san fran flashback: ferry building + duck overload.

I postponed my SFO post because, well, immediately after returning, this whole cholesterol reduction scheme went in to full deployment mode and, frankly, the memories of what went down in the Golden Gate city were a little too fatty and overpriced to think about.

Ha. I'm mostly kidding about the "too fatty", since I'm the one who ordered the charcuterie of duck at Rubicon (which included duck prosciutto, foie gras, and duck paté, along with aged balsamico and toasted hazelnuts). And what am I doing eating at Rubicon anyway, if I'm so concerned about price? Freak.

All I mean is: comparatively, to consume this kind of food and wine in America, versus, say...Italy, the prices are dumbfounding. And yes, before anyone launches anything huge and nasty at me...there are things that creative, trained, (expensive, salaried) chefs (American or otherwise) can do that go well beyond the inherent but lower-priced gourmandism of your average Italian trattoria. And the SF farmers' markets are spectacular. And I love the artesian cheesemakers, etc. Inarguably, it's all part of what makes SF America's most appetizing city to live in. But is that why SF is such an expensive city? You pay for the privilege? Not just the food and wine, but especially the food and wine. No can do. Especially not if my tax dollahs would be funding the Poop Ship Destroyer (I'm referring of course to eh, uh, em, hm, ah, uh, Bush, and not Ween).

Maybe this is just sour grapes. Maybe it's because I know (hope) my expense account days are behind me, along with $14 glasses of wine, and the thought that kept needling me in the ear was, "Man, I don't agree with these prices and what they indicate, but nonetheless it sure would be nice to be able to feel good about dropping 200 bucks for dinner again."

OK, see why I postponed writing about this? I don't have it in me to continue to justify this rant, so I'll hit the mostly inexpensive highlights.

Ferry Plaza Farmer's Market. Saturday morning, Mara and I went for breakfast/lunch. An interesting slice of semi-urban upper-middle class SF weekend life.

We arrived far too hungry and irrational. I almost bought some fried asparagus, for example. Instead, Mara opted for a sausage bomb from Aidell's, while I went to Cocina Primavera and stood in a very long line for Oaxacan Red Mole Tamales.

Excellent stuff. These pictures of Mara in action are our vain attempts to recapture even a fraction of the glory that is "The Jimmy Picture".

I'll elaborate in a bit.