Great cocktails. Horrible crowd.

#1 in the city for old book smell and creaky wooden floors. Too small to find anything specific you’re looking for, good enough that you’ll find something else instead.

In the Mission, now as terminally hip as it was formally poor, the St Francis is a greasy good time since 1918. Stuck beautifully in the 50's both aesthetically and menu wise it's Americana in a bun. Dig in.

One day when I was walking around in the hills behind my house, I happened upon this bizarre street. It was as though someone had taken postmodernism and tried to make it into a block of houses. Each one has its own internally complete theme, involving strange colors and sculptural elements attached to the outside walls (gold eggs, wisps of wrought iron). This led me on subsequent walks to name them: the Corbusier House, the Barn, the Preschool Blocks house, the House of Wicca… and so on.

“You can taste the love” sounds like a cliché until you actually taste it and realize you are poor cynical human being who has never been to Alicia’s tamale stand! Especially on foggy days, these lovingly wrapped warm packages of deliciousness are indispensable.