Dinner With Vida
Metro Caffe Bai Som Thai Taqueria San Jose
Having spent less than ten dollars on our last two meals I was interested in seeing if I could continue the trend. I looked at the “Bargain Bites” column on the San Francisco Chronicle’s SFGate website for some ideas. As I looked down the list I was struck by how restaurants I have visited over the years create a kind of alternate life history. It’s not the story you would naturally tell if asked to explain your life—“and then I ate there and this is what happened” but driving through the city and describing meals eaten and with whom would probably be just as interesting. Kind of like telling your history through the music you have listened to.
Looking down the list at the restaurants I have already visited, I would start in reverse chronology at Taqueria San Jose on Mission and 25th. When I moved to 25th and Bartlett I lived a fairly lonely life going to cooking school and wandering over the Salvation Army once or twice a day. Taqueria San Jose, around the corner from my apartment, was where I got my first burrito. The grimy linoleum and steamy glass in front of the hot table struck me as much of the size of the burritos. I remember La Taqueria across the street for the quality of the meat and the fact there don’t put rice in their burritos. I would always order a side of rice to make up the difference since I, as usual, was convinced that I would still be hungry. I must have lived a poverty stricken past life. I have always had enough to eat but I’m still afraid there won’t be enough . . . I make too much food when I cook and I compel anybody else cooking to make more than they think reasonable.
Choosing a taqueria is kind of a San Francisco Rorschach test. People judge your sense of taste and authenticity by your choice of Taqueria. I had a friend who grew up here insist that La Cumbre was the only true Mission burrito joint. Vegetarians love Cancun probably because they pretend that the rice and beans aren’t full of lard and warmed on a griddle next a big pile of meat. My favorite burrito joint is probably El Toro for no good reason really except that the mortuary next door offers the possibility of easy parking. If I could find a taqueria that actually made good guacamole instead of the green slop most places throw on their food I would convert for good. I’ve toyed with other places, Pancho Villa, El Farollito and still haven’t found the ideal taqueria. My favorite restaurant from that early era of my life was La Nicaragua between 25th and 26th and Mission. I went there for the ceviche and the beef tamale. The tamale inexplicably contained exactly one olive and two raisins as a garnish inside. Tired of the embarrassing fact of eating alone one night I ordered the tamale to go. I was disillusioned when I was given a frozen tamale wrapped in foil.
Other restaurants on the list consisted mostly of places I would never have chosen to go to and haven’t willingly been back to since. I’ve broken down a couple of times and gone to La Mediterrane on Noe and Market. I don’t know why it doesn’t appeal to me—its my favorite kind of food generally—but the smorgasbord entrée’s with a little hummus, a filo something, dolmas, baba ganoush and a big slice of orange seem to lose the true focus of the food in all it’s eclectic-ness. I have a vaguely negative association with the place as representative of a time of my life I would sooner forget—but I can’t quite remember why. I remember Herbivore on Valencia and 21st. with a style of vegetarian food I can’t stand and the two times I went there—an uncomfortable post break up brunch and an unfortunate date. The Askew Grill on Haight at Clayton is along the same lines to my mind, a hippy restaurant with a generic atmosphere and mediocre food. I’m perhaps being too harsh. But even if it isn’t strictly true-- there is a chance I would change my mind after -- but this is the impression I was left with. Everyone loves the crepe restaurant, Ti Couz, on 16th St. but having comparative visions of my favorite Seattle crepe restaurant, Crepe de Paris, make it seem pale in comparison. That and the fact that the salad dressing is so full of raw tasting garlic that you regret the meal for hours. I have a vague but pleasant recollection of Khan Toke Thai House on Geary mostly for it’s unique atmosphere.
For this week’s dinner I chose a place in the lower Haight again—a hamburger place called Metro Caffe on Fillmore. Like Burger Joint it uses Niman Ranch beef. It’s similar to Rosamunde Sausage Grill in its simplicity and informality. There are only a few tables and the beverages are sold from a cooler. They also sell Philly cheeseteak, which was tempting, but as usual I decided to get something I thought Vida might eat and ordered a hamburger—and just as typically she would have nothing to do with it and only ate French fries. Next time I’m just going to order what I want. The burger was a little thin to my taste possibly to match the large bun it was served in. The French fries were obviously not hand cut since they were crinkle cut and came frozen in a large bag. I could see the owner portioning them out into servings behind the counter. The food was fine, the typical anemic slice of tomato, a couple of pickles and a slice of romaine lettuce were served on the burger. The cheese fries and cheesteak seemed to be the most popular choice.
