Golden Gate Game

All kinds of chef's are claiming they're going local, but how local can it be? Have you ever tried to walk to Sonoma County? For grub that's so local it's illegal, you've got to hit Golden Gate Game

GGG's a deliciously twisted catering outfit run by a Petaluma-born chef, who stinted at The French Laundry and Boulevard before leaving because "local sourcing in restaurants is a bold faced lie"; unlike other chefs that get their foodstuffs from outside the city, GGG'll hit your crib to prep and cook 5-8 courses of gourmet-level grub, nearly all of which's been hunted down or foraged within the confines of Golden Gate Park's "shockingly diverse" ecosystem, i.e., watch your back when you're playing that 9-hole. This modern-day hunter/gatherer (who, for legality issues, wishes to be referred to simply as Chef Bryan), will show up with all manner of cooking gear/place settings/etc., and whip up dishes that may resemble anything from white wine n' fennel-braised California squab atop a bed of wilted greens, to char-grilled black tail deer sliders with pickled wild ginger -- a dish that doesn't go over well at LA high schools. If he's "feeling fit and limber", Chef Bryan may venture beyond the Park's borders when a recipe screams for an outside ingredient, e.g., abalone pried from rocks below the Headlands' treacherous Point Bonita, or egg's lifted in darkness from residential chicken coops in the Mission (he claims to leave money in the hen houses as he takes the eggs), meaning they're poached no matter how you cook 'em

While Chef Bryan's totally committed to showing you how tasty park critters can be, he's also acutely aware of what's he's risking with GGG. Thus, contacting him does not guarantee you'll hear back, but if he's ready to rock, he'll call you within two weeks from a blocked number, which despite Chef Bryan's protests to the contrary, is quite local, Officer.