Herra Chink y.'s Profile

I pretty much have to get really pissy and judgmental to write a Yelp review nowadays.  And believe me, San Francisco really irritates the excrement out of me these days.  We complain about parking and traffic and tickets and haven't us liberal enlightened geniuses realized that people who don't park or drive or own a car DON'T HAVE THESE PROBLEMS.  And the solution, a city-provided public transit service, which of course, has its systemic shortcomings borne out of the shortcomings of foresight of San Francisco citizens and voters, is never clean enough, safe enough, timely enough, fast enough, convenient enough... ENOUGH.

These on the whole are not problems.  These complaints largely belong in the realm of White and Asian upwardly mobile 20-40 year olds who move to a jewel of a city and behind the curtain of "betterment" hope to recreate it in their own fantastical urban playground through the sheer power and determination of iPhones, Facebook, Twitter, and the almighty blog.  Who can't imagine the wonder of urbanity outside of their polished sidewalks and boutique stores.  Who long for the pedestrian-friendly Main Street authenticity lacking in their suburban youths.

These are the problems of Generation X and Y.  We grew up in monotonous houses with those of similar socioeconomic backgrounds under the rose-colored glasses of our Boomer parents while making mixtapes off the radio with cassette players and longing for something more than what we had.  And now that we have the purchasing power and the college degree and the insight to know that our childhood and our youth are not what we want for the generation after us we must now raise, we seek in nostalgia what we never had to begin with - we seek to replace our realities with the veneer of "reality" that our childhoods never had.

And so we search for what we know as "authenticity".  And in San Francisco, this has manifested itself in a wholly exasperating manner in "street" food.

I did not grow up on the streets, as I doubt many of the customers of the Creme Brulee Man, the Magic Curry Kart, the Pie Bike Basket, the Sexy Soup Lady, or the Amuse Bouche Man (UGH can't you see how ridiculous this all is?!) did.

But our generation is so desperate for anything resembling what we deem as credible that we have forgotten the reason street food has existed and why our current obsession with street food vendors who mobilize via Twitter and Facebook is at best deeply cynical and at worst highly insulting to those who have come before.  Because public activity was borne out of the necessity for community.  Because the American dream of real estate was sometimes never an option for those of certain ethnicities and skin color.  Because in sharing a cuisine, one shared a culture and a background and a mutual understanding.

Dona Tere's Market is a corner store in an unobtrusive area in The Mission.  But it also has a food stand out front where hot dogs (both bacon wrapped and plain and with or without grilled onions) are in the $1 range and where tamales filled with cheese and beans and topped with spicy red chili sauce will never cost you more than $2.

And when you order a pupusa, a genteel woman takes the masa, stuffs it with filling, and molds it into her hand and throws it on the grill, such that in 5 minutes time, you have a piping hot, fresh, thick, handmade Latin American pastry stuffed with honest and intimate ingredients tantalizing your tastebuds and your soul.

And much like grapes take on the characteristics of the earth and the climate and the sun in which they grow, or each distinct flavor of a fine cheese is a product of how a cow eats and sleeps and lives, this pupusa is uniquely originated from the culture, the community, the heritage, the story, and the history emanating from the hands of this woman.  

And that in itself is much more than I can say for $12 Unagi on a Unicycle or whoever the newest trendy foodie douchebag on Twitter who just got laid off from Yahoo is.

Truth.

I'm normally all like, SAUSAGES YES!!  STUFF ME IN EVERY CREVICE OF EVERY BODY CAVITY PLEASE HOLLA BACK GIRL DON'T STOP BELIEVIN and othersuch, but this place is new, so I'll be gentle.

"Didn't this place used to be El Farito Market?" I wondered as I crossed Folsom and 20th Street.

I think I was their second customer EVER.  Like, I walked in on their first official day open around 10 minutes after they had opened, and there was only one other person at a table.

That person was actually sitting and casually enjoying a Kohlrabi and Rutabaga Gratin with a fresh spring green salad and reading a book, that I was all - an intellectual!  Therefore, I SHALL BE THE FIRST TO REVIEW ON YELP SINCE YELP IS A BUNCH OF INARTICULATE EGOMANIACAL FRAT KIDS JUST LIKE ME AND THERE'S NO WAY ANYONE WITH HALF A BRAIN WOULD EVER WRITE A REVIEW FOR THE PEONS OF SAN FRANCISCO!!!!

I think I'm amazing too.

