Fog

Our last day in San Francisco, we awoke to fog.  The weather punished me for being so grumpy on Sunday morning and not riding across the Golden Gate Bridge.  My wonderful husband optimistically suggested that we run up Telegraph Hill to Coit Tower so we could we get a good view and see if the fog might lift so we could ride across the bridge.  Rather than head down to Union Square, we walked up Leavenworth a few blocks then over to Hyde where we caught the cable car and rode it to the waterfront.  We got to ride past Lombard, but we opted not to walk down it.  We tried to catch a bus up Telegraph Hill, but much like the rest of our trip we failed to note where we to catch the bus and which number so we hoofed it.  Unlike the forced march down the Embarcadero, the chilly weather was in our favor.

From Coit Tower, our chances didn’t look good for biking across the bridge.  We took the Greenwich Steps down, and although the picture I took at the top of stairs looks lush, the Filbert Steps have much better scenery.

We meandered around trying to decide what to do in lieu of our bike trek.  Ina Coolbrith Park and Macondary Lane and the Octagon houses were on my wish list so we set off for Ina Coolbrith based on my shorthand notes but without the benefit of a map (no free wi-fi!).  We ended up finding Macondary Lane and walking through it, and then realizing that we had missed the park by a block.  The park has nice views, but for the hike I preferred Buena Vista.  After walking in circles to find the park, I forgot about the Octagon houses that were only blocks away (although most likely steep uphill blocks away) so we caught the cable car that runs on Mason and took it back to home base for much deserved shower.

On our last San Francisco night we dined at Le Colonial; it is a very lovely Michelin starred restaurant with elegant decor.  Of course we were underdressed, but our server didn’t seem to mind.  He did, however, seemed determined to sell us the most expensive items on the menu even though we did not request his opinion.  Our entire meal was delicious and eclipsed by the superiority of The Slanted Door.  I enjoyed an ahi tuna tartare with taro chips for my appetizer and spring roll dish that I was instructed to eat like the bánh xéo from earlier in the week.  Le Colonial provided the best service of any of the restaurants we dined at, and their food was good (if not divine).

Sunday at The Slanted Door

Our Sunday was a could’ve, should’ve day.  First we slept in a bit later than we should’ve, second we could’ve gotten bagels for breakfast the night before.  We strolled down to Union Square to catch a bus to the Fisherman’s Wharf where we going to rent bikes to ride through the Presidio and across the Golden Gate Bridge down into Sausalito to enjoy a mid afternoon lunch and catch the ferry back; however, it was my lack of food and general bitchiness that threw a wrench into our plans this time.  I think I was worried about whether my out of shape body would be able to bike the few miles.  So instead we walked down the Embarcadero in the blazing sun and against the flow of pedestrian traffic away from the gapping tourist trap of Fisherman’s Wharf.  At the Ferry Building, things suddenly looked much brighter (figuratively as I don’t think it could’ve gotten much brighter literally).

The Slanted Door beckoned our empty bellies, but the thirty minute wait directed us to the bar.  I began with a kir royale to quench my thirst, and my husband went with an unfamiliar wheat beer.  Our seat at the bar was directly in front of the raw prep station so we both ordered a half dozen raw oysters; I opted for West Coast options which were all quite delicious, and my husband ordered the plate as is and also enjoyed it thoroughly.  With our fortune at the raw bar, we decided to share a live scallop; it was absolutely heavenly with its fresh creamy saltiness.  If I could regularly eat raw animal this tasty, I would never dream of giving up flesh.  Following with the Bay Area obsession, my next drink was Summer on the Danube which consisted of sparkling wine and elderberry liqueur; I do now love elderberry liqueur.  For my next dish I moved to the hot side and ordered the bánh xèo (Vietnamese egg crepe); the food runner was kind enough to tell me how it is normally eaten as I most likely would’ve skipped the leaf lettuce completely which would have greatly taken away from the dish.  The crepe is sliced then wrapped in the leaf lettuce then dipped in the sauce then eaten.  All of the flavors came together to make this dish my favorite from the trip, from the slight bitterness of the lettuce to the earthiness of the mung bean sprouts to the clean crispness of the mint and basil leaves to the sweet, spicy ginger of the dipping sauce to the greasiness of the cooked crispy egg.  I have not stopped craving this, even after I attempted to make a vegan alternative that was less than awesome.  The ginger pushed me into a dark and stormy, which is a drink that has sentimental value; I first enjoyed it the week before we married in Key West, and this trip to our friends’ wedding doubled as a big three (legal) years anniversary celebration for us (albeit a couple of weeks before the actual date).  This version is the epitome of a dark and stormy.  Their house made ginger syrup is the secret; it has such a powerful ginger punch that cuts through and combines with the sweetness of the dark rum and the soda to make bliss in a cup.  After the dark and stormy and the egg crepe, my tofu entree was good, but I really only remember the exotic sweetness of the lemongrass.  Our service was slow with many long moments of trying to get our bartender/server’s attention to order the next drink or dish or get the check; however, the food was wonderful.

