweet potato, rhubarb, and grilled broccoli.

The bottle of Petit Chablis was top notch, and our server even better. 

Despite being busy, the noise was muted, which added to the overall mellow-ness of the place.

REVIEW - Mad Max Fury Road

This might have cost $150m to make, and Tom Hardy may have more acting skills in his little finger than does Mel Gibson, and Charlize Theron may look hot in a mechanic's outfit, but there's only so much car chase I can take in one film.

The film's - indeed the series of films' - underlying story: that oil is in such short supply that rival gangs need to barrel up and down the desert in souped up gas guzzlers is all a bit pointless.

Yes, the visuals are dramatic. And yes, the action is mostly non-stop. But for heaven's sake let's have a plot.

REVIEW - Causwells

Online restaurant reviews have always had a reputation for being filled with plaudits from the relatives, friends, or even staff at a new restaurant. Presumably, that was the reason Causwells got voted one of SF's best 11 restaurants of the year, and having one of the 15 best burgers in America by one review site.

On both accounts, the reviews were woefully wrong.

First, with all the competition in San Francisco, a restaurant - in my mind at least - must be more than a crowded space where one might shelter from the rain, or rest awhile from the tiresome shopping in the Marina, in order to be voted one of the best of anything.

Second, and more specifically, the Americana Burger falls way behind half a dozen other SF places' fare, let alone the country's. With its mangled sauce that's part Worcestershire, part Thousand Island, part "magic potion", cheese, and crispy onion rings it tasted more like something from Burger King than an award contender.

The pea crisp, with mint, yogurt tasted good, although a quick snort would've dispensed with the dish, while the Andouille fritters, with chili lime aioli lacked real taste - presumably from the virtual non-existence of any andouille sausage in the potato.

RANT - 50 Shades of Grey

Having peeked at a few pages to try and see what all the fuss was about, and quickly realizing it was badly-written tripe that was barely worth the effort of holding the book open, I avoided this masterpiece of marketing until the film hit pay-per-view.

Last night was slow enough, with no Walking Dead to entertain me, so I succumbed when Mrs P - who has read all 3 books - suggested we watch the film on TV.

What a load of unadulterated bulls**t this turned out to be. We already know the premise was suspect - a moderately good-looking billionaire with "singular" tastes wants a dominant / submissive relationship with a moderately good-looking woman - and we already know that 99% of the books' readers have been 1) female and 2) besotted. And we know that - as per usual - 99% of the men in those besotted females' lives can't make out whether they're supposed to sprint off to their local Good Vibrations store and pick up some appropriate gear or JUST KEEP THE HELL OUT OF IT!!!!

Consequently, I was blissfully unaware of just how bad this movie was. The script was limp. The dialog was banal. The pacing was glacial. And the whole effect was soporific. Surprise, surprise (an inappropriate segue considering the fact that there were absolutely NO surprises throughout this pile of hippo droppings) I was asleep well before the end, and woke up asking "what happened?".

Well, you'll just have to make a flask of coffee and watch this through to the bitter - and undoubtedly dull - end to find out for yourself.

RAVE - Jon Spencer Blues Explosion at The Independent

The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion is a band I've known for 20 years but never seen touring anywhere near where I was. They're a band who's music I've owned, but never heard on the radio - so I've no idea where I first heard of them. They're also a band that virtually no-one I know has heard of.

All of these things made it very difficult to a) find someone to go with and b) persuade Mrs P it was a good idea to go see them when a) failed.

Getting her there was one thing. Getting her to like them was a completely different proposition. Their music is sometimes awkwardly arrhythmic - a term that doctors normally use to describe mis-timing heart beats and therefore one that I'm probably using incorrectly to describe a tempo, or beat that keeps changing mid song.

This arrhythmia made it hard for Mrs P to get into the groove, and for me to tap my feet to the beat.

Nevertheless, I was very happy to break my 20 year drought of live Blues Explosion.

