It’s hard to know which way to look at the newly reopened Verjus. Is it up toward the ceiling, which was given 10 coats of blood-red paint until it became as shiny as lacquer, reflecting the candlelit tables below? Or is it down, to note with envy the well-heeled crowd’s covetable shoes? (Just spotting one pair of heels in casual-or-bust San Francisco gives a flicker of Paris.)
Then there’s the open kitchen, which is set directly beneath a huge, back-lit marquee that lists the day’s menu, making salade verte and a Boursin omelet into a must-eat double feature. Even the kitchen pass is impossible to ignore, with its Salesforce Tower of butter (Le Beurre Bordier, if you’re a francophile) — a nonchalant, if defiant, display of gluttony.
Big butter energy is at the core of the nouveau French wine bar and restaurant, which was opened in 2019 by Lindsay and Michael Tusk of Quince and Cotogna. After a long, pandemic-influenced hiatus, Verjus reopened at the beginning of November. Seeing as the Tusks have consistently drawn the biggest celebs and politicians to their restaurants — from Kim Kardashian to the Kamala crew — Verjus is right back to being the place to be, as if it never closed.
The Tusks kept Verjus shuttered until they felt the upscale Jackson Square neighborhood coming back to life. “It was the last pandemic box to check,” Lindsay says of reopening. The block is ready: The Transamerica Pyramid across the street is undergoing a $400 million renovation and will be the site of two restaurants; a Paul Smith boutique just opened a shop a block away, to be followed by Polo Ralph Lauren (countdown to ’80s popped collars). And Apple’s celebrated designer Jony Ive has scooped up so much nearby real estate that The Standard dubbed the neighborhood the Ive Hive.
Much of the Verjus space has been kept the same — aside from the addition of a turntable with about 1,000 albums Michael Tusk donated from his vast collection (Fridays and Saturdays host a DJ) and a dramatic chandelier that Lindsay, who designed the restaurant, shipped from Paris.
New to the menu are cocktails designed by Thad Vogler, formerly of Bar Agricole. But the bar is populated mainly by guests leaning in and swirling glasses of Le Pérou cab franc from the list of predominantly natural — but “not screaming it,” says Lindsay — French wines, including more than 100 bottles of Champagne under $100.
However, as much as the Tusks would like Verjus to be drink-centric, you’re going to want to order the entire food menu by Walker Stern, which reads casual but is executed with the finesse of a fine-dining chef.
Mussels escabeche ($12), served on three slices of baguette with aioli featuring floral habanada chiles, a heatless habanero, are inhaled in a breath. And when the oeufs mentaiko ($10) — two voluptuous eggs mayonnaise, each topped with a tiny, red nipple of pollock roe — are sent out, you know either someone in the kitchen has a sense of humor or you have the mind of a teenage boy. (Lindsay says it’s the latter.)
Less of a culinary innuendo is the fried romanesco ($15), tossed with a sweet-sour, agrodolce-like sauce of hazelnuts, raisins, and anchovy. When the server tries to clear the last bite, I lunge to save it. Lamb sausage ($24) made with vadouvan, a French curry powder, is served with white beans. A deeply rustic soupe de poisson ($23), “made by chef Tusk himself,” evokes cozy sweaters and winter. The tomato and rockfish soup, topped with toast with rouille and Comté cheese, is cooked down thick to the red of the ceiling.
The second dining room off the main entrance is kept for those who want the comfort of a reservation, whereas the more energetic front room (my preference) is open for walk-ins. And BTW — what do they do with that heap of butter? It’s used to accompany the plates of radishes and bread. “It feels good to have that life in this space,” Lindsay says with a satisfied sigh. “We’re just really happy to be back.”
- Website
- www.verjuscave.com