Happy New Year!
You might think, oh, she hasn’t blogged in a few weeks, she is probably just being typically neglectful of her beloved blog. Wrong! I was on vacation, nerds.
good morning
Since I often speak in math: I wanted to go somewhere warm for the holiday break + I booked to late = Hawaii and Mexico were outrageously expensive + Florida is kinda far away + I’ve never been to Palm Springs. If you carry the one, it works out. Trust me, I’m an engineer.
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First, a confession.
I suggested Fondue Cowboy for my sister’s birthday dinner this year, which was met with extreme excitement from said sibling. I subsequently re-though my decision and indicated that Town Hall would be a more appropriately fancy birthday location. And it was; the food was delicious and all was well. But, then I betrayed my teeny tiny sister and went to the Cowboy with other friends. Like a jerk!
Can we just say that I did the appropriate research that now allows me to confidently take my sister to this facility? I mean, I don’t want to waste her time in traveling all the way to The City for a crap meal. Now we can be certain of a good time, and of good food. Sister, will you join me at the Cowboy for some fondue?
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Today, I have a cookie tale to tell to you. It is filled with action, adventure, sorrow, and sweet victory, as every good tale should be.
On Sunday, I decided to make cookies for my fellow work comrades, as they all had a deadline on Monday that they have been working countless nights and weekends to meet. Imagine ten men and women sacrificing their precious time with their children, their friends, and televised football games in order to slave, seemingly unendingly, to meet an impossible deadline. Some fell ill, others went insane, and one man’s wife forgot her husband’s name entirely.
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Wow, they sure do grow fast, don’t they? People say this to my sister all the time. Her daughter is four, turning five in February. It seems like only yesterday she was just a wittow baybee! Now she’s so big! That’s how I feel about my blog. Except that it is ok when I neglect my blog for weeks on end; my sister has no such luxury.
Taylor in 2010 when my blog was just a baaaaybeeee.
But similarly, my blog has gone through phases, made changes, and ultimately grown, if not in size, at least in tone, content, and influence. And if none of those are true, there are at least a whole bunch more words that I’ve typed and are posted on the internet. Undeniable facts are often the most effective.
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In North Beach we have all kinds of shops and restaurants in which you can peruse, nosh, imbibe, and otherwise enjoy yourself. Little Vine is a little gem of a shop on Grant between Union and Filbert that sells wine, cheese, and other specialty foods. It’s not a restaurant, except that it does serve a daily sandwich (on Acme bread, which they also sell!), but I liked it so much, I wanted to blog about it anyway.
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North Beach is San Francisco’s “Little Italy”. As such, you’re never more than a stone’s throw from an Italian restaurant in these parts. Most of them, as far as I’ve experienced, are relatively mediocre, as you might expect in a tourist-oriented area with an overabundance of one type of restaurant. Caffe Baonecci is a nice change of pace.
burrata salad with tomatoes and arugula
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My only and recurring experience of Gott’s is as a lunch treat with one of my favorite co-workers. A mid-day haven from the monotony of office life, we occasionally escape to the Ferry Building to share an overly-filling, calorie-laden, sun-bathed lunch together. We talk about work, friends, his upcoming wedding, river rafting, and more. We sit outside, in their designated area of picnic tables, and enjoy our “slow” food in the sun. It’s excellent.
Heirloom Tomato and Mozz Sando
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If you happen to be awake and ready to head to a nice breakfast before 9am on a weekend in North Beach, prepare to see a whole lot of “closed” signs, probably a bit of vomit on the sidewalk, and droves of Chinese ladies exercising in the park. Because apparently that’s all that’s happening in the mornings in North Beach — we’re a late night neighborhood.
Artichoke Hash Benedict
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La Urbana is the newest schmancy Mexican joint to open up in SF — it’s on Divis and Grove, right next to Bar Crudo and a skip away from Nopa. A friend of mine heard the buzz and made a reservation, and I was happy to check it out.
Quesadillas “Tijuana” – Smoked Goat Cheddar, Summer Vegetables – $8
The space is really cool. It’s open and bright and sufficiently posh for upscale SF dining. It’s pretty loud, however, and toward the end of our meal, we were struggling to hear each other. Now, regarding everything else, apparently Eater SF has already got it covered. Though their article really does just quote Yelp reviews… so I’m going to one-up them and do my own drawn-out Yelp review on something called a blog. Read on!
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I had a little shin-dig at my apartment a few weeks ago; my good friend, Natalia, is going to Colombia for four months and we wanted to see her off properly. And, apparently, to me, “properly” means “like a crazy person who can’t judge food quantities like a normal human”. Like my mother before me, I made enough food to feed three times the number of people who came to my house. But, this was one of the more successful recipes and so I thought I’d share (read: steal).
sweet onion dip from marthastewart.com
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