San Francisco -- third report --

[alfreda89]

Breakfast – Lori’s Diner, second of three in the area (not the one for lunch the day before -- a smaller location.). Very acceptable oatmeal for both of us, eggs for me, sausage for W. Forgot to say scrambled, so got them turned over. Got wonderful strawberries for the oatmeal for a modest charge. Much better than hotel, all in all.

Saw an art show by Bay Area artists set up in Union Square. We saw several lovely pieces, but hard to get home. We didn't ask price -- I shot the wad getting here, and getting the elusive shoes. (No, not buyers remorse. But I usually laugh at pointy-toed boots and shoes. Now I own a pair. If they are as advertised, I won't care about the pointy toes...)

Union Square was definitely a place of energy. Last night there was a band playing, several street musicians on the fringes playing on overturned plastic and metal pails -- people enjoying themselves. Lots of panhandlers -- some of them obviously street artists, trying to sell you a skit for a buck. The best path seemed to be acknowledging their presence, but politely saying "No." I did buy a street paper from one person, to take back to RR Troxell, my boss at ULW. I thought he's like to see what another group was putting out.

Then there was the walking. I must admit that I overdid a bit – even after sitting in the doctor’s office waiting room Friday for 10-15 minutes, when the nurse took my pulse, it was 102. On the other hand, my B/P was also a touch high – 116/65. So, I can’t really complain. W thought I would have no weight problem from the meds if I walked this much. I needed better shoes -- we shipped the new ones back, but my Abasics got we through.

We did finally make it to Chinatown. I enjoyed poking around, and found a silly cable car ornament for my holiday tree. Also some tiny silk purses for the sisters, mom and niece. We found tee-shirts we liked that were a touch formal but not the expensive stuff with the solid rubbery color that chips off if you wear the blasted thing more than once. I was not thinking as clearly as I’d like, but I would have liked to see the open markets and herb shops. Next time.

We discussed the museums, but the ones W wanted to take me to were a good cab ride away. I asked about the Boudin museum, and he wanted to see that one, too. So we took a cab to the wharf and settled down for a pricey but lively meal. We decided to make it our big meal for the day. The main Boudin’s location is MUCH better than Macy’s (okay, but nothing special, that one). The restaurant is above the small bakery, one of several bakery locations. I had sole dipped in egg batter, with a lemon/rosemary sauce and fresh lemon slice – green beans on the side, a tiny bit of pimento included. W had cioppino, that famous SF stew with crab, mussels, white wine, etc. in it. No scallops – W breaks out in hives. Lots of Boudins (Bo-deens) sourdough bread, the best ever!

Then went through the small museum and watched the bakers work. The small museum is very interesting, a nice blend of facts and the occasional tiny detail that makes a story. For example – the last matriarch of the Boudin clan saved their bakery during the earthquake of ’06. She dumped “the Mother” into a clean pail, covered it and bolted out the door with children and staff. So the family was able to throw together ovens and bake as soon as supplies could be excavated/brought in. And yes – the Mother is kept in a vault with an intricate locking system. I wonder if the password cycles? I know She travels in a Brinks truck, when necessary.

Samples at the end – I liked the plain with strawberry jam, but the plain with raisins and chocolate chips also had potential. W tried the asiago cheese one, and said it was great. We both skipped the olive bread. Probably good, but not my thing! (I think I mentioned the sourdough whole grain was good, at the Macy’s location.) W said the cioppino was even better than the wonderful one he had his last visit in SF – and that restaurant is called Cioppino’s!

We waited forever to take the cable car back to the top of Powell. It had been unseasonably warm and clear while we were there* – I nearly melted, because I’d brought mostly long-sleeve items. So, I’m finally down to the tee-shirt I was wearing on the plane tomorrow – and of course the fog finally rolled in. It gets COLD in SF as the sun gets low and the fog hides the bay. W kept hinting that we could take a taxi or limo, until he finally realized that I wanted to take the cable car for reasons totally different than for price or convenience.

*(I should mention that it is ALWAYS unseasonably warm and clear when I go to SF. I’ve been there three times, and all three times, people were talking about the clearest days in a decade or more. So, if you want traditional SF weather, don’t go there when I’m going there!)

I will admit I pushed straight through to be inside to cut the wind! And took the seat when enough mature party members had gotten off. I’ll use it in a book someday. I wonder if magical Austin has cable cars... we have trolley-style buses, and plenty of horse drawn carriages...

Walked back down to Market Street and the Nordstrom mall. Got our Haagen-Dazs (Mayan chocolate and Low Fat Dulce de Leche -- Yum!) and then visited the pen store once more. Much walking ensued. Boy, I liked that Falcon pen! Wandered around a real art gallery, and saw some of the most awesome carved blocks of glass and acrylic. I asked W if we could have one if we won the lotto. He said “How big a lotto? I don’t think a $95,000 statue is our lifestyle.” The woman thought we looked like prospects, because she said “Not this trip?” I admitted we’d come for medical reasons, and that I’d shot my wad at Arthur Beren’s. Her response “Well, you bought art for your feet this time. There will be another time.”

My, my, I may be improving enough to play poker. I did ask the universe to send her a nice client who was buying.

We wanted a small dinner late, but didn’t really want to return to Naan’s if we could try something else. One of the Hilton staff told us about his favorite hole-in-the-wall Indo-Pak restaurant – Shalimars. He did not exaggerate -- this place hadn’t been painted since my natal day. We went to the one closest to Union Square, and we are talking H-I-T-W. As in, the stoves were up against the back left wall, no walls anywhere, pipes hanging down – convenience store coolers on the right wall with the soft drinks and beer in them – and a little printed newspaper that was their menu. (No, I was AFRAID to find the restroom, are you crazy?) I kept telling myself the food inspection people had to hit this place occasionally.

They had three locations, and boasted that they had the freshest, most authentic Indo-Pak food in town. I was going to try something a little more adventurous than usual (although not lamb – the other lamb was too close to mutton.) So, goat for variety. But I could see the man taking our order wanted us to be happy with the food. “This is bony, very bony. You want bones this time?” I admitted I needed some protein to offset sugar. He pointed to the Chicken Tikka Masala and said: “This one, you’ll like it.”

Of course, this is what I had at Naan’s, but I did not want to upset this proud, determined man. So we got W some plain naan, and I don’t remember if they had Pappum – I think they did.

The Tika Masala was WONDERFUL – I have Never Tasted Indian Food this Fresh, except what I’ve made myself. And I don’t always have totally fresh herbs, my garden being irregular at best. This was the cheapest and finest meal we’d had to date. In fact, from lunch through late dinner and out breakfast before leaving the next day, we had the kind of meals SF is famous for.

It didn’t keep us up at all. And now, ZZzzzzzz.