Every year begins with a work trip. This time I spent five nights in El Nino-soaked San Francisco to set up and take down a conference booth, host two parties, and take minutes at a meeting. John came along and each day offered some sightseeing time which I used to the utmost advantage.
I
Hilton Union Square. Nothing like a black shroud around the center of the lobby to welcome guests. A bar is born a few days later.
Mikkeller. I’m a sucker for lists, which is how we end up here for lunch. The crowd meditates on screens and books. My heart flutters at the long list of sours and wild ales. We feast on a red sour from Italy called Bariquee, a sage Saison, and a coffee brown ale. My tofu bahn mi and John’s bratwurst delight and sustain. We leave refreshed after the six hour flight and start walking.
Ferry Building. In 2004, I think I walked inside here, but I don’t recall any stores (Monica—do you remember?). In 2009, John and I passed by outside. Now in 2016, we happily wander through this foodie wonderland and leave with walnut shortbread, chocolate-covered graham cookies, and Blue Bottle Coffee.
City Lights. We look at the bay and take in great buildings on the inevitable trip to City Lights, then on through Chinatown and Union Square. This is a city for readers who give their eyes a far-sighted respite by gazing at architecture.
Flying Falafel. After a nap, the scene has changed. In the dark, we follow the edge of the Tenderloin district with its gritty hotels (hourly, daily, and weekly rates), all once grand turn-of-the-century apartment buildings. A man by the name of “Peanut” is shouted down by homeless friends and the police to get out of the street and back onto the sidewalk. Across from a pool hall on Market Street, we find superb falafel that we eat standing up outside. The two guys working pound out the pockets — orders coming in person and online. The only way to go is to get everything so that every bite brings different flavors. Tahini drips onto my polka-dotted shoe.
Resolute Wine Bar. We had to be resolute to walk the half mile uphill in the cool night, trash blowing in the streets, confusion over street numbers, three hour time difference sinking in, tahini stains and all. But Resolute offers an elegant oasis with a friendly, handsome bartender. The winners? An English mild ale from California and an Italian white wine, pigato from the Riviera.
Cityscape. Back at the hotel we go up to the 46th floor to see the views from Cityscape, a restaurant/bar whose status seems eternally in flux. The next day we hear the place is closing.
II
Mr. Holmes Bakehouse. I wake up at 5:19am and don’t have success getting more sleep. Luckily, Mr. Holmes opens early, so we walk in the rain to the pink-lit interior. The famous cruffin is not available, but no matter: we fall in love with the donuts, savory danishes stuffed with artichoke and feta or potato and leek, and the pistachio kouign amann. The friendly ladies behind the counter compliment us on being such neat eaters.
Christopher Clark Fine Art. We duck out of the rain for coffee and tea near the Powell Street BART station. It’s a perfect spot for watching people and reading. Then we walk around Union Square and along Geary Street looking at the fancy stores and art galleries. The staff at Christopher Clark make us feel at home though we’re obviously not in the market for a $32K Pissarro oil or a Picasso lithograph. I’ve never seen anything like the Kandinsky woodcuts. John jokes about seeing how much he can get for a kidney and the salesperson gives a hearty laugh; he’s never heard that one before.
John’s adventures. I get to work and don’t see John again until the evening. He has an epic day of walking to bookstores with a stop in Wicked Grounds, self-described “Kink Cafe and Boutique”, as well as a relaxing visit to a bar in the Mission for watching soccer (and a much needed bathroom break).
El Farolito. At 5:30pm, we meet up with a friend at the hotel and go to the Mission District for dinner. The hearty burritos, 65-cent chips, and salsa bar do not disappoint; plus it’s only a short wait. We three successfully devour our burritos, bigger than my forearm. I love a place with utility sinks for hand washing outside of the bathroom. When we leave, it’s pouring rain, so we huddle under the awning with other folks. Time to make a break! We arrive at our next stop wet, but not quite soaked.
Radio Habana Social Club. Somehow I can think of no better way to spend a rainy evening: hunker down in this tiny place with two of my favorite people and a bottle of wine and marvel at the incredible interior decorated with photographs, surreal assemblages, and posters. I sit directly across from a framed B&W photo of a large middle-aged woman. Level with my eyes, she lifts her ample breasts out of her house dress and offers them as though pendulous melons. Her ecstatic beaming smile shamelessly reveals all her wrinkles. John is transfixed by a 3D assemblage of Van Gogh with his bandaged head; a rubber ear sits in a plastic bag attached to the art work; Van Gogh’s shirt is made from strips of paper depicting other Van Gogh works. Skip all the museums and go here.
