At Flour+Water, it's good to glory in details

Photo of Michael Bauer

Just about any restaurateur would be thrilled with the early buzz generated by Flour+Water, especially because on first glance the place doesn't seem all that buzzworthy.

The location is a bit out of the way. The name is more awkward than intriguing. The interior is cramped, seating only 49. The menu covers ground already explored by other Italian places.

Yet even before any food arrived, I began to suspect that a dinner at Flour+Water was going to be special. By the end I felt a tingle similar to when I first went to Delfina and A16. I couldn't wait to return.

The interior, like the food, appears simple, but it's filled with thoughtful details that escape casual observation yet still lend warmth. Smooth-sanded walnut tables, velvety to the touch, come from the sadly departed Myth restaurant, as do the modern green stained-glass partitions that help screen off certain areas of the long, narrow space.

Newly constructed beams across the ceiling look as if they've been there for decades and add architectural interest. The partly open kitchen reveals glimpses of the wood-burning oven that cooks a pizza in two minutes at 800-plus degrees. Sparkling-clean windows overlooking 20th and Harrison streets add an urban edge. Owners David Steele and David White, who previously owned Nua in North Beach, handled much of the construction themselves, and you'll see White on the floor every night.

The brown paper menu with old-fashioned typewriter fonts highlights specialties such as margherita pizza that on the surface don't seem all that special. Everyone does a margherita, so how can theirs be so much better? Yet it is.

The food, including dessert, is crafted by Thomas McNaughton, who worked at La Folie and was sous chef at both Quince and Gary Danko. I'm not sure whether I prefer the pizza, which sets standards for wood-oven Neapolitan style in the Bay Area; the pasta, which rivals Quince's; or the main courses. There are only three, but each one is fully realized. Even desserts are a cut above what you'd expect.

Salads follow the season, with such combinations as Santa Rosa plums quartered and tossed with wild arugula, hazelnuts and saba ($8); it's a perfect refreshing repast, but if you want more heft you can add slices of lardo for $2.

Others salads speak to our foggy summers, including a warm potato salad topped with a thick slice of lamb's tongue, as lush as a hunk of pate, garnished with a poached egg and salsa verde ($11).

Scattered throughout the menu you'll find such things as tongue, cracklings, giblets and other less-used ingredients. McNaughton likes to buy the entire animal, a trend that seems to be growing among local chefs, whether it's lamb, pork or goat.

If I didn't know that the restaurant has only been open for two months and that the oven is new, I'd think pizzaiolo John Darsky had been making pizzas here for decades. The crust could easily have been used in a training manual for the Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana. It's airy and breadlike at the charred rim with a touch of chewiness and a hint of crispness.

The margherita is classic, with tomato, basil, fior di latte and a drizzle of fragrant extra virgin olive oil ($12). Other toppings are well chosen and restrained, whether it's radicchio, pancetta, crescenza and an egg ($17); or ricotta, wild arugula and squash ($16).

Pastas are as carefully and soulfully executed, and most are made daily in house. Suddenly, the significance of the restaurant's name becomes crystal clear: McNaughton and Darsky know how to take flour and water to new heights.

The maltagliati ($14) are triangles as smooth and slippery as satin, soft on the tongue but with an elusive elastic resistance to the bite. They're coated in a full-bodied sauce with bits of chicken giblets, squash and nepatella, a Tuscan mint. Pastas change often, but fortunately that one was on the menu on all three visits.

On one visit, we had inch-wide pappardelle ($16) with chunks of braised lamb and spigariello, a kale-like leaf that tastes vaguely similar to broccoli; and cappelletti ($16) stuffed with tangy crescenza cheese and surrounded by white corn and bitter honey that add a balancing hint of complex sweetness. Another shape that shows up consistently is the corzetti stampati ($15), which are round coins of herb-flecked pasta most recently sauced with a pesto made with walnuts and Genovese basil, with green beans.

The three secondi further spark excitement. Chicken al mattone ($19), seasoned with fennel, coriander and chile flakes, is arranged on arugula with coins of roasted new potatoes. One evening we had exceptional pork cheeks glistening in an intense sauce on top of sliced asparagus and peas. On another visit it was pork leg ($22), at least a dozen slices as thin as luncheon meat on cooked spinach surrounded by fresh shelling beans and topped with nectarines and a scattering of pork rinds. For the fish dish, McNaughton often serves seared cod ($20), most recently with eggplant, chard and olive vinaigrette.

Desserts (all $7) are as well curated as the main courses, and include a square of honey pistachio semifreddo plated with marinated cherries on a crumbled pile of biscotti; an olive oil cake and Humphry Slocombe ice cream with macerated strawberries and candied fennel; and rich budino with the texture of ganache served in a souffle dish with a generous dollop of espresso cream. The Golden Gate Blend of coffee from Mr. Espresso and served in a press pot is rich and velvety, finishing the meal on a note as high as it began.

White is so intent on making the restaurant accessible that he has gone out of his way to make the service casual. Wine is opened and tasted at the counter, then placed on the table. The staffers wear whatever they want, so it's hard to tell if the person walking by is a waiter or a customer. Yet the crew is not only friendly and accommodating, but it's diligent about changing out plates, bringing utensils and checking back to clear the tables or to see if everything is going as planned. Don't let their casual dress fool you - these people know what they're doing.

In every respect, there's more to Flour+Water than meets the eye.


2401 Harrison St. (at 20th Street), San Francisco

(415) 826-7000 or

Dinner 5:30 p.m.-midnight nightly. Beer and wine. Reservations (a limited number) and credit cards accepted. Street parking, moderately difficult

Overall: Rating: THREE STARS

Food: Rating: THREE STARS

Service: Rating: TWO AND A HALF STARS

Atmosphere: Rating: TWO STARS


Noise rating:Noise Rating: FOUR BELLS Can only talk in raised voices (75-80 decibels)

Pluses: Exceptional pizza, pasta, main courses and desserts.

Minuses: Wine list is reasonably priced, but has high markups. The restaurant can be noisy at peak times.


The wine list

The good thing about the wine list at Flour+Water is that you're almost sure to find a wine you've never tried. Owner David White has pulled out bottles from lesser recognized regions and varietals. They're wines that carry a low price tag - several of the reds are in the high $20s - but the markup is high, meaning there are few values.

For example, on the low end there is 2007 Matane Primitivo for $27 from Puglia and on the higher end 2005 Grifalco Aglianico del Vulture from Basilicata for $53. Service is ultra casual; the bottles are opened at the service counter, tasted by the waiter and then brought to diners. Wine isn't poured; the bottle is simply set on the table.

The nearly 40 selections are easy drinking and designed to go with the style of the food; 17 are offered by the glass, so it's easy to switch out wines between courses.

If you bring your own wine, corkage is a very reasonable $10; and that fee is waived for every wine purchased from the list.





