In 1991, I decided to catch a weekday matinee of Gus Van Sant’s indie film My Own Private Idaho at the Lumiere Theatre, located at 1572 California Street just off of Polk Street. Built in 1974 by Mel Novikoff, who also built the Castro Theatre, the Lumiere opened on Jan. 24, 1975, with a Lenny Bruce performance film, Kenneth Anger’s Scorpio Rising and Jack Kerouac’s Pull My Daisy. By 1991 it had been taken over by Landmark Theatres, and in 2012 the screens went dark. Today the Lumiere is a Marine Layer clothing store — at least they kept the old sign out front, but that’s small consolation for fans of arthouse cinema like me as San Francisco lost another classic venue.
Back then you could still catch a matinee for a few bucks. Because my bosses at Apple had an off-sight meeting and gave me the day off, I was the only person watching Keanu Reeves (at his most beautiful) as Scott Favor and the late River Phoenix as Mike Waters, two male prostitutes embarking on a journey that takes them from Portland, Ore., to Idaho to Rome in search of Mike’s mother in a film loosely based on Shakespeare’s Henry IV (Parts 1 and 2) and Henry V.
After nearly two hours in the theater, I was hungry, and as I stumbled into the light, the amazing aroma of barbecued meat wafted beneath my nose, which I followed next door to a tiny restaurant with just eight counter seats — truly the quintessential hole in the wall. As I took a seat, three Vietnamese women worked feverishly with ballet-like precision in a narrow open kitchen that featured a grill and a fryer. I ordered the number five — one piece of five-spiced chicken, one imperial roll, a barbecued shish kebab, country salad, and meat sauce over steamed white rice. In 1991, as I recall, the price was under $10, and if you look at today’s prices, they haven’t gone up all that much, with the number 5 coming in at around $15 for that same heaping plate of food.
So, what comes with the number 5? A chicken quarter (drumstick and thigh) charred over the open flames before your eyes. The skin is crispy, the meat is juicy, and the five-spice seasoning adds subtle notes of star anise, cinnamon, cloves, and fennel; classic imperial rolls with a light, crunchy, bubbly exterior wrapped around a filling of fragrant ground pork and veggies; a “shish kabab,” really just slices of marinated pork with that same sweet and salty charred flavor; fluffy, steamed white rice covered (and I mean covered) in what a Vietnamese friend refers to as “magical meat sauce” — basically a Vietnamese version of Bolognese.
Like with my grandpa Lorenzo’s Sunday gravy, the meat sauce is long-simmered and features ground beef (sometimes with the addition of ground pork) in a fragrant tomato sauce with spices. Vietnamese Bolognese has the flavors of the traditional southern region stew bò kho (“baw kaw”), redolent with garlic, ginger, and a little fish sauce funk (that’s good funk, by the way). Also like my Sicilian grandfather, each family has their own secret recipe, and the version at Cordon Bleu is no different. The ratio of meat to sauce is at least 3-to-1 — definitely not for the faint of heart (or for those with a bad heart in general) and not something I could eat more than a couple of times per year. They do include “country salad,” a cabbage slaw with a vinegary bite, and a little cup of nuoc cham, the famous spicy, salty, sweet, and sour Vietnamese dipping sauce, to help counter the richness.
If a platter overflowing with meat sauce isn’t your thing, ask the ladies to skip it, or there are plenty of other options on the small but robust menu. Try the ma po tofu — fresh, pillowy bean curd in a creamy garlic sauce with minced pork; the noodle salad on a bed of greens with imperial roll and shredded pork; or the chicken salad with five-spiced chicken atop a refreshing combination of cabbage, basil, and mint with chopped peanuts and sweet and sour vinaigrette.
Besides the number five, there are combinations one through four featuring various items, from imperial rolls to shish kebabs to half a chicken (all white meat is an extra $1.25), each served with the country salad and meat sauce over rice. Vegetarians won’t find much here — they do offer steamed broccoli on the a la carte menu “when available.”
Whatever you choose, it won’t be over $16 for a filling meal that, if you’re like me, will leave you with leftovers for lunch the next day. The atmosphere can be slightly stuffy and at night the windows steam up; there’s a constant parade of patrons picking up to-go orders, the counter is filled with a mix of friends and single folks, but everyone is there for the no-frills food. The service is also no-frills, but the ladies put on a spectacular show of hard work combined with years of experience, and every dish is presented with smiles of pride and gratitude. Because the ladies of Cordon Bleu make everything fresh, it can take a while, and it can take even longer to get your check. In other words, it’s one of those unique San Francisco spots you’ll think about often and return to again and again.
Cordon Bleu: 1574 California Street (between Larkin and Polk streets), 415-673-5637, Tuesday–Saturday 11:30 a.m.–2:30 p.m. and 4:30–8:30 p.m., closed Sunday–Monday. Cash only!