Search Results Tag: san francisco

A letter to an ex. Or an L.

July 19, 2007 at 1:41 pm Filed in:Fail No Comments

Dear L,

There’s so much I need to say to you.

When I first moved to San Francisco, I was attracted to you immediately. When I saw your profile on the internet, and after meeting you a couple of times, I thought we’d make a perfect match. At first, I saw you at least twice a day. I was enraptured by the way you’d take me to work in the morning, and bring me back home at night. I’d never had anything quite like you in my life.

You know, there were parts of our relationship that seemed a bit strained. Like those three minutes in the… uh… tunnel after leaving the Castro, heading back home. You always moved so… tentatively. Were you afraid of hurting me? You know, it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t the worst I’d ever had… it was just a little… awkward.

But then, you started to get neglectful. You’d show up 10, then 20, then 30 minutes late. You’d get distracted on the way, and sometimes you’d make me get out and find my own way home. You started to ignore me if I wanted to get home after 10 pm. And sometimes it seemed like you were only half there. But the last straw was in January, when you left me stranded, to fend for myself alone every night after 9. It was then that I decided to leave you for someone else I had my eye on for a while, wanting to get to know him better. Yes, it was your brother, NJ.

For months, my relationship with N was fantastic. I could leave whenever I wanted, come home whenever I wanted. He’d go anywhere with me, do anything. But then, I think N started fooling around. I have a sneaking suspicion that it was with that new girl, T.

I put up with it for as long as I could. But it just kept getting worse and worse… he was late all the time, if he even showed up at all. He stopped taking me where I needed to go, sometimes kicking me out downtown and leaving me to walk the streets alone instead of taking me all the way to Caltrain. A girl can only handle so much neglect, so much psychological abuse, I tried to tell him. I threatened to leave, but I just didn’t have the money to go where I needed to everyday without him, and I was still too mad, too proud to return to you, L.

But finally, after several months of treating me worse and worse, N’s disregard and psychological abuse became manifest as physical violence, sending me to the emergency room, and leaving me unable to get anywhere on my own for the unforeseeable future. At that instant, I knew it was over between me and N.

So, now, L, I’ve returned to you, with my head hung low. You might not take me to as many cool places as N, we may not be able to stay out as late, and I may not be able to get coffee when I meet you every morning. And you did almost do the same thing your brother did when I was leaving you the other day, but you realized and atoned for your mistake quickly. When we’re together, it might still be a little… uh… awkward at times, but I can deal with that, L, if you’ll have me back… for now.

In anticipation,
elle L.

Eat truck and be happy.

May 26, 2007 at 1:13 pm Filed in:food&drink 1 Comment

Any true conniseur of Mexican food knows that the best tacos and refritos come not from fancy-pants sit down restaurants… they come out the side of trucks and vans along the side of the road… or sometimes in a parking lot.

El Norteno Taco Truck, parked in a lot at the corner of 6th & Bryant near the SF courthouse is no exception… the carnitas that came out the side of this truck was excellent.  The carne asada, while not quite as impressive as the carnitas (could have used more onion and cilantro), still exceeded the quality of that found at most other SOMA taquerias.  Only the camarones were a little overcooked, but when you’re getting seafood from the side of a truck, better safe than sorry.   All three tacos I had were drizzled with salsa verde that meshed incredibly well with both the carnitas and carne asada.
The best, though: these tacos are actually tacos that you can hold in your hand, not half-a-pound of meat thrown on a single corn tortilla.

Of the 9 of us that trekked over to the El Norteno taco truck, I heard no tale of gastrointestinal woes… perhaps that’s because we’re all hardcore enough to handle the heat and leave the others behind to Chavos.

Red’s Java House

May 21, 2007 at 12:36 pm Filed in:food&drink No Comments

It’s a warm sunny day, the boss is out of town.   Around noontime, emails start to circulate around the office, the body consisting of only one word:  ”Red’s?”

This is one of the office favorites for an extended lunch. Red’s has a view of the bridge and waterfront to rival any of the higher-priced dining establishments along the Embarcadero from a great patio area in back.  So what if it’s a converted chunk of parking lot?  Just ensure that someone is guarding your meal when you run to grab another pitcher… the seagulls/pigeons/little wren-like-creatures are quite ruthless when it comes to abandoned meals.

But we don’t take the 10 minute trek just to consume the scenery.  Although at each visit there’s some renegade who orders the double-decker hot dog, veggie burger, or chili (all deemed tasty, by the way), the fish ‘n chips are what most bring to the table… and for good reason (personally, so far, my favorite in the city).  Light, crispy batter, tasty, perfectly moist fish, and enough fries for two or three people to share.  And even when the line stretches out the door, you can end up with food-in-hand within 15 minutes.

