Tommy's Joint Watching food shows on T.V. especially the ones that travel the country looking for hidden gems always makes me want to hit the road. Fortunately San Francisco has many of the kinds of restaurants that are destinations for visitors so we can go to great places without leaving the city. My dad saw one of these kinds of shows and he was inspired to visit Tommy’s Joint, famous for its hand carved sandwiches, when they were visiting over Christmas. After a very disappointing meal at Lefty O’Doul’s, a similarly kitchy place I was hoping to redeem San Francisco’s reputation in my dad’s eyes. Vida wasn’t too thrilled with the idea having filled up on a big lunch and not much interested in dinner. Her brother was saying he wasn’t hungry either.

We parked close to Tommy’s Joint on Van Ness and Geary and walked into a relatively long roped off winding line. My dad immediately went to the bar to order us some beers and then wandered off. Just like at Lefty O’Doul’s you line up with trays cafeteria style and order your food from the guys behind the counter. The pressure to order is really not to my taste. Going frequently and knowing exactly what you want would help but there will always be a measure of impatience either from the people making the food in front of you, the cashier or the other people waiting in line. My dad was happy ordering the braised lamb shanks and my mom the roast chicken. I went with a barbequed beef sandwich with the sauce on the side. Vida reluctantly ordered some with some clam chowder and in a panic I ordered what Vic wanted, dessert, a large piece of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and a piece of cheesecake. We also got green salads with dressing on the side having seen the glop of dressing we would get if we ordered otherwise. My dad’s wandering although very frustrating to my mother resulted in a mostly decent table to sit at in the very packed restaurant. The Seahawks game was on and I would have preferred to eat by myself and watch the game but instead had to crane my neck at one of the many screens and try and catch the score.

The atmosphere is dark, dirty and filled with memorabilia. I particularly like the warning sign that accompanied a small lamp above our table. One would think that if an electrical appliance needed a “do not touch” sign it probably shouldn’t be there. We had a prime view of the underground kitchen through an open service window just inches from the floor. It provided just enough distraction to Victor that we were able to eat in relative peace at our tiny table. Vida was happy with her soup and managed to finish it. A barrel of pickles where you could go and help yourself amused Vida quite a bit. My sandwich was fine except that the almost translucent brown barbeque sauce was not quite what I envisioned. I helped my mom with her chicken and converted rice.

I would love to go back to Tommy’s Joint any time—I can’t believe it took us this long to get to such a San Francisco institution.

Restaurant Total: 286  ¶ 8:25 PM

  Kazu Sushi On our continuing, and thankfully gastronomically expanding, sushi adventures Vida and I dropped by Kazu Sushi on Irving near 9th the other night. It was cold and since so few restaurants in San Francisco have heat we were happy to stand by some space heaters while we were waiting to be seated. There were no tables available but we were offered the sushi bar only to have the offer retracted after the mutterings of some Russian businessmen seated at the far end of an otherwise empty bar. A group of three people entangled at a two top were in the process of moving to a bigger table so it wasn’t too long before we were seated. Vida judges all sushi restaurants by whether or not they offer hamachi kama so I was thankful to see it on the menu. (Ironically she has recently burned out on it so it’s less of an issue now).

We started with the hamachi. It was very small, but good. We also ordered an avocado roll. We were pondering the mostly unintelligible specials board when I saw that they had fried calamari. I couldn’t resist the sad face Vida made when I said that we had ordered enough so against my better instincts I ordered it anyway. I was in the mood to branch out and so I ordered some steamed clams. When the clams arrived I was shocked at how small the serving was for the price but when we tasted the delicate broth graced with thin slices of lemon rind we were sold. It was so nice to see Vida appreciate the dish’s subtle flavors. The calamari, when it finally arrived, was unusual. It was cut in slices and scored in a crosshatch pattern rather than the more typical rings and although the tempura was delicate and nice the texture just was a little too intense for Vida. I enjoyed it though.

Probably the most amusing part of our meal was listening the group of nurses gathered for a holiday celebration at the table next to us. They were a motley crew with widely varying experiences of both the neighborhood and sushi. The first one to arrive at the restaurant was Danish and she was talking very loudly on her cell phone sipping a glass of white wine while she waited for her comrades. One of the ladies was late. She called and it turned out she was on the wrong side of Golden Gate Park and had no idea where 9th and Irving was until they talked her through it. They started drinking in a mild sort of way—and all were confused as to how to order as to satisfy their divergent tastes. I would have liked to listen to their conversation as their meal continued but Vida was so sleepy she was almost nodding off and we left.

Restaurant Total: 285  ¶ 11:00 AM

  Kui Shin Bo Nizario's Pizza Sanraku The other night Vida and I went all out and parked in the Kinokunia parking garage and went into one of the mostly deserted buildings of Japan town. There was nary a restaurant patron to be seen at any of the many restaurants we walked by. I hope these places have some lunch traffic because otherwise they are not long for this world. It’s difficult to pick a place when there is nobody in them but we walked into Kui Shin Bo and sat down. There was a defunct sushi bar with some various paper goods being stored in it. A very nice but slightly pathetic gentleman greeted us and gave us menus. We had made certain that they had “fish chicken” before we even bothered to go in. As we sat at our table I pondered the fly strip hanging from the ceiling and pondered escaping before it was too late.

Vida ordered a soda, which arrived warm. I didn’t bother with a beer but ordered tea. I read the specials board offering two selections for $7.50. I chose fried calamari and udon. The waiter made sure I understood that the udon didn’t come with anything on it. The calamari came and Vida quickly took the five or six pathetic pieces over. She liked it quite a bit. Her hamachi kama arrived as a full meal with a cute little salad, miso soup and rice. The tuna cheek was very small and I’m afraid not very fresh. I ate some to make sure I thought it wouldn’t poison Vida. We ordered some very tart ponzu sauce, which Vida was fortunately enthralled with –you couldn’t taste much on top of it. As we were eating our crazy meal Vida looked at me and said something along the lines of “you wacky, kooky mama, I love you”. I think it was really the craziness of the restaurant inspiring a sense of fun. My udon indeed came with nothing on it but it was tasty enough. I shared it with Vida in order to encourage her to break out of her “fish chicken” rut. We rushed home in time to Gleek out.

The next night was Hebrew school and I was feeling particularly uninspired for dinner since we had to drive M to her house and wouldn’t be home until almost 7:30. Victor and I had some time to kill so we went to Nizario’s Pizza on Geary. There is another location near our house that I’ve been tempted to go to but hadn’t been able to talk anybody into it. The one on Geary is even more of a hole in the wall than the one on 18th. Victor and I ordered a cheese slice for him and one to go for Vida. He loved sitting at the high chairs and nibbling his jumbo slice a can of warm soda sitting by his arm. While we were there one single guy after another came in for slices either to go or to eat at one of the lonely high tables. The guy across from us ordered Hawaiian pizza and then drizzled ranch dressing over it. When we picked Vida up I put the pizza box on her lap and declared dinner.

Our sushi odyssey continued at the Miyako Mall in Japan town. We went to Sanraku, another almost completely empty restaurant in the nearly deserted mall. They advertised house made udon and all you can drink happy hour sake. We were sadly too late for happy hour. The first thing I noticed other than we were the only people in the place were these huge wooden booths. They were big enough for six or more people to eat comfortably so we felt dwarfed when we crawled into one. There was another defunct sushi bar in the corner. They didn’t have “fish chicken” so I ordered fried chicken katsu and some udon for us to share. Vida is really starting to get into udon. There were a lot of rather obscure dishes listed on the wall such as deep fried lotus root. The food was quite delicious.

Winter soccer practices are now over so we don’t have to go to any more slightly sad Japanese restaurants. I’m hoping I can move Vida towards trying some different kinds of food. I’m thinking I’ll just surprise her for a while.

Restaurant Total: 284  ¶ 4:48 PM

  Jenny's Burger Isobune Hamano Sushi
The other morning as I was getting up I heard a little peep from Vida in her new bunk bed. A little quiet “mama?” I went in to see what she needed and she poked her head up and said with a beautiful smile that she had a dream she and I were together all the time. There are other mothers I know who have daughters the same age who don’t care quite as much about being with them so I feel very fortunate. As I pondered the one hundredth installment of Dinner with Vida I had a panicked moment. As much as I appreciate my current audience of five, I wonder if Vida is going to have an interest in reading what I have had to say about her and our lives together. I feel as if I am coming to a crossroads. As she gets older she is going to appreciate less and less my musings about her. Everyone likes to know about how they were as babies and children—nobody much wants to hear about their adolescence.

The other night after soccer we went over to 9th and Irving to Jenny’s Burgers. When we walked in I was overwhelmed by the smell of cleaning products. 9th Ave is a very well trafficked street since it is a major entrance into Golden Gate Park and as such it isn’t very clean. I attributed some of the need for disinfectant to be related to the restaurants proximity to a very dirty street. After the chemical smell of recently cleaned floors I was suddenly inundated with the eau de health food store wafting in from next door. There was no question our food was going to be taken to go.

Vida and Victor sat by the window as I went to order. I believe it was Jenny herself who took my order—two plain burgers and one cheeseburger with an order of fries, onion rings and two sodas. There was a condiment bar so the kids enjoyed cups of pickles while they waited. When the order was ready “Jenny” took our to go containers and set them up on the condiment bar so we could doctor our burgers—I was a little embarrassed to be caught with more pickles than was probably necessary. As I finished putting the ketchup on she helped put the burgers in a bag. We ate the onion rings in the car on the way home. The burgers were delicious but I wouldn’t go out of my way to go back.

