Some nights, when I’ve run down my list of songs and the kids still aren’t asleep, I dig deep. After seven years of Disney songs, the patriotic stuff, the standard lullabies, made up jingles and camp chants, I’ve looked to songs of my past. My kids know the words to songs by Julie Andrews and one chorus of one song by Journey.
When the lights go down in the City, and the sun shines on the bay
Oh I wanna be there, in my city, oh oh h, oh oh, oh.
That’s all they know, because that’s all I know!
If you find yourself visiting the Bay Area, you may want to bring some elastic waist pants. Perhaps some stylish jeggings or just go full mama and bring a giant belt to wrap around your snuggie. We have so much good food. While we may not fry it all up, don’t be fooled by the abundance of avocados. There are so many ways to go wrong. I would know, I am have been full since Sunday, after 32 or so hours in San Francisco. It all started at the edge of town…
You know what you can find in that there building? Calories. They live there and they want to overtake you. There is literally a cheese melting station, where (for the low-low price of $6.75), you can have a slather of bubbling Asiago spread over some carbs. Look, here’s the cheese lady! Don’t worry about the face she’s making. That’s just the way her face looks when she’s dropping snobbish sales pitches on curious onlookers. The moral of the story, be nice to everyone. You never know who is going to blog about you. I know that was wrong, but it still feels kinda good.
Are you more of a meat lover? (Insert San Francisco joke here). Then folks, grab yourself a meat cone. Yep, a cone full of meat. The Mortadella in the left photo brought back too many memories of fried bologna sandwiches (my brother ate them, not me), so I asked for a cone full of salami. I’m not as manly as I thought I might be (which is not that manly at all), so I ate a measly few strips of salami before tucking it away in my purse.
Nope, don’t need to go back and read that sentence. It said, I put salami in my purse. It was $5 for my specialty cone guys. You would have totally done the same.
Totally not sure how to segue from meat cones to oysters. But I’m pre-hetty sure there is a good joke in there somewhere. Instead, I’ll go with the unfunny. If you like good oysters, San Francisco has some. What’s the website for amazing writing, again? Feel free to go nominate me for somethin’.
Gluten free folks need love too. We found ours at Mariposa Baking Company. Awesome salad dressing, super tasty sandwiches.
Travel a wee bit further down the plaza and….
You’ll find the exact spot where many a folk have left their heart…Blue Bottle Coffee’s cafe!
The New Orleans style iced coffee is so delicious. Not overly sweetened and so fresh.
The plaza is full of so many treats. but a girl’s jeans can and should only hold so many calories in! Before I continue on with my photo tour of the weekend, let me show you what a mom getaway looks like.
See any toys on those comfortable beds? Neither do I. Does the middle photo look like a restaurant that offers a kid’s menu? Nope, not to me either. Spot my boys running down that long hall? No way. A la, mom getaway.
It would just NOT be a mom getaway without chocolate, right? Let me show you the monstrosity of a store my friend, Jody, introduced me to. It’s divine, in every sense of the word. Also, it’s mind blowing how much some of the stuff costs. Jody bought three pieces of chocolate for around $7. Not like chocolate bars, like small, small chocolates. A box of chocolates to bring home for your mom? Bring at least $85, for the cheapest assortment. Remember though, she birthed you. She wiped your butt, she has dealt with so much crap from you, literally. Stop being so cheap and spend the $150 on a box that says I love you enough to buy you chocolate that was painted on with gold flecks.
There’s totally a scent of snobbery in the air, coming from what I (at other stores) would call the cashiers. However, these people sell expensive chocolate, so maybe I should call them chocolatiers? I don’t know. Doesn’t his look just scream, “Hey girl! I’m pleased as punch you came to my chocolate store. I’d love to help you!”?
Dirty mug me all you want sir, because your goods are worth it. I’d let him slap me around if it meant I could have a few pieces of free chocolate. The store is a chocolate importer, bringing in bits of deliciousness from around the globe. CocoaBella and its glorious employees are on Union Street and I plan to visit every time I am slumming through that ritzy hood.
Speaking of poor people. We watched a hilarious comedy show at The Purple Onion, which is in the cellar or Kell’s Pub.
We were cracking up like mad women over a few of the comics. Which may totally be because we had just finished a couple of cocktails. Either way, there are some funny comics trying to make a go of it. I would probably cross to the other side of the street to avoid them during daylight hours, but that’s just me and my suburban issues.
The point of this section? Kitty-corner or catty-corner from Kells is a Basque restaurant called, well, Bask.
Still stuck on catty/kitty. Here’s what University of Wisconson asked 10,000 people and came up with:
76. What term do you use to refer to something that is across both streets from you at an intersection (or diagonally across from you in general)?
a. kitty-corner (49.53%)
b. kitacorner (0.09%)
c. catercorner (1.34%)
d. catty-corner (30.38%)
e. kitty cross (0.00%)
f. kitty wampus (0.13%)
g. I can only use “diagonal” for this (12.31%)
h. I have no term for this (3.68%)
i. other (2.53%)
I REALLY, really wish that kitty wampus was a part of my vocabulary. But, on to the paella. I’ve been dying for an awesome pan of paella since I watched snooty bomb-booty Gwenyth cook some up with Mario Batali, a good seven or so years back. I’m talking about on tv here, in case you thought I was way more famous that I actually am. Have you seen the photo of me at 18 with David Hasselhoff? Let me show you again.
Bask is authentic Bask food. Check out my freakin’ paella, pals! Heck yeah!
Now that I have upped my street cred a bit more. I have to remind you to visit Philz Coffee! We trekked the length of the city just to visit the original Philz, deep, like DEEP in the heart of the Mission district. If this were the Hunger Games, this district would come pretty darn close to killing the Tenderloin (aka ghetto) district’s butt. It’s the wild west over there. You aren’t in the suburbs anymore, little spoiled girls. There’s no city ordinance about blaring music out your low-riding window. Wait, that happens everywhere except my white-bread valley? Oh. I miss life outside of my bubble.
Anyway, the heart of the Mission holds Philz. It’s fantabulous and I think I even liked my Ecstatic Iced Coffee (regular iced) better than the Mint Mojito Iced. It’s worth the trip to try it. Even if you can’t get a cab to come pick you up. Even when you try using your special app called Uber, like 30 or 40 times. So there it is, some San Francisco food love. I toyed with putting up the photo of us we took in The Purple Onion, but the sparkle in our eyes is definitely induced my a bit of rum.
In hopes of reducing eye burnage, I have split this post into two. Come back Friday to read about my breakfast. I know, your pants are LITERALLY blowing off of you right now. I still haven’t got to Pica Pica, which by the way, please do not enter in the Portuguese to English translator box. I’m talking about the Spanish translation of Pica and not about the heart of the Castro District.
Well, I’ve noticed that it’s been a month since I have blogged. What a sad state of blogflairs. Luckily, you are already dying to read about picas. Talk soon, my little baboon! Love ya!