We went out again this weekend to the Thai restaurant Bai Som Thai on Clement and 21st with our friend C. I had been there for a work lunch but didn’t actually eat. The food looked so good I wanted to go back. When we walked in the door Vida yelled “candy” when she saw a bowl of hard peppermints. That was her focus from that point forward. We had fried rice with cashews and prawns, a good Pad Thai and Larb and a passable tofu and peanut sauce. Vida made a real effort to eat some rice and Pad Thai but the velocity at which she consumed it tipped me off to the real goal—getting to the candy bowl. After she was done she went over and grabbed a hand full and played with them along with the contents of a bag of toys for most of the meal. Vida sang a couple of songs from Charlotte’s Web rather loudly. The people behind is let me know that she was putting her mouth on her chair—she complained in turn that one of them stuck their tongue out at her. The service was friendly but not overly speedy. Vida was remarkably patient but when the singing got louder we knew it was time to go.
Restaurant Total: 70
Matsuya
It’s been a long week. After being kicked out of my apartment on Tuesday morning for a construction project Vida and I have been camping out at B’s house ever since. I caught the first “preschool flu” of the year from Vida making for feverish work at “Surreal Foods”. We were finally ready to go home on Friday night after dinner. Vida requested pasta. I remembered a place on the way home from B’s on 24th and Potrero. The signs outside advertising the redundant “serve yourself salad bar” and “dinner buffet” should have tipped me off but I thought that maybe there was a kitsch factor I was unaware of. We walked in to the place that had a full- length bar to the left and a partitioned set of tables to the right. There were other diners in the restaurant but I got a strange vibe from the server seeming to ask why we were there. Vida of course wanted to sit at the bar. I steered the already unhappy camper to a table and she began to immediately yell for her dinner. I looked off into the corner and saw a hot table with four covered trays. The table next to us had empty plates in front of them so it was clear that people actually ate the buffet food. I looked at the menu and noted that the prices for one dish were much higher than the total buffet price but since I couldn’t see actually eating at the buffet let alone paying for Vida to have two bites I was getting nervous. I whispered to Vida that maybe she would like to go somewhere else less creepy but she wouldn’t have it. Since the server from the undead was staring I quickly picked Vida up and swept her screaming from the restaurant.
I had no idea what to do. I could not for the life of me think of another Italian place that we hadn’t been to and since Vida thought she was getting pasta it was no use trying to go to a Chinese or Thai place. I took a chance and asked if Vida wanted sushi. She was instantly converted to the idea and we made our way to Matsuya on 24th Street. Even after working and shopping on 24th Street for 15 or so years I had never been to what is clearly a charming family owned restaurant.
Vida and I sat on high stools at the sushi bar. All the food in the restaurant seems to be cooked on two single burners behind the bar. As usual in sushi restaurants it’s difficult to get enough food without spending a fortune so I was happy when a complimentary dish of spicy noodles arrived. I ate Vida’s as well. I didn’t want Vida to only eat avocado roll for dinner so along with the rolls I ordered pan-fried salmon. When the sushi rolls arrived Vida actually yelled with excitement—much to the amusement of the staff. The salmon was lightly battered and cooked perfectly seasoned with ponzu sauce by the sushi chef. Vida happily ate her avocado roll and much of the salmon. If I was a millionaire I would eat at Matsuya more often. As it stands now, eating sushi once a week is just a dream. Next week grandma arrives for a visit. We’ll see how flush she’s feeling these days.
Restaurant Total: 71
San Miguel Ali Baba's Cave Timo's La Rondalla
Vida developed an ear infection on Thursday night. After a feverish and painful day on Friday I thought we would be down for the count all weekend. But Vida rebounded quickly and was able to handle a birthday party and a play date without flagging. On Saturday night it was getting late and there wasn’t much to eat around here so we got in the car and started driving. I remembered a recommendation I got for San Miguel, a Guatemalan restaurant on 20th and Mission. I kept an open mind though as I drove down Valencia in case another restaurant seemed promising. I passed by Ali Baba’s Cave, a mediocre falafel place and was thankful that I had already experienced its strange set up. No more late night bad Mexican food at La Rondalla for me. I can’t believe that dive has been adopted by yuppies and trendoids. As I drove past Timo’s I remembered a memorable night just after they were reviewed in Gourmet Magazine and ran low on bread. They tried to dole it out—leaving us to unsuccessfully enjoy escalivada without an ample supply of bread.