We slowly strolled out of the Ferry Building into the bright sunshine and decided since we were in the Financial District we might as well hit the SFMoMA.  Much like the MoMA, the SFMoMA was overwhelming at times.  I enjoyed many of the pieces, but others annoyed me.  One piece was a short Airstream style travel trailer; another was a colorful painting that I initially liked, so I read the placard for it to discover the protrusion was a piece of elephant dung.  The photography exhibits were the highlight and made the admission (twenty dollars including the five dollar surcharge for the Richard Avedon exhibit) worth it.  Unlike many museums, the SFMoMA allows non flash photography.

Exhausted from all the walking and alcohol, we walked through the Yerba Buena Gardens but decided to skip through it.  We caught the F line back to the Embarcadero so I could check out the Diego Rivera murals in the Rincon Center (another example of us backtracking).  We then rode the California car up to Nob Hill so we could see the Fountain of the Turtles and Grace Cathedral.  The cathedral was amazing and humbling; I respect churches that spend all their money on doing good works, but I love and cherish the magnificent buildings that religious congregations build.  I took photos of the doors called The Gates of Paradise, but I felt disrespectful taking photos of the interior.

After the cathedral, we returned to the apartment for a refreshing 7 and ginger and showers.  For dinner we decided that nothing could possibly top our lunch plus we were reeling from the cost; Uncle Vito’s on Powell St seemed like a good place for cheap eats.  Cheap they were, but even so the service and food left much to be desired.  The service I can forgive, because it was cheap.  The food, however, was bland, boring, and not even worth repeating.  If ever in San Francisco, avoid Uncle Vito’s.

The Wedding

After our amble around Nob Hill, North Beach, and Chinatown, we returned and got ready to bake in our finery.  Fortunately, the dress code was casual with the bride and bridesmaids in embellished daisy flip flops and the groom and groomsmen in Chacos.  Even so, it was hot.  We have lost the record for having the hottest wedding ceremony ever (Key West in October at 10am, and everyone was pouring sweat).  Hot is hot is hot, and I hate sweating in dry heat just as much as I hate sweating in Georgia.  We had a ten minute stroll to the Powell St BART then a forty minute train ride (the fare is less than five dollars!) out to Pleasant Hill then a fifteen minute shuttle to the ceremony, which provided ample opportunity to get mussed up.

I know it sounds cliched, but the ceremony was just beautiful.  They were married under this fantastical oak tree on top of a hill with views of the surrounding valley.  Her parents’ home was full of light, and the ground were littered with little touches (like the sunflowers in the bowling balls and the flower fountain).

While I expected my favorite part of the ceremony to be the reading of “Invitation” by Shel Silverstein by a friend of the bride’s son accompanied by an interpretive dance by a friend of the groom’s daughter, I was really touched by the bride’s sister-in-law’s reading (“The Invitation” Oriah Mountain Dreamer).

As to my concerns about the wedding fare, they were washed away with the first hors d’oeuvre I popped into my mouth (Checkers Catering handled it).  I saw three trays circulating; one of shrimp on a wonton chip (I don’t do shrimp so I didn’t try this one), a stuffed mushroom, and a caprese slider.  The sliders surpassed the others, with cherry tomatoes so ripe and sweet and tangy coupled with creamy fresh mozzarella and a basil leaf; the serving trays had a balsamic vinaigrette in them so each slider came dressed.  The main buffet started with a fresh spring mix salad then a mashed potato bar followed meat and poultry stations with rolls (I didn’t find the portabello mushrooms and when I was directed to their location I had missed them); of course, there was plenty of beer (two from New Belgium Brewery and Miller Lite with a Sierra Nevada keg making a late night entrance) but with the heat the white wine was hit hard and early.  The cake was nice and moist, and its frosting was not overly sweet.

