Bandwagon Jumper

What do you call someone who waits in line for more than two hours for lunch-time sushi?

Dumb as a rock?

Pretty close. The answer is "me." I am the punchline.

If you don't get the joke, after reading this post, you will.

At the beginning of this year, my husband and I noticed an explosion of Facebook activity about this new lunch place in the Financial District dubbed "Sushiritto." We had never heard of it, but around 20 of our friends did, and they touted it as the next big thing to hit San Francisco. However, none of these friends had personally tried the food there. Pretty much, they just saw long lines there and wistfully tweeted pictures of the line and something to the effect of, "Must be good! I want some!"

Since I was gainfully on maternity leave at the time, my husband decided that if anyone had a few hours to spare to wait in line, I did. Plus, I have told you before how my husband feels about long lines at eating establishments. So he dropped me off to pick up lunch there while he went to go run some errands in the City with our newborn in tow.

I would like to say this was the "wait of the century," but that would be a gross understatement. I am sure you know how long lines at amusement parks are. At the half hour mark, you are losing steam, but you believe you can keep going. By the time one hour has passed, you are too invested to leave the line. At that point, you convince yourself that "the worst part of the wait is over." At the one and a half hour mark, you tell yourself, "Oh what the heck, I already wasted my day, I might as well continue waiting." And as I waited in line, that is what I told myself. And like lines at the U.S. Post Office, it literally did not move an inch.

Given the pace of the movement of the line, I have no idea how I ended up at the front, but more than two hours later, I did. And since I was starving, half-conscious, and wholly belligerent, I ordered four of the items on the five item menu: the Three Amigos, Latin Ninja, Mamacita, and Crispy Ebi rolls.

As I checked out, the cashier rang up the total as ~$40. At first, I suffered a quick bout of sticker-shock, but because I had waited over two hours for those lil' mutha-effers, I made myself believe that it would be worth it. As I paid for the meal, my husband rushed in with our crying newborn and furiously asked, "What took you so long?" I shoved the rolls in his arms and stormed off to the car.

With a crying baby in the background, we gulped down the rolls in the car (I was so hungry, I could not be bothered to chew and there is no real seating area to eat at in Sushiritto, as it is just a take-out place). At that point, I woefully realized I could not taste a difference between Sushiritto's rolls and Americanized rolls from any ole' sushi joint. Basically, the rolls were like California rolls with one or two extra bells and whistles. Not even like a California roll on steroids, but like a California roll on a GNC herbal supplement. At one point, I tasted something that reminded me of Thai curry (I believe the mango in the Latin Ninja or the plantain and Sriracha combination in the Crispy Ebi roll), but I was too angered by the fact that I had waited two hours to even care.

To quickly recap our meal, we ordered the "Three Amigos" roll, which is sizeable sushi roll made with tuna, salmon, hamachi hiramasa (Japanese amberjack yellowtail fish), avocado, yuzu tobiko (fish roe seasoned with yuzu citrus), asparagus, cucumber, shaved red radish, scallions, and wasabi mayonnaise. Apparently, the "three" friends, are the three different types of fish.


We also ordered the "Latin Ninja" roll, which was made with salmon, mango, avocado, asparagus, daikon radish, Meyer lemon, pickled red onion, cilantro, scallions, and a ginger serrano sauce. The punchy cilantro leaves, the creamy mango and avocado elements, and the fiery serrano oils brought a punch of Latin flair to the Japanese roll.


The third roll we ordered, was the Mamacita Roll, which was made of tuna, Japanese gourd, Shiitake mushrooms, avocado, cucumber, scallions, daikon radish, tobiko (fish roe), crumbled rice chips, and Mexican kabayaki sauce.


Finally, we also ordered the Crispy Ebi, which sounded to be the most innovative roll of the four. The Crispy Ebi was made of tempura shrimp, melted pepperjack cheese, shredded crab, plantain, avocado, cucumber, and Sriracha crema sauce.

Now that you are at the end of this post, I am sure you are thinking, "Gee, I sense bitterness." Honestly, the rolls were pretty good and had it not been for the wait, I would have had liked this place much more. Indeed, my husband (who did not wait in line) went back with his brother and sister-in-law! Check out his sister-in-law's take on Sushiritto here. Also, the menu has undergone a dramatic overhaul and I heard that the lines have died down too, so if you are around the area, you might check it out.

