Despite the darkness and a cold January wind, a line formed out the door of Bar Panisse. Inside, every bar stool and table was occupied. The Save César Berkeley campaign collected more than 4,000 signatures to protest Bar Panisse from opening in Bar César’s place—to no avail. Those Bay Area residents who didn’t object to the closure are now arriving in their winter wardrobes to fill every seat. Perhaps some of Save César’s signatories have also stopped by but are disguised by many layers of puffy clothing.
The décor mirrors Chez Panisse’s signature Arts and Crafts flourishes. To create the feeling of a warm, secluded enclosure, dark wood panels cover the walls behind the diners and the refurbished bar. The characters in Hamnet wouldn’t feel out of place ordering a hard apple cider or a pale ale there. Each glazed bathroom tile looks like it’s been made by someone’s hands and a hot fire. They’re the color of peaches and nectarines that have been baked into a galette. In a nod to its older sister next door, there’s a framed ninth anniversary poster that, font-wise, evokes all the covers of Alice Waters’ cookbooks.
Each section of the menu is intentionally spare. Conceptually, Bar Panisse isn’t daring or ambitious. It’s a companionable space for cozy date nights both platonic and romantic. Couples also sat with other pre- or post-prandial couples. No one gets the advantage of a reservation, but the bar seating fills up before the tables. Those customers get a close-up view of the bartender’s cocktail shakers while the sound of daiquiris getting iced echoes across the room.
At the bottom of the cocktail list, a note credits the gimlets, sazeracs and martinis to Prizefighter Bar’s Dylan O’Brien. They range in price from $12 to $14. Both of the non-alcoholic beverages we tried were mouth-puckeringly tart. A rightly named “bitter mule” ($14) forwarded the taste of ginger, assertively, against lime and tonic. It comes with a small yellow rectangle of ginger to nibble on.
Champagne vinegar and clove overwhelmed the taste of persimmon in a house-made shrub ($8), the trendiest mocktail out there. After a first sip, the edges of my throat felt, not on fire exactly, but unpleasantly awakened. Our server kindly removed it from the bill. I thought better of following that up with a glass of ginger ale ($4).
Bar Panisse’s wine list doesn’t stray from California or the major European players, France and Italy. The most expensive bottle is a $76 sparkling chardonnay from Jura; the least expensive is a $56 pinot grigio from Alto Adige. Draft and canned beers are all from Northern California, except for a non-alcoholic one from Athletic Brewing in San Diego ($5–$8). One hard cider from Oregon completes the list of beverages.
The most substantial dish on the food menu is a roast chicken with leeks, fava greens and chanterelles ($35). But Bar Panisse is a temporary stopping place, gathering attention because of its adjacency to a preeminent culinary destination. The couple in line before us sat at the bar, drank one drink, then left without lingering.
Table turnover is relatively fast. That’s why the line doesn’t appear to be particularly daunting. We showed up early, shortly after the 5 o’clock opening hour, and waited less than 15 minutes for a seat. The hosts, and everyone on staff, seemed unusually serene and coolly capable of dealing with a crowd of eager—and potentially impatient—patrons. I’d like to be a fly on the wall at their family meal before the doors open.
To soothe the guests right after they’ve been seated, someone immediately brings a small bowl of salt and vinegar chips to the table. Our server hastened to describe them as “complimentary.” They’re a crisp delight and better than any store-bought version with the same flavor profile. A plate of olives, one of the smallest “small bites,” is $7. Useful comparisons to keep in mind: Revival and Tallboy sell their olive plates for $9. Bellanico’s olive plate, marinated with herbs, garlic and citrus, comes in at $6.
Winter has dislodged summer to become my favorite season for ordering salad. Bar Panisse is serving one with chicories, pumpkin, dates and fried sage ($17). The bitter red leaves were all simply and evenly dressed. Nearly pulverized pieces of pumpkin complemented the chicories with their innate sweetness. They’d been baked or roasted down to a texture very near to a semi-purée. A novel combination that worked as a marriage of flavors and textures.
Fried sage is one of those ingredients that sounds like it’s bringing something extra to the plate but never really materializes on the palate. And, for the life of me, I can’t remember seeing or tasting a single date in the salad. But as long as bitter lettuces appear on menus—dated or dateless—I will continue to order them.
The must-have for the evening was something so simple it perfectly embodied the Chez Panisse ethos. Scallions, yogurt, honey and thyme ($14) is part of the “small fry” section of the menu, which also includes anchovy fritters ($14), potatoes ($13) or cauliflower ($14). I use scallions in the kitchen almost daily, but chopped up, sautéed or as a garnish.
Here they were honored as a vegetable with its own distinct identity. The fry was akin to a tempura batter, all golden, crispy and light. And the frayed edges of the stem that slipped out of the coating turned deliciously soft and chewy. Dipping them in a fresh cool dollop of yogurt enhanced the bite. I’d eat these over french fries any day of the week.
My enthusiasm for the food waned with the arrival of the butter beans ($14). Compared with Daytrip Counter’s creamy gigante beans served in a luscious broth, the Bar Panisse dish just didn’t make any sense. The beans themselves were undercooked, arriving at the table not even al dente. Served with sprouted broccoli and breadcrumbs, the entire plate was drowning in an abrasive chili oil. The ingredients also didn’t meld together. It’s the only dish on the menu I tried that either needs to be dropped or reconceived.
Bar Panisse, Thu to Mon 5–10pm, no reservations. 1515 Shattuck Ave., Berkeley; chezpanisse.com/bar-panisse. IG: @barpanisse.