Their menu is as of right now tiny (see http://www.yelp.com/bi...) - they have sorrel and potato soup, a celery root and potato salad, the aforementioned gratin, an herbed cheese spatzle, and several sides, desserts, and assorted pastries.  Oh yeah, and the DUO OF AWESOME that I ordered.

I ordered the Mache and Raw Asparagus Salad with Pistachios and Shaved Gruyeres, with a light lemon sauce.  I added some poached chicken with the salad, with came lightly dressed with olive oil and complemented wonderfully with the lightly sour dressing.

On the recommendation of the waitress, I also ordered the Veal Schnitzel Sandwich with Chive Sour Cream, Red Spring Onions, and a green salad, served on rye bread.  For extra, you can opt to have an egg on your sandwich, which I highly recommend.  First off, the rye bread is wonderful and deliciously hearty, coupled with the chive sour cream blend and the AWESOMELY TENDER VEAL SCHNITZEL makes this sandwich one I excitedly look forward to.

This place right now is cash only and open for lunch only.  Also, they don't yet have a liquor license, but they serve these incredibly bio-organic sodas and juices, with stuff like elderberries in it.  I didn't try them, but every other table had them and they looked fantastic.

When I was there, they didn't actually list the sausages they had on the menu, but the waitress did list them verbally - I remember duck, kielbasa, and bratwurst, but there were 6 total, so I missed three of them.  BUT - when they open up at night, they are only going to serve German sausages, German beer, and German wine - the rest of the menu is going to remain a lunch-only option.

Oh yeah, by the way, the people who are bringing you Schmidt's are also the wonderful folks who brought us Walzwerk over on 15th and South Van Ness, so you know that a) the people are totally awesome neighborhoodizens (TM maw) (and also - HOLLER TO THE EAST MISSION CROWD, STAY OVER ON VALENCIA, DIRTY HIPSTERS!) and that b) the sausages are gonna be stuff-in-my-butt worthy.  I mean face.  I mean mind.  Since I'm an intellectual.  Yup.

Oh, to be on the frontlines of ice cream evolution in San Francisco.  

You see, there are the classic creameries, the ones that have been here forever, like Mitchell's Ice Cream (1953, to be exact).  Classic flavors like vanilla, chocolate, black walnut, pralines.  We know them, we love them, but we'd hardly call them adventurous.

And then came the ice cream for the minorities.  Marco Polo Ice Cream offered us lychee and durian flavors.  Bombay Ice Cream gave us saffron, pistachio, and chai.

And lo and behold, Bi-Rite Creamery reared its head.  In the days of blogs devoted to food, philosophies hinged on locality, Bi-Rite offered us the ice cream for the Slow Food Nation.  Hyperlocal, sustainably-minded, environmentally aware.  We gushed over salted caramel, we oozed over honey lavender, we ooh and aahed over Ritual Roasted Coffee Toffee.

And Humphry Slocombe is San Francisco Ice Cream's newest incarnation.  Bi-Rite it is not.  Slocombe's philosophy is different.  Let's have fun with ice cream.  Let's meld cream into flavors heretofore unimagined.  Let's play with flavors and textures and form.  Let's allow the muted flavor of cream somehow enhance the underlying flavors beneath it.

And that is how Humphry Slocombe operates.  

But before I talk about the actual ice cream, allow me please to venture on its operation.  Kids scoops are $2.25, single scoops (1-2 scoops) are $3.25, and double scoops (2-3 flavors) are $4.50.  Sundaes include such wonderfuls as Tin Roof and Hot Mess (look them up on the website here: http://tinyurl.com/bpz3qy), and ice cream sandwiches are made to order.

And here's the kicker.  I went in on a Saturday and ordered one flavor, and left immediately.  And I was so wowed by my ice cream experience that I knew I had to return.  So I returned the next day and sampled some more and purchased another kids scoop.  And when I was rang up, the person behind the counter said "thanks for visiting us again."  HE REMEMBERED ME.  And it's something as simple as that, during a recession when we should all be watching our discretionary spending, when YOU ARE REMEMBERED AND THANKED FOR YOUR PATRONAGE for merely spending $2.25 two days in a row.  Because THAT is the personal touch.

Anyways, on to the ice cream.

I would have never guessed that balsamic vinegar and caramel would go together.  But there it is, blended and shaped, highlighted by a soft swirl of cream.  One bite, and it seems completely natural.  Why shouldn't these two flavors go together?

Who would have thought the combination of carrot and mango would yield such a light and tangy sorbet?

Why would anyone deem cornflakes and bourbon a worthy combination for a secret breakfast?