Between the heat, sweat, the morning wander with another full day planned, and an hour trip back to the city, we were ready to head back around nine.  I begged to wait to see them off, but the taxi had already been called.  If only we had known that we would pass the limo on the way down the driveway we probably could’ve held out to send them on their mini moon.  Like we did, they will be taking their real honeymoon after the wedding dust (and excitement and stress) has settled.

We used a taxi five times during our week long stay with two trips being to and from the ceremony.  The forty minute train ride cost $4.90 one way, and it runs every twenty minutes from around 4a to after midnight five days a week (Saturday it starts around six am, and Sunday it starts around eight).  Public transit done well rocks!

Chinatown and Top of the Mark

On Wednesday, my honey dubbed me Drill Sergeant because I was determined to take in as much of the city as we could during our week stay (with days eaten by travel, wedding events, and weather) so before we had to get ready for the 40 minute BART ride to Pleasant Hill, we checked out Union Square and Chinatown.  My favorite part about San Francisco’s and Vancouver’s Chinatowns were the gates and the bilingual street signs (although Vancouver has a better gate).  I also loved how CitiBank and Bank of America gussied up their buildings (the Bank of America we drove past in the Castro actually had rainbow flags hanging in the lobby).  For his lunch and dim sum fix, my honey ate at the Four Seas; I did not partake as I was not yet hungry, but the service was abysmal.  Although we arrived at lunch, he only saw two dim sum trays before our time constraints required us to leave.  After several minutes of being by passed I gave my credit card to the hostess which she delivered to the wait staff; we waited another several minutes for someone to appear with the receipt.  A lady we had not seen arrived with our check, but rather than drop it she hovered over our table while my husband completed it.

After all the waiting and watching him eat, I realized that I might not be eating for several hours (depending on the wedding reception fare) so we wondered around Chinatown making our way back to North Beach, but Italian wasn’t calling my name.  Somehow (I cannot be trusted to navigate), we missed Portsmouth Square but (walked several blocks north and out of the way and) found Washington Square and St Peter and St Paul Church so we caught a bus back down Columbus where I did take this neato shoot of Cafe Zoetrope and the TransAmerica Pyramid.

Heading back to the apartment, we caught the California car that led us to the Top of the Mark which we had missed on our previous day’s itinerary as a drink spot.  I am glad we visited during the day as my honey took some gorgeous photographs of the city.  I enjoyed a lovely fourteen dollar Valley salad (baby spinach, grilled endive, Point Reyes Bleu, tomatoes, and candied walnuts)  along with my fourteen dollar a glass pinot noir.  I must say that the salad was delicious with a surprisingly generous portion, and my pinot noir was rather tasty (Gloria Ferrar).  I decided to forgo the $23 a glass Moet White Star (please note this bottle retails for around $60), but I did understand that I was paying for the breath taking views not whatever was being served.  In fact our server assumed we just wanted to take the pretty pictures as he brought us our drinks and the check before I had a chance to order lunch.

After such delightful daytime views, I insisted we return for evening views.  Unfortunately, the loudest New Englanders imaginable sat one table away recalling their days of drunken debauchery; however, I did get to sample a 12 year old Jameson pour with my molten chocolate cake.  The pour wasn’t as enjoyable as I wanted (it was more like scotch than my beloved Jameson), and the cake was dry and missing the super chocolate divinity of the last molten cake I enjoyed (thanks Rezaz).  My honey did enjoy his $13 Mojito more than his $10 chardonnay from our previous visit.