Since no other restaurant seemed appealing and we were able to park right in front San Miguel seemed to be the inevitable choice. We walked into the picturesque restaurant decorated with Guatemalan art and photos and sat down. The server tried to develop a rapport with Vida but she wouldn’t have it and kept turning her back on him. The windows and tables were covered with local and national reviews recommending the fried Tilapia and a steak plate. Both sounded good to me until I read on the back of the menu, “cash only”. I only had ten bucks in my pocket and really didn’t want to suffer the embarrassment of walking out and trying to find either more cash or another restaurant.
Instead of the requisite bowl of chips and salsa, we were each served a refreshing plate of sliced watermelon and cantaloupe. The menu had plenty of ala carte items and I was tempted to just order taquitos but I wanted something that I thought would represent what the restaurant was about. Every seemingly authentic dish in the restaurant came with hard boiled egg, probably my least favorite culinary accompaniment so I was a little bit nervous. Even the simplest entrees were at least $8.95. I ordered a “Guatemalan Enchilada” for $5.95. It didn’t come with rice and beans so I asked for them to be included and then started sweating that with tip and tax I wouldn’t have enough money. The dish that arrived was one of the most unusual things I have ever ordered. It consisted of diced beets in a tomato sauce with a minute amount of meat piled onto a large lettuce leaf that sat on a crispy corn tortilla. The whole thing was served on chopped iceberg lettuce. There was a small portion of pureed black beans with a dusting of cheese and rice. I gave Vida a plate with some of the rice and beans but she immediately rejected it. I thought I had best get through my meal quickly before things got ugly.
It was difficult to figure out what I was actually supposed to eat since it was almost impossible to gracefully cut through the lettuce leaf and tortilla. But, hungry as I was, I unhappily ate the beets, hard-boiled egg and all. Vida played with her water and touched all the art within reach. Although restaurants with a lot of artwork are appealing from a distance, once you see the food splattered knickknacks close up it can make you lose your appetite pretty quickly. I hate to be too judgmental but when the artwork is covered in grime or dust it makes you wonder about the kitchen.
I caught the eye of our server for the bill. He was still trying to get into Vida’s good graces and brought her a plastic Power Puff Girl. She was happy to take it but that was about it. Thankfully the bill was only 8 bucks and we got out of there without major embarrassment.
After we left the restaurant I was still so hungry that I was seriously considering finding another informal restaurant to eat at that took credit cards or finding an ATM that didn’t cost a fortune to use. We walked for a couple of blocks down Mission Street without finding either. One of the more appealing restaurants in that area was Cha Cha Cha. I was tempted but since I had already had a good meal there in the past we just kept walking. Soon Vida got tired so I carried her back to the car. When we got home she crawled into bed to watch “Flight of Dragons” on video and ate a bowl of cereal and milk.
Restaurant Total: 55
Memphis Minnie's Barbeque Joint Axum Cafe
I took a few days off this week and used the opportunity to take Vida to the dentist for the first time. She was unbelievably calm about the whole thing. I remember vividly my first prescription for Valium before one notable visit to my childhood dentist, Dr. Rosenbaum. While the hygienist was talking to us about tooth brushing, flossing and the evils of soda and juice I looked up and saw a sign with some more simple ways to promote tooth decay. On the top of the list was breastfeeding at night. In a quiet moment I broke the bad news to Vida that her favorite midnight snack, “milk in a shirt” (her phrase) was bad for her teeth. She looked at me and nodded and said that “milk in a shirt” was for babies. We had been working on this concept for weeks and it finally seemed like this rationale was more acceptable than simply telling her that nursing was for babies.
It’s been three days now and other than a little whimpering at night Vida seems to have moved on—my breasts have not. During the past few days I have felt anxious, impatient and a little queasy. This was probably not the week for an ambitious dinner out but sitting at Rosamunde Sausage Grill last week I was drawn to trying the restaurant across the street, Memphis Minnie’s Barbeque Joint.
