Rin's
A while back H asked me what the “restaurant total” meant at the end of each dinner with Vida. I couldn’t blame her for not remembering the first dinner with Vida when I laid out the ground rules. I not only wanted to see how many restaurants we could go to together but also how many I had gone to over the years. It does terrible things to my prose as I try to name-drop restaurants in order to increase my total. I pretend it adds context but its usually forced and I know it. But since I write this not only for Vida and the other handful of people who love me enough to bear with my project but because its also a personal contest. I could never really compete with real restaurant reviewers since they go out to eat many times each week and use fewer adverbs but for the average San Francisco restaurant lover I want to be at least a welterweight
Last week I wanted to make sure that going out for dinner was as easy as possible. I thought close to home would be best so we headed up 24th Street. As we drove down the street I thought about all the years I worked up there and the different restaurants I had experienced. I was thankful that I didn’t have to go to Casa Mexicana for a burrito made with converted rice at 9 o’clock at night as I had done so often in the past. I had good meals at Bacco, Miss Millie’s and Fire Fly and I was glad they had survived the rampant turnover typical of 24th Street. I went to Swat Dee a couple of times for o.k. Thai food and thought I should try another Thai restaurant in the neighborhood.
We walked into a nearly empty Rin’s on Collingwood and 24th. It’s a rather non-descript restaurant and I probably wouldn’t have even known it was there except that a former co-worker who lived in a moldy apartment a couple of doors down had told me about it. We chose a table near a window and sat down. The only fried rice on the menu had crab in it and once again I had to ask for a more child friendly chicken fried rice—I really wanted the crab but I wanted to eat in peace even more. I ordered some beef on lemongrass skewers and for some reason the rice salad they had on the menu was irresistible. I knew that Vida would probably eat the entire fried rice so I didn’t feel like my meal was exactly redundant but it still seemed a strange thing to order. Crispy chunks of rice were interspersed with softer bits dressed in a tart, salty dressing with a hint of sweetness. Two of the servers came up to me individually and let me know that I would enjoy it more if I wrapped it up in the large lettuce leaves and mint that adorned the plate. I tried to comply but it was hard to keep it all together long enough to get it in my mouth. Vida ate most of the beef skewers while leaving me the rice noodles and shredded carrots while simultaneously demolishing the fried rice. I tried to get her to save some for her lunch the next day and succeeded just barely.
The restaurant started to fill up with families and couples. Rin’s friendly service and pretty good food obviously had a strong neighborhood following. I saw what looked like a great Pad Thai and was suddenly regretful that I hadn’t ordered it. I haven’t been ordering my favorite (and everyone else’s) Thai dish mostly because it seems tacky to order fried rice and noodles and also to compel myself to try new things. Vida lost patience quickly after most of her rice was gone so we got the tiniest to go container I have ever seen filled the remnants of her meal.
Restaurant Total: 181
Suriya/Shanghai 1930
I got the idea to go to the St. Francis Fountain from P at work. He suggested it after I told him the ridiculous story of Casa Sanchez. He also mentioned that he had gone to Suriya on Valencia and 25th and had been impressed. After driving pass Suriya so many times I must have stopped seeing it. I have been curious about it since I lived on Bartlett Street almost twenty years ago but not enough to actually go there—but recommendations go a long way with me. P mentioned the squash curry. It sounded good but I was sure it wouldn’t fly with Vida since I had promised fried rice
We got to Suriya early and sat at a table next to a huge carved wood elephant. The menu seemed much more upscale than I had imagined and as I scanned the choices I quickly realized that there was no fried rice on the menu. I really couldn’t blame them—in fact I respected the fact that they didn’t compromise their menu to include standard Thai fare to be found in restaurants only catering to American tastes. But that didn’t make my job any easier. I felt shy about asking for something not on the menu but as soon as the server got to the table Vida assertively expressed her desire for chicken fried rice. It apparently wasn’t going to be a problem so I sat back and relaxed. I also ordered what was advertised as fried sweet potato “strips” and lemongrass chicken for myself.
The fried sweet potatoes were more like fritters. The nests of shredded potatoes came with a spicy dipping sauce. Vida liked them quite a bit but wanted something to dip them in too. I asked for another dipping sauce that was sweet rather than spicy and they brought us a thick sweet ginger sauce that was probably even hotter than the original one. It was difficult to calm Vida down after this disappointment but she recovered enough to fight me over the last of the sweet potatoes.
When the fried rice came I was horrified to see that it was full of pieces of baby corn—it was apparent that this was a “fancy” fried rice but I was pretty sure Vida would feel just as disgusted as I do about canned baby corn. She started freaking out not only about the corn but the sliced mushrooms. Vida was so hungry I had a hard time keeping pace with the vegetable removal and enjoying my lemongrass chicken at the same time. The lemongrass chicken was very impressive. Skewers of chicken were resting on an assortment of sautéed vegetables, including fried potatoes and sweet potatoes, in a delicious sweet sauce.
Later on in the week we went to Shanghai 1930 to help celebrate M’s birthday. B and R picked us up for the drive downtown. Vida was definitely tired so I anticipated the possibility that we may have to take the train home in order to not disturb the whole restaurant. We brought pens and a notebook just in case. During the car ride Vida got it into her head that she needed to draw stars and when she was unsuccessful she started screaming bloody murder in frustration. B quietly asked if this was a good idea and offered to drive us home—and I quietly explained that turning around and going home would make her so upset that she would probably remember it forever. She didn’t want any help until I came up with the idea of doing a “collect the dot” star for her to copy. There were still some residual tears and she continued to yell, “I hate this” in her new 5 years going on 9 years old voice but eventually she calmed down. When we got there she was a new girl. The restaurant was below its street level entrance. M’s son A was standing at the door in order to direct any confused guests and since he is one of Vida’s favorite people she decided to stay up there and show him all her new Capoeira moves. The rest of us went to sit down and relax. Vida periodically came back down to get pens and any other “treasures” she had in her pen box to show A. The plan was to drink and eat some appetizers rather than sit down to a meal. M was a friend of the owner so there was a tacit understanding that food would be sent to our table on the house. Waiting to see if free food would arrive was a gamble we weren’t in the mood to take so we ordered some appetizers for ourselves. The food was good—steamed dim sum type things, a mediocre fried calamari and noodles--but there wasn’t enough of it and I was too cheap to spend my hard earned money on plates of food with tiny things on them. We hung around until the “smooth jazz” band started up. I don’t think Vida has ever experienced live music in a restaurant and really got into it. She stood up and danced a kind of free form booty dance coupled with Capoeira moves and what ever else came to mind. She was truly inspired and inspiring.
Restaurant Total: 175
