Don’t let anyone get between you and your ingredients

Willi’s Seafood and Raw Bar is a small-plates sort of a place. Hectic at first, we sat outdoors finally. The rain, ever present this week, had let up. Our server was jovially Californian. ("Woah, with that one you’re gettin' inta serious oak, brah.")

Their lobster roll is a signature dish. It, and also a Dungeness crab cake were focused on not getting between you and the ingredient. The lobster roll would not be found in New England…not nearly enough mayo. It was light, on an airy home-baked roll, with the subtle flavorings of garlic butter and fennel. The chunky lobster meat was perfectly cooked (though on this my wife and I disagree). The dish was so subtle that I already forget it. It is the most likely to get a shout out in a review, but we’d leave it off the tab next time.

We chose the Hamachi ceviche (at left) from the half-dozen raw fish selections, and we were not disappointed. Does yellow-tail swim in the Russian River, because it tasted like it had been gutted that afternoon. The inherent sweetness of the fresh fish was beautifully balanced by the tartness of lime, and the pleasing heat of chilies, piled up on a lightly salty taro chip. For this I would travel.

I ordered the Hangar Steak skewer with chimichurri because I have never tasted hangar steak (only one per cow!) The meat was cooked perfectly, but the chimi and the accompanying salad were not worth the trouble. Hangar, though, is like a filet packed with the flavor of a strip…I guess that makes it a porterhouse in one muscle, and I guess that makes it the perfect steak. I’ll have to seek it out again.

Now might be the time to mention the wine. I had a rose of syrah that bowled me over with tannins at first, with watermelon hiding in the shadows. I thought I had mis-fired, swayed by the pretty display of roses in the waiting area. Well, three or four courses into the meal, the wine kept bringing it to the food. Citrus for the ceviche, apricot for the lobster roll, strawberry for the steak. It was by Enkidu, from Kenwood, in Sonoma Valley. This I followed with a chardonnay by Robert Young from Alexander Valley (yes, the one where "you’re gettin' inta serious oak, brah." Indeed, it was butterscotch in a glass.)

 We ate all of the above and still had room left. We got the fried calamari (at left). Now, you and I have both had fried calamari, in Italian restaurants, on boardwalks, in bars that put on Monday Night Football. Well, quit your houses and come get this fried calamari. It is the best I’ve had. Barely cooked squid that still has toothiness. A light batter, more substantial than tempura. And a barely sweet glaze with citrus and chili. (Wipe your chin and get in here.)

To follow, riblets, little thumb-sized nubbins of baby back ribs, slathered in barbecue sauce and served with a pile of salt and pepper (which was unnecessary). These little nuggets of flavorful goodness, tender but not falling-apart, packed serious punch. They came piled high in a bowl, admixed with deeply caramelized garlic and onions, and some sauteed red chilies. After I started eating these, I ate the calamari with my hands too, because what is the point of using a fork when you can savor the sauce on your hands.

The desert was a warm chocolate cake with chocolate ice cream, covered in sliced almonds, and I swear to you there was some praline somewhere in there, but I could not for the life of me find it anyplace except on my tongue. Whatever. I think I was still remembering the calamari and riblets and didn’t even notice that the subtle and floral black tea bag I ordered had cost me four dollars.

Bottom Line: Go with a group, share everything, eat calamari, be merry.