San Francisco: Dottie's True Blue Cafe

There's nothing like talking to drunk locals in a dingy bar to get recommendations for breakfast the next day. So that's what I did. I thought I'd milk my chance to get golden tips at this opportune time with little prejudice towards foreigners wanting to infest local watering or dining holes. Actually in retrospect (because I type this entry days after eating at Dottie's), the San Fran locals are more than happy to offer assistance with reading a map, advising what public transport you should take, getting you the hell off their dodgy blocks or sending you to great places to eat even when they're sober.

Apparently it's all about proximity to where you live or where you're staying. Little do these people know that I'll travel far and wide for a good feed, drink or coffee.

Luckily we seem to be staying in a decent and convenient area...at this stage of the trip anyway (more on this when I recap our whole stay in SF). Our new friend, let's call her Emily, because I'm useless when it comes to remembering names, sends us to Dottie's True Blue Cafe, around the corner from us on 6th St. She declares its a SF institution and we MUST eat there.

I think the area is supposed to be SoMA but it feels more like the Tenderloin, as we pass junkies and what look like gang bangers on the street. My peripheral vision catches the massive SUVs slowly rolling by before I hear the gangsta beats blaring. I clutch on to my camera tightly. At this stage I'm regretting even bringing the damn thing. Can I be a bigger tourist beacon if I tried? All I was missing was the "I loved San Fran" sweatshirt...although plenty of locals seemed to be wearing those so whatever! Just walk faster I tell myself and somehow try to blend in.

Suddenly the pathway clears and we roll up, because that's what we do now in America, especially with gangsta beats as our soundtrack (any real hip hop stars or artists out there please forgive me for my consistent and blatant use of the word gangsta, but I like it) and join the queue outside Dottie's.

There's a blackboard outlining their house made pastries. They all sound so delicious as I'm reading them in my head and like nothing else I've tried before so I find it difficult deciding what to order. I remember my dream that morning in the early hours between sleep, semi consciousness and the jet lag during which I had the overwhelming urge to eat pancakes.

By the time I deliberate what to order, we get seated at a tall two person table by the wall. I like the space and atmosphere: exposed brick and beams, dark wood, portraits of music greats hanging off the walls, jazzy music, the clatter of a busy kitchen, low hum conversations lost under all the other noise.

Service is organised and fast in the States. These are career waiters and cooks, they mean business, no half ass work ethic or service here, these people work hard. By the time we settle in we have water, freshly poured coffee (the menus were already waiting for us at the table) and a waiter sent over to take our order, which was:

- Cinnamon pecan roll (to share)
- Blueberry pancakes
- Ginger and cinnamon spiced wheat pancakes
- bacon on the side
- maple syrup

Chris is not familiar with the combination of salty and sweet. I smash the bacon, crispy, salty and delicious with the (real) maple syrup and the ginger and cinnamon pancakes. Oh my god, so delicious.

The cinnamon pecan roll is warm. Did I tell you I love warm pastries? I love warm pastries!! So fresh and tasty. So comforting and overly large.

In fact all our meals are gigantic. Chris and I could have shared one stack of pancakes between us and still walked away full.

We stuff our faces anyway and thoroughly enjoy our first official American breakfast. God bless Emily, or whatever her name was, and her breakfast recommendation!

We brave the outdoors again and walk all the way down Mission St until we hit the water. We spend the rest of the day sight seeing and being tourists in our full camera pointing and site and people gawking tourist glory.

San Francisco: Rocco's Cafe & Taqueria Cancun

"I can't be bothered with any of that shit, I just want to focus on my art!"

We walk ten or so blocks down to the Mission. Spanish is the main language spoken here. There's hobos walking down the street talking to themselves and yelling declarations to whoever is willing to listen. We pass colorful street art in the form of graffiti, whole wall murals that colour a somewhat dirty neighborhood. Poverty and misery are the two prominent words that spring to mind. Every third or so person I pass is homeless.

People's clothing is quite monotone, not much colour. A lady rides past on her bike, another straddles her stationary bike in protest proclaiming to the dude behind the caged jewellery store she just wants to focus on her art.

The land of dreams, the land of milk and honey. It has nothing much to offer these poor souls with broken dreams.

We land in San Francisco late in the morning. We drop our shit off at the hotel, take a shower with a change of clothes and head to Rocco's Cafe recommended by the concierge for lunch.

