Maybe Cupid never had this in mind...

Before I launch into what I'm sure some will interpret as a tirade, I'd like to start off with a little bit of pleasantry...in the wonderment sense. I saw a homeless man today with scraggly, unkempt, and longish brown and grayish hair waving in the wind. His threads were dark and soiled. He stomped about in a peculiar glee. And in his hand he had two long stemmed crimson roses. They were brilliantly crimson. It was an enchanting sight...something so disparate in foundation. To see someone so dingy and to see such natural beauty associated with him was striking. I had to do a double take. If only more things could overwhelm my attention like that with greater frequency.

Valentine's Day. Now some of you may think that I am a bitter and morose individual because I really don't understand the stodgy nature in which our society celebrates 'love.' Flowers are nice. Chocolates? Sure, I like them, I guess. But when did these things become how people show others that they love them? You go out and dine at a restaurant, inevitably serving some dank 4-course pre-fixe meal that everyone has to order. The restaurant is able to justify inflating their prices and what you and your ravishing date get is an insipid and underwhelming meal for double what it really should cost. Valentine's Day is actually quite possibly the worst day in the entire calendar year to go out and eat. You will inevitably be disappointed. And if you aren't, chances are that you don't have a very good sense of taste or idea what being served well is like. Thanks, but I'll pass on the ho hum. I'll be the guy trying to do something with my hands or something that involves atypical strategy...whimsy if you will. Can't promise that it will be pretty or taste good. In fact, it could be disastrous. But I will have effectively utilized effort. You know, the real kind.

And perhaps you say, 'Good luck finding a girl that will adopt that line of thinking.' I would answer that you're absolutely right. I'm not going to find that many girls that share my discernment. But remember, I look for extraordinary. I pass on the vanilla. And I know that she's out there.

A little bit of creativity, folks. I know that you have some.

It's Thanksgiving. Thanks.

While I haven't written in quite a while, I figured that with some extra time on my hands and it being Thanksgiving, I'd publish a snippet of what I'm grateful for.

What I'm thankful for:

Mom, Dad, Brother, Sister in-law, and the rest of my extended family. And all my friends of course.

Bartleby and Pearl.

Good Food. Good Beer. Good Wine. Good Spirits.

My friend Jason...but mostly his wife, Myvan.

Gingham.

Miyizaki Beef.

Tim Lincecum.

Shu Uemura.

Favorite Dancing Company.

Sencha.

Muni (crazy, huh?).

Cylons.

Wool Socks.

Pork Belly.

Insatiable Appetites.

Pizza.

Kathy Lipscomb.

Vintage Boots.

Completely losing track of time while making memories.

Warm Smiles.

Mixology.

New Faces.

Familiar Faces.

Tailoring.

And lastly, but no less significantly, hair.

(Yes, I'm a vain and shallow person. A material girl...in a material world. Happy Thanksgiving...I hope your list of what you're thankful for is as awesome as mine.)

Starbucks is good for something other than burnt-ass coffee.

It's also good for kodak moments, funny enough. Sitting on the 19 tonight, trying to squiggle my way home, I noticed a Causasian girl, probably around 25 years old, step her way onto the bus accompanied with an African American girl, probably around the age of 10. They were each carrying frappucinos from Starbucks. They proceeded to take a seat and enjoy their beverages apparently induced with a healthy dose of genuine and raw banter. Laughter was abound. And you could see with each upward glance from the younger girl, with stars in her eyes, that she was truly beholden with the fact that this older girl, thought her cool enough to hang with her. Almost like, 'Thank you, for thinking enough, and being with me. I love you.'

It was beautiful (honestly, no sarcasm associated...I swear).


Thank you Starbucks...you make it convenient for folks to share moments. I forgive you, temporarily, for your disgusting coffee.

Chuck? Creepy? No.....

