postcards from san francisco

We are slowly eating our way through the city. Meal by meal, we will conquer San Francisco.

Breakfast at the Penny Cluse West (or maybe Penny Cluse is Boogaloos East):

Although the best breakfast in town the world can be found at Dottie's True Blue Cafe.

You'll wait in a long line for the breakfast you've been waiting for your whole life. I've been twice so far. And on a side note, I used Google Maps on my iPhone to figure out how to get from Dottie's to my next destination, which sent me traipsing through the Tenderloin. My favorite comment (and I received many): "Hey, Snow White, can a black brother be your dwarf?" I told him I'd have to check with the head dwarf, who subsequently indicated we're not accepting applications for dwarfs at this time: my dwarf harem is full.

The booze in our minifridge has been replaced with fruit from the farmers market. This is a pluot, my friend. Part plum, part uot, all delicious.

The sweetest grapes, nestled in a Le Meridien (or as the yachtsman likes to call it, The Le Meridien) towel:

Strawberries dipped in yogurt eaten over the bathroom sink:

Dinner at A16, creator of the asparagus and walnut crema I made five hundred times this past spring:

Macarons from Miette:

Sea lion: delicious.

Seriously, he appears to be a distant cousin of my dog -- I know that coy look well.

And lest you think we're high rollers, please know that we put on our high heels (or I do, anyway) and take the bus to even the fanciest restaurants. Because that's how the yachtsbusman rolls. (Round and round. The wheels on the bus go.)

Wish you were here...