Well, I can't say that I didn't learn a valuable lesson from this ordeal. Sushiritto helped me to realize that there is great value in having a "quicky" every now and then. "Quicky" meaning "quick lunch," that is.

Café Tiramisu at Belden Place

Disclaimer, preface (or whatever you would like to call it): This is the absolute last of my pre-NOLA San Francisco posts. It will be New Orleans restaurants from now on. Promise. Like cross-your-heart-hope-to-die-or-stick-a-needle-in-your-eye promise.

I’ve expounded at length about how I absolutely adore the little alleyway hidden near San Francisco’s Financial District endearingly named, Belden Place. (See my previous posts regarding the Spanish restaurant, B44 and the French restaurant, Café Bastille.) As I’ve said before, Belden Place offers San Francisco locals a taste of Europe, and now, with today’s exchange rate, it does so at a much more affordable price.

Just to give you a flavor of how Belden Place really is a bit of Euro-utopia in a crazed U.S. city, according to its website, the investors and proprietors of Belden Place converted an ubiquitous urban alleyway in San Francisco (once chockfull of dumpsters, litter, and probably, the smell of urine) into a successful and fledging real estate enterprise consisting of multiple Italian, French, and Spanish-themed restaurants.

Any visitor to Belden Place will be enraptured with the restaurant storefronts, the glowing metallic heat lambs, the dangling web of outdoor string lights, the summery outdoor umbrellas, and the overall European flair unique to Belden Place. Sitting on the outside terrace at any of their restaurants, you could easily get lost in your imagination, and envision yourself sitting in an outdoor bistro and gazing wistfully at impressive and intricate architectural details unique to Europe. Unfortunately, if you crane your neck, open your eyes and direct them upwards, you will inevitably be greeted with a cold, harsh reminder you are still in San Francisco. Cold concrete skyscrapers tower overhead and smoky billows of fog obscure and blanket the skies.

Knowing how I love the pleasant Euro-vibe at Belden Place, my beau decided to take me to celebrate my last birthday in San Francisco at Café Tiramisu, an Italian restaurant at Belden Place.

For our starting course at Cafe Tiramisu, my beau and I shared two hearty appetizers, the first being steamed black mussels marinating in a shimmering saffron-fennel broth. The soup was liquid heaven, for it was both light and free from impurities, but also laced with invigorating and powerful licorice and turmeric-like flavors. The mussels were stripped of their tangled beards and sat in open shells in a shallow bowl, alongside jutting slices of bread, artfully drizzled with sharp scribbles of herb-infused olive oil. The entire entrée made for a beautiful presentation.

Next, we also shared chewy Monterey calamari. The rubbery squid bodies were stuffed taut like swollen balloons with a simple mashed potato and crab mixture, and served over a crusty slice of potent garlic bread. The bruschetta-like bread had been moistened with herbed olive oil and what tasted like a rich tomato or roasted sweet red bell pepper sauce.

For our entrees, the beau ordered ahi tuna encrusted with fresh black pepper, and served over a spicy shrimp risotto. While the tuna was well-prepared and executed, the gluey risotto was saturated in an overly concentrated sauce, which, I daresay, had an overpowering shrimp essence. The excessively shrimpy taste redirected the entire focus of the entrée from the subtle tuna flavors and the elegant simplicity of crushed peppercorn crust, to the almost putrid shrimp flavor.

Unlike the tuna and risotto dish, my entrée was a resounding success. I ordered thick and chewy sheets of gummy gnocchi, which were served with a chorus line of diminutive pork meatballs, and a jellied, custard-like goat cheese zabaglione. The density of the potato pasta squares were so hearty and substantial, I originally thought that our server accidentally served us ravioli instead.

Finally, the server brought out one last treat to end our evening: a lone slice of tiramisu with a flickering candle on the top. The chocolate, the coffee, and the dense ladyfinger cookies all came together as one deliciously moist cake, which made my birthday ever the sweeter.

Thank you for the birthday wishes, beau. Here’s to many more birthdays together (hopefully at the restaurants in Belden Place)!