A couple of days later it was the Thursday night food truck gathering again. Victor is now the one intent on going. After I picked him up the first thing he asked was whether it was a taco truck night. There was an event at Kezar so parking was at a premium. I made two passes without any luck and was about to head home until I heard wailing from the back seat. Vida was fine with going home and having toast and eggs and tried to calm Victor down. I decided to try one more time and finally found parking a little over a block away. We went to the same taco truck and ordered Vida’s carne asada taco and two quesadilla with beans for Vic. Although I thought I was clear we had some confusion and Vida’s tacos were handed down laden with tomatillo salsa and pickled vegetables. I handed them back and was chewed out by the owner when I explained what happened.

I don’t love these taco truck people so with Vida and Vic’s food in hand we went wandering over to Seoul on Wheels. I ordered a rib eye “sammy” which was chopped steak in a soft roll with a sweet chili sauce and mayonnaise. I couldn’t resist the fries lightly dusted with chili. I’m happy to say that Vida is developing a slight tolerance for spice and happily ate a few fries after blowing some of the chili off. My sandwich was quite delicious—so much so that I had to share bites with both kids until we got down to the chili sauce.

Vida’s soccer practice has been moved to Geary and Steiner so on Thursday nights we are back to the Tony’s Cable Car routine that we had last year after the Hurricanes practice. Both kids love this place, sitting in the window twisting around in the orange plastic chairs. It’s the only hamburger place where Vida actually wants to stay and eat. They have added curly fries to the menu, another big attraction. Being so close to Japan Town on Tuesday Vida and I went searching for a new sushi restaurant. Once again we were in a hurry to get home for Glee. Vida spotted a place that she wanted to go and I found parking in front. I was pretty sure we had been there before so I wasn’t thrilled but when we walked in to Isobune I realized this would be a new experience. It was a sushi boat restaurant without a full menu—rather touristy. We seemed confused so the waitress explained that it was just sushi and nothing else. Vida was a bit upset that she couldn’t get “fish chicken” but we decided to stay anyway. As the rolls went around we were not seeing much that looked appetizing to us. If the rolls were people they would be rolling their eyes as they passed by us over and over.

The waitress was particularly solicitous as we sat there without choosing anything. I finally took a wakame salad nigiri and ordered a couple of avocado rolls for Vida. At least she is old enough now that when the waitress set them down in front of her she didn’t throw a fit that they didn’t come around to her on the boat. Vida kept eyeing the salmon nigiri but I was wary since I had never seen her even try a raw fish nigiri before but she braved it and amazingly enough liked it. We are reaching new horizons in the world of sushi. Then crispy little bits of grilled salmon belly came around and we grabbed one. It was so delicious we got three more. Vida had her “fish chicken” fix and was ready to go. As we left the waitress grabbed my shoulder to get my attention and hand me a sucker “for my son”.

At the rate we are going there may be a time when we have tried every last sushi restaurant in San Francisco. Last night Vida and I again had an opportunity to have dinner together and surprisingly she wanted sushi. I wanted to stay in the neighborhood so I chose Hamano Sushi on Castro and 24th. Once again we found parking in front. When we walked in the hostess asked if we wanted a table or sushi bar. I didn’t really want the exposure of the sushi bar but Vida really wanted to sit there. I was trying to explain that usually you order from the sushi chef when you sit there and that with our limited interest in real sushi we should sit at a table but none of it got across. We sat at the sushi bar. I immediately ordered a cold sake and hamachi kama. It wasn’t very busy and since there was no competition for our seats at the sushi bar I relaxed a little.

I thought I would continue our nigiri experience and ordered another salmon nigiri for us. This one came with wasabi so Vida picked the fish off the top in order to avoid it. Out of indecision I ordered a roll that was way too complicated—a “sunset roll” with seared salmon, spicy tuna, come other fish I didn’t recognize, avocado and ponzu sauce. It was tasty enough and definitely a meal in itself. Vida was thrilled with her hamachi kama, which seemed to have a sauce identical to that served at Ebisu. When the avocado rolls arrived Vida and I reminisced about the times when she was served avocado rolls with the rice on the outside and had a fit—I used to have to specify seaweed on the outside of the roll in order to not create a major drama. Now that she is becoming a little more adventurous I would like to try a different kind of restaurant—maybe Indian, Thai noodles, more Korean restaurants, pretty much anything but sushi.

Restaurant Total: 281  ¶ 6:04 AM

  El Norteno Taco Truck
One thing that I didn’t really make clear about Best and Fresh Market is that the people working there were working very hard. They may not really know what they are doing but they are serving a niche market of bargain hunters common to the neighborhood. I imagine that a lot of elderly people with a limited income are rummaging through the damaged fruit and coming up with the best of the worst—and picking up a carton of oatmeal and some soft rolls while they are at it. At least the place made an effort unlike the market Vic and I visited yesterday.

On the way to Vida’s soccer practice we passed by the Thursday night Off The Grid food truck conversion on Stanyan at Waller. For several weeks I had been promising that we could go get tacos for dinner but I never have any cash. After gathering Victor at preschool I was in search of a place where I could use my ATM card and get some more money. We stopped on Geary at 11th at a place that didn’t even seem to have a name. It just said Liquor Deli Grocery—two of which were over statements. They had a limited selection of “Liquor”. Some sad bottles of hard liquor were behind the shabby counter. Bottles of wine were spread a foot apart on the nearly empty shelves. I never will understand why people think spreading things out is the best way to display a limited amount of product. One compact and attractive display will always beat miles of shelves with practically nothing on them. They should just hang some curtains and pretend the rest of the store isn’t there.

As we walked in I asked what the minimum for the using a debit card was and whether I could get cash. The guy behind the counter said he didn’t work there but was just filling in and didn’t know the answer to either question but didn’t think he could give cash back. I was out of luck. There was an identity theft machine outside that said ATM but I didn’t feel like risking my unique set of personal identifiers to a possibly rogue cash dispenser. Looking around I was even more incredulous than usual about the amount of dust gathering on the few grocery items on the shelves—more foil than the entire neighborhood could go through in a year. The almost empty ice cream cooler had a few frozen pizzas and some Haagen Daz cups. Victor picked out a strawberry one. I picked up the ubiquitous Smart Food for Vida in case she was too hungry for words when I picked her up. There was a decent selection of beer and I chose a 22 oz. Alaskan IPA. I paid what I thought was way too much for our purchases and we walked outside where I promptly dropped and shattered my beer. I picked up the plastic bag now dripping and full of broken glass and turned around to see some pedestrians and an entire bus of Geary Street riders observing my bad fortune.

I was furious with myself. I tried to get over it as we made our way back to Rossi Park. Victor and I come to Rossi Park twice a week and inevitably one of those two days Victor needs to go to the bathroom just as we start having fun. The official park bathroom is locked at 5:30, before we even arrive and the pool is open so infrequently that I don’t think anybody ever swims there, let alone uses the bathroom. We have to get back in the car and drive back to work. In this case I still needed cash so it wasn’t all for naught. I walked in to one of the employees sitting down at the register and checking out his smart phone, which didn’t put me in any better of a mood. But we used the bathroom; I bought a replacement beer and got another five bucks cash to add to the ten I thought I had in my pocket. We had just enough time to play at the park before practice was over.

When we got to the food trucks I was excited to see so much variety, coffee, cupcakes, curry, Korean and Mexican food were among the choices. Vida knew what she wanted, carne asada taco with nothing else. She is a huge fan of El Tonayense, a taco truck we go to periodically on Folsom. We went up to El Norteno and ordered Vida two tacos and a quesadilla with beans for Victor. I consented to a couple of Mexican Cokes and the guy said it was $12 bucks. I looked in my pocket and found that that I only had two fives instead of the $15 dollars I though I had. He let me slide with just the $10 but then I started thinking that 12 bucks was a lot of money for two tiny tiny tacos and a just as tiny quesadilla. I guess they think they have a captive audience but if I had paid $12 for that amount of food I would have felt ripped off. My gratitude at his kindness was tempered slightly by the sense that I was overpaying in the first place. Because I didn’t have enough money to buy anything for myself I went back to my store to buy a couple of dry farm tomatoes and a red onion to add to the fresh cranberry beans I had cooked earlier. The kids were still hungry so I had to make them another quesadilla when we got home. I thoroughly enjoyed a bean salad and the ciabatta bread I bought on impulse at the store. We watched some Fireman Sam together and went to bed.

Vic’s Snack—Haagen Daz strawberry ice cream cup—Vida’s snack—Smart Food popcorn—Beer of the day Alaskan Amber IPA 22 oz.

Restaurant Total: 266  ¶ 5:30 AM

  Takara All Season Sushi Soccer has proven to be the biggest parenting test I have had so far. When I happily encouraged Vida to play starting when she was three years old I never anticipated all that could come up around it. She wasn’t thrilled with it at first but a little crying and resistance in the tot soccer class didn’t really dampen my enthusiasm. A lot of times teams form from these early classes and take the kids up the ranks for several years. I didn’t know any kids with a team so in 1st grade signed her up with the JCC. She was so excited for the first practice with her team, the Blues, but had come down with the flu so we had to leave. When we returned she was just slightly less excited. There was so much she didn’t understand, the concept of practice for one. She loved the games but kept saying she didn’t have to go to practice because she already knew how to play soccer. The games were difficult to watch. She wasn’t the only one standing on the field twirling her hair but it didn’t inspire confidence in her future soccer possibilities.

I thought some of the kids on the Blues were mean and I didn’t like the snooty parents so we moved on to the Hurricanes with much nicer kids and parents from The Friends School. This was a great team and the coaches really connected with the kids. For some reason things started to click for Vida and she took off on the field becoming an amazing striker. She was suddenly thrilled with soccer when she realized she could score. The next year with coach Leah things didn’t start off well. We had the wrong location for the first game and the second game she was getting over the flu. She wasn’t seeing much playing time and was disappointed. I thought the coach didn’t have any confidence in her and being the over protective mom I let her know about it. Finally, during one great game Vida took off with the ball and scored in the last few seconds. The season had turned around and I could relax. The next season was the best yet for Vida as far as scoring goes but she still didn’t play as much as I thought she should. I didn’t know enough about soccer and because Vida was scoring a lot I thought that was all she needed to do. Her technique was to stand around and wait for the ball to come to her, turn and score.