I have a bad feeling about this. Amidst my jet lag I am unsure if Chris asked the concierge where she eats, or where it's nice to eat? There's a significant difference between the two. I'm positive we're headed for a tourist palooza and my fear is confirmed when at an intersection we see three other tourists, bewildered, pacing circles around each other looking up to find the street signs, they ask us if we know where Rocco's is. Fuck me, I'm looking for an exit strategy fast but at the same time I'm intrigued to see what classifies a "great" place to eat at in the concierge's mind in comparison to mine.

Long withstanding family-diner style Americana. Italian American of course from the North of Italy. But the menu resembles any generic Italian American diner although I see a couple of dishes with polenta ...but I'm still not convinced not do I become convinced the rest of the meal.

I order angel hair pasta with tomato, fresh basil and Parmesan. I figure the simpler I go the better and less chance of me spending the rest of the night on the toilet.

Chris orders the chicken Marsala, which comes with a side of steamed vegetables. It's surprisingly delicious and moorish, I make a note to look up a recipe and kill it when we get back home.

The service, as with anywhere in the United States, is fantastic. I also order a micro brewed beer - pale ale which looks more golden than anything, but I smash it as it goes down too easy after a 14 hour flight. This puppy will help me get to sleep.

The cooks all look Mexican or Puerto Rican. Chris demands Mexican for dinner (as we never ate it last time in the States) and asks the waitress for a recommendation. She asks one of the cooks and scribbles a name and address down for us.

After a three hour nap we wake up groggily refreshed and head out to the Mission.

Taqueria Cancun is busy, we join the line and when our turn is up we order beef enchiladas for $6.99.

And their specialty the beef Mojado with the lot for $5.99.

The ingredients are fresh and we don't wait long to get our food. Although not visually too appealing, the meals are delicious and they certainly hit the spot.

These guys pump put a lot of volume. The crowd is varied: from Latino to Asian to African American and Caucasian. There consistently seems to be a line up for ordering.

The decor is bright, like a Mexican parade exploded in the room. I notice the statue of the Virgin Mary and the offerings of fruit left at its altar. Even the Virgin knows what's important. I give thanks for the meal we enjoyed and step back out to Mission St.

We hit up Amnesia on Valencia St for drinks, open mic comedy and live music. We get back to the hotel around 1am... Not a bad effort for having flown in that morning.

Hola America!

United States of America May-June 2012

Eight hours into our flight and I haven't slept a wink. I'm too excited. This time last year we were on our national lampoons European vacation.

Now we're on our way to the USA.  Thirty days, five cities.

The clincher for me? It's the first time in a long time I've been so excited about a trip...probably because I've had the luxury of time to plan, dream, imagine, construct and look forward to it. Most other times  I've been finishing my work up until the last moment, delegating tasks, following up clients, tying loose ends, firing off hundreds of emails. I got better with time, you know, got more organised, but there was always something or someone that reared its ugly complicated head in the last moments that needed dealing with.

Not this time. I'm free, baby! So I indulged in researching restaurants, neighbourhoods and the hottest things to do and places to be seen in San Francisco, Los Angeles, Austin, New York and Boston. I've also left plenty of room for exploration and adventure.

Stay tuned, this is going to be a bumper of a month. Giddy up!!

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Ps. I bought an iPad. Best. Decision. Ever. So far...into the ninth hour of the trip, it's proved invaluable!

6 Degrees of Bush Tucker

It's been some weeks since the event, but the delicious taste of 6 Degrees of Bush Tucker is still almost as vibrant as that night.

The team at 6 Degrees of Preparation brought it, big time.

Contemporary Australiana fare at its interpretative and experimental best.

This time with increased numbers both in attendance and kitchen staff. I suspect that sooner rather than later, they'll have to take the events to a different location, or at least open up the partition that keeps the current crowd separated from the stacked up chairs from Rosebud's day trading.

I brought my two girlfriends and we brought two bottles of wine. It's handy to note the event is no longer BYO, so we parked our bottles for another time. With a great wine selection on offer, affordable drinks prices (approx. $5 or $6 per wine glass and we paid approx. $20 for a bottle) and with the night's signature cocktail (Arnhem Land Mule) on offer, it works so that there really is no need for BYO. Plus it's handy for a wine rookie like myself having the team recommend matching wines that complement the dishes.