We are familiar with the flavors of Salt and Pepper.  But would I ever dare to combine them with cream to create a most intriguing cup of salty, spicy, and sweet delight?

And olive oil.  Too much olive oil mutes flavor and can overpower foods.  So can too much cream.  But can both combine into a blast of almost drug-induced ecstasy?

This is what ice cream has come to in San Francisco.  Instead of asking "why?", we now ask "why not?"  Instead of wondering "who would ever do this?" we now wonder "why haven't we done this yet?"  And in doing so, Humphry Slocombe has asserted itself as the next step in ice cream evolution.

In the future, ice cream will grow legs and use tools.  You've been warned.

This Jetson-themed bar and grill is smack dab in the middle of John Wayne Airport in Santa Ana, California.

I am speaking the 100% truth when I tell you that their salad with cabbage, wontons, mandarin oranges, crunchy noodles, and sesame dressing is called "The Suzy Wong".

Seriously.

What the fuck is wrong with you, Orange County?!  Next time should I just bring a GONG?!

Did y'all hear that the most clicked on page on the main Inauguration website was the menu that was served at lunch?  I was one of the millions of people who didn't give a damn about all of Obama's balls (tee hee hee!!!!! and p.s. I lie, I totally DO have an unhealthy interest in Obama's balls, which I have decided to name CHANGE and HOPE) but was  totally intrigued by what the Obamas were going to eat because DAMN IT I WANT TRANSPARENCY IN MY GOVERNMENT AND THAT MEANS WALK AROUND NAKED ALL THE TIME BARACK AND MICHELLE p.s. Joe Biden you can stay clothed.

Anyways, the menu included things like seafood stew and weird American birds like pheasants and quail and squab, and if there is one thing I can educate you on, it's DON'T EVER EAT SQUAB, IT IS JUST A FANCY NAME FOR A PIGEON AND YOU WILL GET AIDS.

So I was like, ew, but then I scrolled down a little and saw that the kids got a totally different menu and I was like, HELLO MALIA, YOU ARE GOING TO BREAK SOME HEARTS SOMEDAY, I'LL SHOW YOU MY JONAS BROTHERS EW I AM A GROSS PERVERT SOMEONE LOCK ME UP, and it included stuff like mac and cheese and chicken and all that good stuff.

And I thought of Nellie's because hot damn, this is some of the best soul food in the Bay Area, steps away from the West Oakland BART station.  It's not gourmet, you won't find unnecessary adjectives and excessive preparation techniques like "lemon herbed buttermilk" or "tenderly slow-fried in duck fat" but if there is one thing I consider 100% completely American food, it's food like fried chicken thighs oozing with juiciness and flavor, black eyed peas, collard greens with a not-too-bitter savory taste, refreshing sweet iced tea, buttered corn bread, and sweet potato pie, served with a smile and some sass by the kindest waiters and waitresses this side of Georgia.

So in this day in which we cherish the forward step that our country has taken, in which we finally look ahead to new accomplishments rather than behind at past failures, when we are called upon to be better people to our countrymen and women, when we usher in a new era of responsibility and pragmatism, I say, go to Nellie's, eat some great food that celebrates the cultural heart of America, and START COUNTING THE DAYS UNTIL MALIA OBAMA TURNS 18 I AM DISGUSTING.

I got several nasty PMs recently that I should STFU because I can't write about food, and all I can do is blog witty short stories about nonsense.  And that is probably true, but FUCK YOU because why should I be punished for being able to translate my thoughts into words better than pretty much everybody else on this site? (P.S. my New Year's resolution is to be more modest.)  So, in the great tradition of my good friend AJ (http://ajizzle.yelp.com) I give you my most foodie-est review.  Also, I give you your head shoved up your ass, Firstname L, because I fucking own you now.  How much you like House of Nanking now, bitch?

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Ubuntu, the word, is a traditionally African ethic or humanist philosophy focusing on people's allegiances and relations with each other - that a person is part of a greater whole and that he or she is diminished when others are diminished, and is uplifted when others are uplifted.

Ubuntu, the restaurant located in the heart of California Napa Valley wine country, is the newest restaurant earning national accolades from food writers across the country for its promise, vision, and extraordinarily talented chef.

A combined restaurant and yoga studio (I kid you not), Ubuntu is a vegetarian restaurant that transcends vegetarianism. Billing itself not as vegetarian but instead as a "vegetable restaurant", Ubuntu takes the glory of the vegetable, most of which are grown on Ubuntu's onsite "biodynamic" garden (I put it in quotes because I have no idea what it means!), and brings out every possibly flavor of California's famous produce. This creation of an entirely fantastical, playful, and almost whimsical bounty of freshness, locality, and flat-out perfect cuisine can not come from anywhere else in the world.