Last winter during Futsal she was recruited for a new upper house team, the Lions. I was tortured trying whether to decide to take her off the Hurricanes in the recreational league and go to a more competitive league. The coach saw something in her but she proceeded to spend the rest of the indoor season making me question his judgment. She had a couple of good games where she was able to score but mostly wasn’t doing what he wanted and spending a lot of time on the sidelines. The spring was more of the same. She scored and did quite well a few of the games but she started taking a back seat to some of the other players.

This could be a classic situation of a parent reliving their lives through their kids except I really just wanted her outside getting exercise and have some fun. But now things are not so much fun. Vida just isn’t engaged and she is letting her teammates and opponents run circles around her. She has lost her way and no matter how many ways I try and talk about it—stern, sympathetic, rational, she resists any conversation. Last night she finally mentioned that she used to play hard and try to score and now she felt out of it but didn’t know why. We both ended up in tears trying to figure out how to talk and not talk about it at the same time. I guess this is going to be adolescence in a nutshell and I’m in training.

During Vida’s soccer practice on Tuesdays Victor has been going with B for a midweek play date. Vida and I are then free to go have dinner after practice. A few weeks ago we decided to try the new sushi place down the street from us, Takara, the former location of the beleaguered Mat Tante Sumi. They had a 15% off special that I was excited about taking advantage of. When we walked in we were unnaturally thrilled to see big T.V. screens turned to the baseball game. We could each see a different one from our seat, not to say that they really distracted us much from talking and having dinner. True to form Vida insisted on the same menu she always has when we go for sushi—avocado rolls, shrimp tempura and continuing her searching for the holy grail of hamachi kama. It never quite measures up to Ebisu standards because the sauces are always different and usually not as tasty. I tried to branch out a bit and ordered deep fried spicy tuna rolled in a shiso leaf. I also ordered a shrimp tempura roll. The waitress was helpful to the point of being overly ingratiating. She kept trying to point out other rolls that I might like and when I declined she kept hoping that I would try them “next visit”. It had been freezing at soccer so we drank lots of tea.

When we got home Vida switched on the T.V. to discover that Glee was on at 8 on Tuesday nights. She has been obsessively watching the first and some of the second season on DVD or the computer. She watches the episodes over and over is particularly enamored of the talented slightly villainous Rachel and her ode to Barbara Streisand persona and Sue, the character played by Jane Lynch . But there really isn’t anything she doesn’t like about it. After the travails of soccer it is a tonic to see her so excited about something.

Now that we know that Glee is on my efforts to go to dinner with Vida have been relegated to the chorus. Suddenly we are in a hurry to get home by eight when practice doesn’t end until seven. The week after going to Takara she was in a panic so I thought we would just go back to Takara and get a quick bite. Well, the folks at Takara had decided in the interim that Tuesdays would be a good day to take off. We were about to head home with no dinner when I remembered All Season Sushi down on Castro Street. There is no reason in hell that I would have chosen to go to what I think of as a sad sack Sushi place which takes a back seat to its more popular Chinese fast food cousin that shares its space. I have never seen anybody in this restaurant. When we walked in the smell of the Chinese food was almost overwhelming. I was certain I wouldn’t have any taste buds left when I actually got my food. Although there was, as I suspected, nobody else in the place there was an entire wall of pictures of customers. Maybe they took a picture each time they got a customer in order to make it look like they had lots of fans. But then again, the place has been there for years, so maybe they do have a following.

The guys who worked in the restaurant were very happy to see us, apparently, and very friendly. We were pleased to see complimentary miso soup arrive at our table. I was actually a little scared to eat anything there but I braved it and ordered a shrimp tempura roll. Vida ordered all of her usual items. We listened to the fairly loud dance music and happily ate our surprisingly decent food. Our server came over and gave Vida a Shirley Temple in a champagne glass which strangely had “Guadalupe 25th Anniversary” written on it. It made her night. We quickly chowed down and made it home in time to see Kurt belt John Mellencamp’s Pink House’s. But nothing compared to his rendition of “Rose’s Turn” from Gypsy. Vida was very surprised that I knew the words. Parts of the famous anthem to motherhood never rang so true for me.

Mama's talkin' loud.
Mama's doin' fine.
Mama's gettin' hot.
Mama's goin' stong.
Mama's movin' on.
Mama's all alone.
Mama doesn't care.
Mama's lettin' loose.
Mama's got the stuff.
Mama's lettin' go.
Mama?
Mama's got the stuff.
Mama's gotta move.
Mama's gotta go.
Mama? Mama?
Mama's gotta let go.


I have years and years before the rest of the song comes true, as I am sure it will, when Vida hits her stride and finds the thing she truly loves.


Here she is, boys!
Here she is, world!
Here's Vida!


Restaurant Total: 275  ¶ 4:01 PM

  Yan Yan Seafood
My vision of a relaxing Saturday morning evaporated when I woke up yesterday realizing that I was sleeping in a puddle. Victor had a very rare accident. Usually I don’t think of it as a big deal but in this case every single one of our blankets was involved including the dry clean only bedspread. I already had nearly 50 pounds of laundry that had been languishing in the back in the car for a month and a half so adding it all together I knew we had a project ahead of us.

I was very cranky leaving the house after loading two kids and four more bags of laundry into the car. I wasn’t sure where we were going to do laundry but I had a enough experience dragging bags of laundry down the street to know that parking in front was non-negotiable. I thought maybe Wash Quarters down the street from work would be good if I strategically used the 10 minute parking zone in front but it was not available when we drove by. I kept driving down Irving Street looking for Laundromats until we were practically at the ocean. The broken plastic splash guard underneath the car’s bumper had fallen down and was scrapping the ground mortifying Vida who wanted to hide as people started to wave and stare. I stopped, fixed the car and turned around and started down Judah Street. Finally At 28th and Judah there was a Laundromat with a parking space. I was thrilled but Vida was horrified with my choice and begged me to keep driving. I stood my ground and we unloaded into a spare but clean Laundromat. I got my first $20 in quarters and the kids started to get into a better mood loading the machines and putting the quarters in. We had so many loads that the first ones were almost done washing by the time we finished putting all the laundry in. When Vida declared that “doing laundry was fun” I cheered up immediately and was grateful for her positive attitude. Except for some running around and craziness on Vic’s part things were looking up.

I was about to use our 10th washer, a triple loader when my last $10 bill got stuck in the changer. We were in the middle of nowhere so finding an ATM would require driving and losing the parking place. I called the “emergency number” and spoke to the owner who fortunately was coming into town from the East Bay and would be there relatively soon. While we were waiting we walked across the street the Judah Mini Market. They weren’t kidding about the “mini” part, the ceilings were so low it felt like we were in a cellar. Just beyond the entrance there was a shelf of “sale” books for $1.00. A basic merchandising precept is to put the items you want to sell a lot of in a central location. The “book sale” pretty much said it all. We followed the Heinken footsteps down the narrow aisle past partially stocked shelves filled mostly with soup and salsa and back to the coolers. I chose a Miller High Life in a 12 oz can even though it was just after noon and I got the discrete brown paper bag to go with it. Vida picked out an Orangina in a can. As we went around to the front I got a better look at a small counter near the front where they had a coffee station of sorts set up and a small hot plate where the women working there were making some ramen for lunch. We chose some Smartfood cheese popcorn and Vida’s new favorite snack, some sunflower seeds.

We went back to the laundry and the kids relaxed on a bench eating their snacks while I started folding. After a few minutes they went to go sit in the car. As I was folding I could see Victor climbing from the front to back seat. For some reason he had stripped down to his underwear. Vida found a old book in the trunk and had the seat in full recline while she read also in her underwear. When I went to check on them Vic said he had to go to the bathroom so we started walking down the block looking for one. A sad café down the block said they didn’t have one so we ended up in Yan Yan Seafood. I didn’t think we could just ask to use the bathroom and the kids were hungry anyway so we decided to stay for lunch. Vida was anxious to see if they had pepper salt squid. We were the only non-Asian people in the restaurant. The various menu items were hanging from cards on the walls—some of them had English translations but most didn’t, certain to deter the uninitiated from ordering some of the more challenging items they served.

I ordered Victor some chicken fried rice. It was just right, no weird frozen vegetables, nice pieces of chicken and not swimming in soy. Vida’s squid on the other hand came covered in red pepper flakes and slices of jalapeno. I have ordered pepper salt squid many times before and never seen this style before. Vida was surprisingly calm as I fished out pieces that had the least amount spice. I on the other hand was very excited and although I don’t usually eat lunch I couldn’t resist the squid pieces with the slices of jalapeno. Our waitress was hilarious. She made faces and chatted with Victor and he gave her a few of his sillier looks. She brought back a couple of jello like cups for both kids as a treat. Taking our substantial leftovers we went back to the laundry to fold the last few loads.

Restaurant Total: 273

Vic’s Snack—Smartfood Vida’s Snack—Orangina and Sunflower Seeds—Beer of the Day 12 oz Miller High Life Can

(This post was written for both Dinner With Vida and Vic’s Market)  ¶ 3:52 PM

  Koo Vida and I started our afternoon at the dentist. Happily she has been doing a fantastic job taking care of her teeth—or alternately I have been doing a great job of harassing her into brushing well. I love our children’s dentist, Dr. David—neither Vida or Victor has been traumatized by a dental visit. I’m the only one that is nervous since my visits to the dentist were never pleasant. Their more modern approach is allow the parents into the room with kids—rather than sit in the waiting room listening to them scream. Thankfully neither of my kids will likely require Valium before a dental visit as I did. Vida only has one more baby tooth to lose and Dr. David joked that she was going to have to get a job since the tooth fairy wouldn’t be coming by anymore. Vida has been losing so many teeth lately so she shared with him the amount of money she had gotten for each tooth and our favorite story of the L.A. tooth fairy who, in typical L.A. style, left $20 instead of the usual $5.