Boulevard of Fulfilled Dreams

From the moment I first set foot in San Francisco, "the" restaurant I wanted to visit was Boulevard. Even when I was offered an extravagant all-expenses-paid birthday supper at Gary Danko, my unrequited lust and dedication never wavered from Boulevard.

Because my San Francisco friends are discerning individuals and because I tend to indiscreetly drop inappropriate hints, my friends brought me a farewell lunch-to-remember-for-ages at Boulevard.

After arriving at the famed restaurant, I recall my hands trembling and sweating profusely when I was seated. I remember drawing in a sharp breath and sitting upright in eager anticipation when I opened the menu. (If you are a food blogger, you will understand that dining at certain restaurants may be more nerve-racking then going on a first date.) "Will the food be up to your standards or offensive? Will it have bad breath? Err. . . I mean, will it emit noxious odors, or a stomach-growl-inducing aroma?"

In date-speak, let us just say I got lucky that afternoon.

For my main course, I ordered the oven-roasted pork tenderloin. According to the menu, the pork tenderloin came with (1) a "melted mountain of gorgonzola butter," (2) soft polenta with pine nuts, (3) grilled mission figs cooked in a fig vincotto, and (4) a frisee and curly cress salad. When the dish arrived onto our table, I delayed for a moment before realizing that the "melted mountain of gorgonzola butter," was actually a puddle of dark au jus careening across the plate. I disappointedly thought, "substantial puddle of gorgonzola butter would have been a more apt description."

Nevertheless, with one bite, the beast within me was appeased. The figs were tender, voluptuous, and enlivened by the fig vincotto liqueur. While there was no mountain of butter discernable with my naked eye, there was a copious mound of polenta present at my disposal. Every forkful of the pillowy and pudding-like polenta contained the muted whisper of gorgonzola and a pleasant crunch from the toasted pine nuts. Finally, the unblemished pork tenderloin was succulent and flavorful.

My companions dined on pan-roasted local petrale sole with summer beans and king trumpet mushrooms sautéed in beurre noisette, and

Wood oven roasted Creekstone farms angus bavette bathed in beef au jus with baked fingerling potatoes blanketed in creme fraiche, smoked bacon, and chives, sautéed erbette chard.

To close our meal, my companions and I shared three desserts, including a warm chocolate budino cake with chocolate sauce, fresh cherries, and vanilla cherry sorbet swirl ice cream. As the budino cake at Boulevard confirmed, anytime "warm" and "chocolate cake" are used in a sentence, the result will be euphoric. The intoxicating and bold cherry flavors of the ice cream perfectly complemented dense chocolate cake.

We also divvied up a vanilla crème bruleé. As all good crème bruleés are, the vanilla crème bruleé was silken and creamy, and channeled fresh springtime flavors with the addition of the sweet blueberries and tart blackberries.

Finally, we shared a dessert of caramelized angel food cake with blossom bluff peaches, ginger marscapone cream, and fresh peach sorbet. When the dessert arrived, I found myself being taken aback by the heavy scone-like appearance of the angel food cake, for I had envisioned a generic slice of the pale and airy cake drizzled with a simple syrup. Instead, Boulevard had taken classic dessert elements and concentrated peach flavors and repackaged them into a dessert you would expect to see in the pages of a Martha Stewart magazine. Although I enjoyed the peach biscuit, the artificial peach flavors reminded me a little too much of gummy Haribo peach rings that I consumed as a child.

As I finished my meal, and wiped my mouth, I looked down at my once-trembling hands. My hands were no longer shaking on the table. Instead, they were busy unzipping my tight pants so that my stomach could make room for more.

Leaving My ♥ In SF #2: Public Transportation

A few nights ago, I was coming home from a San Francisco Giants game, and I was enamored. Not with a man. Not with a food item. With San Francisco's public transportation system. Admittedly, there are plenty of frustrating, teeth-clenching delays in the daily commute schedule. And even I tire of the inherent pushiness and rudeness of the majority of San Francisco riders. However, there is a lot to be in awe of.

San Francisco's transportation lines are the life-sustaining arteries to the City. Ferries skate across the watery surface of the Bay to transport passengers to the Marin, the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transport System) subway whizzes commuters into a pressurized, tubular tunnel to the East Bay, and the MUNI's (San Francisco Municipal Transportation Agency) street cars, trains, and electrical buses carry people to any imaginable destination within San Francisco.