Solo Friday

Friday left me unexpectedly flying solo due to a change in the pre wedding events.  Being the shirking violet that I am, I decided to stick to familiar territory.  I caught MUNI 71 to the Haight in order to capture my super touristy Haight-Ashbury photo and get my mom “something hippy” (this was her verbatim request).  Although I arrived three hours later than our first outing, I still could not bring myself to photograph the sign nor could I purchase something hippy for my mom since it all seemed like shit I could I easily and cheaply get in Asheville.  However,  I did hit the Conservatory of Flowers that we had skipped on Wednesday due to our need for food.  It was pretty much the same as visiting the Biltmore Estate’s conservatory, albeit for much less money (five dollar admission).  They had orchids galore as well as a number of pitcher plants, but in the final wing, I was so hot that I cut my tour short.

I walked through the Haight to the much under rated (at least in the travel books I read) Buena Vista Park.  The climb is steep (very San Francisco) and shady, but the views are well worth it.  I did not arrive early enough to catch the bridge before the fog rolled in, but I still snagged some awesome city views with the bridge peeking out.  All of the parks make Asheville and the National Parks Service seem so draconian; none of the handful of parks we visited required dogs to be leased in all areas (and I’m not talking about a fenced-in mud pit either).  I then proceeded to get lost in my attempt to enjoy an afternoon tea at Samovar Tea Lounge; I knew the Haight-Noriega bus drove right by it on Wednesday after our Golden Gate Park outing, but I could not recall the address (and I repeatedly failed to write it down or take down a phone number).  So I ended up riding right past it, then waiting for the next outbound 71 (they were only fifteen minutes apart) and getting off a stop too early then walking a few blocks around and finally arriving for my afternoon tea sweaty with my windblown hair giving me a crazy lady look.  The service was slow; I found my own menu on the counter while the staff discussed their weekend plans (at the end of my meal I left my table for the bar to get the check).  I did enjoy the nice spring mix salad  with the veggie quiche; the fruit plate was disappointing with bland figs, strawberries, and melon.  The scone was delightful, even without the clotted cream and jam.  I also enjoyed the black tea plain, with sugar, with milk, and with sugar and milk; I’ve been craving a scone and tea every afternoon since we returned!

After taming my hair and showering, my honey and I strolled down to his must eat restaurant, Millennium.  We arrived at their door thirty minutes early, so we decided to have a cocktail at the Grand Cafe (same name as the place we held our wedding luncheon in Key West and where I enjoyed my first dark and stormy).  Elderberry liqueur appeared on seemingly every cocktail menu in the city so I decided to enjoy a nice aperitif of sparkling wine and the liqueur de rigueur.  I repeated this selection a few times, and I enjoyed it equally at each stop.  The bar was busy, and as such our service reflected it; the menu looked pricey but interesting, and the interior was grand with its pretty wood and high ceilings.  The dining room proper was elevated from the bar area so it probably afforded a much lovelier atmosphere for a date; the bar area had tables squeezed in wherever they could which was fine for our pre dinner drink.

Millennium is a high end vegan restaurant.  Much to my initial dismay the entire table had to participate in the tasting menu which my husband was set on; however, it all worked out for a delicious dining experience.  Our first course was a trio of ceviche, and unfortunately, I cannot recall anything other than it was delightful and left me eagerly awaiting the upcoming courses.  Although I didn’t recognize it, the menu lists hearts of palm, but how can a sustainable restaurant serve hearts of palm?  The second course was poori, and again my memory fails other than my disappointment at the serving size.  The main course was the best; I had a tamale stuffed with scrumptious chanterelle mushrooms, edamame, and jasmine rice (the menu also mentions nectarines but I don’t see how I would have forgotten my favorite fruit).  He enjoyed the fingerling potato roulade, and while pototoes that aren’t deep fried aren’t generally my cup of tea (I do make an exception for the Noodle Shop’s slivered and vinegared potatoes amuse bouche) I almost wanted to switch plates with him.  The potatoes were cooked perfectly and seasoned divinely; again, I have been craving them ever since.  My adulation of the main course has washed all traces of the dessert from my memory, but my honey said he was shocked at the massive chunk of cake (he also said he really enjoyed it).  Millennium was to be our splurge dinner (although all of our meals were pretty pricey), and it was disappointing that their layout has their two tops crammed together with one person sitting on a banquet and the other facing in a chair.  About mid-way through our entrees, the other two tables had left so we were finally able to enjoy each other’s conversation without having to drown out the neighboring conversations.  Our server was busy with a larger table and a busy section to really bother with our meager little two top, but the buser attended to our drinks and prompt plate removal.  While taking our drink order, she seemed annoyed to have to explain the difference between “sustainable” and “biodynamic” wines; maybe she expected me to know, but neither term has a legal definition so the onus is on those using the term to define it.  However, snotty server or not, the food was great, and I would certainly return.