Vida and I had planned to go out to dinner together. After dropping Victor off at B’s we made our way across town yet again to Koo on 5th and Irving. I had read that they do a great job of hamachi kama or “fish chicken” as Vida still likes to call it. They also had some happy hour specials that sounded good. Vida was very excited to see the “Zagat Rated” sign in the window and the fancy atmosphere with lots of dark wood and orchids. Vida ordered her usual shrimp tempura, avocado roll and hamachi kama. I ordered a seaweed salad for us to share, a vegetable tempura roll in a soybean wrapper and a tempura hamachi roll. As we started to get our food frantic people intent on happy hour prices started to pour in. With more of an audience I attempted to keep Vida from picking up seaweed salad or sucking up soy sauce with her fingers—its been an ongoing battle to instill table manners into her. I got her to put her napkin on her lap only after pointing out the many other people who had done the same. She complained that it made her feel like she had a skirt on.

We ate and chatted and the conversation went back the dentist who also told us that her teeth were looking pretty good and that she probably would not need braces if all went well with the new teeth coming in. At that point Vida looked me in the eye and asked if there really was a tooth fairy—before I could answer she said that she knew, of course, that there weren’t any leprechauns that they were just little green men. Although I wanted to continue to assert the existence of the tooth fairy my face gave it away. She saw just the slightest uncomfortable smirk and she answered her own question. I have felt a little awkward lately because I felt like most of her friends knew and that it would soon be embarrassing if she continued defending the ruse. It had already come up last year at school with many kids arguing against the existence of the tooth fairy and by extension Santa Claus. She asked me to explicitly say whether I was the tooth fairy and whether there was a Santa Claus when I hesitated she told me not to worry that it wouldn’t ruin her childhood. Vida also brought rainbows into it acknowledging that one could not find the beginning or end of them.

She started to get kiddy with the excitement of the knowledge. She announced that now that she wasn’t a kid any more and that she couldn’t wait to blow it for any other believing children at school. I tried to calm her down and realize that it wouldn’t be nice to ruin it for smaller children, including her brother. With that last baby tooth ready to come out I guess she was ready to know. I’m certain that I need a break from being the tooth fairy. The tooth fairy racket is a very stressful operation. Teeth come out unexpectedly and I am rarely prepared. Once didn’t have any cash and I had to borrow some from a neighbor, and one time from B. Usually I just recycled Vida’s money from her moneybox, which strangely she seemed aware of. I did not go so far as to admit that. While on vacation in L.A. I just didn’t have any bills smaller than a $20. At one point the tooth fairy was handing out actual presents instead of money to some of her friends to I tried to prepare for that once but it was just required too much planning. And then there was remembering to get the money under the pillow, many times I would wake up in a panic having forgotten but only once did I actually forget. Happily she didn’t seem to remember that happening.

As we walked out of the restaurant Vida turned to me and asked if the tooth fairy wasn’t real whether there was any magic in the world at all. I could with an entirely straight face assure her that there was.

Restaurant Total: 272  ¶ 5:33 AM

  Super Duper Burger Many weeks ago after a torturous piano practice session I took a “no yelling” pledge realizing that I wasn’t modeling the behavior I wanted from Vida. I’m no mommy dearest but I do get very upset when Vida takes her frustration out on me. Sometimes she thinks I’m mad at her when she isn’t playing something correctly and no matter what I say to contradict that she believes it anyway. So I’ve been taking the calm but firm talking approach and it doesn’t work either. I realized that whenever I say something that she doesn’t want to hear she considers it “yelling”. She thinks my calm voice is “mean.” I’m still not going to yell but it really hasn’t much so far except make me feel insane. At least I will have my pride.

Last Friday night was our first “girls night out.” I don’t think just Vida and I have gone out together just the two of us since Victor was born. Vida was fairly excited—her idea of a good time is just hanging out at home together but I really wanted to do something different. I thought that the new burger place in the Castro, Super Duper Burger, would be a fun, casual spot for us to try. Although the place is very informal it is definitely high concept. The menu is short and focused with only three or four options including one veggie choice. There were two beers on tap, amber and pilsner, and a choice of wine, red or white, whatever your pleasure. The seating was a variety of high tables with stools and small tables. As soon as we walked in Vida asked if we could take it to go. I thought that if I could manage to drink a beer while waiting for our food I would be happy to take the food home.

I ordered a plain burger for Vida and the house burger for myself with cheese and all the usual fixings along with fries, a soda, and a Racer Five ale. We helped ourselves to house made dill pickle quarters sitting in big jars by the condiment area and sat down to eat them. I happily drank my beer and observed the usual mixed crowd of neighborhood folk, families and straight up crazy people. There was an over eager manager guy running around talking to people. When our food was ready they called my name and he directed us to where we could put our ketchup into biodegradable containers. Everything in fact involved in packaging our burger to go was biodegradable. This isn’t an inexpensive option for restaurants but it’s the law and I was glad they were positive about complying.

Vida and I went home and settled down in front of some old episodes of the Electric Company. HEY YOU GUYS!!!! We had a great time.

Restaurant Total: 271  ¶ 6:41 AM

  Spork PI Wei Lee Chinese Food and Dougnuts The other day I was reading on Facebook about how my friend B takes her daughter out for dinner, just the two of them, every other week. With a new baby and a Stepbrother and Stepsister I’m sure P needs every moment she gets with her mother. Vida really needs that kind of time too. In fact she is constantly asking for time together when Victor is not around—she can’t wait until Victor’s first sleep over at Bob’s house. No matter how much effort I put into making time for her it is never enough. She looks forward, never back, so there is no appreciating past time together. I’m only as good as the moment.

A couple of weeks ago I took a night for myself and B and I went to Spork. We were considering PI, a pizza place near Synergy but B wanted to save that to experience with her daughter who is not so adventurous when it comes to food. Spork was named for the spoon-fork combination utensil made famous by KFC and is located in a redesigned former KFC restaurant. I loved the fact that they kept some of the original fixtures including a huge industrial hood and made them part of the new décor. The restaurant is small so I was grateful when we were moved, from a table where I could touch elbows with the guy next to me, to a lovely two top by the window. We had deviled egg on Acme garlic croutons, a lovely salad and shared a vegetable fricassee. We spent most of the night talking about our kids of course and I suggested that we take our two girls to PI the following week. They are lucky we don’t take them to horrible places like KFC. Although we have had their food before Vida doesn’t have the horrible taste of their mashed potatoes and coleslaw seared into her brain for eternity.

PI is located in the spot formerly held by the Thai restaurant Suriya. It has a nice long wooden bar and some informal tables along the sides of the restaurant. They have a great beer selection and I was looking forward to lingering over one before rushing into dinner. Luckily the girls were doing pretty well amusing each other while we took our time ordering. One of the best things about PI is that you can customize individual slices of pizza. They didn’t have a Margarita pizza on the menu but were nice enough to toss a couple of basil leaves on a slice for Vida. I ordered a slice with pepperoni and sausage. Both girls ordered half portions of spaghetti, one with meatballs for Vida and one without for P who is vegetarian like her mother. We also ordered a Caesar salad to share. B ordered a white pizza for herself.

We had just ordered dessert when my eye caught the couple seated next to us. I recognized the man as a Synergy parent. He was talking animatedly to the woman across from him while he deftly manipulated some tiny foam balls in his hand. They were multiplying rapidly when I had Vida and P look over. They stared in amazement as the balls went from one to three in his hand. Vida loves magic and she instantly asked if he could show her how to do the trick. He said he had spent a year mastering it and that if she wanted to learn magic she should aim for an easier trick. He put a ball in her hand and when she opened it up six or seven balls piled out. They were hysterical with excitement as he did it several more times. We had dessert advertised as rainbow cookies, that was really brightly colored pieces of cake. Just before we got up to leave the magician pulled out a card trick involving his business card. He gave them each a set of the cards and showed them how to do three card monty. The girls left happy and excited.

Vida had her first summer soccer practice the other night at the Beach Chalet fields. I dropped her off and spent a luxurious hour sitting the car playing on the computer and listening to NPR instead of dance music. I had taken her friend B to practice as well and she was supposed to be coming back for dinner. I was wracking my brain trying to come up with dinner ideas as I went to pick Victor up. I had in mind to stop and get fried rice or something from one of the Clement Street take out dives. We had been to Good Luck Dim Sum near 10th and Clement and it was fantastic—there is always a line out the door for the steamed and baked buns, sesame cakes and other goodies they impatiently have to explain to you. Alas, they are only open during the day and I ended up stopping at Wei Lee Chinese Food and Doughnuts. I walked in to order something from the hot food bar distracting Victor from the doughnut end of the restaurant. It was just 6 but it looked like they were already on the verge of shutting down. Most of the steam table was empty. There was some fried rice with what looked like diced barbeque pork, some chicken dyed orange and lots of peas and carrots, it was getting a little crispy around the edges but I thought what the heck how bad could it be. Vic particular is not fussy when it comes to fried rice. The woman serving us was not tolerant of my ignorance so it’s a good thing they didn’t have more to choose from. The only information I could get out her was the kind of meat in each dish. I also picked out some chow fun, also a color not in the Crayola pantheon with chicken and some chicken skewers. For a couple of skewers and a pint each of the noodles and rice my total was eight bucks.

