San Francisco, CA - October 15-18, 2010
For some people, the first things that come to mind when asked to think of San Francisco is the Golden Gate Bridge, towering redwoods and a vibrant and colorful community.
Those are nice, good people.
Me? I think of crispy fried authentic Chinese food, fresh (super duper fresh) seafood and, of course, sourdough bread which, as I’ve reminded my friends so much so that they’re threatening to take the bridge), is made with one of the oldest sourdough starters that exists today.
To eat ancient, dusty, moth-eaten yeast is reason enough for me to go to San Francisco.
Posted 11/22/2010
Those are nice, good people.
Me? I think of crispy fried authentic Chinese food, fresh (super duper fresh) seafood and, of course, sourdough bread which, as I’ve reminded my friends so much so that they’re threatening to take the bridge), is made with one of the oldest sourdough starters that exists today.
To eat ancient, dusty, moth-eaten yeast is reason enough for me to go to San Francisco.
Posted 11/22/2010
A short but sweet visit to Boudin Bakery and Fisherman’s Wharf for seafood so fresh I may have cried. But I didn’t … I DIDN’T!
Let’s be honest.
I feel we can be honest with each other.
Everyone knows someone who considers themselves a ‘traveler’. Should you call him/her a ‘tourist’, he/she would glare at you in disbelief, say “I thought you were my friend” and instantly remove you from their Facebook Friends list. A traveler would never find themselves at say, Atlantic City, the Vegas strip or (gasp) Orlando. And a traveler likely won’t be found anywhere near where other normal people, even dreaded tourists, congregate in populous cities across the country.
Well, there are normal people, even tourists, that congregate at Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco and I am proud to say that tourist or traveler or whatever I am (I don’t care, I don’t do labels. You can just label me a NON-labeler, OK?) I was there to eat hot, fresh-from-the-oven sourdough bread. Boudin Bakery, which I was told by a slightly ornery French woman is pronounced bo-DAAWWWWN and NOT BOE-den, is a bustling bakery down by the water with incredible sourdough bread baked fresh daily since 1849. Try their tomato soup in a sourdough bread bowl and don’t fool yourself into thinking you can eat the entire bowl … cause you can’t. Really. I was starving and thought I could have eaten the entire bakery but I couldn’t even finish the bowl. Try it and make a liar out of me.
Even though I was stuffed to the brim, a walk down a little street food alley littered with pounds and pounds of fresh picked crab with homemade cocktail sauce and a wedge of lemon fixed that and before I knew it, I was shoveling buttery crab meat showered in lemon juice into my mouth.
Whenever I return to San Francisco, I WILL seek this alley out and get this again.
Let’s be honest.
I feel we can be honest with each other.
Everyone knows someone who considers themselves a ‘traveler’. Should you call him/her a ‘tourist’, he/she would glare at you in disbelief, say “I thought you were my friend” and instantly remove you from their Facebook Friends list. A traveler would never find themselves at say, Atlantic City, the Vegas strip or (gasp) Orlando. And a traveler likely won’t be found anywhere near where other normal people, even dreaded tourists, congregate in populous cities across the country.
Well, there are normal people, even tourists, that congregate at Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco and I am proud to say that tourist or traveler or whatever I am (I don’t care, I don’t do labels. You can just label me a NON-labeler, OK?) I was there to eat hot, fresh-from-the-oven sourdough bread. Boudin Bakery, which I was told by a slightly ornery French woman is pronounced bo-DAAWWWWN and NOT BOE-den, is a bustling bakery down by the water with incredible sourdough bread baked fresh daily since 1849. Try their tomato soup in a sourdough bread bowl and don’t fool yourself into thinking you can eat the entire bowl … cause you can’t. Really. I was starving and thought I could have eaten the entire bakery but I couldn’t even finish the bowl. Try it and make a liar out of me.
Even though I was stuffed to the brim, a walk down a little street food alley littered with pounds and pounds of fresh picked crab with homemade cocktail sauce and a wedge of lemon fixed that and before I knew it, I was shoveling buttery crab meat showered in lemon juice into my mouth.
Whenever I return to San Francisco, I WILL seek this alley out and get this again.
The following pictures have nothing to do with San Francisco food adventures, I just wanted to include them.
It's my blog. I'll do what I want.
While you're here, click an image to enlarge.
