For months I'd been driving by the old Jennie Low's location on Miller Avenue in Mill Valley, wondering when the new occupant would emerge from the chrysalis of remodeling. The paper-covered windows revealed nothing of the work going on inside. But one Saturday morning in mid-September the metamorphosis was suddenly complete; the shining windows of the new Balboa Cafe revealed a panoply of dark wood and leather banquettes, gleaming glassware, cream walls lined with old photos of Mill Valley and a high beamed ceiling.A largish group of youthful, squeaky clean employees were hanging out on the porch railings, looking as though they'd been sent over from Central Casting. I guess they had just completed a staff meeting, and when I asked, they told me that the Balboa Café would open its doors on Sept. 17, the Wednesday of the following week.
In case you've been living in Borneo for the last quarter century, or somehow tragically missed a few installments of the San Francisco restaurant serial, the Balboa Café on Fillmore Street has a long and glorious history as one of the oldest taverns in the city, first established in 1913. Jeremiah Tower brought it to prominence in the early '80s as a Cow Hollow watering hole cum yuppie cuisine, and the Plumpjack Group founded (and eventually sold) by Gavin Newsom later acquired it as part of a burgeoning coterie of hip wine shops, wineries, bars, restaurants and boutique hotels in San Francisco and the Napa and Squaw Valleys.
It was only a matter of time and available real estate until Marin County got a Plumpjack establishment of its own. I wondered how the city ambiance of the Balboa Cafe would translate to the suburbs, but when on our visit we walked by a booth near the door overflowing with long legged blond children, I decided it was working out very well.
Although there is in fact a children's menu, it wasn't the kids' fault about the din, which is considerable. The café is carpeted, so it must be the two walls of high windows that bounce the sound around the room. We got used to it, but it was a shock at first. From the outside, the place looks clubby and congenial, but not noisy. General manager Robert Bickham told me he hoped the hubbub would create a joyful sense of community. Plumpjack, by the way, was named for Plump Jack, Gavin Newsom's pal Gordon Getty's opera, named for Shakespeare's portly Sir John Falstaff, whose merry approach to life both apparently envied.
As one would expect from a business group whose flagship was a wine shop, Balboa's wine list is sophisticated and varied. Bottles begin at $28 for a 2007 Napa Valley Grgich Hills Fume Blanc or a 2006 Chehalem Pinot Gris from the Willamette Valley in Oregon, and top out at a whopping $525 for a bottle of 2003 DRC Grand Eschezeaux Vosne-Romanee, a pinot noir from France. The list also features a handful of Marin County wines, and 14 half bottles ranging from $18 to $48.
There are 22 wines by the glass beginning at $6 for the Plumpjack Wines house chardonnay or merlot to $19 for a flute of Heidsieck Monopole Blue Top Brut Champagne. I didn't see any of the wines poured by the glass duplicated on the wine list. Wines that are organic, grown biodynamically or using sustainable farming methods are marked with a cluster of grapes.
Bickham, who worked previously at Garibaldi's and Farallon, told me that at Balboa he hopes to create a comfortable, lively neighborhood cafe with consistently great food and service. Chef Raul Garcia's brief menu of starters and entrees changes frequently, as seasonal ingredients become available.
Over flutes of non-vintage Roederer Estate Brut Rose from the Anderson Valley ($14) and Fantinel Prosecco from Italy ($9) we began with a Caesar Salad ($8) that, after a bite or two, revealed itself to be subtly perfect. The pile of delicate romaine had been cut into bite-sized pieces; the dressing was light but weighted with lemon and garlic; the brioche croutons were fresh and chewable, and there was a snowy drift of parmesan.
On my companion's chilled plate were fanned impeccably fresh, translucent slices of tuna carpaccio ($10.50), slicked with a sweet, spicy mango chili reduction and garnished with tomatoes. He asked for extra sauce, but he always asks for extra sauce. It means he likes it and wants more.
There were several additional appetizers that sounded too attractive to resist, so we wound up sharing the fried green tomato Napoleon ($9.50). I took a bite, exclaiming with full mouth over the stunning tastes and textures of crisp fried slices of green fruit sandwiching softened, basil scented goat cheese, all spiked with a sweet/sour relish of pickled corn and peppers. There's a lot going on with this rich appetizer, which makes it ideal for sharing, since it's also quite filling.
I was glad, therefore, that I had decided on another appetizer instead of an entrée. Manila clam piperade ($11.50) was everything I hoped it would be. The roasted clams rested in a bowl of garlicky chili broth, draped with spicy chorizo sausage and julienne slices of caramelized onion and red, yellow and green pepper. There were toasts to soak up the sauce, and when they were gone I happily switched to the remains of our breadbasket. I did not, however, think the wine the sommelier had paired for me, a glass of fruity 2007 Verdelho Alta Mesa from Lodi ($10), married all that well with this rustic dish. I wanted something crisper, with more citrus notes to complement the clams, garlic and peppers.
Meanwhile, across the table, a plate of tenderly pan roasted salmon on a bed of sea beans, with toy box tomatoes, roasted red potatoes and sun-dried tomato vinaigrette ($24) was being dispatched. Our server stopped by to ask how things were going, and we told him that the green and briny sea vegetables, although pretty, were too fibrous to chew. He immediately apologized and offered a complimentary side of sautéed vegetables, which arrived quickly enough to complete the meal. Service throughout was similarly efficient, responsive and friendly.
Dessert, a pedestrian apple crisp with vanilla ice cream ($7), was the only disappointment. I consoled myself with honeyed sips of the recommended dessert wine, a Chateau Grillon Sauternes ($9).
Open for only six weeks, Balboa Café feels as though it's been nestled in the leafy embrace of Mt. Tamalpais for a decade. After so many years watching restaurants come and go in Marin, I can often sense which restaurants will succeed here and which are in one way or another too specialized. By the time this review appears, we will have a new president. I wish my crystal ball could tell me that result! But although the restaurant business is volatile, it's not as much so as politics, and I'm confident picking Balboa Café as a winner. It certainly gets my vote!
