Box and Bells

Since we’re getting to know each other, you should know I am easily obsessed with anything, and at times, everything. Food, bourbon, artists, colors – whatever it might be, I fall so deeply in love that I begin to wonder why it was just now that it waltzed into my life. It just feels so damn good.

This is how I feel about Box and Bells, a new restaurant by the supremely talented James Syhabout: Chef-owner of Commis, the only Michelin-starred restaurant in Oakland, and owner of Hawker Fare, a casual spot that pays homage to the foods he grew up eating. When I first heard of the concept behind Box and Bells, I knew immediately that this was going to be a new obsession. And like all good things, the concept is simple: chefs cooking what they would cook for other chefs. This, of course, translated to every meat-tastic incarnation that I could conceive of, and that perhaps other like-minded individuals would find equally enthralling. I envision chefs on their nights off eating every delicious cut of beef that is butter-laden, drinking dark liquor while chain-smoking and commiserating about last night’s service. I tell you, in some other life, I was probably a chef (sans smoking).

With anxious anticipation, I made a visit to Box and Bells with a good chef friend of mine, Tyler, whom you will also meet through this blog. Upon entering the dark wood, warmly lit space, I felt the butterflies. This was going to be epic.

And just as I had imagined, this wasn’t a place to take your vegetarian or vegan friends. This isn’t even the kind of place that you take your friend who is trying to watch their weight, cholesterol, or blood pressure. No, friends, this is the place you take your pal who is just as obsessive about food as you are, who throws away all normal thoughts that you could get away with just eating a salad here (hint: on the first visit, their salad had meat drippings), and dives headlong into this menu with reckless abandon.

It should be said that when I dine with chef/foodie friends, the same exact thing happens every time. We always take down more food than what seems normal because the desire to try just about everything on the menu overtakes the actual capacity of our stomachs. Throw in a couple cocktails, and I can promise a fun time will be had.

One of the appetizers we had was the country ham and hush puppies with maple butter. House-cured country ham shaved paper thin and served with golden brown, piping hot hush puppies, coupled with a balanced maple butter and that, as my brother so eloquently says, is hitting all the feels. You’ve got your salty, your sweet, the crunchy texture to round it out and it is a perfect bite. Trust me, you’re not looking for anything after you’ve had this bite but if there is, then it had best do me in. I only wondered for a moment before what came next did just that.

As an appetizer, there is this seemingly innocent starter of fried chicken and you think to yourself: Seems pretty innocuous, I like fried chicken, let’s do it. And then you read further on that it also says “raw oyster mayonnaise.” Say what?! How would they pull this off? And so we ordered it, amongst a slew of other appetizers but dear readers, let me be frank: this was THE one. This is the dish that even today, months after I’ve had it, and upon every single visit to Box and Bells (I’ve been five more times), this is the one that I can never say no to. What you get is perfectly fried chicken thighs, all in small bite size pieces and a ramekin of the raw oyster mayo. And it is just that – tastes exactly like a briny oyster emulsified into a smooth mayo. Slather that on to a piece of fried chicken and welcome to nirvana. If a chicken took a dip into the ocean on a fine day and came out of the sea, hung out on the beach to bake that saltiness into it’s ever delicious self, and was fried up and served to you, you’d be making a big noise about it too because, y’know, chickens don’t swim.

For our main, we had the petite filet, crayfish bearnaise and chanterelle mushrooms. This specific cut is seeing a bit of a rise in popularity because the flesh – the bit just under the cow’s shoulder – isn’t worked nearly as hard so it can retain a soft quality, as compared to other cuts. It was served medium-rare – a nice shade of pink/red – and a steak knife was most certainly not required, though we wielded these massive knives that were better suited for say cutting down a Charlie Brown Christmas tree than getting into this superbly seasoned, soft as silk steak. With tools of destruction in hand, we went to work. The addition of crayfish bearnaise and chanterelle mushrooms ratched this up a notch. The sauce was creamy and decadent, the mushrooms added an exquisite earthiness. And we sat there, blissed out on meat, shellfish, and Mother Earth, while the euphoric wave of satisfaction washed over us, tastebuds dancing and rejoicing. At that point in the meal, you could have stabbed me with that knife. I was done.

Remember how I said this place was meat focused, and that getting away with just a salad was not going to do? Allow me to wax poetic on the side dish that accompanied that glorious piece of meat we had. Veggies are great, even when done really simply and seasoned well. But throwing veg with meat drippings – in my book, that takes vegetables to a really sexy place. I love root veggies, winter is actually one of my favorite times for vegetable consumption. Winter gets such a bad rap for being unglamorous, when to me it just means you get to be more creative. Anything like salsify, cardoons, parsnips, kohlrabi, turnips, squash, you name it, I’m into it, and prepared any which way is good in my book. Box and Bells did a fantastic roasted celery root with meat drippings and rosemary. Like everything described before this, this side dish played perfectly into that wheelhouse. It highlighted the best of the season and elevated it with the addition of meat drippings. Throw a bite of this with that petite filet and that is a winning combo. Straight forward, earthy, no fuss, just straight up good, solid cooking and who can be unhappy with that?

I am a relatively new fan of bourbon. In my twenties, I primarily stayed with clear liquor, easy to drown into some sugary base like cranberry juice and I could hang out with vodka a lot longer than I could darker spirits. Then came my late-twenties and dark liquor made it’s entrance and was here to stay. I found that darker spirits had much more character and dimension to them, a bit more dynamic than a one note vodka. I gravitated towards bourbon, whisk(e)y, and eventually came scotch. Used in a dessert, I found that bourbon, added in the right quantity, gave the sugary delight a smokey, fuller flavor. Smoke is just one of those flavors I really enjoy. For dessert, we chose a butter-bourbon pudding with chantilly cream and snickerdoodles. What more perfect union could there be than with butter and bourbon! The dessert was tenderly sweet, with it’s sweetness giving way to the spice of the bourbon. The snickerdoodles gave you the crunchy factor but for me, I could have drowned in that pudding and been perfectly happy there.

What I love about Box and Bells is it’s execution and the risks that they take in their food. Sure, it could be considered yet another gastropub in the game, but this place has the technical skills to be better than your average bear. They take simple ingredients, put their stamp on it, execute it flawlessly and you’re left not wanting much more. Some reviews of the place have noted that on their visits, they found the food to be too salty. And while this isn’t something that bothers me too much unless salt distracts from the flavor, I can see why someone would say that. I liken Box and Bells to being a little more punk rock - in your face and unapologetic - than soft rock, and it probably isn’t for everyone. Thankfully, for me and the friends I’ve taken to Box and Bells, we’re happy to rock out.

I wish I had some visuals to share but no photos survived the visits to Box and Bells because...well, let me just be honest. I was way too busy enjoying the food, cocktails and the company to even think about snapping a few photos. There, I said it. I am a glutton who in the pursuit of said gluttony forgot to take photos for you, my dear wonderful readers. But, I promise, if you go to Box and Bells, you’ll understand why.

Happy Forking!

Box and Bells

Address: 5912 College Ave, Oakland, CA 94618

Phone: (510) 923-2000

www.boxandbells.com