Wine Country

Thursday forced us to split up for pre-wedding events; the boys went golfing at Lincoln Park (the fog killed all Golden Gate Bridge photo ops), and the ladies were driven around by a lovely designated driver of a bridesmaid to three Dry Creek Valley wineries followed by a truncated Muir Woods visit (we arrived so late thanks to the congestion we didn’t even have to pay the $5 admission).  Our first winery was Dry Creek Vineyard; this was my first wine tasting (thanks Biltmore for being so understaffed and overcrowded!)  Unfortunately, we did have to pay at each winery (unless you purchased a bottle or more), but at Dry Creek we were able to choose which wines we wanted to sample.  I ended up buying a bottle of their chenin blanc at a grocery store, and at 12.50 I think it’s a nice little bottle.  Our next stop was a short walk across the street at Passalacqua; it reminded me of Biltmore: the grounds were much better than the wine.  Our final stop was Forchini, and it combined a lovely tasting area with pleasant wines.  The tasting room was closed when we pulled up, but by the time our awesome driver got the fifteen passenger van turned around in the small driveway, we were flagged down by (who I assume was) Jim Forchini.  We ate our picnic lunches on his shaded patio, and Jim poured us several glasses of his wines.  With all of the wines he gave what sounded like detailed discussions of the wine making.  I really enjoyed the chardonnay, cabernet sauvignon, and reserve zinfandel; much to my surprise I preferred the cab to his Chianti styled Papa Nonno.  I thought it was cool that the Forchini wines are estate bottled, and they sell their chardonnay grapes to Sonoma-Cutrer (my overpriced chardonnay of choice).  On our return trip we drove over the Golden Gate Bridge, but the fog was so thick that even driving over the bridge, one would have been hard pressed to identify it.

After wine country and Muir Woods, the ladies joined the boys at a dive bar briefly before we adjourned to our twenty top dinner reservation at a sushi restaurant in the Noe Valley, Hamano Sushi.  Of course in classic cliched fashion the boys failed to communicate our dinner reservervations so all twenty of us crowded the tiny doorway to wait for the restaurant to find a solution.  The restaurant threw together several tables with room for most of our party, but the North Carolina contingent ate apart in lieu of being crammed beside the stairs.  The sushi was much cheaper than in North Carolina according to my darling husband (however, we spent more than we would have at a normal sushi outing), but I cannot say that the quality was significantly better.  The selection of nigiri, however, was another plus: I had my first toro.  Of course my first encounter comes as my love of sushi and flesh in general is waning; therefore, I will not be reviewing Hamano other than to say they did a wonderful job of handling our mob.

After our long days and not really knowing which buses to take, we took our second cab ride of the trip home.

Wednesday in the Park

On our first full day we woke early to buy our seven day MUNI passes ($24 a piece for unlimited rides, including the $5 per ride cable cars!) and catch the 71 bus down to the Haight-Ashbury for my totally touristy photo and our adventures in Golden Gate Park.  We arrived too early in the morning for the Haight; the entire population consisted of bums and closed store fronts so I was too afraid to take my touristy photo for fear of drawing the pan handlers.  We walked around a bit waiting for the San Francisco Cyclery to open at 10am.  The morning was cold and foggy (and it didn’t really change as the day progressed), but we were prepared with jackets and pants.  We visited the serene beauty of the AIDS Memorial Grove;  it was much larger than I had envisioned.  My honey took some lovely photos with my favorite below.