Continuing my series featuring images depicting the beauty in San Francisco, I wanted to share some vivid photos of what San Franciscans encounter everyday when using the public transportation system.

And how could I post pictures of a San Franciscan's commute without featuring pictures of the food consumed during Happy Hour, immediately before the commute home? One of the best places for Happy Hour in the City is Hog Island Oyster Co. in the Ferry Building, where they sell oysters for $1.00 each.

Five of a Kind Beats a Full House

I love "my girls." Whenever I go out with this group of friends, I feel elegant by association. All four of these friends are tall, blonde, and beautiful. I, on the other hand, am squat, dark-haired, and "interesting looking." Despite our differences, we joke that we are really five of a kind.

I went out with my girls this last week for a dinner at cozy yet elegant restaurant in North Beach, San Francisco's equivalent of Little Italy.

Beforehand, we stopped by for drinks at the Salt House, a new restaurant in the Financial District of San Francisco. There, we shared conversation, sipped on frou-frou cocktails, and nibbled on plump and briny olives that had been accented with a delicate touch of citrus zest.

Afterwards, we strolled over to North Beach to my beau's favorite restaurant, The House, an intimate eatery that was recently featured in Check Please, Bay Area!

There, we laughed, gossiped, ate, and laughed some more.

First, we shared three appetizers, including ahi tuna tartare with oven-roasted nori chips. The tartare was sandwiched between the blistered and crackly chips, and the chips jutted outward like daggers, lacerating and impaling the supple pile of tartare. The tartare was moist and jellied, and had captured the earthiness of the sesame oil and the intensity of the sinus-clearing wasabi paste.

As each eye-popping dish was laid upon the linen tablecloth blanketing our cramped table, we took turns pivoting and swiveling the plate around so everyone had an opportunity to appreciate the artistic beauty in each dish.

Our other two appetizers include white shrimp and Chinese chive dumplings and a towering Maine crab cake with pickled ginger remoulade, daintily sitting atop of bed of roasted scallions. Crowning the apex of the steep crab cake mound, was a tough yellow sprig that stood proudly like a flag for a sovereign nation. The crab cake was made with the silken blend of mayonnaise and shredded crab. The roasted scallions that accompanied the crab cake were bronzed and caramelized on their exteriors. The roasting process amplified the flavors of the green onions, and the crisp scallion skins provided the perfect bite to match the flavor.

Both the crab cake and the tartare were paired with a diminutive pile of sweetened caviar beads, which playfully popped inside our mouths with each nibble.

We each ordered different entreés. One of my girls ordered the sesame soy glazed salmon in a bonito sake broth. The salmon came with a small bowl of rice ornately decorated with sprinkling of bonito and nori flakes.

Another ordered the Niman ranch pork chop with pomegranate currant sauce. Although I didn't have an opportunity to taste it, I admired the outstretched petals of cabbage and greens that blossomed outward from the chop, elaborately drawing attention to the protein component of the dish. Pomegranate kernels were strewn across the plate, like a strand of broken pearls, forlornly spilled upon the ground.

Unfortunately, I didn't sample either their entreés, but I shared 1) the grilled sea bass with a garlic ginger soy glaze, garlicky sesame egg noodles, and haricots verts and 2) the black cod in a sake miso reduction with lobster roll with another one of my girls.

Although the sea bass came with a small ramekin filled with soy sauce and grated tendrils of ginger, I found that the flavor of the sea bass had such a depth, that I hardly needed to pay attention to the sauce at all.

The sea bass and the black cod shared the same ambrosial attributes. Both of the luscious fillets were cooked on the rare side, and the exteriors were perfectly seared, sealing in the juices and the moisture into every flake within. The fish was so velvety and buttery, I honestly believed it melted in my mouth.

The sesame noodles were also wonderful. The rich soy flavors had penetrated the into the thick and chewy core of the noodles, and I slurped them down with ease.

For dessert, we shared the coconut crème brûlée with passion fruit, mango tapioca pudding, and the chocolate truffle cake. I have no words to describe how delicious the truffle cake was. Rich chocolate. Gargantuan scoop of ice cream. Overflowing volcano of caramel sauce. Oh. My. Gawd. It was dense, stick-to-your-tongue gluey, and oozing with sweetness.