For those who aren’t on the clock, the full bar out back has beer to pair well with every meal… AND (gratuitous college reference) a bartender from Jupiter’s, one of my favorite bars back in Champaign, Illinois.  Unfortunately, as a result, I’ve never moistened my lips with the nectar for which they are named.  Some morning, perhaps, if I’m not yet un-hung-over, I’ll drop in for the breakfast and a cup of java.

Oh… did I mention a two-piece fish ‘n chips and a beer is still under $10?  Take that, every other overpriced pub in the city without a waterfront view.  N’yah.

Pier 30
San Francisco, CA 94105
(415) 777-5626

Breakfast at the end of the world

April 1, 2007 at 12:37 pm Filed in:food&drink No Comments

When I first moved to San Francisco, I lived in the Outer Sunset.  I thought that I could live near the beach and 511.org told me that Muni would get me to work in a half hour.
Two weeks later, I had learned better.  So, when my father offered to drive my car (and my dog) out from the midwest, I gratefully accepted.
The first morning he was here, it became quite clear that my father was obsessed with a phenomenon known as “ Frisco French Toast.”  However, a quick search of google revealed no results (yes, no results at all – well, at least until now) for the dish.  Is it sourdough french toast?  French toast made from sprouted whole grain bread and topped with organic fruit and granola?  Or is it served with locally produced meyer lemon marmalade and Niman Ranch applewood smoked bacon?   He didn’t know, how to describe it, but that’s what he wanted.
So, since our dining options in the Outer Sunset were quite limited,  I took my dad to John’s Ocean Beach Cafe, two blocks from the beach and right across the street from the SF Zoo.
The next morning, I took him here again.
Three days in a row?  Yup, he wanted to go again.

Solid food, ingredients are a couple of tiers up from greasy spoon, but still served with enough grease to tame my tummy the morning after a night on the town.   Scrambles and omeletes galore, but the various incarnations of eggs benedict are what usually garner my attention.  John’s potatoes are tasty enough to warrant take-away when I’m serving up a batch of my pancakes for breakfast at home.

Four stars for the food, but an extra star for the artwork on the wall: alongside the standard shots of the Embarcadero and construction of the Bay bridge, movie stills from the dawn of technicolor and a huge black velvet Elvis in the corner mate with the rockinest non-functioning jukebox in the city.

John’s falls just shy of five stars for serving up long pours on their espresso drinks and only having pancake syrup, not real maple syrup.  Yeah, it’s a diner, but if you’ve got it on the menu, you’ve gotta bring it.

But did my dad ever find his “Frisco” french toast?  Yup, he found it at John’s.  It wasn’t organic, it wasn’t fancy-schmancy, and it wasn’t even served with real maple syrup.  But it was made at the edge of the world in San Francisco, and it turns out that was enough to make it special.

2898 Sloat Blvd
San Francisco, CA 94116

(415) 665-8292

Cuisine: American

Not having dinner at Magnolia.

April 1, 2007 at 12:12 pm Filed in:food&drink No Comments

Wait for a table at Magnolia?  We did.

Get seated at Magnolia?  We did.

Eat at Magnolia?  We didn’t.

Instead, bushy-bearded Master of the Waitlist comes to our table and asks if either of our names is Howard*.  Upon realization that neither of the women sitting at the table is likelly to be named Howard, MOTW informs us that we can’t just sit down wherever we want.  Although we inform him that we had indeed been seated, he reiterates that it wasn’t our turn.  Subsequently, after staring blankly for half a minute, he walks away and returns with the waitlist.

“See?  It’s not your turn yet.”

Blank stare.

He walks away, returning with Howard and Friend, who then stand beside the table and wait.

We get up and leave.

I seem to recall enjoying the food and drink the last time I was able to get a bar seat at Magnolia, and I don’t mind waiting for a table… but making a customer get up from their seat due to a mistake on the part of your staff?  The waitstaff (and inparticular, the bushy-bearded MOTW) need to get their sh!t together.

Magnolia does have one thing going for it, though: the Magnolia brewpub occupies a storefront which was once a brilliant contribution to the San Francisco community: Magnolia Thunderpussy’s late night erotic dessert delivery services (although Magnolia was a burlesque performer, I believe it was the desserts that were erotic, not the delivery service).

But still, they don’t deliver, and you can’t get a seat.  The beer is o.k., but the prices are ridiculous.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent.  Or just to obfuscate the fact that I don’t remember the guy’s name.

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