Ubuntu's chef, Jeremy Fox, hails from internationally renowned Manresa and has taken that cutting edge style and technique and applied it meticulously to each and every one of his dishes, which are meant to be shared and cost no more than $15 each. Indeed, three other diners and I shared multiple entrees, were so impressed that we ordered another round of food, and ended up spending less than $40 per person, wine excluded.

Highlights of the meal included the cucumber watermelon soup with its cool creamy texture blended with pureed lemongrass and bread crumbs, and the strawberry margarita pizza, highlighted by its "marinara" created from a refreshing mixture of fresh strawberries and basil to form a delicate balance between sweet and savory on fluffy wood-crisped crust. The cuisine is playful, absolutely unique, and phenomenally special in every single possible way.

So go, quickly, because Ubuntu is rapidly being noticed by the fooderati across the country. Racking up phenomenal reviews in the San Francisco Chronicle, New York Times, Bon Appetit, Food & Wine Magazine, and dazzling the country's finest restaurateurs and food industry insiders at the James Beard Awards, Ubuntu is not going to stay a local, nor a regional, treasure any longer. Ubuntu is about to become Napa Valley's next international destination. And it deserves every single accolade rained upon it, because this restaurant could not happen anywhere else in the world but in San Francisco's wine country served by the bounty of mild California weather and rich soil.

When you dine at Ubuntu, you feel spectacular. And when you feel spectacular, others feel spectacular too.

Even though it was an open bar, I was so drunk that I ordered two drinks, handed the confused bartender my credit card and screamed "KEEP IT OPEN!!!!" as I strutted away.

That's how I motha fuckin roll.

Not quite in the upper echelon of airports (the O'Hares, ATLs, JFKs, LAXs, SFOs, DFWs of the world), San Diego International Airport (SAN, or Lindbergh Field to locals) is a nice regional airport (think Oakland, San Jose, Austin, Irvine) that gets you in and out with limited amenities but relative ease.

"But why then" you may ask, "oh sage Ed M, why are you giving San Diego International Airport the most beloved and prized 5 Stars in all of Yelplandia??"  

Ok, you may not be asking that in real life, but damnit, you're asking it in my head, because bitches listen, I got an ego, and I feed it with your adoration and compliments, that's how we're gonna play this game, mmmmkay???

(I also just noticed that when you choose 5 Stars, Yelp tells you that this means "Woohoo! As good as it gets!"  Seriously Yelp, this is the best you can do?!?  Where's the fun?  Where's the creativity?  If it were me, 5 Stars would say "Hot damn, this makes me want to take off all my clothes and jump into a lazy river filled with chili!!!"  One star would say "I'd rather clean the wrinkly skin flaps of Bea Arthur than go back to this place!")

Anyways, I was flying from SAN to SFO yesterday, and someone was in line in front of me at the security checkpoint.  And this person was getting checked by the TSA Security officials and was holding me up.  You will never guess who held me up at security in San Diego airport.

NEVER.

Wait for it.

Wait.

For!

It!!!!!!

I got held up in San Diego Airport by....

LUDACRIS.

LUDACRIS!

LUDACRIS!!!!!

So it was totally awesome because the contents of his bag were being checked by the TSA officials, and I was totally all up in his bizness and he was totally calm as if he gets checked by TSA officials all the time.  And he had his Blackberry and his iPhone out and get this, as they're looking through his bags, he is all nonchalant-like LOOKING AT PICTURES OF NAKED LADIES ON HIS IPHONE!  I KID YOU NOT!

LUDA HAS HOES IN DIFFERENT AREA CODES!!!

God damn, I want to be Ludacris so badly at this point, IT HURTS ME I TELL YOU.

In the end, Ludacris had a bottle of COCOA BUTTER that was larger than the limit of liquids that you could bring on a plane so they had to throw it out.  One of his posse was like - "Fuck that, throw it away, we'll get more of that in Frisco."

And I stood there in awe.  All 5 foot 7 (very short!) of Ludacris and his two-man posse left the security area.  Ludacris moved and I did not move.  Just like that.

80 million different scenarios "what if" scenarios played in my mind.

I could have been like "what is taking so goddamn long to get through security!!?  This is LUDICROUS!!!"

Or even like "Yo, Luda, MOVE BITCH GET OUT THE WAY!"