Palace Hotel Pied Piper Bar. We say goodbye to our friend and drink a nightcap at the fancy Palace Hotel by the Montgomery Street BART. John and I have a particular affinity for murals, especially in hotel bars. The cocktail prices are worthy admission to ogle a 16-foot-long Maxfield Parrish mural over the bar. Recently restored, the 1909 work is still gorgeous (read more here). John likes his bourbon-spice-egg white concoction, but my gin-campari-grapefruit thing is intense, bitter, full of booze. I regret my choice, but remain committed until the end while compulsively eating wasabi peas and feeling ambiguous whether the snack is helping or hurting the cocktail situation.
III
Lefty O’Doul’s. The day begins with a 7:30am breakfast at this Irish restaurant/bar honoring the city’s native son, a baseball pitcher and manager. More importantly for us and my coworker, the place serves giant omelets with a classic soul and RB soundtrack.
John’s adventures. Golden Gate Park and the de Young Museum!
21st Amendment Brewery. By 4:30pm, when my last meeting ends, I desperately want to escape. John and I walk about a mile to the South of Market (SOMA) area and I feel better immediately. I like the older industrial buildings and see plenty that have been adopted by tech firms with names like Optimizely and Salt. In Baltimore on my birthday, we had tried 21st Amendment’s Fireside Chat and so came 3,000 miles to drink it again…but they are out. A porter, rye pale ale, and superb tater tots keep us happy.
JAX Vineyards and Tasting Room. By now we are totally fascinated by “SOMA” and want to explore what else is in the neighborhood. Standing across the street from a little place with big lights on a string, I make out the name: JAX. We keep on walking to a wine bar the Yelpers like, but it is closed for a private event. Bah! Shaking our fists, we turn back and go into JAX. There is a fire pit! John’s red blend is velvet; my pinot noir is silk. Outside by the fire we sit. It doesn’t get better than this.
Smuggler’s Cove. But we have our priorities and our lists, so after one glass, onward! We walk up to Market and catch the bus. Packed to the gills, the pirate-themed bar delivers solid rum-based tropical drinks; we try the mai tai and, based on a random girl’s recommendation, “three dots and a dash” (victory in Morse code). The garnishes are my favorite part: pineapple leaves, exquisite maraschino cherries, flags, umbrellas, yes!
Bob’s Donuts. Screw soup to nuts: we’re going tater tot to donut. We stand outside looking at the selection and marvel at the massive Bundt-cake-sized Kahuna donuts. There are no fancy flavors, no strange colors, just good, satisfying traditional donuts. The young man behind the counter works swiftly and happily. We sit to have coffee and some of our donuts and watch a few minutes of Training Day which plays on a screen suspended in the corner.
Kasa Indian. We start back to the hotel, but I still want a more “balanced meal”. I spot a casual Indian eatery and order two samosas and a chopped salad to go. I’m happy and the lady behind the counter wishes us a beautiful night!
IV
Cafe La Vie. I have the morning off! John gets his initial starter cup of coffee from Happy Donut near the hotel and later we walk to the adorable Hyde Valley neighborhood. We eat veggie bagels and watch people and their dogs and read.
Asian Art Museum. On the way to the museum, we pass the Twitter building and City Hall. The featured exhibition — “Looking East: How Japan Inspired Monet, Van Gogh, and Other Western Artists” — is a treat. Both of us enjoy seeing how Japanese woodblock printing techniques, color choices, and artistic composition influenced artists and designers from the Impressionists to Art Nouveau. The similarity between a Japanese textile stencil and a Tiffany design is startling. We love seeing how Western artists copied and reinterpreted Japanese art. Fascinating! Then, in the permanent collection, we fall in love with the Japanese figurines called netsuke. Although these objects held a practical function, the carvings include a huge range of subjects, some very playful: boar with monkey, dog chewing sandal, man drinking sake. The Chinese jade collection is amazing. So many treasures here for everyone to enjoy (even if, like us, you know nothing about Asian art)!
Mijita. We wanted to make a second trip to the Ferry Building, so we hop on the BART. In addition to buying more shortbread from Miette (lemon, this time) and a Boccalone sausage, we have a quick lunch at Mijita of tacos and a mushroom quesadilla. The portions are small, but luckily it’s easy to order another round of deliciousness at the counter. I go to work and that’s the end of my explorations for the day. John goes on a ramble through North Beach and revisits the Mikkeller Bar.
Milan Pizza. John and I have new tradition (this was year #2) that we go out for late night pizza when I finish with the receptions. I’m ravenous after 4 hours of standing in a hot, loud room with low ceilings and locked windows. My two slices of veggie pizza hit the spot and the leftovers provide a convenient breakfast option the next morning.