AIDS Grove dry stream bed

Upon our return to our bikes (they are not allowed in the hallowed ground of the grove), we promptly biked right past our next destination, the Japanese Tea Garden.  After our confrontation with 19th Avenue we turned around and found the entrance.  The Japanese Tea Garden is quite lovely, although not as lovely as the Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Classical Chinese Garden in Vancouver.  However, there is a funding difference (the Chinese Garden cost double the Japanese Garden), and the Japanese Tea Garden was full of pretty scenes.

round bridge in the Japanese Tea Garden at Golden Gate Park

Due to time constraints, we by-passed the De Young Museum (although missing Tutankhamun was surely a mistake) and skipped across the Temple of Music Pavilion to the California Academy of Sciences.  The twenty-five dollar admission for adults (discounted by $3 for using public transit!) covers the entire building which houses the  Steinburg Aquarium, Morrison Planetarium, the Living Roof, and the Rainforest.  We both fell asleep during the Planetarium, but otherwise I felt the money was well spent.  The main draw for me was the Steinburg Aquarium, and I was not disappointed (I still prefer Vancouver’s Aquarium).  When you add the four story rainforest, it was certainly worth it.  My wonderful husband took these photos from the aquarium and rainforest.

The fare at the California Academy of Sciences cafeteria brought to mind ski resort food, so famished we rode down JFK Avenue to Rainbow Falls in route to the windmills when the groom called to arrange a meet up after they obtained their marriage license (sadly they drank across the bay).  My original itinerary had called for a lunch near Stow Lake, but we didn’t pack a picnic; with the fog we would not have been able to enjoy sunset at the Cliff House either so we turned around and headed back to the to the Conservatory of Flowers.  I oohed and ahhed over the free outdoor dahlia garden, but my husband insisted sustenance was the next order of business so we skipped the conservatory, returned the bikes, and hoped on the 71 Muni back to Union Square.  Below are a few of my favorite dahlias.

After a few cold ones back at the apartment, my honey was ready to get his raw on so we walked to Swan Oyster Depot only to be turned away.  They close start breaking down at around 4:30 and close the door at 5!  We stopped into the nearest doorway for a consolatory drink and something, anything for our empty bellies.  We sat at the bar in an attempt to get more prompt service, but alas, twas not the case.  The bartender was friendly enough, but she was kept busy by a large party elsewhere in the restaurant so we were attended by her and a manager.  I hadn’t really settled into a drink groove yet, so I perused their specialities and settled on a San Francisco sunrise (grapefruit juice, tequila, and grenadine) while my partner in dine had a local beer.  While we were waiting for the appetizers we had ordered we watched the manager restock the bar.  First she pulled out the big bottle of Patron and filled then fifth up and returned it to its place, then I watched as she took down a small bottle of Bailey’s and restocked it from a handle of Carolans!  With coffee, Carolans and Baileys are close enough; with a rocks pour, however, the difference is major, not to mention the price difference.  I’m not naive enough to think that restaurants don’t pull the old switcheroo, but a complimentary bottle of ketchup is a far cry from a $7 drink.  The food was fine (raw oysters for him and eggplant rollatini for me), but it wasn’t anything that one could not find in any number of restaurants in any number of cities across the country.  The service left much to be desired, and the deception made us regret ordering our food.

Hearty, filling Italian seemed like the best possible meal after our chilling day of biking around the park so North Beach beckoned.  I also got to go to City Lights and purchase a book.  We walked a few blocks from City Lights to Trattoria Pinochio.  Although I did not find the service at any of the other restaurants stellar, the staff of Trattoria Pinochio was on point.  They were exceptionally professional and timely without any annoying hovering; plates and silverware were removed once we were done, and our drinks (both water and adult) were filled as needed.  I do believe that the Kir Royale (I couldn’t drink enough sparkling wine the entire trip) I ordered was actually the Pinocchio Fantasia (the umbiquitous elderberry flower liqueur and sparkling wine) that I ordered later in the meal, but that was the only perceived service gaffe.  I ordered the caesar salad, but I ended up eating a good portion of his calamari.  The calamari was breaded lightly (not as lightly as Nona Mia’s) and served with an aioli and marinara; the marina was a perfect mix of spicy and tomato, and the aioli tasted much like I remember store bought mayonnaise tasting (albeit with herbs and a touch more lemon flavor).  My caesar was forgettable.  My gnocchi made up for the caesar with its pillowy texture, but much to my dismay the marinara served with my gnocchi wasn’t the same as the calamari sauce.  Instead I received an overly sweetened sauce, but I still enjoyed the dish overall.  Even though the portions of each course were generous, I still had tiramisu for dessert; while it didn’t live up to my La Caterina Trattoria memory it was better than most.

