Shawn S.'s Profile

Why "Spork"

"Because this used to be a KFC" the waiter replied.

This is indicative of the way Spork approaches the art of feeding you - with whimsy, creativity and a total lack of pretense.

I had the inside-out burger, which afforded all the comforting delight of In-N-Out and then transcended it with an absolute perfect balance of flavor and... this word again... whimsical presentation.

My fiancee had mussels and pork (if pork is on a menu, then that is what she is almost guaranteed to order), and the sound she made when she took her first bite required no interpretation: Deeelish, in case you're wondering.

We had coffee and beignets for dessert, and as we enjoyed them, a bus boy dropped by our table to grab plates or something. While he was there - a Latin American guy - he drew a deep breath and said with a grin, "wow, don't those smell so good?" We had to agree, and we shared a smile with him.

It dawned on me at that moment that something else surrounded our meal from beginning to end. The joy of the staff - bussers, servers and runners alike - enhanced the whole experience. Before we left, I mentioned this to our waiter, and he said without hesitation that Spork is the best place he's ever worked in the city. He praised the product, the preparation and most of all the folks that run the place. He used the word "love" several times.

That, friends, bodes well for Spork.

Vermont Cleaners is the kind of neighborhood business you tell all your friends about, the kind you remember fondly, even years later, after you've moved on to new places.

Benson remembers your name and your order and greets you cheerfully as soon as you walk in. I stop by once every couple of weeks with a huge load of bed linens - because I hate to fold that stuff. I pick it up in a day or two, all beautifully folded and neatly wrapped. Bottom line: he does great work. He's fast, and his prices are good.

This afternoon, I had to stop by to get some emergency repairs on a coat I need tonight. No problem for Benson, who said, "come back in 20 minutes."

I was happy to see the Yelp sticker on his window a few months ago. It could hardly be more well-deserved.

Good job Yelpers!

I used to like this place, but I think they officially lost me tonight.

It wasn't anything egregious. I didn't find a shoelace in my meal. My waiter didn't radiate attitude. My beer was good.

It's just that the hamburger and onion rings they served me were so... well... weak, that it got me thinking about respect. Yes people, respect.

A burger at 21st Amendment starts with Nieman Ranch beef, which is great. But then they toss it into a big, dry, tasteless bun that has seen neither grill nor toaster. It's as if their intention is to keep you from enjoying the quality beef they just cooked. You just can't.

And the onion rings. I'm pretty sure mine were twice-fried. In other words, they were fried in advance, then fried again to reheat them. They were so hard I thought I broke a molar when I took my first bite.

Two stars is more "punitive" than I might normally be after just one sub-par hamburger, but like I said, it's about respect. A hamburger is a simple thing, and it doesn't take a lot to make it sublime. To make a bad burger - especially when you start with quality meat - is disrespectful to the food, not to mention the customer.

Cooking for people is a sacred enterprise, and a sub-mediocre hamburger just says you don't care.

Lots of other places to eat in this small city. Sorry guys.

As many a world traveler has discovered, and as the great philosopher Socrates might put it...

Often street food is actually amazing.
Taco truck fare qualifies as street food.
Therefore, taco truck food is often amazing.

I never actually know the names of taco trucks, and this one to me has always been "the one in front of the Best Buy." But I've been working in this neighborhood recently, and I've become a regular. I took note of the name so I could write this review, and I can't say I'm surprised to be putting mine on top of the pile of 175 others.

Here's my secret to a great Mexican meal: Order the cabeza.

In Mexico, the cook might then point you to a whole roasted head of a cow and expect you to point to the specific bits you favor - the ojo, oreja, labios, cachete.

In San Francisco, however, the result is not so horrifying. Here, cabeza is mostly the cheek (cachete) meat, slowly braised to perfection. It's the tenderest beef you can imagine, and when mingled with a few diced onions, a hint of cilantro and a squirt of lime, then laid before you on a pair of corn tortillas, it just might be the best $3.50 you could spend.

This quadrant of the Mission boasts a few very stylish eateries (and drinkeries) that also happen to serve up excellent fare. I'm thinking of Universal, Blowfish, The Slow Club and even Circolo.

And Coffee Bar.

The setting is gorgeous. Spare but somehow comfortable. Perhaps it's the sunlight streaming through the big front windows, or the patio out front.

