Baraka

One of the mysteries of the vast expanse of land between SOMA and Bayview called Potrero Hill is that despite a couple square miles of beautiful Victorians, modern lofts, and stunning views of downtown, there are only two or three streets in the whole neighborhood with a restaurant on it. The other mystery is how despite their scarcity, most of the restaurants in Potrero are quite good.

Baraka does the Moroccan-Algerian-French fusion thing very well. After finding Slow Club totally packed, we called Baraka around 8PM on Friday night and were lucky enough to score a table for five. The party before us lingered over coffee for some 45 minutes, so despite the promise of a table we still had to wait a while. Just at the point when were thinking of skipping out and heading to the Mission for some burritos, the hostess brought us a small plate of deep-fried dates stuffed with cabrales cheese and serrano ham (uh, you had me at deep fried dates). Turns out, we wound up getting the only private booth in the house, which was comfortably and cozy enough that we understood why the previous party took so long.

Mediterranean food is so often butchered — the margins on fig leaves, burnt shawerma and bland hummus and pita are probably pretty high. But Baraka does Mediterranean with feeling, offering subtle, complex flavors and textures. A pistachio-crusted goat cheese appetizer on crostini would usually be pretty rudimentary, but here it’s spiked with a little sumac for a North African flavor. A seared ahi tuna arrived well-seasoned, perfectly cooked, and in a generous portion, and the lamb tagine with couscous and chick peas had the tender texture of a slow braise and a rich, slightly spicy flavor. The basil panna cotta was another hit.

Service, on the other hand, was a little spotty. Aside from the aforementioned reservations snafu, one of the servers had difficulty taking orders from the wine list (?). A grilled flatbread with za’taar never arrived, and the pacing between courses was a little erratic.

Baraka ($$), 288 Connecticut Street (at Mariposa), San Francisco. Across the street from Aperto, which is also great. Not to be confused with the movie.