Or perhaps even a simple "ROLL OUT!!!"

Instead, I did nothing.  But when I got home, I went to the store and bought cocoa butter.  It helps prevent stretch marks and is wonderful for chapped lips and dry itchy skin as well as having a relatively pleasant aroma!

Cocoa Butter is approved by Ludacris as well as multiple hoes in multiple area codes.

Some of you may know that I like to spend a night or two or thirty hitting the bottom of the bottle and deluding myself into thinking that I drink because I "want" to, not because I am "hiding" from any of my "problems" or "avoiding" any of my own "personal" "issues" and "self" "hatred" in the "guise" of "vodka".

And I know you're reading a review of an OPTOMETRIST and not another nonsensical review of how I spent the night throwing up in a dumpster in an alley in the Tenderloin feeding off rat dung, so bear with me while I explain.

Drunken stupors affect how you treat your EYES.  I mean, in addition to your liver and all that other boring inside stuff.  Really, they do.  Because when I drink myself into drunken stupors, I rarely take out my contact lenses.

And so, when Dr. Gill, my Alcoholics Anonymous sponsor OOPS I MEAN MY EYE DOCTOR, was asking me questions about contact lens care, I told her I slept with my contacts in probably more often than not because I get too drunk and lazy to take them out.

And Dr. Gill, knowing my "special" condition, fit me with these awesome "breathable" contact lenses that are ok if they're not taken out every night, and also matched me with some crazy protein lens and saline solution which are better at getting rid of protein build up or some crazy other eye doctory stuff I didn't understand, in addition to manufactures coupons for FREE LENS SOLUTION and CONTACT LENS REBATES of $50!!!!!

Dr. Gill (and awesome awesome Ramona as well!!) also fitted me with some *ZOMG SO CRAZY GOOD LOOKING* ARMANI EXCHANGE eyeglass frames from the selection of crazy hot designer frames onsite (including JUICY COUTURE eyeglass frames WHO KNEW!!!!!).  My seester told me my glasses make me look like "an architect or a graphic design professor" and I was going for the "art gallery owner" look which I imagine is a similar aesthetic so now, thanks to Dr. Gill, I wear these glasses so I can do all these "I am kind of artsy and liberal and educated so listen to me more" (i.e. Yes on 1A!!! Yes on 2!!! No on 8!!!) Jedi mind tricks that I love to do.

So please listen to my educated liberal Jedi mind tricks I mean EXPERT OPINION and go visit Dr. Gill at Oakland Vision Center off the 19th Street BART Station in Oakland RIGHT NOW - I come all the way from The City on Saturday mornings!!!!  She'll do wonders in sponsoring you for Alcoholics Anonymous.  I mean, fitting you with glasses and contact lenses and educating you on caring for your eyes.  Yeah, that's it.  Because that's what eye doctors do.  They're NOT AA sponsors.

Anyways, Dr. Gill is the best optometrist I've ever had in my entire life.  And does Alcoholics Anonymous even accept EyeMed insurance?!?  BECAUSE THEY SHOULD!!!!!

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UPDATE:  Dr. Gill told me that someone read my review and went in for their optical needs because of my review!  WOOT!  

This is what Yelp is all about!  Promoting trustworthy and honest local services with a personal touch over the corporate mundanity of a place like LensCrafters!  Also, getting laid!

Many of you may or may not know that Stitch Lounge opened in the Hayes Valley neighborhood of San Francisco four and a half years ago as the first sewing lounge ever.  Ever.

In those four and a half years, Stitch has fostered a vibrant DIY community of which I've been excited to even be on the fringes.  The philosophy that guided the origin of Stitch Lounge  - the philosophy of reuse and re-adaptation, of individuality and expression, of creativity in the face of corporate interests, of fun and frivolity in an increasingly polarized world - permeates even greater today than in 2004.

Today, after four and a half years, Stitch Lounge is *closing* their storefront, and moving solely online (http://www.stitchloung...).  I am intimately familiar (and familial) with the three owners, as I have had the pleasure of witnessing them grow up to become the extraordinary mature and confident woman that they are.  I am in awe of what they've been able to accomplish, I am grateful that they pioneered a movement much larger than any of them could have imagined, I own and enjoy the two highly educational books they've published (http://www.stitchloung...), and I am happy that they've been able to spread their love and joy and passion to the many people who are inextricably linked to this supportive community of fashion, artistry, skill, and craft.

I am proud to call them friends.  And to call them family.  And to be a miniscule part of the ongoing adventure and experiment called Stitch Lounge.