REVIEW - The Water Diviner

The Water Diviner is a good but not great film that tells the story of an Australian farmer - Russell Crowe - who travels to Turkey four years after the 1916 Gallipoli campaign, in which his 3 sons died.

As a farmer, he has a knack of finding water on his mostly dry farm by using Divining. Once in Turkey, he manages to use the same method to find the exact spot where his sons fell.

While covering a traumatic period in the life of the farmer, the 7,000 Australian and New Zealand forces that perished, and the nearly 70,000 Turkish fatalities, this isn't a war film. Neither is it a romance - despite Crowe sniffing around the widowed owner of his hotel in Istanbul.

Instead, it's an inclusive look - considering the Turkish, Greek, British, and ANZAC roles in this part of the First World War - at the aftermath of conflict.

REVIEW - Trevor Noah at Cobbs Comedy Club

Unless you've been living under a shell, you'll already know that Jon Stewart is stepping down as host of The Daily Show, and Trevor Noah is taking his place.

That could be the end of the story, but for a few facts.

First, the attention paid to TV talk show hosts - Letterman, Leno, Jimmy Fallon - all of them - is epic.

Second, Trevor Noah is South African, of mixed race parents, and uses his ethnicity as a well from which to hoist material that's on the one hand familiar to fans of Richard Pryor, Eddie Murphy, and Chris Rock, and on the other hand unfamiliar - his upbringing in Apartheid South Africa has given him a somewhat unique outlook on life.

Anyhow, that outlook has made him a very intelligent, observational comic who should do well on The Daily Show.

REVIEW - Sleater Kinney at The Masonic

Sorry to disappoint all the Riot Grrls there last night, but this was just plain too loud. I know I sound like an old feller clutching his hearing aid in anguish, but I assure you I like it as loud as the next (old) man.

This was simply a case of giving a handful of tender, young ladies the keys to a nuclear firing range.

I've seen Sleater Kinney twice before, both times at the Great American Music Hall - a venue with a sound system that only goes up to 10. The Masonic has a full on turbo nutter system, and --- I should stop going on about it now, because SK were exactly what it said on the box. Loud. Direct.

RAVE - Chez Maman

The fact that we've eaten many times at the old Chez Maman allowed us to give them the benefit of the doubt on the food at their new place. Confusingly, they've moved a couple doors up 18th Street to occupy the former Chez Papa.

Mr Chez has vacated their 18th and Missouri locale, making way for Mrs Chez to move in. The old Chez Maman will reopen soon as a rotisserie.

So, there's a bit more space for the new occupants and their customers, but the counter service has transferred successfully.

We ate a couple of salads - Mrs P the Endive Salad with pears, walnuts and roquefort cheese, and caramel balsamic vinaigrette ("probably the strongest sauce I've ever  had on a salad") while I had the Frisée Salad with poached egg, lardoons and a red wine vinaigrette ("probably the 100th time I've had this salad, and I never get tired of it").

Then her ladyship had the Salmon, grilled with roasted potatoes, fine herbs and crème fraîche. And she was un-impressed. Mainly with the potatoes, or at least that was her excuse for stealing most of the fries from my Chicken Burger. While it wasn't a luxury item by any means, the burger should have been more moist.

As I said, our previous experiences at their old place ensured we will go back despite the minor shortcomings.

REVIEW - Urchin Bistro

I don't know if recently-opened places experience a drop in standards - food and service, or whether there's a natural drop in enthusiasm from the public, or whether food critics are as prone to hyperbole about a new restaurant as the bulk of the City's laughing-gas-snorting restaurant goers.

Whatever it was, it's hard to explain what all the fuss was about Urchin Bistro when it opened a couple months ago.

Pavey ordered Kale Salad, with duck confit, quinoa, comte cheese, and citrus vinaigrette (why, oh why the lady continues to order Kale anything when it's consistently dull). I had the Gnocchi Parisienne, with fava beans, smoked bacon, and forest mushrooms. Score, Pavey 0 : Philip 1.

