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Dining Out

Paths of glory

Sumptuous and Spartan Camino Lights a Fire Under Slow Food

    Camino: A municipality in the Piedmont region of Italy; its patron saint is Lawrence of Rome. Camino: The Spanish word for “way” or “path.” El Camino de Santiago (the Way of St. James): The pilgrimage route to a cathedral in northwestern Spain revered as the burial site of the apostle Saint James. Camino: A new restaurant on Grand Avenue at the edge of Piedmont; its patron saint is Alice Waters of Chez Panisse. Its culinary approach is most definitely a way. And the spacious, somewhat Spartan hall, which opened last May, is packed nightly with pilgrims paying dearly to pay homage to the gospel of Slow Food as interpreted by chef/owner Russell Moore, an apostle of Alice and 20-plus-year veteran of Chez Panisse.
    Despite an ongoing parade of restaurant openings, Oaklanders have seen nothing like Camino with its two 30-foot-long
redwood-plank communal tables (sawn from a storm-felled tree); wainscoting resembling old fence boards; completely unadorned side walls—one of old brick, the other yellow plaster; and quaint wooden chairs and sturdy pews salvaged from an English church.
    Adding to the rustic grandeur that makes this former furniture store feel like a designer version of an urban lodge, hefty bare-wood posts soar from a polished concrete floor to meet dark beams that span a stamped metalwork ceiling. Two broad box skylights let in soft natural light, as do the big front picture windows. Simple candles on wood tabletops add to the warm romantic glow. Four giant chandeliers with flame-shaped bulbs on concentric wagon wheel–like rings reinforce the symmetry of a space that feels larger than its 84-seat capacity.
    So far, so grand. It’s when the menu arrives that doubting Thomases might part ways with true believers. Russell Moore takes everything about Slow Food seriously, from changing the menu daily (viewable online) based on what is available from local markets and suppliers (and limiting choices to three entrees and four or five starters) to cooking almost everything with the open-flame heat of a giant hearth. His commitment to artisan products carries over to bartender Thad Vogler’s nightly variations on traditional cocktails, and his dedication to sustainability contributes to  prices that only affluent diners and careful spenders can afford. Some condemn Moore’s stance as ideological, elitist rigidity; others embrace it as
the Holy Grail.
    Dining at Camino can feel like attending a well-managed retreat, but it need not be approached—nor cynically dismissed—as a religious experience, even if the exquisitely tender grilled and roasted duck ($24) I savored on our first visit did almost have me speaking in tongues. Likewise for the starters of roasted, salty-skinned sardines with fresh chickpeas, saffron and roasted peppers ($12) and the crisp cucumbers with fresh sheep’s milk ricotta, tangy olives, mint and arugula ($9.50). As Robin worked her way through the shell bean gratin with a whole roasted tomato and two ample slices of polenta ($18), after declaring the polenta the best she’d ever had, she added a comment that applied to virtually every dish sampled during two dinners: “There is nothing on this plate that doesn’t belong here.”
    On our second visit, two weeks later, some menu items made repeat appearances: the roasted sardines; a gorgeous butter lettuce salad ($12); grilled California albacore ($25); a side dish of Romano beans ($6); and several desserts (peach tart, $9; melon-Champagne granita, $9; and biscotti, $3.50). But each had been given a slight ingredient tweak. We missed out on the goat entrees offered on preceding nights, but Moore had extended the theme into a savory goat ragoût ($10) that, despite the lightness of the broth dotted with diced carrots, made a rich and more than ample starter, served with garlic toast. Robin, an avid tomato gardener, got underway with an impressive tomato and eggplant salad ($9.50) that included four or five varieties of tomatoes at their seasonal peak, accented with chile and mint and drizzled with yogurt.
    Still in a fowl mood, and always tempted by anything hinting of bacon, I treated myself to grilled quail with pork belly, fresh black-eyed peas and soft polenta ($24). Still veggie-inclined, Robin filled up on the custard-like squash-and-basil sformata (with a béchamel base) accompanied by roasted escarole and corn ($18). After polishing off more of the Acme Bread Company pain epi than we should have, we had room for nothing more than an intense espresso ($3) in a tiny version of the small glass tumblers used for cocktails.
    The first evening, we sat at an individual table (next to former Golden State Warriors owner Franklin Meuli); on the second visit, a communal table filled up around us. The experiences were unified by the unique overall ambience, the superb quality of the cooking and the consistency of the service overseen by general manager Allison Hopelain, Moore’s partner. On both visits we had the same casually dressed, happy-to-be-there server. He commanded a detailed knowledge of ingredient sources and preparation techniques, as well as the limited list of well-priced wines, mostly French (Moore deviates from local purism when his aesthetic demands); he timed his service expertly; and he cheerfully let us know that the mulberries that ornamented the peach tart the night of our first visit came from a tree in his backyard.
    Appreciating Camino’s dinstinctive conviviality requires letting go, not only of the purse strings but also of certain desires (for vodka, for instance, because the neutral-spirit base is a corporate factory product, or decaf coffee, because Moore has yet to find one that meets Camino standards). Some will find Moore’s Slow path precious and polarizing, as well as pricey. Others will gladly pony up for an approach that doesn’t show off so much as pay off.

THE DETAILS

    CAMINO. California. 3917 Grand Ave., (510) 547-5035, www.caminorestaurant.com. Serves dinner 5 p.m.–10 p.m. Sunday, 5:30 p.m.–10 p.m. Mon., Wed., Thu., 5:30 p.m.–11 p.m. Fri.-Sat. Credit Cards, Full Bar, Reservations, Wheelchair Accessible, $$$-$$$$

—By Derk Richardson
—Photography By Mitch Tobias