Couple more recent feasts.
First, Mark treated me last Thursday night to Kronnerburger, a new and trending pop-up in the side section of Bruno’s on Mission Street. Wow. The menu says “Rare” and “Salty”, and it sure is both. We ordered the same thing, the kronnerburger with beef marrow and a side of fries, washed down with bottles of Green Flash IPA. The hamburger and fries were both delicious, and we needed every last drop of those IPA’s to get through the heaviest, saltiest meal i’ve had in ages. The place is worth going to for dedicated carnivores, and in principle i love eating at pop-ups, but to be fair the burger at Pearl’s Deluxe Burgers on Market at 6th is every bit as good and cheaper.
The other recent feast was a polar opposite. I joined my dear ex-colleagues Sharon, Sue, Rachael, and Sharon at the Slanted Door for one of the periodic lunches we’ve been having since 1998, bringing us full circle because one of our first lunches was at the Slanted Door in its original incarnation on Valencia Street.
This time we had the crispy imperial rolls, the Vietnamese vegetarian crepe, the glass noodles with Dungeness crab, the caramelized catfish claypot, and another dish i’m not remembering even though all of it was delicious. And a bottle of Grüner Veltliner that complimented the dishes perfectly. The great joy of the Slanted Door is that the quality of the food has been held to the original high standard. What a wonderful restaurant, and a communal restroom that’s a worthwhile experience in itself. Alas, i keep forgetting to photograph it. Excuse me, ma’am, you’re not done yet?
The occasion was all the more delightful since we did this last Saturday so i got to browse through the Ferry Plaza Farmers’ Market before lunch. The down side was that i got a bit carried away with the browsing, quelle surprise, and when the bill came and i looked in my billfold i discovered a shortage. Luckily, i had my credit card and everyone agreed to let me put the meal on my card. Not a problem although when i looked at this huge pile of money on the table something seemed somehow wrong. But knowing that the most obvious signal of my incipient Alzheimer’s is a lessened ability to handle numbers, i ignored the warning buzzer. At home i looked again at the bill and the pile of money and realized, to my horror, that the others had put in too much money because i ended up paying nothing for my own meal. The salt in the wound, grrrrr, is that when i did the math at home i discovered that i had had enough money in my billfold in the first place. Sigh. Now to try to make amends.
And since there’s no pic of that restroom, here’s an interesting front porch treatment on 14th Street.