Victor and drove back to the field where it was so windy I was afraid to take Vic out in case he blew over. I enticed him to stay in the car with a bowl, just happened to have an extra one in the car, of fried rice and noodles. He ate the first round and asked for more most of the way through the second serving he decided he didn’t like any of it. When we got back in the car Vida saw the bowl of noodles and I thought I might get her to eat the food if I made it informal enough and encouraged her to try a bite. She said it was “pretty good”. As it turned out B was picked up just before we went into the house for dinner. I made Vida a plate of everything and held my breath while she took a few bites. I didn’t hear any complaining right away but about halfway through the plate she said she didn’t like any of it. I didn’t really blame her, it was some pretty mediocre food, but both of them had enough to call dinner and I was off the hook for the rest of the night.

Restaurant Total: 270  ¶ 4:05 PM

  Village Pizza
When Vida started taking piano lessons I had my mom send me some old piano books that were lying around her house. Among the selection was an old book of Jewish songs and prayers for young pianists. I was fooling around in it playing one of my favorites, Hatikvah, the Israeli national anthem, and Vida started to pick it up too. Just before we went to Seattle for Passover in April Vida informed me that she was going to accompany her Hebrew school class on the piano as they sang Hatikvah for their annual songfest or Zimria.

I was honestly horrified that she had volunteered herself to play a song publically that she had just started to learn. I had a bad experience trying to accompany my Campfire Girl troop when I was a few years older than Vida and I couldn’t get the image of myself running back to my mom in the audience in tears because I had failed. Truthfully I failed because I didn’t practice enough—I think kids think things will work out if they simply will it to happen. I felt strongly that I was the one responsible for helping Vida succeed and I was determined to do everything in my power to make sure she did. There was something amazing in Vida’s confidence that she wanted do this even though she has only been playing the piano for a little over six months. I didn’t want anything to happen that would damage that optimistic attitude.

We took the piece to Vida’s teacher and she helped us figure out what we need to do to get it into shape—also noting that we had to make sure that they were going to sing it in the same key that she was playing it. Vida took the book to the music director at Hebrew school and she assured me that “it was fine” how she was playing it.

She had the first page down pretty well. When we were in Seattle she entertained us with it during Passover. The second page was more difficult than anything else she had played. There were lots of places where she would miss notes or slow down too much. I had the sense of the event being a ways off so when she let me know that she only had two weeks left to practice after we got back from Seattle I tried not to panic. They had a rehearsal the week before and Vida says she got “butterflies” and didn’t play as well as she thought she could. Even a few days before the performance I felt that the piece wasn’t in good enough shape but we kept plugging along until we knew that she could play it without mistakes even if it wasn’t great every time.

The day of the performance her group was the very last one to go on stage. When she went to the piano I saw that there was no place for her music in front of her but that it was perched on a music stand to her left—essentially she had to play it from memory. She played it perfectly. Not one missed note. Her class gave the most heartfelt performance of the afternoon. I was unbelievably proud, just a little teary, and incredibly relieved. She got a big “high five” from the music director who I’m pretty sure wasn’t convinced it was going to go well. It was only after the performance that he told us that he had the kids change key so that Vida didn’t have to transpose the music.

B and R and Rara came to see the performance but I left Victor at Muffinville since he can’t stand it when Vida is up on stage and he isn’t allowed to go up there with her. Afterwards we made a plan to go to Village Pizza for dinner. I’ve driven past this pizza place on Arguello and Clement countless times but never stopped. On this evening it just seemed like a perfect spot since it was walking distance from the synagogue. While I was gone to pick up Victor they placed the order. Vida was thrilled to get her favorite “Margarita” pizza. It’s usually not a good idea to order a pizza requiring the freshest of ingredients, in this case basil, at a typical pizza joint. I was not surprised when it came with some pale sliced tomato as well as way too much chopped basil but Vida didn’t mind at all. They ordered an antipasto salad, typical but delicious with the usual sliced meats, pale tomato, cucumber and some atypical feta cheese. Another pizza with cheese was ordered for everyone else. I wasn’t fast enough to get much of the food but I enjoyed my Peroni and watching a bit of the Sharks game on the TV perched above our heads. The atmosphere there was very much old school pizza joint—even if there weren’t fake grape vines crawling along the woodwork I imagined them still.

I spent the entire meal breathing one big sigh of relief. Now we prepare for the spring recital . . .

Restaurant Total: 265  ¶ 6:21 PM

  The Yellow Submarine

Driving down Irving Street after soccer I couldn’t help but be attracted to The Yellow Submarine Est. 1971 with its bright hand painted sign. Submarine sandwiches are our favorite easy dinner option especially now that Victor can more or less eat them. There is no guilt about taking it to go and missing out on the ambiance of a nice restaurant—especially if it’s the Yellow Submarine. Irving Street is very busy so parking has deterred me many times from stopping. On a Friday night a few weeks ago I was determined to go home with dinner in hand in time for Judge Judy.

My whole evening in fact revolves around my favorite TV judge. I almost have the kids trained to leave me alone for just that 30 minutes, ok not really, I have to do a significant amount of playing the poor mama who has been working and schlepping all day card. Years ago I was similarly obsessed with Perry Mason. I worked nights and went to school so my days would be scheduled around watching Perry Mason at 10 and again at noon all while getting some crocheting in. As a portrayal of criminals and the legal system Perry Mason is pure fantasy and Judge Judy isn’t that far behind in its portrayal of small claims court. One definition of fantasy is “the creation of exaggerated mental images in response to an ungratified need”. On Judge Judy when you do the wrong thing you always pay for it-you lie, you lose, you do something stupid and you look like an idiot. I think I project my powerlessness over the small injustices of life on Judy, so when she speaks, she speaks for me.

The Yellow Submarine looks like it has been in business since 1971—an original hand painted menu with painted examples of the offerings still holds its charm reflecting the 1000% rise in prices over almost 40 years by not very neatly repainting the new prices. They unfortunately don’t offer a few of the things they used to, like carrot cake and chocolate chip cookies but they do offer oily French fries made from slabs of potato and fried in not quite hot enough oil. If they took the retro thing seriously they wouldn’t cross the carrot cake off the menu but bring it back—even if it no longer cost 65 cents.

The seating area is really just a place to sit and wait for your sandwiches. In two visits I never saw anybody eating there. It’s yellow, it’s grimy and the dour woman making the sandwiches doesn’t help the atmosphere either. The kitchen area is tiny—no fancy bun toasting ovens like at Subway—just some baking sheets and an old pizza oven.

One of the banes of my existence is sandwich makers who don’t listen carefully and make you the sandwich you wanted—this can of course be tragic for kids. Luckily they made Vida and Victor’s sandwich perfectly, ham, turkey, lettuce, tomato and nothing else. I had an Italian combo without mustard—the first time we went they made it perfectly but the second time I had to live with a little mustard flavor peaking out. As usual I was starving by the time I was getting the sandwiches—I ordered two larges for Vida and I (they are at least 18 inches long) and a small for Victor. Vida looked at me like I was crazy as they were packing it all up . . . “two larges”? A great thing about these sandwiches is that they hold up really well. We of course couldn’t finish them that night but they made a great lunch the next day.

Restaurant Total: 266

  ¶ 6:14 AM

  BB Bob's We have been watching a new restaurant, BB Bob’s, go in on California Street for many months. We were excited because it is just blocks from Muffinville and it advertised steaks, hamburgers and breakfast served all day. It has an appealingly kitschy look, like a diner that had been a fixture of a neighborhood for years. After it opened less than two months ago I was immediately concerned because there was never anybody in there when we drove by in the evenings. Last night Vida and I couldn’t agree on dinner. I was offering burritos and she wanted latkes of all things. When she suggested BB Bob’s I was inwardly resistant but it seemed like it was the better option since getting home at 6:30 without dinner in the works was a recipe for disaster.

We walked in to a completely empty restaurant. The waitress greeted us and then strangely enough immediately asked if we wanted to watch T.V. She went to get the control before we could really answer. Maybe she just saw Vida’s eyes light up at the idea of eating dinner in a restaurant while watching the Disney Channel. It was slightly stressful since she didn’t appear to know how to work the T.V. and we were left with the remote and program listing trying to figure it out ourselves—I was definitely torn since going to a restaurant is sometimes the only time we have to eat and look at each other given our crazy meal situation on busy evenings. But, I let it go since Victor was quite enough to handle. He wouldn’t eat the Pirates Booty we brought to bribe him into cooperation and was insisting instead on holding on to his butter knife and pretending to cut.

The décor seemed to reflect a strong aesthetic affinity with Hamburger Haven without any of the nostalgic touches. There was a bar with stock restaurant supply wooden stools and non-descript wooden tables and chairs. There were Ravenswood wine bottles displayed on a table in the entryway and neon beer signs, some lit and some not. The waitress asked if we wanted anything to drink and I assumed that they actually had alcohol given all the paraphernalia but alas they didn’t have their license yet. I ordered a diet coke. I had a strong sense that we were in trouble as far as the food was concerned when I saw a jumbo jar of Coffee mate and Folgers coffee. I was actually a little incredulous that I would be seeing these things in a brand new restaurant in San Francisco. It’s as if the owners had never left the Richmond and fog had seeped into their brains permanently addling them to the passage of time and San Francisco as one of the restaurant capitols of the world.

I was starting to panic a little while reading the specials board. They advertised a “stuffed chicken” but they didn’t say with what, beef stew over rice and a Turkey Reuben Sandwich. The pressure was on to order since Vic had progressed to using the knives as drumsticks so I ordered Vida a rib eye and Victor some silver dollar pancakes. I inexplicably ordered the Reuben sandwich for myself since I don’t even like Reuben sandwiches and the menu had dozens of other choices. We drank our sodas, watched some Phineas and Ferb and waited for our food. Our waitress was gone so long I thought she had gone back to cook the food herself but she reappeared to talk to us. The first thing she asked was whether I had any other children and when I said no she stated as point of fact that I had to have another. I was confused until later in the evening when it was apparent that she thought Victor was a girl. When she found out he wasn’t she said it was fine that I had just two because a boy and a girl was the character for perfection in the Chinese language. Whew.