Olea

Part Two of my much anticipated series on our magnificent San Francisco vacation.  This installment consists of our dining experience at Olea.

After our grueling day of flying, we stayed close to the apartment for dinner.  Olea is a bright, little hole in the wall at the corner of California and Larkin Streets (although please strike from your mental image any dinginess); our first dinner in San Francisco was a lovely welcome.  In my husband’s eagerness to get his seafood fix covered he chose the clam  and chorizo appetizer with the familiar Duvel for his drink.  I chose the Fiddlehead Sauvignon Blanc (of which I recall nothing either good or bad), but none of the appetizers called my name.  Instead I chose to save room for the dessert: Gateau Breton.  For my main course I chose the vegan option (mind you this was not a vegetarian restaurant), a nice quinoa vegetable medley; it was light and tasty, but I regularly make a comparable dish at home so I wasn’t overly impressed with the dish.  The quinoa was fluffier than my home style preparation, but the plating was identical (as you can see from the crappy photo just dump it into a bowl).  My dessert, the best part of the meal, was buttery, much like a heavy pound cake.  The delightful tartness of the fruit sauce cut through the overpowering buttery flavor to create a lovely dessert, but the cake was served with slightly less sauce than required to complement it.  My husband shared my cake assessment; he thoroughly enjoyed his duck (it was a fair portion, too), but I did not partake.  Our server handled the entire thirty seat restaurant as host, server, and buser well.  Halfway through our meal a group of eight or so high heeled and tight skirted women descended upon Olea, and our server continued to run the front of house smoothly.

Olea Quinoa

Olea Duck

Olea Gateau Breton

San Francisco (part one)!

Our awesome neighbors got married at the bride’s parent’s home outside of San Francisco two weeks ago, and we were fortunate enough to be able to witness it.  We took advantage of the opportunity to enjoy the city by the bay.  Many of the guests stayed close to the wedding site, but we rented an apartment in Nob Hill which was furnished with the best, most fantabulous mattress I’ve ever had the privilege to sleep on.  We couldn’t see any famous buildings, but there is a view of Twin Peaks and a tiny view of the bay on clear days.  The entire apartment was filled with light from the windows, and a massive palm tree provided a bit of privacy in the front room.  The building is only four floors so I mostly climbed the stairs while my honey mostly took the old fashioned elevator (the door with its separate gate were manual).

I’ve decided to serialize my trip since I’ve been trying for over a week to finish one loooonnng post, so stay tuned for plenty of amateur photos and restaurant reviews along with my opinions on other things related to the trip!

Beach Vacation

Thanks to our lovely neighbors, we were able to take our three day weekend to the beach.  The best part was getting to take our dog on his first trip to the ocean.  He loved it, and he wasn’t in the least scared of the waves (unlike beer bottles, golf club bags, vacuum cleaners, and heights among others).  The only issue was his perseverance in the search for potable ocean water.  We paid twenty-five dollars for his beach license, and the beach is only open from 5am to 10am for dogs, but at least there is long stretch of beach for off lead doggie freedom.  He romped in the sand and the waves, chasing his girlfriend the entire time.  He didn’t try to eat any jelly fish, and he didn’t chase any birds; oh how he loved the massive expanse of water, though.  I can’t wait to take him when the water is warm enough for me to brave it so hopefully he will swim a bit more and learn to body surf.  We really didn’t do much touristy stuff other than eat out and take the dogs to the beach.  My husband played golf, and I shopped a bit with one of our hosts in the Market and grabbed my first hot stone massage in downtown Charleston.  We assumed everything would be more walkable, but everything is sprawled out.  While there is a skinny little bike lane to Sullivan’s Island, it terminates at the draw bridge.  The raised concrete on the side of the bridge is too narrow for me to feel comfortable walking the dog or walking it myself anything less than one hundred percent sober.  On the next trip we plan on researching CARTA or renting bicycles; we checked into getting a cab to Folly Beach, but it was going to run about forty dollars without tip one way.  Its about eleven miles from Charleston to Mt Pleasant so that probably would have been a forty dollar round trip in a cab, too.  The vibe was much like Key West, but Key West is definitely better for walking or riding a bike.