The crème brûlée was average with other upscale or mid-range restaurants, but the brittle candy crust was too substantial for me. The hard candy lodged into the crevices of my molars and my candy-coated teeth felt like I had prematurely gnawed on hard candy tootsie pop before I was close enough to the center. Furthermore, I couldn't detect the coconut in the dessert, and the passion fruit had not permeated throughout the custard as I imagined it would. Rather, it appeared and tasted as if passion fruit syrup was carelessly slopped on the top of the crème brûlée.

I only had a taste of pudding, but I don't remember being overly impressed or disappointed.

Overall, the meal was wonderful and I was more than satiated.

The House fuses familiar Asian flavors with familiar Western textures but manages to augment both in such a way as to create an entirely new cuisine. I'd say The House serves the best Asian-fusion of any Bay Area restaurant I know. Also, the breathtaking presentation of each dish is not only artwork in and of itself, but it showcases and draws attention to the complexity and dimension of each bite.

Did I say that five of a kind beats a full house? I'm not so sure if that is really the case in poker, but I am positive that the next time I want great fusion food, I'll go "all in" for The House.

Rehashing My Tirade Against One Market

I don't really feel like talking about One Market again, but I just thought I would update everyone on what happened the day after we ate there. After exchanging emails with all of my friends who came to lunch (see email exchange below), I called the restaurant manager and he confirmed with me that our lunch party was "indeed overlooked with regards to the sides for the skate."

He said he would call me back, but given that it is already Tuesday, I am not holding my breath.

Well, some good has come out of my earlier post. One of my friends whose company regularly frequents One Market is encouraging her company to boycott One Market and has successfully dissuaded her colleagues from patronizing One Market and Roy's at least one time this week.

I too have my own boycott goin' on, but people who work at my "company" can't really afford to go there anyway, so the my boycott might not have as much influence or impact on Roy's and One Market as I'd like to think.

Well, if you are interested, enjoy the emails below, where I definitely rehash my tirade against One Market.

----------------------------------

From: [Passionate Eater]
Sent: Friday, January 26, 2007 3:39 PM
To: [Friend A]; [Friend B]; [Friend C]; [Friend D]
Subject: Vindication! Against One Mkt!
Sensitivity: Private

[About our lunch together at One Market last week:]

. . .

[Friend A] and I were talking on Thurs about how it was odd that the skate wing came without any sides or even garnish. However, we eventually dismissed it as being no big deal and thought that since [Friend C]'s chicken dish had only chicken, that the skate would have only skate. (Maybe One Market regularly serves the main dishes without the sides.) Well, later in the evening, I looked on Yelp, and discovered to my utter dismay that the meal was actually supposed to come with spinach and mashed potatoes. See the post for more details: http://passionateeater.blogspot.com/2007/01/dine-about-town-2007-part-three-one.html
It really irked me that they treated us unequally. Someone else who had the same exact DAT lunch menu was served differently. I know there are going to be inconsistencies in the things they serve and that sometimes they run out of things, but they are not going to run out of potatoes and spinach.

. . . [Later, after talking with everyone who went to lunch,], we then discovered that there were a lot of things that each of us individually dismissed as being not a big deal. When adding all of our complaints up, it became a very BIG deal.

First, [the consensus was that] the food tasted pretty nasty. The chicken [Friend C] had and the pasta that [Friend D] had were both "overly" salty. Also, both [Friend A], [Friend D], and I agreed that the dishes that came with bacon didn’t really come with bacon as we regularly know it, but their bacon was these substantial, gross, coagulated hunks of straight-up fat. Just fat. No meat. Also, the pasta was overpowered with the strange taste of "earth." Remember when we were kids and used to put sand or soil in our mouths? Like that! It tasted "like dirt" or "the weird taste of moldy grapes." [The skate tasted like a dried-up Gordon's fish stick that had been microwaved too long, and the sauce was nothing special.]

Second, [Friend D] noticed that he was kinda rude to us. . . When our entire table just ordered water, our server didn't seem to like that. He also gave the "eyebrow lift" to us, on at least one occasion, just as he was turning away from our table. Also, he slammed the Ginger Ale on the table, and took a really long time bringing it out. But worst of all, did any of you notice that the service was really slow, and we were being served our dessert after the dining room was almost cleared of the patrons?