Vida was offered soup or salad with her dinner and she chose salad. It was a “mesclun” mix with a glop of Caesar dressing and a few red kidney beans. When the rest of our food came it was just as I suspected. Vida’s steak was thin and the plate came with some stock carrot, cauliflower and broccoli mixture. The French fries no matter what their origin were tasty enough. Vic’s pancakes tasted just like I-Hop and my sandwich was one of the tiniest things I’ve ever been served in a restaurant. Oftentimes restaurants with mediocre food will make up for it in volume but not in this case. It was edible but not by much. Vida however was in heaven with her well done steak. It put her in such a good mood she even ate some broccoli. Vic loved his pancakes so I just went with the happy flow and envisioned a cold beer and Judge Judy when I got home.

Lately I have been noticing that restaurants that I have wanted to try have gone out of business before I could get there. I hope that BB Bob’s finds a neighborhood following despite its less than stellar food but I have a feeling that it won’t last long.

Restaurant Total: 265  ¶ 4:06 PM

 

In September when Vida started piano lessons I had no idea how it would work out. I imagined myself bribing her to practice or showing up to lessons unpracticed—oh wait that was me . . .Vida on the other hand (no pun intended) has taken to the piano with a vengeance. It’s still a struggle since she is my daughter after all and wants perfection immediately, preferably without working very hard at it. I always thought she was musical but I couldn’t imagine trying to get her to pay attention to an instrument until recently. In the first weeks she diligently practiced Twinkle Twinkle with variations with one hand and then took on Lightly Row. Everything she learns seems to have the same pattern—it seems impossible and there is a considerable amount of crying in frustration and then she takes off and it seems she has always known how to play it.

After just a couple of months it was time for her for her first recital—it seemed completely foreign to me that she just accepted the idea of playing in public without any hesitation. She was completely confident in her Lightly Row with two hands, her teacher showed her the bowing protocol and she was ready to go. I found out later that she had a completely different vision of the recital. When we got to the small recital hall at San Francisco State she started to get a bit nervous. She had thought the recital was at her teacher’s house and had not realized there would be so many people. There were 20 kids in the recital along with their families. My brave girl got up and played her piece flawlessly and with great composure.

Afterward she of course wanted to hang out with Rara—they were going out to lunch and I would have been happy to go home by myself after all that stress but Vida asked me to come with them. Even though I hate sitting down to lunch I could not turn down the request. We went to Kamakura which was close by in the little shopping area on Ocean Ave. Vida wanted “fish chicken” also known as a salmon or tuna cheek along with her usual miso soup avocado roll and shrimp tempura. Vida likes it when I tell the story of how it came to be called “fish chicken”—basically just a maternal ruse to get her to eat fish. Rara and S both had bento boxes and I tagged along with a bowl of rice and whatever morsel of “fish chicken” I could snag from Vida.

Thinking about the first few months of piano got me musing on her success in soccer. When I started Vida on soccer I was sure she would be good at it— but it wasn’t easy to keep her going. She didn’t cry at her little tot soccer classes like some kids but she often didn’t really want to join in. Once she got going she had a good time and that’s pretty much how it still is. On her first soccer team the JCCSF Blues she played in practice but during the games she would stand and twirl her braids lucky to touch the ball once or twice during the entire game—when she moved on to the Hurricanes some magical thing happened. There was a game where everything seemed to click for her and she just kept scoring. Once she realized that she could score and how great it was she suddenly was into it. It was still up and down after that over the past three years—I could go on and on like the over protective mother that I am—but finally she is determined to be a soccer player. Two years ago she was having a hard season—we missed the first game because I had the wrong field, she had the flu another game and then the coach seemed to barely play her and never as a starter. I tried to let the coach know as gently as I could that Vida could really play if she gave her a chance and then finally after a scoreless game Vida took the ball and scored in the last 15 seconds. It was a tremendous feeling that she has been fortunate enough to replicate many times since—what an amazing thing, to win a game for your team and to do it over and over. Vida’s early success at the piano and her persistence in soccer has made me so proud. I never had that feeling of accomplishment when I was her age and I hope it empowers her in ways that helps her to thrive when she is older.

Sometimes I feel a little guilty that Vida has so many after school activities—not only does she do soccer and basketball and piano but she also has Hebrew School to put up with. On some of those late nights I try to make dinner happen as quickly as possible. Driving Victor back and forth from Muffinville I came across a new hamburger place, Uncle Boys on Balboa and 4^th. I was on a tight time frame to get us burgers and rush to the pick up at the synagogue. There were a couple of people ahead of us but I didn’t start to get nervous until I saw a tiny home pancake grill being used to toast the buns. The guy working the counter was friendly and efficient but his co-worker at the grill needed to repeat the details of every burger variation either to the cashier or the customer multiple times as he assembled them. Our burgers should have been easy—two burgers with ketchup—one with pickles and a regular burger with everything but I had to watch him like a hawk. I got a soda to keep Victor occupied while we waited—there were tubs of freshly cut fries next to the tables which Victor was very interested in and I had to wrestle him away from them every couple of minutes. Finally our burgers where making it into some to go containers—the French fries were taking forever to cook but made it into another to go box after being shaken with a salty peppery spice mixture. They were very nice but I had to run out of there. When we got to the car, Victor insisted on having his burger immediately and I had never seen him eat something so fast—he was almost done by the time we got Vida only blocks away. Vida was mad that her pickles were inside the burger instead of on the side even though I tried to explain that the guy making the burgers was directionally impaired. The fries had gotten sweaty inside the box—unlike Big Mouth were they put them in a brown bag—but were other wise tasty.

I would hit Uncle Boy’s again but maybe after they have ironed out some of the production kinks. They had some Pilipino items and hot link sandwiches that would be fun to try. Given its convenience it will probably be sooner rather than later.

Restaurant Total: 264

  ¶ 4:21 PM

  Hahn's Hibachi AK Natural Meat Subs On Monday night we were driving home down 24th Street and Vida announced that she was in the mood to go out for dinner. This is a radical change for Vida known to scream, “I don’t want to go out for dinner” at the mere mention of the possibility. Maybe it was the canned black beans and sour cream I was offering her for dinner that changed her attitude. There were a number of restaurant possibilities in the area but when I mentioned Hahn’s Hibachi and explained that it was a Korean barbeque restaurant she instantly agreed.

I had been to Hahn’s many times before but never actually eaten there. When I worked on 24th street we had an endless amount of weekly manager’s meetings guaranteed to make me lose my appetite. Ready for my nap instead of lunch I just got a glass of water and tried not to look glassy eyed. Now that we have been sold and we only get taken out for meals by the employee-contracting agency we use the meals are much better and less stressful. A few weeks ago we went to Houston’s near the Embarcadero. I had only a serviceable French dip sandwich served lukewarm in the nicely appointed but drafty corporate restaurant. But the spinach artichoke dip served with tortilla chips was worth the price of admission. Drinking two fisted which also helped. This was a step up from the first meals they took us to at The Cheesecake Factory. After trying to order the most sane items from an insane menu we finally got up the nerve to tell them we didn’t want to go there any more. I kept ordering angel hair pasta with tomato sauce to escape other generous and caloric meals.

I have to keep these events moving quickly so I was happy when Vida noticed a steak and shrimp tempura special advertised in the window (not very Korean more mass market I thought to myself). I quickly decided on the grilled steak and chicken combo. Victor of course was starting to melt down and no amount of water with lemon was going to stave it off. He wanted “nut” a.k.a. “milky” and there was nothing I wanted to do less than nurse a 2½ year old in a restaurant. But we had already ordered and the screaming was getting louder and it was that or walk out. Soon he was happy and back to the water and the cute plastic monkey plate they gave him to eat off it. It was a sign of Vida’s maturity that she didn’t get a monkey plate too--although she really wanted one. Nobody even asked for soda . . .

When our meals came it was a revelation. There was spicy pickled cabbage on the plate that I had to warn Vida about but she just pushed it aside. She picked up her own steak knife and started cutting up her own food. There were tempura shrimp but also tempura vegetables that she wasn’t excited about so I took those off her hands. I had never experienced her so independent in a restaurant before. I know the steak was a little tough and hard to cut and there was a strange gravy on the top but she just went with it. My steak was thinner and tenderer so I donated to her cause. The beef was delicious and the chicken tasted nicely of the grill but the slightly cornstarch thickened sauces were not too appealing to me. I would have liked to linger over the meal and eat the rice and pickles but it wasn’t meant to be—we were out of there.

Efficiency is the name of the game most nights. The week before I was driving Vida out to her last soccer practice and noticed AK Natural Meat Subs on Clement Street near 25tth Ave. Since Vida loves submarine sandwiches I thought this would be perfect—we would get home at 7 p.m. with a meal in our hands instead of frantically trying to pull something together. I dropped her off at the field and went back. The meat counter was trying hard to be the real deal but there just wasn’t enough stock to make it look like people actually shopped there. The meat guy stood behind the counter looking bored but the woman making sandwiches was very busy. I ordered Vida a ham and turkey sub on a soft French roll with lettuce and tomato without mustard or dressing just like she likes and a couple of meat and cheese combos for Victor and I. I was happy until I realized that I forgot to say no mustard on our sandwiches. I went to pick up Victor at Muffinville and then we went back to the soccer field. I kept him calm in the car while we waited with a half of a sandwich. He loved it mustard and all.

