Named after an 18th century French pirate, San Francisco’s three-month-old Lafitte restaurant has generated so much buzz lately that you’d think a battle had erupted on the high seas at its Pier 5 location.

It reached a frenzy last month when a certain high-powered San Francisco restaurant critic bestowed all of one and a half stars on the restaurant (ouch!).

Not surprisingly, Chef-Proprietor Russell Jackson, known as the “Dissident Chef,” took umbrage at that. While he acknowledges that some of the criticisms are valid ones that he was already working to correct, what really riled him were the sarcastic comments about the mohawk he and his cooks sport, a ‘do that he considers a symbol of solidarity in his kitchen.

Into these turbulent waters, I waded recently to check out the place for myself at lunch-time. To be fair, lunch is much tamer than the more ambitious fare offered at dinner, with a menu that changes every single night. Also to be fair, even though we paid the tab, one of two friends I was with was an old friend of Jackson’s. So, the chef stopped by to chat regularly, and threw in the free cookies at the end of the meal.

Lafitte has a cool, industrial vibe with exposed pipes, lots of wood, and a profusion of natural light from walls of windows. The kitchen is not only open, it’s on the Web. Thanks to a tiny camera perched on a beam, you can get a real-time look at what’s going on in the kitchen 24/7 by going to the “menu page” of the Lafitte Web site. Jackson says he installed the camera to be transparent, to “show what we do here and to show that I am here in the kitchen.”

You may remember Jackson from his time cooking at the now-shuttered Black Cat in San Francisco. He also was a private chef for the Counting Crows, and created a sensation for his underground dinners, where people would meet at surreptitious spots for his prix-fixe dinners done on the sly.

There’s still a rogue quality to the food. You feel that Jackson’s doing his own thing here, making food he wants to play around with.

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You know your hubby knows you well when he can already guess months ahead of time where you want to enjoy your birthday dinner.

Such was the case with my husband last month when he treated me to dinner at Oakland’s stellar Commis.

I don’t always tote a camera along to my own birthday dinner. How gauche, right? But since I had never dined at this tiny jewel box before, yet had interviewed Chef-Proprietor James Syhabout last year for my East Bay Express story about Oakland’s new-found notoriety as a dining mecca, I figured why not, especially since after opening last year,  Commis has garnered just about every accolade imaginable. That includes Syhabout’s recent honor as one of Food & Wine magazine’s 10 best new chefs of 2010.

It’s easy to see why.

The restaurant’s name comes from the French term for a chef’s apprentice, an allusion to the fact that Syhabout believes that a cook never stops learning. That may be so, but after dining at Commis, one comes away feeling that Syhabout and his crew already are miles ahead in know-how.

You won’t find any sign on the 31-seat restaurant in the newly hip Piedmont Avenue neighborhood. Syhabout jokes he doesn’t need one, as people manage to find the place just fine, thank you very much. It suits this restaurant, low-key and casual from the outside, like a designer purse that’s unadorned by over-the-top hardware or ostentatious initials. But all it takes is one peek inside at the seams to discern just how well made it is.

That’s not surprising given the talents of Syhabout, a young chef who’s already cooked at Coi in San Francisco, Manresa in Los Gatos and El Bulli in Spain.

Two dining options are offered in this contemporary, minimalist restaurant done up in a Calvin Klein palette: Six courses at one of the six counter seats for $95. Or three courses for $59 when you sit in the dining room. Wine pairings are an additional $29.

My hubby and I were there for the $59 prix fixe. It’s quite a deal, too, considering the amuse bouche, intermezzo and mignardise included with dinner.

Although some early reviews had complained about portions and pours being a little skimpy, friends had told me that was no longer the case anymore. Indeed, I found everything ample sized. And no, Meat Boy (aka the hubby) did not leave hungry.

The amuse bouche that evening arrived in a bowl looking like an egg with its yolk sunny-side up. But it wasn’t quite that at all. The egg yolk had been poached until it was solid, yet smooth and unctuous like a thick, spoon-able puree. The texture was just mind-boggling. The “white” was not egg at all, but a clever creamy onion soup. Alongside, were steel-cut oats to lend texture and dates for an unexpected subtle sweetness. If you’ve ever had the famous jiggly Arpege egg cooked in its own shell at Manresa, you’ll recognize the luxurious mineral-y, tangy and fruity flavors here, but in a wholly different form.

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