Revolution!

----------------------------------

From: [Friend D]
Sent: Friday, January 26, 2007 3:48 PM
To: [Passionate Eater]
Subject: RE: Vindication! Against One Mkt!
Sensitivity: Private

[Passionate Eater],

I am seriously tempted to write a letter to the manager with this story. I don't expect (nor do I really want) to get anything out of it, I just think s/he might want to know that we noticed, and that they probably should not participate in DAT next year.

Unfortunately, I think my DAT days are over. I'd rather save my money for restaurants I really want to try and then order exactly what I want.

Too bad!

----------------------------------

From: [Friend C]
Sent: Friday, January 26, 2007 3:57 PM
To: [Passionate Eater]; [Friend D]; [Friend B]; [Friend A]
Subject: RE: Vindication! Against One Mkt!
Sensitivity: Private

Agreed. It would take some convincing to set foot into another DAT meal. And wild horses would not drag me back to One Market.

Dine About Town 2007, Part Three: One Market

Hell hath no fury like Passionate Eater scorned.

And today, Passionate Eater was scorned.

I "Dined About Town" for lunch at One Market this afternoon with a group of four friends. One of my friends and I ordered skate wing for the main dish, and as our plates were placed on the table, my friend and I jokingly remarked at how sparse the food on the plate was. It was just a solitary fillet of skate, and nothing else.

Well, after our time together and a few snapshots of our meal, I eventually went home and began to type up a blog post on our lunch.

As I was downloading the pictures, I realized that unfortunately, I forgot the exact titles of the dessert we had on the Dine About Town menu. First, I tried to find the title of the dessert on the official One Market site, but after scouring the site, I came up empty-handed. Next, I decided to try Yelp (because sometimes Yelp raters will list menu names of what they ate) and I was sure to find a post or two with someone who ordered off the Dine About Town Menu. Although I usually don't look at Yelp "after" I eat at a place (I usually look before), I was glad that I consulted Yelp, for it proved to be a useful resourse.

You can only imagine my surprise when I read a Yelp review, posted on the same day that I ate at One Market that stated, "I had the Dine About Town 2007 lunch . . . skatewing [sic] with mashed potato and spinach . . ."

WTF?! Steam shot out from my ears and Passionate Eater's "pissed off factor" was off the charts.

You people at One Market are un-friggin'-believable! You gave one person the same entree but with extra mashed potatoes and spinach and gave me and my friend nothing?

Worst of all, the Yelp review was posted exactly on the same day I had eaten at One Market.

I was so infuriated, that I immediately signed up for a Yelp account and posted my very first entry:

I wish they had negative stars, or a bit*h slap option on Yelp for times like this.

I ate off the Dine About Town lunch menu with several of my friends, and we all thought the food was mediocre. Like Michelle H (in an earlier review), I too ordered the sunchoke veloute, the skate wing, and the butter pear tart. First, the soup was a few tablespoons of creamy liquid with these horrifying bites of coagulated bacon fat, the skate wing was dry, overcooked, and coated with an allegedly high-end sauce that tasted like Wendy's honey mustard dipping sauce. Worst of all, is that the skate (which my friend and I ordered) came naked on the plate, without the spinach and mashed potatoes that came with Michelle H's meal. C'mon now, you guys think you could get away with giving some patrons less? Funny too, because my friend and I thought it was weird that the main dish was literally just a piece of fish with nothing else. We all walked away hungry and dissatisfied. Also, I should note that we were probably the only ones that ordered off of the DAT menu, and it showed--they served us last, and we were probably the last stragglers out during the lunch hour. All of the other high-profile financial district power people were served first.

Way too expensive for crappy and discriminatory service.

Reading the other Yelp reviews (for "One Market" in addition to those for "One Market Restaurant"), I realize that I am not alone. As Ben Folds Five sang in the Song for the Dumped, "Give me my money back, you bit*h."

Harsh words, but now you know that there ain't no restaurant that wants to piss off Passionate Eater! Hey, you don't give me and my friend mashed potatoes and spinach, then I don't give you love. It is as simple as that.