When we got home Vida sat down in front of a video and I laid out her sandwich. A few minutes later I heard the sad verdict, “I don’t like it what else do we have”. I really didn’t have much to offer—there were no cans of beans in the cupboard this time. She oddly enough asked for some chai tea and then very happily drank it and went to bed. That evening will be forever known as the night she had tea for dinner.

Restaurant Total: 262  ¶ 4:22 PM

  Coriya I was one brave mama on Friday night. After Vida’s piano lesson on Friday afternoon I realized that I was coming down with a cold and my weekend of relaxing and beer was turning into one of coughing and Kleenex. As I made the 45 minute drive from piano to Muffinville I contemplated my options—I could go home and try and throw something together or I could stop at what I thought was a new dim sum bakery on Clement Street. I opted for the bakery and was disappointed to find that it was just a bakery—it looked so much like Sun Maxim on Irving that I guess I fooled myself into thinking it was something it wasn’t. Pound cake just wasn’t going to cut it for dinner. We headed back to the car when Vida spotted Coriya, a hot pot barbeque place. She was pretty sure she wanted to try it after spying people cooking their own dinner in the middle of the table and I was pretty sure it sounded like a recipe for disaster taking a two year old in there. I was too foggy to object too vehemently and found myself walking in despite myself.

We were ushered to a table with a pot sitting on top of a foil-covered barbeque with a gas flame below. Our hostess explained how it worked. We would go pick out our raw meats from one buffet and then some vegetables and noodles from another. A third buffet held various sauces and steamed rice and yet another dessert and soda. It was one price per person and large signs warned that you would be charged if you wasted food. I felt foolish trying to single handedly manage Victor and COOK DINNER at the table. Wasn’t this what I was trying to avoid? Vida loaded up on soda and distracted Victor while I put marinated beef, thin sliced beef, pork chops and chicken on a plate and brought it back to the table to throw on the grill. Then I went back for some wontons, noodles and nappa cabbage for the hot pot that was starting to bubble away back at the table. I got up again to get some bowls of rice and “house sauce” for myself along with some cilantro and green onions. I was exhausted already and I didn’t even feel well enough to order a beer. Good thing I am pretty good a cooking with lots of distractions around me. I started cooking the meat and quickly pulling it off the barbeque for Vida. The wontons were ready quickly and Vida loved them. Victor was somewhat content with his bowl of rice as long as I kept pouring ridiculous amounts of soy sauce on it. He ate a bit of meat and a wonton too.

The people around me were eating all sorts of challenging things, tiny silver fish, and prawns with the heads still on, beef intestines, liver and tripe. I stuck to the basics and put some noodles in the pot hoping to further distract Victor. When they were done I doused them in some of the “house sauce” which was kind of a tangy soy sauce with sesame oil and cilantro and dug into a very delicious marinated pork chop. Vida thoroughly enjoyed her meat mélange. Despite some noodles ground into the carpet and a quantity of rice in the chair Victor did ok. He understood that the grill and the entire area around it was hot and stayed away. I was completely amazed that I managed to keep him safe and feed us all. I was very envious of the couples luxuriously cooking their food and really getting their money’s worth.

It was a pretty warm night so after dinner we went for a little walk to a very strange gift shop. There were Chinese movies and books, toys, knickknacks and colorful bras for sale as Vida had to point out. Vida picked out some Pokemon cards and Victor was leaning towards some motorcycles that he was happily playing with on the floor until one of the clerks pointed out a toy Smart Car that played a Chinese jingle, moved in a circle an opened its doors. We made our purchases and went back to the car. I was happy about all things except for the fact that this was going to be the highlight of the weekend, as I would be spending the rest of it under the weather.

Restaurant Total: 258  ¶ 7:23 PM

  Hamburger Haven Victor is finally at an age where we can almost reasonably go have dinner somewhere together—about the age when I first started to take Vida out for dinner. The difference is that it’s easier to manage one child that slips under the table when that child isn’t pinching the legs of the one still sitting on her seat.

Last Friday night Vida and I picked Victor up at “Muffinville” preschool right at six—just a little late to go home and start dinner. We went around the corner to Clement Street to try out Hamburger Haven. I had no idea how old school this place would be even after Rara mentioned that she went there as a kid in the ‘70’s. We walk in to all original décor including green vinyl swivel chairs at a long counter and matching tiny two person booths lining the window. In the back were some larger tables and some “order up” heat lamps above a round counter in the center of the restaurant. I couldn’t even imagine the place being busy enough to need those heat lamps but there they were. When we walked in there was a lone middle-aged Chinese man sitting in one of the small booths. The older Chinese woman working the tables seemed to look at us coldly like she couldn’t believe we were actually walking in the door. This is worth noticing because it is very San Francisco for an old diner to be run by folks not wearing their hair in a bun and smacking gum while they take your order. I got the feeling not many children were brought here any more. I could tell by the frozen vegetables being dished up for the only other diner in the restaurant that I wouldn’t be having a particularly culinary experience—but we came for burgers anyway. Vida was immediately thrilled by the counter seating but Victor was already restless and slipping to the floor—I was tempted to just to turn around and walk out but instead quickly ordered a plain burger with pickles on the side for Vida and a cheese burger for Vic and I to share. The cook plopped the pre-formed patty on the grill and threw some potatoes in the fryer.

Our burger could have come out of a kitchen anywhere in the country—an open-faced sesame seed bun sat next to a slice of pale tomato and a large lettuce leaf accompanied by some very greasy French fries. But Vida seemed happy and Victor was actually making yummy noises—although he tends to put that on a little. I have the same dilemma with Victor as I did with Vida—soda or no soda. The soda is a terrible thing but it also buys me some time to eat so I gave in this time. Victor wanted it poured into the coffee cup.

As we started our dinner some other patrons started coming in—a older blind woman and her partner came in and asked loudly what was “good tonight”. The cook quietly said fish and she said that sounded fine. They headed toward the back to the larger tables. Soon after an almost hipster couple of guys came in and ordered a patty melt on white bread and a veggie burger. The bread and some pre-sliced cheese went on the grill as the cook formed some tuna into a neat square. I looked up and noticed another employee organizing little boxes of Kellogg’s cereal on a mirrored shelf next to banana split and parfait glasses. I couldn’t imagine anybody ordering a sundae but they were prepared anyway.

I drank most of Victor’s soda and when he finally noticed that there was none left he started to have a fit. The server noticed and offered FREE REFILLS!!! I was starting to warm up to her. The Chinese man had finished his meal and she went over to ask him how it was and give him the bill—he murmured, “tell Victor next time no sour cream”. She dutifully went to the cook and relayed the message. He said ok and sorry as if he really should have known because he eats there every day. I couldn’t help but mention to “Victor” that he shared a name with our Victor. He was thrilled and both him and the server perked up a bit. As we were leaving she commented on how healthy the children were and that “my son” meaning Vida was so strong. Aaargh, I hate when people do that to Vida—especially with the cute little turquoise earrings in her ears. But she more than made up for it giving her a hug and a squeeze around the shoulders and a vehement apology—much more than she usually gets in that kind of situation. We walked out thinking they were some of the friendliest people we had come across in a restaurant in a long time--but we wouldn’t go back for the food.

Restaurant total: 257  ¶ 1:35 PM

  I'll Take It To Go Almost an entire year has gone by with out a single Dinner with Vida post. We really are living La Vida Loca so that’s not really hard to be believed. Restaurants I noted that we went to I barely remember visiting. There is a common theme among them though---they are all take out places. Victor is not yet restaurant friendly. We made a special project out of getting delicious take out sushi from Yum Yum Fish out in the avenues after Hebrew school one evening. We pigged out at the Bi-Rite deli one evening on sandwiches and tri-tip. I remember an emergency burger run to Johnny’s Burgers on Irving Street and an emergency dim sum/chicken wing run to Sun Maxim Bakery. Things haven’t changed much except most of the time the food doesn’t even make it home—eating in the car on the way to soccer practice or tennis lessons is our new specialty. Vida’s new favorite is Askew Grill in Laurel Village. She loves the mashed potatoes. I had a couple of five dollar gift cards for a new-ish fancy take out place, Beautiful, that we have used to buy Cornish game hens and roast chicken but the place is not a keeper due to its inferior mashed potatoes. In between the endless burritos at the usual spots we tried the Indian “burrito” place Kasa on 18th street. It seems to be thriving in the spot where La Castro and El Castillito did not. I thought it was darn good but it’s a definite no go for the kiddies. I’ve got to get them to like Indian food . . .

Below is what I wrote so so long ago . . . I remarked that Vida was almost 8 and Victor almost 1 and now they are so 9 and 2.


I have a list of restaurants that we visited but that I haven’t yet written about. While pondering the list I couldn’t for the life of me remember when we had gone to Pizza Hut. I decided to ask Vida. She reminded me that it had to do with a gift card we had gotten from Rara. Some time last year or maybe even the year before Rara needed a ride out to her dad’s house to feed his cat while he was on vacation. Her dad and his wife live out in the wind belt off of Monterey—not a fun area to make your way to by foot or public transportation so I helped her out that week whenever I could. Her dad often left her money in exchange for feeding the cat and she wasn’t always comfortable taking the money just for doing him the favor. He started to leave more tangible gifts instead, including the Pizza Hut gift card. We both got a good laugh when we saw the card since it wasn’t a place she would go to in a million years. I wouldn’t typically go there either but 50 bucks in pizza wasn’t only something to laugh at. I wanted the card, badly, but she felt she should at least offer it to her girlfriend who was also doing a bit of schlepping for the cats. Every once in a while I would ask her about the card and we would laugh and I would say, ha ha, if you aren’t going to use it I would. It was up on her fridge for months and months until one day I mentioned it and she said the card had somehow disappeared. The joke wasn’t even old to me months later when she finally found it and gave it to me as a gift. I was determined to search out one of the banes of suburban existence in cosmopolitan San Francisco and eat a lot of pizza some day.

