Matt H.'s Profile

BECS is Kitchen Nightmares in reverse.  It feels as if Gordon Ramsey's evil twin came in and took what used to be a great bar and dinner spot and made it into a place that desperately needs help.

The whole building screams Tavern / Pub / Olde Englishe and yet the lighting inside is universal and diffuse, making it feel like a McDonalds or an airport cafeteria.  There used to be large paintings and decorations all around - now it's barren.  It looks unfinished, and you get that feeling sitting there.  Walking in, it's hard to tell if you're to seat yourself or wait for someone to help.   What is jarring, and many reviewers have mentioned this, is that you can immediately see that the building is warm and inviting and yet the ambiance is that of cold, fake sterility, as if you're visiting your parent's house having been turned into a makeshift "club".  It's bad.

The drinks are standard fare.  I wouldn't go here for a drink, not because of the drinks but because it's just an uncomfortable space to drink in.  See above.  With Jupiter, Thalassa, Revival, and many other good drinking spots within easy walking distance offering well-honed service it's crazy to want to drink here.

The food is ok, if you stick to bar finger foods.  Sliders, fries, anything a monkey can make is safe.  Avoid the entrées, they're only on the menu to be there on the menu.  Of the three I ordered, all were poorly cooked and seemed to me to have been pre-cooked and then reheated.  The chicken entree I ordered was dry on the surface and pink in the center - a sure sign of inept cooks.  The replacement I got was dry and rubbery, which makes me wonder what quality of chicken I was getting.  Of the seven or so orders I placed on my three visits, I'd say the sliders were the best thing there.  That's truly sad.  Fire the Chef, get someone who can cook - stat!

The servers there really try hard, and I appreciate that, however they are working on the Titanic.  Did the new owner fail to explore the neighborhood and see what makes his competition so successful?  It seems almost as if the new management is trying to fail. I'll be amazed if this place is still open next year.

Leo isn't just a barber, he's a travel agent.  Through time.  Watching his careful, deliberate movements as he prepared the tools of his trade, one could only be reminded of a time when there were in fact tradesmen who birthed this phrase.  His focus and attention was on my hair from the moment I sat down, which distinguished him from your typical salon minder who seems to divide their attention between your frivolities, your desire to purchase hair product, and your tip.  What small talk there was was not small talk, his genial manner making the entire experience relaxing without being awkwardly superficial.

I received two hair cuts, the first resulting in a terrific short cut and the second yielding a shorter cut I didn't know I wanted until I asked for it.  Both were perfect - I couldn't have asked for anything different without ruining it.

His shop is cash or check only, yet despite my failing to bring cash he waited patiently for me to go around the corner and bring back payment.  After the cut.  That's character.  I was surprised at the $28 price, considering the full service of wash, cut, and re-wash and the quality of the work.

Go.  Go for Leo.  Go for a great cut.  Most of all, go for a glimpse of a time when you could retain a man's services instead of simply a manned service.

I confess, despite the woman working the register who prompted my older review, their food is excellent.  +3 stars.  +4 if the woman at the register isn't there.

Deep into my 30s and still no driver's license, I realized it was time to get serious and make it happen.  I had bookmarked Ann's school a while ago for just this epiphany (5 stars, what's not to like?) and pulled it up and wrote Judy to place myself in her capable hands.

She wrote me back right away and explained how the process worked.  I got my learners permit (barely passing the written!) and got assigned Jay as my instructor.  It's worth noting the instructor will schedule things on your time - including weekends - and will pick you up and drop you off wherever you like (within reason).

Jay is awesome.  You know how in the movies there's that archetype "Master" who is all calm and just watches the student and says things like "Today the leaves are still, and tomorrow they will be gone" and the student is all "what the hell is this crazy old man talking about" but by the end of the movie he's all kicking ass?  Yeah, that's Jay.