We began the evening by going to Duboce Park and to visit Auntie Lee, both of which are within walking distance of Memphis Minnie’s. Although it was very close to dinner time Auntie Lee had a package of cookies from the day old bakery outlet for Vida. Not wanting to make a fuss I let Vida dig in to the chocolate cookies and accepted a beer for myself. Auntie Lee got a clear quart bottle of beer called “Magnum” something out of the refrigerator and I poured a glass. We chatted until Vida got tired of the cookies and was looking around for something forbidden to play with. Auntie Lee is very attached to some of her “junk,” as she calls it and is loath to let Vida get a hold of it. There is a dust covered plastic pinwheel that Vida is always tempted to grab before Auntie Lee inexplicably warns her away from it. We usually settle for playing with the dominos until Vida gets a little rough with the box and I feel compelled to put them away.
After our visit we walked up to Haight St. I saw a new Burger Joint and was tempted to repeat but held back. On the next corner was Axum Café, the first and only Ethiopian restaurant that I have ever been too--something about the steam table food and the spongy, sour flatbread just didn’t agree with me. As stood outside looking at the menu for Memphis Minnie’s the smell of wood smoke and the idea of brisket simultaneously drew me in and repelled me.
Memphis Minnie’s reminded me of other bright colored restaurants with strong, simple concepts like Burger Joint and Jay’s Cheesesteak. There seems to be a trend toward new restaurants, locally owned, but with multiple locations that take a page out of McDonald’s business plan. I don’t mean it as an insult—there is nothing wrong with having a basic menu focused on doing a few things well and then decorating the restaurant with bold colors and kitschy artifacts reinforcing the restaurant’s straightforward character and its link to the past. Although Memphis Minnie’s may be inherently more complicated with it’s slow cooked meats it seems that these restaurants purposefully create a menu which doesn’t require a great deal of skill to replicate and eliminate table service in order to save on labor and promote quick turns. I appreciate these kinds of restaurants—the food is good and they make going out to eat with Vida easy. But the exaggerated design reveals a longing for an unattainable authenticity and the experience makes me feel just a little bit empty.
When I was a kid one of my favorite restaurants was Kelly’s barbeque. I don’t think it was very authentic in the socio-political scope of American barbeque restaurants. It basically served prime rib sandwiches with either a ubiquitous barbeque sauce or “au jus”. I was a big fan of “French Dip” sandwiches and I ordered them everywhere. I loved dipping my sandwich into the meaty juice and tearing into the usually tough meat. When it came to French Dip sandwiches Kelly’s was a cut above. The meat was usually perfect as you could see while you stood in line cafeteria style behind the glass and hot lights. The meat was cut to order and I was always particularly anxious to be in line just at the right moment when a meaty bone had to be removed before the prime rib could be cut any further. My meal was even more special when I was lucky enough to get the bone.
I wasn’t thinking about Kelly’s at all during most of my meal at Memphis Minnie’s. It seemed that the thing to get there was the brisket “cooked eighteen hours”. I wanted to try some of the sides like the greens and macaroni and cheese so I got the brisket plate. I also bought some peace with a bowl of French fries for Vida. At Memphis Minnie’s you order at the counter and they hand your plate from behind the glass cooking area. The first thing I noted was that none of it was very hot. I was sorely tempted to ask if they had a microwave. The brisket was extremely tender, fatty and the smell of the wood smoke on the meat almost turned my stomach. I nibbled at the lukewarm macaroni and cheese and corn muffin, both marred to my mind by overly coarse cornmeal. The generous portion of greens though was truly delicious, sweet, and sour with a little bit of heat. The French fries were the best part of the meal. They were thin, hot and covered with a slightly spicy, salty seasoning. I was feeling a little guilty that Vida was eating fries for dinner before she plowed into the brisket and finished the majority of it.
I guess I’m not cut out for barbeque. Raised on the Kelly’s WASP barbeque has ruined me. And when it comes to brisket I think I like it lean and slightly tough—something like my Auntie Julie makes—barely seasoned with onions and salt and pepper. When the guy next to us asked for the ketchup I had a look at his tri-tip sandwich. I think that is what I would order next time—it’s more like the barbeque I’m familiar with--if I can brave the smoke.
Restaurant Total: 50