One weekend we made plans to go to the beach with one of Vida’s school friends. I had a feeling the girls would want to continue the play date into the dinner hour and since they had made us dinner a couple of times I wanted to reciprocate. I mentioned the gift card and they were perfectly happy to indulge in some junky pizza with us. I did some research and found there was a Pizza Hut in a mall fairly near their Park Merced apartment. We got there to find that it wasn’t actually a restaurant but a take out only kind of pizza place. The 50 bucks was going to go even further if sit down service wasn’t an option. We ordered two large pizzas with an array of toppings and still had money left over. We looked in vain for some kind of salad or any healthy vegetable option—and ended up with some wings instead. Who decided that wings go with pizza I wondered as I perused the many wing flavors they offered—when we got to their house P felt compelled to make some broccoli. We thoroughly enjoyed our pizza and the play date. Vida and M finished the evening by serenading us with some songs and dance routines from High School Musical.

A few months ago I wrote, “It’s hard to believe that Vida is turning 8 and Victor is turning 1 in a couple of weeks. . .” Flash forward 3 months and I haven’t written a thing since. I can’t even remember what I was going to say. (Not surprising since my brain is pretty much mush anyway.) But in the months before then when Victor was still tiny and manageable we went out for dinner a couple of times with B and R. It was like we were still celebrating the amazing fact of two fantastic children. We first went to Maverick. Driving by Maverick (the former location of Peruvian Limon which has since moved to Valencia Street) it just looked like a restaurant I would like—small cozy with lots of dark wood. Not knowing anything about it I suggested it to B who was looking for a restaurant to go to for his birthday last year. I guess I have good instincts since he had an amazing time. It is owned by the brother of a player on the Boston Red Sox--- an extra attraction for B. Vida of course didn’t really want to go out for dinner that night so we enticed her with the fact that they featured steak. When we got there and realized that there was no steak on the menu we were very nervous that the meal would be a bust. They gave us tiny little cups of cold tomato soup perking Vida right up as she downed all of them. I ordered short ribs—the closest thing to steak on the menu. Vida conceded that it was delicious but it wasn’t a rib-eye . . .so she did a lot of wandering the restaurant. Victor amused himself with a small orange plastic crab in his little high chair—the first time let him sit by himself.

Several weeks later we went to Farina on 18th Street across from the Women’s Building. The amazing transformation from Anna’s Cookies to this fabulously designed Italian restaurant was part of my daily drive for many months. It was a beautiful evening and we took turns walking outside with Vida. The food was very good but not terribly memorable if you compare it to a place like Delfina. As I looked on the menu I didn’t see any farina and I mentioned it aloud—the fact of it has remained interesting to Vida. When we drive by she often mentions it. I remember some delicious foccacia with proscuitto, a tasty order of burrato and a good but not terribly creative salad. We ordered Vida a steak of her own to make up for Maverick. It came with some challenging blue cheese concoction on the menu but they were nice about making it plain with just salt and pepper. Some potatoes ordered off another part of the menu rounded out the order. We had a fresh pasta dish but I don’t remember too much about it. I guess the food wasn’t that memorable. On one of our walks Vida and I went upstairs to the bathroom and found a roof top garden. That was definitely the highlight for Vida. I would go back but not if I was paying.

Victor hasn’t been as cooperative in restaurants as he was when he was tiny. Since he learned to walk he has no patience for sitting in a high chair no matter what kind of food we give him. We have learned the hard way that if you don’t walk him around he lets out with a high pitched screech that is guaranteed to clear a restaurant—but not before everyone gives me that “you are the worst mother in the world” look. I don’t know why there isn’t more sympathy out there in the world for screaming babies—it’s as if as soon as your own child can talk you forget that they knew how to scream.

So take-out has been the option of choice recently. Earlier in the summer we got together with Vida’s friend P and her mom B. We went over to their house so the kids could play and B and I could drink wine quickly. Their favorite take out pizza was from Pizza Orgasmica. I think the name of the place is creepy especially since their tag line is “we never fake it”.

And that's it, I'm more or less caught up and now maybe I won't have to fake it either. I think Victor can almost be taken out again so hopefully I will actually have some restaurants to write about for real.

Restaurant Total: 256  ¶ 6:48 AM

  Safeway I know Safeway isn’t a restaurant but it is a food service establishment. And that’s where we found ourselves after tennis last night in search of a quick but hopefully decent meal. At Vida’s friend E’s birthday at Fort Cronkite Beach last year I had a sandwich with this delicious olive and pepper concoction. His mom usually gets birthday food at AG Ferrari so I was very surprised when she admitted to buying the sandwiches at Safeway. I had heard that Safeway was trying to compete with Whole Foods by improving its deli and takeout choices and I were somewhat convinced by the sandwich platters we had that day. But, I’ve been to enough Safeway’s to know that they are mostly chaotic junk purveyors no matter how many “natural foods” they claim to sell.

Around Christmas time we went to Safeway on Market Street in search of bad old sulphered apricots, dried pineapple and golden raisins for fruitcake. Vida had been talking for months about these two kid snacks “YoGo’s” and “fruit roll ups” that could only be obtained at regular grocery stores and I decided for fun to see what they were about. I went to the yogurt section in search of the “YoGo’s” and was standing there very confused until Vida explained that it wasn’t really a yogurt but a kind of yogurt covered fruit. Surprise, surprise, they were right next to “fruit roll ups” in the non-refrigerated grocery section. There were more ingredients in the “YoGo’s than I could count and the fruit rolls came imprinted with tattoos for your tongue but I bought them any way. Vida was happy for days just having them around.

Well, I’ve been dreaming of that sandwich for months . . .probably about as long as Vida was dreaming of her fake fruit candy. When we walked into the Safeway near the tennis club I could tell immediately that this wasn’t one of the upscale Whole Food wannabe markets. Same old packages of cookies and donuts near the doors adjacent to the round prepared food and cheese coolers. They figure if they don’t get you shopping for junk right away you might actually walk through the store making good shopping decisions—the last thing any supermarket wants you to do. We walked up to the hot food area and I was very disappointed with the selection. If you didn’t want chicken in one of ten formats than you were out of luck. They had one little sweaty container of macaroni and cheese. I asked the very stressed deli worker if there was any more and he said that there was only that one left over from the lunch rush—nearly six hours ago. After he answered our question he ran to the back and reappeared with a huge bag of frozen breaded chicken fingers. There was some decent looking sushi but no plain avocado rolls so Vida opted for edamame. Then she saw some corn dogs and she was set. I flagged down the deli clerk and ordered a sandwich—I was just going to get turkey, ham and cheese but than I saw the olive pepper mix and asked for that on my sandwich as well. I was informed that it was going to cost me 50 cents extra but, hell, I didn’t care. I was very hungry so I wandered around the salad area looking for something to accompany my sandwich until Vida was about to lose her mind with my indecisiveness. She was doing wheelies with Victor’s stroller so I quickly decided on some orzo salad.

When we got in the car and opened the edamame they were frozen but Vida happily ate them anyway. That kept her busy until we got home and she could sit down with her corndogs and some ketchup. I did a few dishes and hung out for a while until Judge Judy was on. Then I juggled Victor and ate my sandwich with all of its delicious oliveness. The orzo salad was not great but Victor kept hopping up in my lap wanting bites complete with feta cheese. I hope I’m not tempted to go back to Safeway next week. . .

Restaurant Total: 246  ¶ 8:53 PM

  Lefty O'Douls I can’t believe I haven’t posted since November. I still have meals to write about from last year . . . During Hannukah we went down to Union Square with B and R to experience the lighting of the giant menorah. This is a prime example of how much I’ve changed since having children. Before I had kids I wouldn’t be caught dead driving down to Union Square to celebrate Hannukah. I’ve completely changed my philosophy about life. Instead of saying no to everything I say yes to almost anything—thinking that I never know when the universe will conspire to send me something amazing and I want to be there when it does. It can be exhausting to constantly push myself to do things that may be boring or uncomfortable but most of the time I’m glad I left my house in the pursuit of the rewards of sponteneity.

It was pretty cold as the sun went down. Victor was bundled but I felt bad to have the tiny one outside in December. The menorah lighting is sponsored by Chabad and had that chaotic feeling that I always associate with Lubavichers. They are always tripping over their feet to please G-d. There was a competing event that evening—flame-throwers and dancers were scheduled at what seemed to be the same time. The rabbi in charge had to do some negotiating with the performers to make sure that the candle lighting would go on as scheduled. Vida was entranced by the flame-throwers until it seemed like it would never end and she wandered away. Because she had recently started Hebrew school she was really into anything Jewish and even went and introduced herself to the Rabbi. He was very gracious and inquired as to what she was doing as far as Jewish education.

When the flame-throwers were finally finishing up the rabbi brilliantly had them symbolically pass the flame to him in true San Francisco fashion where the strange meets the stranger. Holding little candles in foil we lit them off of anyone who could keep a flame going in the increasingly bitter wind. Finally we said the barucha and they lit the giant menorah. We were more than ready to get out of the cold so we made our way to Lefty O’Douls. I had always heard of this classic San Francisco restaurant but really had no idea what it was about. As it turns out, it’s a sports inspired hofbrau and bar. They food is served cafeteria style with men behind the counter serving making sandwiches or plating up the daily special. Vida quickly decided on turkey and mashed potatoes while I ordered a French dip sandwich. You could order two sides so I got macaroni salad and some mixed vegetables. I was so hungry I inhaled the roast beef sandwich but it was delicious. When I was a kid I ordered French dip sandwiches in almost every restaurant we went to for a period of time. Vida was happy with her turkey but more interested in wandering around looking at the memorabilia on the walls. We left full and exhausted to go home and light our own Hanukah candles and open presents.

Restaurant Total: 243  ¶ 10:02 PM