San Francisco, Part Three- Almost Home

With all the recent adventuring, it was nice to take our third and fourth days in San Francisco at a much slower pace.  The big ticket items were out of the way now, so all that was left was things that felt more like running errands at home, but the fun kind of errands, not picking up the kids and then attempting to go peacefully to the grocery store with them, kind of errands.   We bounced around the cities south of San Fran, visiting some locations Little Boss and her dad frequented.  Day three gave us breakfast in Burlingame, animals in Palo Alto, and my favorite snack in a small University town.  The end of day three and the first half of day four were spent with family, not my own, though we gathered as if genealogical lines were blurred.

Our hotel butted up to the bay with a peaceful view.

The first task for the day was breakfast and Little Boss had picked a deceivingly filling main dish to start with.  Crepevine in the affluent town of Burlingame does not offer the wafer-thin crepes found at IHOP, but instead, layers their super-sized crepes with only top quality and carefully selected sweet and savory fillings.  The family run chain makes all their own sauces and dressings from scratch and their unique, rich flavors echo the homemade touch with every bite.  We each ordered our own meals but upon arrival we sighed about not ordering just one meal for the three of us.  Though the coffee was bottomless, I was far too full to enjoy a second cup.  The mug said family diner, but the coffee was better than that.  I later discovered they only serve organic, fair-trade coffee.  I should have guessed as table sugar wasn’t in the condiment carousel, but the brown, Raw sugar packets were.  Good coffee with an outdoor café layout made it hard to leave our table as the busier lunch crowd started to flow in.  L.B. had her endless list of places to take us so we sauntered our full bellies to the car and made our way toward San Mateo.   

Our tour of San Mateo brought us to Bambu, for Vietnamese drinks called Che, which I turned down due to the different textures not being appealing to me at all.  I’m already not a fan of boba, but the options at Bambu included jellied this and slimy that.  As my friends enjoyed their drinks, we hit our next stop which was more my speed, Antoine’s cookie shop.  That’s right, a whole shop dedicated to the perfect on-the-go dessert, freshly made each day.  The options for beverages there were the classic pairings; milk, coffee, or tea.  The flavors were all traditional with my eyes hovering over the most drool-inducing two, chocolate chip and peanut butter with chocolate chips.  The prices seemed right at about two dollars per two and a half inch cookie but after that ten dollar rare coffee from our day prior, I had to make some smart budgeting decisions.  Yesterday’s cookies were available for five dollars for a box of half dozen.  We found the one with my choices and some snickerdoodles and couldn’t keep the box lid closed all the way to the car.  They were superb.

We still had ample time to do a lot of nothing so we pulled up our secondary travel agent, Google, and did a little research about our surrounding points of interest.  We curled around to Menlo Park and stopped to the visit the Facebook headquarters.  Right out front is a bright blue Like symbol for tourist to come take photos with, however their parking lot was awkward and the attendants denied access to the bathrooms.  There were bicycle and helmet locations for employees like on the Walt Disney Studios lot and the staff were as young as you would imagine.  After a couple of quick snaps we swung around to Palo Alto where we spent the rest of the day. 

Google’s next stop for us meant we were now headed to meet a celebrity.  Bol Park is a sprawling park with a kids playground, walking trails, and community installed nature projects like the currently out of season vegetable garden that was put in by a local boys scout troop.  The park lines up against some homes.  Follow one path down, over a tiny wood planked bridge, and look to the right.  Barron Park, where current residents, Perry and Jenny reside, is a family then volunteer run pasture since 1934.  Josina and Cornelis Bol owned this land and cared for a small herd of donkeys until they both eventually passed away.  The donkeys were such a wonderful community enjoyed landmark, that the neighbors taxed themselves to help pay to care for the park and animals.  Original resident donkeys, Niner and Mickey have since passed away and Perry and Jenny are now the main attraction.  On Sundays the pasture within the park opens for meet and greets with the two famous donkeys, which have their own mail box for fan mail and fan art.  Do you recognize Perry?  His claim to real celebrity status comes from the movie Shrek.  Perry is the animal model used for the Eddie Murphy voiced Donkey in the Shrek franchise.    