Our entrees were blah. She had the Grilled Free Range Chicken, with Spaetzle, foie gras butter, and peas (I refuse to use the restaurant nomenclature of 'English' peas, as peas are peas, and these weren't flown in from England). I had the Steak Frites, with vin rouge butter. Neither dish was particularly French, and neither was particularly standout. Score, Pavey 0 : Philip 0.

Perhaps the fact that we were seated upstairs, when all the atmosphere seemed downstairs, made the whole a so-so affair, and one we're unlikely to go for again.

RAVE - Kaiser Chiefs at The Regency

It's quite some time since we've gone to see a band for one main song, and while I've got a couple Kaiser Chiefs albums - and therefore know a fair percentage of their material - it's true to say that if they had not performed Ruby last night, we would have been very disappointed.

Good news. They didn't disappoint us. Not only did they play - and everyone sing along to - Ruby, but the packed crowd were enthusiastic participants in The Angry Mob, I Predict A Riot, Na Na Na Na Naa, Never Miss A Beat, and many more.

And the less said about supporting act Priory, the better.

RAVE - Ex Machina

"Not my kind of film" said Mrs P as we exited the theater. So we'll ignore her feedback shall we?

Mr P thought this was an excellent, and very different take on the perennial geek-meets-female-robot-and-everyone-wonders-if-they'll-ever-make-out story.

Our geek - a 26 year old programmer at BlueBook (a huge web search company) wins a competition to spend time at the mountain home of the company CEO. His time is to be spent conducting a Turing Test on a robot boasting the most developed artificial intelligence. The Turing Test is way of evaluating whether machines can think. The CEO is a mostly crazed genius, and the robot is a mostly hot babe.

"Ex Machina" comes from "Deus ex machina" (Latin: God from the machine) and refers to the mythological gods who were prone to visiting earth to meddle with earthly things. In this context, it  refers to the robot-creating CEO, who believes himself to be god-like.

Anyhow, our geek-meets-robot story develops with ominous overtones and - without giving too much away - it all goes artificial t*ts up at the end.

Definitely my kind of film.

RAVE - Izakaya Kou

While not the warmest or heartiest of atmospheres - it was cold and windy Sunday evening, on a cold and windy corner of Filmore - once we were all cocooned behind sliding screens at our pit (what DO you call those places where your feet are all in a hole in the floor?), things soon warmed up.

With 6 of us celebrating cousin Amo's birthday - 2 of the 6 were his kids - it was no surprise we practically ate our way through the menu.

Hence, you won't get an accurate listing of the sushi rolls, sashimi, chicken, beef, sausage, shrimp, and rice dishes we sampled, but there was plenty of choice and every plate was cleared.

While it may not have dislodged Blowfish from #1 on our "favorite Japanese restaurant", it's certainly up there near the top.

RAVE - Les Clos

In my continuing quest to sample every new restaurant in San Francisco, even if they're only new to me rather than the City itself, and in my other, related quest to keep Mrs P happy with where she's dining, we ate at Les Clos.

On the downside it's near the baseball stadium - usually a negative where restaurants are concerned - and perhaps consequentially it lacks a "date" vibe. This latter downside is especially important when escorting the elegant female half of the household around SF on a chilly evening.

On the upside, the food was sensational!

My escortee chose the cheese appetizer, with the Petrale Sole, turnips, and snap peas for her main meal.

I had the Morels, Foie Gras, and Peas. This dish alone is worth a visit to Les Clos.
I followed it with the Poulet Basquez, with Padron peppers, and Cous Cous. While not necessarily to the standard set by the Morels, it rounded out the dinner almost as well as a Cassoulet from Bistro Jeanty might have done.

Les Clos heralds its wine selection, which is pretty large. But if you know your wine, or at least know what you like, it's a good but hardly outstanding collection.

Nevertheless, the food was a success even if the surroundings were unremarkable.