Now that I am in the "sharing" mood, I might as well let my words flow from my furious lips. You wanna know more? My absolute worst Dine About Town experience--no wait, make that the worst dining experience ever was at Roy's Hawaiian Fusion Cuisine Restaurant in San Francisco. If there is any restaurant in this world that I absolutely despise, "that" would be the one. Even if you gave me a free meal, I would rather have flaming molotov cocktail and a plastic bag full of dog turds thrown in studio my than ever set foot into "that" place again.

I ate at Roy's for Dine About Town in January 2004, and I returned there again in January 2005 to use a $100 gift certificate the beau ordered from American Express. (The first time was "meh." The second time was "hell on earth.") As luck would have it, the beau didn't the gift certificate in time for our reservation, which happened to fall on the last day of Dine About Town.

For our second time at Roy's, we made early dinner reservations for around 6:30pm because I needed to get home early. (I had an important engagement the following morning and at that time, I lived in Berkeley, not San Francisco.)

We didn't get seated until around 8:09pm. For a reservation at 6:30. Not kidding.

No sorries. No acknowledgement. Not even a stinking glass of water.

Worst of all, when we asked the hostess around 7:30pm when she anticipated us getting seated (for the third time), she said in a bitchiest tone (most likely her natural voice), "Look. If you think that you are going to get seated any faster by repeatedly asking, then you are oh-so-wrong."

I should have left then. But like a friggin' stupid-@$$, I stayed.

Then, the steady stream of crappy events kept on crapping all over us.

Since my three companions that evening wanted to try the three seafood Dine About Town options, for variety, I decided to try the fourth, least appealing selection: some sort of braised brisket.

Again, as luck would have it, my dish was the worst of the evening. I should have taken a cue from everyone around me, because no one at the surrounding tables was ordering the brisket. Unfortunately, I had to learn the hard way with my tastebuds (and my gag reflex), because the brisket was dry like jerky dried in the Sahara desert and over-the-top salty. Even my friend (who douses every thing he eats with a combo of super-sodium intense fish sauce, oyster sauce, shrimp paste, and soy sauce) said it was like sticking his tongue inside a salt shaker.

Well, I could keep on going and going, but since it is late, I am going to stop. I am going to say one more thing. I am done with Dine About Town (for now) and am definitely done with places like One Market and Roy's.

Oh, and the pictures of what we ate at One Market below? I enhanced them (before I read the Yelp review), so they honestly didn't look this good in real life.

Yea, the sunchoke veloute (with black trumpet mushrooms, hazelnuts, applewood-smoked bacon) was creamy, but so what?

This is the farmer's market salad with seasonal greens and vegetables. (By the way, you could get a gargantuan tub of this from Costco for under $4. Here, at One Market, it costs over $8.)

This is the skate wing with cheap mustard grain and honey sauce I was telling you about.

At least the pear brown butter tart with berry puree and vanilla ice cream was "okay."

Reaching My "Dining Out" Limit for 2007

Already?

Just like the classic comic strips, each time I open my wallet to pay my portion of the restaurant bill, little gnats humiliatingly fly out of my wallet and buzz around my head as if I hadn't showered in several days.

But just before I am done dining out for 2007, I want to relive a meal that I enjoyed at a retirement party at Faz Restaurant in San Francisco just this last week. Perhaps that way, I can later look back at 2007 not as the year that I blew my "dining out" spending limit in the first month, but as a year (or month) that I ate pretty darn well.

Eating "darn well" included starting with Faz's organic salad of mixed greens which helped to refresh and ready my tired palate for my second course: pomegranate chicken. The dish included a sizable half of a fire-roasted chicken, bronzed and caramelized from the glowing coals and dancing oven flames. The chicken was served in a thick pool of reduced pomegranate sauce and was garnished with crunchy and nutty pomegranate kernels which exploded their abundant juices into my mouth with each bite. The chicken also came with paper thin-skinned, roasted fingerling potatoes which were steaming and creamy on the inside; and crisp and verdant haricot verts.

Last course? A fluffy, cream-saturated mattress of tiramisu, adorned with two angular strawberry spears and crunchy chocolate chips. The tiramisu was topped off with a generous dusting of superfine powdered sugar and equally ample drenching of a luscious creme anglaise.

Although I hit my spending limit relatively early this year, because I also hit my waist-size limit, I consider myself victorious!