Donkeys were not the only animal neighbors.

The playground honors the nearby residents with the addition of these toys named after them.

There were multiple sheds and shaded areas and lots of balls and toys.  These animals are well loved.

Mr. Hollywood and his pen mate never got close enough to the fence for us.  We will have to come back on a Sunday with our autograph books.

We had dinner plans to meet with L.B.’s dad in the evening so while we waited for the sun to start to set, we hit up a few more of the kind of time killers that I frequent when I’m at home.  There was a faded wooden outdoor mall where we stopped to walk about and found Books, Inc.   It was an organized but small bookstore featuring new titles, fun gifts, and lots of spinner racks dedicated to journals, some blank with pretty artsy covers, some with predetermined uses like daily goals or listing projects, but my Geek Meter hit plus ten when I came across Atari cartridge blank paged books.  They looked like the 80’s gaming cartridges but increase the size by double.  Though a good price, I passed them up and left with only a gift to share with Little One.   

Now our evening was to be spent on the streets surrounding Palo Alto University.  It is said to be a college town but it felt to me Main Street with its independently owned business, not loud bars and chain pizza joints.  Bell’s Books had a paneled, display window façade and the inside was filled ceiling high with vintage books and that dusty page smell.  They offered more to the Old World collector than the savvy college student, especially their prices, which is why I left empty handed.   Around the corner though, was a place that took my emptiness and filled it with rice and eel, Onigilly.  One of my favorite snacks is the easy to make but hard to find Japanese staple food, onigiri.  Made with warm sushi rice and wrapped in nori (dried seaweed), these rice balls are usually filled with salmon, sour plums, or any type of filling one could wish for.  There was only one restaurant by my house that used to sell this Japanese equivalent to peanut butter and jelly, but Kabuki on Ventura recently took onigiri off the menu.  L.B. knew my fondness for the treat and suggested this location that she had tried before.  The chef taking my order could see my excitement and we chatted while I read all the signs; organic, custom milled, local brown rice, high quality nori from Kyushu, Japan,  fresh, made to order, sustainable ingredients.  Looking around, all of the flatware was recyclable bamboo and recycled cardboard to-go boxes with separated recycle and compost bins for when you were finished eating.  We got three onigiri to share, as we had dinner coming up soon.  Though ume, sour pickled plums, were an option, I knew the plums tend to cause your cheeks to suck in on themselves, so I ordered for us; mushroom, snow crab, and unagi (freshwater eel with sauce).  With each bite, my smile grew.  A simple comfort food that I can’t find at home made me so happy that I ended up talking about it over dinner.

I bet you can smell this photo.  Some people love that smell, others are wrong.

Actual size was about a Shaq handful.  Glad we split them!

L.B.’s dad had invited us to join him for dinner at the Italian restaurant, Terún.  It was hard to tell where on the level from casual to fine dining this establishment stood, as the indoor seating area housed a bright and shiny chandelier and reservations were a must, however, we sat outside with white table cloth covered plastic furniture and the daily specials came on a single sheet of paper that we quickly greased up with our bread dipped in peppered oil fingers.  We ate family style, and I got to try a few new items.  I’d previously not had the creamy burrata cheese that a lot of my friends raved about.  It was good but not really the kind of cheese for my taste.  I enjoy feta or goat or even the tangy parmesan strips sprinkled on the beet gnocchi we shared.  That dish was noteworthy.  I would love to recreate the subtly sharp flavors and interesting color in my own kitchen.  For dessert, I opted for a foamy, warm cappuccino as the temperature began to dip with the sun.  Spending this time with L.B.’s dad gave more insight to L.B. through childhood anecdotes and the geographical and cultural upbringing of her family.  L.B. is someone I admire and hearing her dad speak so proudly of her, even when she was a little girl, gave me more to respect and love about her.  Dad wouldn’t let us part ways that night until we agreed to meet him and the large majority of his family for brunch and celebration the next day before we flew home.  After the enchanting evening we had, we couldn’t say no.

Prosciutto pizza and beet gnocchi.  Delish! 