V
American Grilled Cheese Kitchen. We had planned to have dinner here the night we went to 21st Amendment, but we arrived too late (they close at 5pm). I’m determined to get there for lunch on our final day, an overcast Saturday, now that the conference is all packed up and over. Google tells us to take the light rail, but we can’t figure out where to catch our line. We walk the mile instead and are rewarded for our efforts with satisfying sandwiches and a hearty kale salad. Classic pop songs by Elvis, the Beatles, and others play; pretty much everyone quietly sings along to themselves.
AT&T Park. It is a short walk to the baseball stadium right on the bay. I’d like to see the Museum of Craft and Design and the Dogpatch area, where I’ve read some pre-earthquake houses still stand, but the light rail eludes us again. We find the stop this time, but we can’t figure out how to buy tickets. I propose a trip to the Mission and Google tells us about a convenient bus; we miss it; and then find a good-looking cafe to wait until the next one.
Les Clos. This place seems to have something for everyone. We drink coffee at the small bar. The bartender gives us menus to read for our reference and tells us about the new plans to bring some of Saison’s wine cellar to Les Clos. John and I pretend like we know what he’s saying, “Oh, that sounds great.” I just looked up Saison. Most expensive restaurant in CA with a 22-course tasting menu; $398 per person before wine. What kind of world is this!
Bus 10. Buses are fantastic: cheap and excellent for sightseeing. Number 10 takes us on a wild ride through the “Design District”, where old warehouses are now gorgeous home goods stores, and past the immaculate Abode Systems building in an old red brick warehouse. I am waiting for the definitive tech-company-building-architecture book to come out. Then the bus begins a vertiginous ascent up Portero Hill; the front side looks to the bay, but the back looks out on the highway and a valley of industry. It’s like having a fancy mansion and then leaving a bunch of cars in back to rust. The bus rattles through a neighborhood of garden apartments; a boy throws a football over the bus and another boy catches it successfully on the other side. We pass a hospital and finally disembark at Portero and 24th, conveniently located near another place on my list.
Dynamo Donuts. The speciality here is unusual flavors: we try the powdered-sugar-covered lemon thyme and a Guinness molasses donut. Perfect for snacking on the street: they are more bready than I expect, but still quite good. I confess: my heart belongs to Bob’s!
Mission Cheese. We enjoy walking on Valencia Street where there’s an eclectic mix of Mexican and Central American eateries, funky shops, airy chic stores, foo-foo bakeries, and locavore restaurants. Lots of families are out and from our outdoor bench at Mission Cheese we people-watch. Based on my happy pinot noir experience at Jax, I try a similar wine and John drinks a Rhone blend. It takes a very, very, very long time for our two glasses to arrive, but no matter. The fashion here seems to be long, flowing sweater-jackets. An energetic table of 20-somethings sits across from us and is playing a fun game where you hold an iPhone above your head and everyone else gives you clues and you have to guess what is on the phone (stupid, but fun — I downloaded the app; it’s Heads Up).
The Armory Club. Across the street from Armory Studios, John takes me to this bar (where he went the other night) for pre-dinner cocktails. My “blushing bee” is a delicious thing, like an herbal margarita, best cocktail of the trip, and John has some bourbon concoction. With beautiful wallpaper and a pressed tin ceiling (or at least a convincing lookalike), the Armory Club has an old-fashioned, classy feel, and then you notice the kinky oil paintings (see Yelp for details).
Nob Hill Cafe. We take the BART back to the hotel and get ready to meet some of my coworkers for dinner. The cafe sits at the apex of the hill and some members of our party are not prepared for the vertical trek. The five of us wait for a table outside and in a short time enjoy a satisfying meal of pasta, pasta, pasta inside this adorable place. The walk downhill is easier, but the rain catches us. Again.
Starlight Room. Three of us break off and a different coworker joins up at this swanky lounge atop the Sir Francis Drake Hotel. Bedecked in red velvet and outfitted with a dance floor…I have never been in a place quite like this. I order something that sounds right up my alley — tequila, sherry, pear liqueur — I’m not sure what I get, but I can tell by the way it slouches in the martini glass that it’s going to be rough. It is, but I soldier on and dance away the gag reflex.
Epilogue
Cafe Mason. One last meeting, at breakfast. I can feel the veneer of my polite work persona chipping; I’m ready to go home! At least the huevos rancheros are good at this 24-hour diner.
Klein’s Deli. The airport has cute little food stalls. The Marina sandwich — like a Greek powerhouse — rocks. My coworker says it’s the best thing he had the whole trip! Get an oatmeal cookie too.
I had fun exploring, but it always feels good to be back home. For once, I have no specific plans for any trips this year. Let’s see where 2016 goes!
Lanahj 