For a passionate young chef, three years, two months and 16 days is an eternity to be away from the stove. But that’s how much time elapsed between Aaron London’s Michelin star gig at Ubuntu, an acclaimed, now shuttered Napa vegetarian spot, and the opening of AL’s Place (named for the chef’s initials), recently lauded by Bon Appétit as America’s best new restaurant, in San Francisco. Another restaurant project accounted for the hiatus, and when it ultimately failed, London, 32, headed to Asia and Mexico on a culinary walkabout. “It was super-inspiring,” he said. “And I came back thinking, ‘I just need to cook food now.'”
Two months later, he was doing just that, having leased a gloomy, vacant restaurant space on a far fringe of the Mission District’s booming night-life epicenter. Working on a shoestring budget, he upgraded the tiny open kitchen and turned the 49-seat dining room into a cheerful, airy space with subway tile wainscoting and a wall of windows overlooking lush sidewalk planters.
Although London finds “far more creative possibilities in a carrot, a peach or a bulb of fennel than in a steak,” AL’s Place is not strictly vegetarian. On the small, highly seasonal menu, peak California produce stars in the entrees while modest portions of animal protein mostly appear as sides. During two summer dinners in the packed and noisy restaurant, I grazed through much of the menu, which reflects London’s personal tastes far more than any food trend.
Royal trumpet mushrooms had a meatlike heft when paired with fava mayo and a pluot and green peach relish, while goat-milk curds, green tomato, corn and padron peppers added punch to creamy grits. London’s love of Montreal-style delis showed up in a satisfying dish of smoked brisket with pickled mirepoix and maple mustard. A nugget of albacore, crusted in a powder of dehydrated limes, anchored a pool of velvety stone-fruit curry and green beans.
Many dishes illustrate London’s experimental approach to produce — the vegetal equivalent of tail-to-snout. Oil infused with normally discarded fava pods adds a fresh-from-the-garden intensity to the mushroom-fava mayo dish, while oil made from green peach pits imparts a subtle nuttiness to the stone-fruit curry. “How can I get more flavor on the plate?” London said. “That’s always my goal."
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