By Paul Reidinger
If you step into a bistro in Paris, you can be fairly sure what you'll find: a homey setting, a menu offering such staples as boeuf bourguignon and blanquettes de veau. The place will seem as if it's been there forever, the service staff will be cheerful and efficient, and you'll eat your three courses and be out an hour or so, and a dozen or so euros, later. While the origins of the word bistro are unclear, one theory is that it's an echo of what Russian soldiers of the Napoleonic Wars urged upon the Parisian restaurateurs of the day: "Bistrot! (Quick!)"
On these nether shores, bistro suggests so many things (except quick) that the head spins. I have never really deduced a pattern of meaning beyond an implication of casual style – black turtlenecks, Italian calves'-leather shoes – that would seem neither in nor out of place in a Paris bistro. Some of our bistros are grand, some modest, some fairly authentic to the Parisian antecedent.
Annie's Bistro, which opened recently in what is either, depending on your socioeconomic orientation, lower Pacific Heights or the upper Western Addition, is neither grand nor modest, but it is true to the example of its Parisian cousins in its offering of terrific food and wine at painless prices. The main difference is that the food, like the staff, reflects a cultural sweep as wide as modern California itself.
The eponymous impresario, Annie Sun, is an international businesswoman who pops in often to schmooze; the chef, Jose Rodriguez, has cooked at Aqua, Farallon, One Market, and Fifth Floor; and the maître d', Ash Hasan, is a Palestinian with a communicable enthusiasm for California wine.
The wine list, in fact, helps distinguish Annie's not merely from other bistros but most other restaurants in the city. It isn't a long list – only a page – but virtually every offering is available by the glass or, for dabblers, by the half glass. Meandering through a forest of interesting half glasses, most of them between $2.50 and $4 a pop, is an agreeable way to acquaint oneself with a variety of wines without getting (too) pasted or going broke. A general observation from this half-glass ranger: California wines are fruity, often too much so, and the ones that aren't tend to overcompensate by being too oaky.
But that is just an opinion, and it isn't Ash Hasan's opinion. What is Ash Hasan's opinion (and mine) is that Rodriguez's chile relleno ($12) is exquisite: a pasilla pepper, battered, stuffed with brie, black olives, mushrooms, and baby artichokes, then fried to gold and topped with garlicky tomato sauce. The pepper is served with a side of mixed baby greens tossed with slices of green apple and a mango dice. A beer dish, truly, though a bit of Tofarelli zinfandel made a good alternate accompaniment.