Review

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At Kemo Sabe, it's all about presentation

By Larry Knowles

December 5, 2005

Hillcrest--I checked out Kemo Sabe, the Pac rim fusion restaurant in Hillcrest, a few days ago. One word: Presentation. Every dish is so meticulously prepared and presented with an artistic flourish, that I thought I was digging into a work of art. I didn’t want to eat my food until I’d finished photographing it.

But that’s what Kemo Sabe is known for, its presentation. Before I walked in, I’d been told that the restaurant doesn’t so much deliver food, as it does sculptures.

The minute I sat down at the little bar in the back of the restaurant—There are only about seven bar stools—I knew that presentation would be important. The waitstaff and bar staff, dressed all in black, went about their work with purpose and enthusiasm. They never got flustered, or “in the weeds,” as they say in the restaurant biz. It was as though they wanted diners to see how harmoniously they could operate, that they were as pleasant to view as the food they delivered.

As for the food, I asked the bartender, a cool, sociable woman named Robbi, what she recommended for an appetizer. “Everyone likes the brie,” she fired back. I was afraid she was going to say that. I’m not one for ordering brie, or a cheese plate at restaurants. That stuff should be free at cocktail parties.

Then, the couple sitting next to us chimed in. “Everyone told us to order the brie,” they said. So brie it was.

And I ordered a glass of wine, too: Veramonte Merlot, Chile ’02. I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to wine, but it seemed to me it had youthful, dark fruit aromas, with hints of chocolate, pepper, and toasted oak. I could be wrong,…but unlikely, since I took the above description from the Veramonte web site.

My friend ordered a 50/50 martini, a concoction listed as Skyy Vanilla, orange juice, and cream. Tasted like a creamsicle without the cream—and for good reason. There was no cream. Robbi said that they’re using Cointreau instead of cream these days. Otherwise, a good, smooth drink.

The brie came out in about ten minutes, not long at all. But, I did wonder at about the seven-minute mark why it was taking even that long. It was brie! It needs no introduction; it’s a cheese.

Then I realized why it took ten minutes, or even longer. Presentation. Be warned: This isn’t your average cocktail hour brie. This is SuperBrie. It came out on what’s called a boat. But this was a big boat.

“That’s not a boat,” the couple next to us mused. “It’s a surfboard!”

“You look scared,” Robbi said to us.

The nut crusted fried brie sat in the center of the dish, surrounded by jalapeno jelly and honey roasted garlic on one side, and a tortilla and toast on the other. The brie was soft and savory and contained no ammonia aftertaste (as some bries do).

The honey-roasted garlic was an oddity. It was the whole bulb, just sitting there brown and caramelized. The strong taste had been roasted out, so along with a mild brie, the garlic melded quite well.

For an entrée, I ordered something called Skirts on Fire. Don’t know if that’s a play on words. It could just be a bad name. Anyway, it’s a charbroiled skirt steak with rice sticks (kindling, really), Thai chili, and black beans.

I understand the “fire” part. This dish was spicy, perhaps the spiciest beef I’ve ever had. I didn’t know steak came that spicy. I liked it, though. It made an otherwise average-portioned entrée quite filling. The only criticism I have of the dish is that the beef was a little tough on the outside.

My friend ordered a work of art called “Good Things Growing.” You know you’re in for a workout, by the way, when you order something that sounds more like a song title than a meal. This thing was the Sergeant Pepper's of the menu. It came out on a boat with its own little pagoda, and offered up an exotic array of dressed-up veggies. There was the eggplant (looking like Paul), roasted bell roulades, garam masala, butternut squash ravioli, and tempura yams.

It was an eyeful to look at, a mouthful to talk about, and filling enough to satisfy two.

Kemo Sabe, which means “Trusted Friend” in Lone-Ranger-and-Tonto-speak, presents itself and its food well. Next time Tonto comes to town, take him to Kemo Sabe. I’m pretty sure he’ll dig it.

Kemo Sabe

3958 Fifth Ave.

San Diego, CA

619.220.6802