1: Barramundi Goujons marinated in Bush Tomato Chutney wrapped in thin pastry served with Lime Aioli. I'm a fan of fish, a big fan, especially of our native Australian varieties. How do you explain to people overseas what they're missing out on? This dish was a hit.




2: Pumpkin & Bunya Nut Soup with Herb Damper. Sweet, sweet pumkiny goodness, it went down a treat, so smooth, (actually) sweet, creamy, with a crunchy nut finish. Great contrast in texture.



3: Paperback Grilled Queensland Trout Salad with Lemon Aspen and Warrigal Greens. See dish one: big fan of fish. Another hit.

4: Surf'n Turf: Kangaroo Loin, School Prawns, Mountain Pepper Leaf and Berryfgh Jus served with Mash. Tender, succulent, delicious kangaroo meat. I had the misconception that due to its "gaminess", kangaroo meat needed to be cooked long and hard. These pieces were seared lightly and contained a juicy, soft, melt in your mouth tenderness.

5: Old Man Salt Bush & Lamb Pancakes. Probably my least favourite dish of the night, not to say that it wasn't good though. I reminded me of the "pitta" (in Greek) or "bourek" (in Macedonian) that my mother and mother-in-law respectively make. A round dish of pastry filled with either cheese or a combination of cheese and spinach. This was the Aussie version! Not as refined as its Greek of Macedonian counterparts, after all they've had thousands of years to get that pastry just right.

6: Pavlova Roulade with Wattle Seed Cream, Kiwi Gelee & Autumn Fruits. Pavlova: the classic all-Australian dish. Add a splash of fresh, tangy, colourful fruit and you have a home run.

Following the footsteps of 6 Degrees of Goat, it was yet another well executed night. The 6 Degrees crew were on the money with capturing and show casing native Australian food. Yet again they managed to take me back to my childhood: reminiscent of coming to a foreign land with such vastness and diversity. Strange animals such as never-before-seen fish and that strange marsupial hopping around on two legs, which would later become a favourite pet (yes I had a kangaroo for a period during my childhood). They also taught us about, and gave us a taste of what the indigenous ate and lastly tied it into contemporary culture with what has become to be identified as one of the true Aussie dishes (pavlova, in case you've been living under a rock). Awesome. Who said we had no culture?

Nothing says Happy Easter better than a Greek Feast

It's Orthodox Easter weekend, Kalo Paskha everyone! Something to do with the religious calendar and moon, that's why it's on now and not last week (to coincide with Catholic Easter).

My friends and I have been discussing taking it in turns to host dinners with the focus being on our cultural background.

It was time I got back to my roots. I pulled out the big guns a couple of weeks back and got the party started.

Welcome to Angie's Greek Feast.

What better time to share it than Greek Easter?! Six guests in total, six bottles of wine ready to be decanted and four courses served.

1. Hors D'Oeuvres: platter of olive tapenade, goats cheese and fresh organic sourdough bread
2. Entree: Organic zucchini and haloumi fritters served with Greek yogurt
3. Main: Lamb lemonato with chunky soft roasted lemon potatoes
4. Dessert: Galaktoboureko

Lamb is the perfect Easter meat.

I marinated that puppy overnight with lemon, dried oregano and olive oil. The oregano and olive oil were  both from my mama's farm in South Australia (sourced via care package on my last trip to Adelaide).

In Greece the season is spring, so lots of fluffy little lambs are primed for slaughter (after they've grazed pastures and hopped along wide open fields and pranced around mountains of course) and the Easter feasts.

The olives had been picked in the winter just gone and would have had plenty of time to marinate. For this olive tapenade, I used Kalamata olives from my mum's farm. Yeah baby!

During spring, the goat's and sheep's milk is also the best and tastiest, so although our seasons here in Australia are opposite, I used this as inspiration for serving the goat's cheese, making the haloumi and zucchini fritters and serving the yogurt.

The galaktoboureko is the perfect finishing off dessert, which is predominantly an egg, milk and semolina custard, with flaky filo pastry and a sugar syrup.

It cuts the extreme lemoniness of the lamb and potatoes deliciously. Plus its my second all time favourite childhood sweet (the first being walnut and honey cake) that my mum made, so I was determined to perfect it. Mission accomplished. Fuck yeah I rock.

Happy Greek Easter everyone, get it in ya!