Chuck got to the bus stop with three minutes to spare today, according to his iphone at least. It had been a long day and he was anxious to get home and crack the top off a beer while allowing his body to be paralyzed on the couch. Upon reaching the stop, he discovered an attractive tall blond girl waiting there with the same intent as he. But there was an appearance about this girl that was reminiscent of someone he thought he had met in the last month. Was it her? He couldn't really get a direct gaze at her. Not without getting caught at least. So he did what any right-minded person would do. Once boarding the bus, he situated himself at the opposite end of the bus and rotated his head so that his line of sight would catch her position at each pendulum. But she noticed. And she turned around to avoid Chuck's apparent ghastly behavior. It was at that point that Chuck noticed a wedding ring on her left hand. And he smiled. He did not know this girl and she had caught him gawking. It was then that Chuck noticed a different girl sitting down, reading a book.

(Yes, I am Chuck, in case you were wondering.)

Chase likes white girls and long visits to the can.

I never really pondered over the display of a couple composed of an Asian girl and a Caucasian guy when I happened upon one. Not until I talked to my friend, Chase. You see...Chase hates Asian girls. He becomes queasy with just the mere glance of one. He also frequents the toilet to excavate numero dos more than any other individual that I personally know. But that is a story that I will save for another rainy day. This brief rhetoric will be solely devoted to highlighting Chase's observations about Asian girls and Caucasian dudes. Chase can't stand the sight of it. Yet Chase, as described above, isn't quite into Asian girls. So why should it really matter? Good question. It's because he hates white guys. Recently, Chase flew down to San Diego for a business trip. He reported that he procured an unusual amount of attention from Caucasian girls. And he was pleased. He would like to move to San Diego now.

Fine Print: Chase doesn't hate Asian girls and Caucasian guys. But he does revel in rolling on the ground collecting change, like a hobo. And he really is an industrial poop factory.

A Dad, A Beerhouse, and Charm.

Cultural conflation makes San Francisco’s genome a round entity. And yes, you can say that about many metropolitan cities. It’s the lushness of California and the accessibility of fresh, organic, and sustainable products that sets San Francisco apart from other cities. This advantage highlights and regulates Northern Californian gastronomy in concept, flare, and execution. The gastro pub concept has inked its way through and into San Franciscan tradition with attention to craft and artisanal beer and bright, honest, and locally produced food.

The gastro pub in concept mirrors the Japanese izakaya concept. And it’s the Izakaya that is hard to find in San Francisco where beer and sake are complimented by authentic, home-inspired, and simple Japanese eats. The izakaya tradition exudes soul and unpretentiousness. Where sushi is fluid and complex and often luxurious, izakaya lacks façade and smoke screens. Yet most significantly, it is hearty and in the vein of soul food.

A true gem, Oyaji is located on 3212 Clement Street, in between 33rd and 34th avenues, in the Outer Richmond District. The 'Dad' (which Oyaji essentially means) would be Hideki Makiyama, chef and owner. While he has a full sushi bar, stock full of wonderfully fresh treats, I journey here for the dishes that honor the lore of izakayas. Hoshiebi kakiage consists of shrimp rolled up into a patty with vegetables to make a savory deep fried dumpling shrimp cake. I enjoy the aigamo which is duck meat marinated, grilled, and accompanied with yakitori sauce. The menchi korokke is perhaps my favorite. It’s a combination of minced beef intertwined with potatoes and onions, egg, and rolled up into a ball and deep fried. Off the menu on a particular night, I’ve had jack smelt lightly fried crisply and accessorized with lemon and ponzu sauce. The Japanese deep fry in a way where you never give second thought to the amount of grease or weight of a single dish because everything is done lightly and airily. The gindara kasuzuke is a a fatty cod grilled to smoky perfection and glazed with a kasuzuke sauce which is prepared with the water leftover from the distillation process of sake. Each charred and flaky piece is infused with a subtle rice wine flavor and the texture of the fish is buttery and rich.

When you go, make sure to sit at the sushi bar. Makiyama, as a welcoming ‘dad’ would, enjoys making his guests feel comfortable in his home. Drink with him. Cheer with him. He jubilates in his guests’ contentment.

Unfortunately, I was unable to recover any of the pictures that I took. But continuing along with this ode to izakaya and just for giggles, here are some pics that I took of the delectable snacks that I had while visiting another izakaya, this time in Vancouver, British Colombia….Kitanoya-Guu. Eat your heart out.

