Kiln Review - Hayes Valley - San Francisco - The Infatuation
"Kiln is a tasting menu restaurant set in a stark, brutalist warehouse in Hayes Valley (a.k.a the old space) with about 10 tables layered with crisp white tablecloths. There’s functionally no decoration on the gray slab walls. And from the second you walk in, there’s a disorienting mix of loud punk rock and rap playing through the speakers. Scary, right? We know. Kiln can seem intimidating. Luckily, this special-occasion restaurant is well worth the initial nerves. Kiln is an exhilarating journey through contrasts. The music might not match the space, and the minimalist food presentation might not go with the maximalist flavors, but a wild and inventive dining experience is guaranteed nonetheless. Kiln’s only option is their $225, 18-20 course tasting menu. It's hard to place Kiln in one category, but we’d say the menu is slightly Scandinavian and focused on curing, preserving, and pickling, resulting in flavor-packed dishes that take days to prepare. For example, there’s a blue lobster that’s simmered in a slightly sour pilsner sauce and a beef tendon that’s dehydrated, fried, and reconstructed into a bite that gives the same crunch as a lightly fried chicharr ó n. But despite the fact that you’re consuming so many dishes in two hours, the speed at which you receive them makes it feel as if everything is effortless. Small bites zoom in with the tempo of a drum and bass set. Servers, many of whom are also cooks, bring out gorgeously plated finger foods like a cornette of smoked kabocha squash accented by a purple flower. The dishes flow in a stream so strong that it begs the question: "Will they ever slow down?" Eventually, even words fall by the wayside, as all there is time to do between courses is raise eyebrows, smile and nod, and give a big thumbs up to everyone at the table before the next plate is served. Soon, it’s time for heftier courses like a tender piece of partridge with an elderberry jus that leaves a thick and slightly sweet wake on the tongue. Kiln’s strong suit is that hidden behind their minimalist presentations is a set of complex flavors layered on top of each other like tracks in a concerto. That ceramic plate that seems to just have grilled mackerel sitting on some sauce? It actually packs a fishy punch thanks to a shellfish reduction, and the wood-fired hearth in the back gives it an impressive char that results in an intense crisp. And then there’s the course of fermented potato bread served with a small bowl of mushroom broth: it’s so full of umami flavors that double-checking with the waiter is almost necessary to confirm that there isn't any meat stock in it. By the time the desserts arrive (including a shockingly boring set of bonbons, which are the only miss of the night), you’ll have completely forgotten you’ve been through a 120-minute wringer. It’s a fast meal, but a damn good one at that—maybe Mac Miller is the appropriate music choice for this gauntlet after all. So no, maybe don’t bring your grandma or anyone who wouldn’t sign up to go for a cold plunge on a whim here, but if you’re ready to handle a whirlwind, fast-paced experience that’s one of the boldest tasting menus that has hit the San Francisco dining scene in years, this is the spot. " - Ricky Rodriguez