The coffee is first rate, and the food is good too.

And, free WiFi. Always lively but never crowded, it's a great place to work.

If you're freaked out about fuel prices, just be thankful you don't have to fill your car with scotch. At around $20 a sip, it would be quite an investment.

That said, Nihon is a great place to go if you want to feel grown up and important. With your first glass of 16-year Lagavulin in front of you, you almost can't help talking about businessy stuff like real estate speculation or your hunt for series-b funding.

Be careful though. By the time you get to your third glass, you'll feel blissfully transported. You'll feel a warm, smoky love brewing within you. You'll want to wrap your arms around the whole world.

If you enjoy scotch, and you enjoy drinking it in stylish and comfortable settings, then I encourage you to make your way to Nihon.

Oh yes he did...

Yes, I am writing a review for Medjool right after writing one for Zeitgeist. In this city of sub-cultures, these things are important. If lovers of Medjool hate the lovers of Zeitgeist (and vise-versa), then I'm hating the haters.

Like a lot of polar opposites, Zeitgeist and Medjool have a couple of big things in common. In this case it's a big outdoor patio (OK, roof deck in Medjool's case), and the homogeneity of the patrons. At Zeitgeist it's all bikers and hipsters. At Medjool, professionals and preppies.

I like the cognitive dissonance I feel when I go right from one to the other - a short walk for such a great cultural journey.

Medjool's roof is not the place to be when the wind blows from the west, but at the end of a warm sunny day, it's a perfect spot.

Things you can do at Zeitgeist...

Compare tattoos and body piercings
Swap bike parts - both motor and non
Buy weed
Spontaneously arm-wrestle a total stranger
Breathe in at least three varieties of second-hand smoke
Get and/or give the stink-eye from/to people who don't look like you
Feel solidarity with people who do look like you
Drink some good beer or a bloody mary and eat a grilled burger under the San Francisco sky

It's always sad when one of your regular joints closes its doors for good, but that's life in the city. When it happens, you can only hope that the next business to open in the same spot is a deserving successor. Maybe this is why some seemingly prime locations seem to be cursed - a favorite business shuts down, and then the locals eye each successive venture with suspicion, giving the owners the stink-eye at every opportunity and generally spreading ill will about the place.

In this case, I'm talking about the Red Door Cafe. It was a humble and charming place, with mismatching furniture and chipped pottery, but it was one of my favorite breakfast spots in the city because the food was good, parking spaces were generally plentiful, and I never had to contend with a line stretching around the block (rare in this city when you're talking about good breakfast on a Saturday or Sunday morning).

Anyway, this is a long way of introducing Olea, the successor to the Red Door. What it lacks in the Red Door's humility and charm, it more than makes up for with an obvious dedication to the fine details of breakfastry.

The menu is small and changes weekly - a thing I always love. The coffee is served in a French press for two or four people, and this is always a reliable way to make very good coffee. Juices are fresh squeezed. The bread and other baked items are fantastic, and the main courses are carefully crafted and perfectly prepared.

As a bonus, parking is still pretty easy, and there's not usually any line at all.

This place reminded me of the Yogi Berra line:

Nobody goes there anymore because it's too crowded.

I went with a bunch of friends on a Saturday night, and we couldn't move, couldn't make it to the bar, couldn't do anything.

Eventually, we shoved our way through the gauntlet of clubbers and up the stairs where there was a little more breathing room - probably because the music up there was kind of terrible. A few more drinks, however, and we were benumbed - or perhaps the music eventually improved.

Some of our friends had flown in from the aloha state, and it had been a while since we'd last seen them. The choice of venue turned out to be a surefire way to prevent any awkward lapses in conversation that might have come from too much time apart. In fact, Bruno's was a good way to prevent any conversation at all.

But that's a club, and that's fine.

On that barometer though, I don't know, something about Bruno's seemed a bit rundown, like that girl you knew in college with the gravelly voice and the premature crow's feet. Lots of people obviously enjoy her, but it's not your thing.

The last time I went through a 'club' phase, I was living in Singapore, and all the clubs there are clean and gorgeously-designed.

Bruno's feels like the HGTV design-on-a-dime version of a nightclub, or maybe a giant version of the Brady's den-turned-Greg's groovy pad.