Ahi Tuna Sashimi Steak


Deep Fried Pumpkin Croquette with Egg


Fresh Beef Sashimi Carpaccio w/ tomato ginger sauce and mustard mayonaisse


Salmon Sashimi Yukke w/ Garlic Soy


Grilled Pork Cheeks and Green Onions w/ Ponzu


Grilled Beef Tongue w/ Salt & Pepper


Deep Fried Prawns with Spicy Mayo


Baked Minced Beef, Mushrooms, Onions, w/ Garlic Tomato Sauce Rice Gratin

Food is SOULFUL when it's served out of a window.

Bustling along my enchantment with street food, I must devote some time to say a word or two about Little Skillet, the little sister to Farmer Brown. With street food widely becoming 'hip' these days, it seems like everyone is trying to get in on the act. And rightly so...consumers simply are adjusting themselves and their spending habits to the fact that the economy is constantly taking a dump. But it's hard to become accustomed to great food and gratifying culinary experiences and quit cold turkey. Food is the quintessential nexus between people of all different race, ethnicity, and background. It is politically correct pornography. So when someone asks me what I think of when I catch wind of the concept of fried chicken and waffles with mushroom-herb gravy and maple syrup for $8.50 out of an alley window (360 Ritch), it's hard for me to remain reticent. Cuz that just sounds damn good.


I know, chicken and waffles, big deal. But it's hard to find chicken these days that actually tastes like chicken...not the steroid infested, hormone injected birds that plague most of our grocery stores. This bird was fried so that the juice and moisture were locked inside and the chicken wasn't spongey like the salt water permeated bird that we're so used to. The breading was crisped splendidly with the perfect amount of seasoning and a hint of spice, I'm guessing from cayenne. Needless to say, it was very satisfying. The waffle was perfect. Texturally, it was spot-on. I love waffles that are browned just enough so that you have that light and subtle crunch with it's surface, but the inner core is that magical oxymoron constituted of both a dense and fluffy consistency. The syrup wasn't overloaded with sugar and wasn't too viscous. If you go, make sure to get the mushroom-herb gravy. Hearty and earthy, I even just like savoring in it on it's own. As a whole, this box served as validation, that simplicity executed correctly, is often times, if not more, just as fervent as food complicatedly executed.


As much I enjoyed the chicken and waffle, I didn't quite 'get' the andouille sausage waffle dog ($9) that I had. This picture isn't taken well...you can't really see the waffle that the sausage is sleeping on. I had heard so much about the waffle dog before my first trip here, and I guess the hype got to me a little bit. But I will admit, that this wasn't the bacon wrapped waffle dog that many people have raved about. Upon my first bite of the andouille dog, I immediately wanted to dismantle it and consume each component of it separately. The andouille was excellent, peppery with just the right amount of heat and spice. It was juicy and unctuous. It was topped with sauteed onions. The waffle 'bed' was conceived with corn meal. Essentially, it was a piece of corn bread. And it was good corn bread...moist and cakelike, but not overly crumbly. I think where the combination of the two lost me, was that the corn meal waffle was more of a corn bread cake than a waffle. There lacked a strength and elasticity in the foundation of the waffle for the andouille to make it work for me. Separately, I would have delighted in it, but together, it served more like a sausage in a mushy bun. Nevertheless, I'm still on a mission to try this fabled bacon wrapped waffle dog that everyone coos about. The andouille waffle dog was accompanied with freshly fried potato crisps.


And of course, I had to order a side of fries. They were solid. Fresh potatoes, cut and fried to golden goodness with the 'meat' having that subtlely grainy and sultry tissue. Nicely seasoned, they satisfied me very much.

I don't know what it means when people delight in picking up food out of window in the back of a building in an alley. There is quite a bit of fodder that comes to mind and can be associated with some pretty dubious images. With that said, when the food is good, let's just calm down and eat, even if the only place to enjoy such sustenance is on the cement loading dock across the alley way.