We ate at a bunch of bars and tourist traps, and I have mixed feelings about the food scene.  Although I hear Charleston has a great food scene, I had a difficult time finding it.  Has Asheville spoiled me and raised my expectations higher than reasonable?  Maybe I discounted the food because I was annoyed at being served all my drinks in plastic cups (not to mention it seemed impossible to get Malibu . . . no coconut rum at the beach . . . WTF).  The pernicious plastic cup followed us from bar to bar, and even at the one spot were the food was good, I drink my $14 sparkling wine out of a plastic (albeit much nicer and thicker plastic) flute.  I wrote reviews for almost all of my experiences on Urban Spoon, but then I decided I wanted them here too so I have added the big spoonbacks.  However, one restaurant was so memorable that I couldn’t refrain from hoping on the soapbox.

Poe’s Tavern in Sullivan’s Island serves some of the best hamburgers anywhere according to my partners in dine (including my foodie/chef husband); I did not partake because alas I don’t care if the meat is ground on site, I am not eating ground beef.  I was also told that the fish tacos were to die for, and they looked much more sizable that I would have anticipated.  I do eat fish; I really cannot refrain, but keeping in mind the best way to reduce your impact on the environment is to go veg, I try to save it for special occasions, like beach vacations or celebrations.  I was so pissed and tired of the most uncaring service I have received in recent memory that I was determined not to spend anymore money than absolutely necessary.  Our party of four arrived around six, which on our part probably wasn’t the best idea.  The situation is seat yourself, and the floor plan is an old house maybe twelve hundred square feet or so, with some of that occupied by the door way and bar areas.  Trying to wrangle a seat was cut throat, and honestly without some liquor in me, I am pretty meek and mild.  I sat down at a table as it was being bussed only to be told my a single woman that her party of six would be arriving shortly and she had beaten me to the table.  I am not certain if she did indeed beat me to the table, but her party took about thirty minutes to arrive.  On our second table, the departing party checked an overzealous group of five from snatching it by backing us up on how long we had been staking it out.  While the staff had no problem with a single woman taking up an entire ten top table, they were right on top of us to be sure that our party of four crammed into a two top so the party of five could have the larger ten top table.  Of course it was the reasonable move on the part of the staff, but I was pissed that the solitary woman with her absent party couldn’t have been asked to move.  In such a busy place I was shocked to see seat yourself service.  My husband explained that it made sense for the restaurant to save on the labor cost of a host because of the difficulty of wrangling parties in such a cramped space, and with the volume the servers were going to make money regardless.  However, a manager or someone needed to supervise.  The night we stopped in it didn’t appear that there were any bussers either, and it also appeared that the servers had sections so there wasn’t any team effort.  While the poor service can be partially chalked up to the mind numbing volume of tables, it still sucked to watch the five top and the two top beside us have two rounds of drinks before we even received our first.  To add to the insult, thirty or so minutes after placing our order for our first round of drinks, one of our party walked to the bar and got it herself; when she returned with our order, our server, Abby, decided to arrive and blame the tardiness of our drinks on the bar.  In a normal circumstance that could have been a reasonable excuse, but she never made up for it by stopping back by more frequently.  I described the volume as mind numbingly busy, because our server seemed to give up on us.  Even in the cramped quarters, she would avoid eye contact while dropping off food or drinks at our neighbors’ tables.  Unfortunately for my husband and me, our partners in dine were determined to make the best of it so we didn’t leave for another spot.  The hand cut fries were okay, but Laughing Seed Cafe in Asheville puts them to utter shame.  After two long hours, we paid our bill of almost $100 before tip (I only drank water, we had one order of fries between the table, one fish taco, four burgers, and I lost count of how many rounds my companions drank), and I was none to happy that my husband gave her a much too generous fifteen percent for the abominable service we received.   Maybe half the staff was out sick so there wasn’t a host, busser, manager, or food runner to help the overwhelmed servers out, but really an apology would have been nice.  We will try it again so my honey can enjoy another burger, but we will be sure to do it in the off season.

Coconut Joe's

Water's Edge Cabana

 

 

 

Grill 225/Pavilion Bar

 

Noisy Oyster