Chicharrones revisited

From a poster at 4505 Meats: “Gringo translation: Crispity clouds of porkaliciousness”

I honestly had no intentions of eating the whole bag. I swear! Hell, I don’t even like pork rinds! Really, I don’t! Or at least I used to not like them.

My last memory of eating pork rinds was back when I was a kid. It was the mid 90s and my parents, who have tried every fad diet known to man, were deep into the Atkins diet. When the good doctor wrote in his books that pork rinds had zero carbs, my parents started buying them in bulk. They were found in the potato chips aisle which to my young mind equated them with being just as tasty, yet when I tried them at home, I realized I had been duped. They were like weird pig-flavored styrofoam and when I found out they were made from tough, nasty pig skin, I was completely turned off of the whole idea.

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Morning at the farmers market

The Ferry Building is fast becoming one of my favorite places to hang out in San Francisco. With all the great food and interesting places to eat and shop, all under one roof, I have yet to get tired of going. Since I’ve been here I’ve gone at least once a week, sometimes twice. When I woke up yesterday morning, I knew that’s where I’d be heading first during my Saturday wanderings around town. The reason: Saturday’s Farmers Market.

I originally went for something specific, but when I got there it turned out the vendor I was looking for wasn’t there this week. At first I was upset because I’d walked all the way over there for nothing but once I started looking around at all the other stuff there I was glad I came. Fresh produce, baked goods, cheese and meat products—everything regional, straight from the farm, and most of it organic.

Everything looked incredible but I was particularly blown away by the fruits and vegetables. It was like I was seeing them for the first time. Had peaches always been this big and round, the color of a fiery sunset? Definitely not the tough, dinky ones I bought at shitty supermarkets in New York.

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Sandwich love

I’m not what you’d call a hopeless romantic but if there’s one thing I believe in, it’s love at first bite.

This weekend, sitting on a bench at the pier, with the warm sun on my face and a cool breeze blowing through my hair, I absolutely fell head-over-heels in love the moment I bit into a sandwich from Il Cane Rosso, a small sandwich shop and rotisserie in San Francisco’s Ferry Building. It was one of those moments straight out of a movie. Time slowed down and I got all googley eyed as little cartoon hearts burst out of my head. Birds were chirping and there might’ve even been a full orchestra playing. But I couldn’t tell you what else was happening in the world around me because all I had eyes for was the beautiful and ridiculously delicious half of a sandwich I was holding in my hands, the other half still wrapped in brown paper next to me.

Beef brisket sandwich from Il Cane Rosso

Beef brisket sandwich, this is me professing my love to you. Where have you been all my life? Continue reading

A fungus among us

Mushrooms, so many mushrooms!

Some people like them, some people hate them and others don’t really care either way, but I fall squarely into the group that absolutely loves them: mushrooms. My love for these earthy fungi goes all the way back to childhood. When other kids screamed pepperoni at parents and teachers who asked what topping to get for pizza parties, I was usually the only one to quietly suggest mushrooms instead.

While meandering through the Ferry Building Marketplace I came across the perfect place to revel in my love for mushrooms: Far West Fungi, a small shop dedicated to all things fungal and edible. Continue reading