I started a couple months ago, and had around 5 lessons.  It's not inexpensive, at $170 a lesson, but I cannot imagine a better investment.  You will not only get driving instruction that is calm, helpful, and suited to your particular personality, but you will also get insight and experience as to what you will be tested on and what the actual driving course will involve.  By the time you take the test, you will have already taken it a few times only with Sage Jay instead of Silent Examiner.  

Jay's advice moments before the actual test will stay with me forever, as they apply to life as well - "All this is, is keeping it together for 20 minutes."  I passed my driving test with 4/15 errors, all minor.  The examiner said the errors were minor, and I was a very good driver.  If you want to hear those magical words - contact Ann's Driving School.

Here is why you should go to Chevy's instead:

Mercedes charges $12 for two tacos.  $8 for a bowl of that weird jelly-like premade guacamole.  $4 for a small Coke.  Chevy's is the same price only with bigger tacos, fresh guac, and a coke that comes in a container that looks like it should be loaded into artillery.

Mercedes has the exact same FiDi crowd (read: more money than sense or time) only lacks Chevy's team of smiling automatons who are terrified for their jobs if you are not orgasmic about the service.  Instead you will get folks who are friendly, but are also slow and inept.

Mercedes managed to deliver two chicken tacos when the order was two beef tacos, then delivered a single beef taco sometime just after everyone else was done eating.  Chevy's will replace your whole dish pronto if something is wrong.

Mercedes might refill your Coke with Diet Coke without asking, whereas Chevy's gives you enough Coke in the first place to pour on the floor and kayak home.

I'm not saying Chevy's is good, mind you.  It sucks.  But it's better than this place.

A lesson in mediocrity, Tad's best offering is the smell from outside.  You'll pay at least 10 dollars for a meal that's not as good as Lori's up the street.  When the local diner chain offers better steak than your dedicated steakhouse, it's time to board up the doors.

"Sorry, I can't help you with that."
   - AT&T Corporate Slogan

If you want good Chinese Delivery and you're tired of getting bagloads of mediocre MSG mush at best or inedible, poisonous mush at worst, by all means hit up Ken's Kitchen.

Out in Bernal Heights it is tough to get decent Chinese delivery, so much so that I'd given it up until last weekend when I was desperate for the love that only Chinese Food can give.

I got a bit of everything, because why not.

Egg rolls, good.  Potstickers, good. Chow Fun, great.  Fried Rice, good. Sesame Chicken, great.  Mongolian Beef, great (no wonky-beef, only real beef.)  Hot and Sour soup, good.  Shrimp puffs, great.

I'm not saying it's the greatest Chinese food in SF because it's not even close, but it was definitely a delicious meal for not that much money and delivered promptly.

Well done, Ken!

Seven dollars for the pulled pork sandwich, which I pulled the pork out of and accumulated a single bite of pork and many more bites of what I hope was gristle and fat.  The single bite I had didn't taste any better than what you can get from the most miserable local eatery, and ultimately I gained more enjoyment from spreading the "food" around my plate than I did from eating it.

An 80 rating on the posted Health Dept. report drew me in and I decided to read the whole report.  Why I ate after reading the report remains a mystery.

"So how's it look?"

"I'm not sure what I'm looking at."

"That means bad."

She bites into the complimentary eggroll.

"Oh my god, honey, I actually heard the grease squirt out into your mouth. Are you ok?"

"Uh, yeah.  It's... an eggroll.  Um, maybe I'll try my dish."

She opens a "Mandarin Chicken" which looks identical to a plate of IHOP Buffalo Wings but smells much much worse.

"My garlic chicken tastes like someone froze it two or three times this week.  It smells like fish and chicken and pork and maybe a little sweat.  I'm going to skip it.  Thank god I got the Chicken Fried Rice... something impossible to fuck up."

I open the container and I am sideswiped into a memory of my Jr. High School locker room.

"This smells like socks.  Old socks soaked in sugar."

"Should I throw this stuff away?"

"Since you don't have an incinerator, yes, that's going to have to do."