Like a hug in a mug.

We met the next day at a very popular dim sum and seafood restaurant in an ornate building with walls of aquariums housing the day’s freshest menu items.  Inside, there was barely room to walk.  Trays of tiny boxed food lorded in the arms above you and carts of hot dishes danced between wait staff, leaving little space to move.  The constant offering of new items to the lazy Susan in the center of the tables had people playing offense with their heads, yet the loud conversations never skipped a beat.  L.B.’s family took up two tables in the back corner of the restaurant.  We got to meet almost every cousin, uncle, aunt, and anyone related to her and I immediately felt right at home.  Everyone was beyond welcoming.  I told them my food restrictions and they pointed out all of the beefless and soy free items, telling me to try every dish.  Even the younger shy cousins opened right up when YouTube and Disney became topics.  One mom leaned in and asked me if I really knew what the kids were talking about as she had zero idea.  I laughed and told her of course I did.  I dabble in a little of everything so I can always meet a stranger and turn them into a friend.  The family loved how I made the usually reserved children interact and the tables erupted with noise.  I knew then, this wasn’t about the fast flinging food.  This was an amazing opportunity to be involved with a loving family that wanted to share their culture and “home” with two people who were very important to their L.B.  We were also here to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival/Harvest Moon Festival or Moon Festival, which has many traditions but mostly it is to eat and be with family.   The holiday is treated like a Thanksgiving for the end of a good harvest season and it falls on a night with a full moon so moon gazing is often a part of the celebration.  Mooncakes are made and shared among family to symbolize with their round shape, completeness and reunion.  The pastry, more than a cake, is made from a red bean or lotus seed paste filling with a salty yolk center, encased in a crust, to be cut into wedges and consumed while drinking tea.  They are often given as gifts as the Mid-Autumn Festival is one of the four most important Chinese celebrations.  Our mooncake was cut for us and my palate was not used to the thick and heavy consistency of the paste inside.  However, I’m pretty confident I drank a whole pot of green tea by myself.  Before we left, L.B.’s dad offered to share something he was carrying on him.  It was a mochi dessert, but not a flavor I’d had before like chocolate or matcha, but the infamously death-smelling fruit known as durian.  I had not tried the real thing as I’d never been given an opportunity to but this seem like a safer way of consumption anyway, especially as I was going to be boarding a plane full of close proximity, recycled air breathing people in a few hours.  Not much smell emitted from the package once he’d broken the seal so my friend, dad, and I each quickly put one in our mouths.  Not bad.  But dad didn’t want to hold onto the package with only one piece left in it.  I took one for the team and ate another mochi.  This time, a shredded coconut texture was more noticeable in the outer layer of the piece.  I’d had enough adventurous food for a while now.

Not my photo.  The flying hands in the dim sum restaurant left no time for photos.

On our way to the airport, we made a stop at a little macaron shop, serving seasonally flavored confections and offering tea and coffee.   Chantal Guillon hand makes fresh macarons daily and they ship them all over the country.  L.B. knew about this place as her mom ordered her some for her birthday one year.  They displayed towers of cookies sold for weddings and events that were too beautiful to stand near.  My friends placed orders for themselves and I got a couple of small boxes as souvenirs.  We stopped at one other bookstore prior to grabbing macarons and I was about to get myself and some friends souvenirs there as well.  Feldman’s Books is a mix of used and new books but the genres were pinpointed so well that it was easy to shop, not overwhelming.  It was almost as if it was farcical.  Hobbies; Sports; Golf; Books by specific golfers.  I expected to see another sub topic called Golfers that shop at Aldi and are left handed.   I wasn’t there looking for anything  specific but found a book I didn’t know I needed and got it with intent to thumb through as we flew home but that never happened. 

San Francisco, its idyllic climate, its eclectic people, its rich history, will always bring me back for more.  Musicians write dreamy songs, wistful movie are made, and even with its high rents and potential earthquake vexation, there is something magical and ever beckoning about San Francisco.   It is not one thing but the glamour and mystery within the city lights below you as you fly home that call out, “Until next time”.