San Francisco: Incanto

Bourdain ate here in his San Fran episode. I promised myself we'd do one "nice" aka over priced, stiff restaurant per city on our trip. So with being a Tony fan and loving all things Italian in mind, we dined at Incanto in the very suburban neighbourhood of Noe Valley.

I was excited about this place probably because I had booked it like 1 month in advance so the experience had been building up. The verdict post dinner? Don't believe all the hype and everything you see on TV.

I now realise that Tony tends to be polite to all his hosts and censors perhaps what he'd really like to say or what he really thinks. Ok admittedly his hosts must put on the spread of a lifetime too, so that would up the ante considerably compared to my measly every day dining experience at the same establishments. *fist shaking in air* David Chang better deliver the goods in Momofuku Noodle Bar in New York! That's all I have to say.

Back to Incanto. Definitely above average. Hilarious waiter that knew his stuff and looked after us superbly, he even shouted us dessert wine and made half the food choices for us (I fear what the experience would have been like if he hadn't recommended some of the signature dishes).

We both did the mystery wine flight (all Italian as that is the specialty of the wine bar) which was very reasonably priced at $15pp for 3x half glasses. They were all superb choices as they tasted great and accompanied the food really well, a fact (the food ordered) the sommelier takes into consideration.

We had the complimentary bread plate with olive tapenade, two appetisers, two mains, shared dessert plus coffee with complimentary biscotti. Apart from the mystery wine flight and glass of dessert wine, I also snuck in another glass of red. The experience cost us about $160USD.

The food ordered was:
- chicken liver pâté with tomatoes and mustard, house made thyme brioche lightly toasted (this dish was the highlight of the evening)
- blood sausage with egg sunny side up and clams (disappointing, but I have authentic Argentinian and Uruguayan blood sausage as my bench mark)
- spaghettini with shaved tuna heart and egg yolk (most anticipated yet most disappointing dish of the night)
- lamb neck with greens and creamy polenta (extra soft and succulent meat that fell off the bone)
- bittersweet chocolate tart with basil sorbetto (refreshing and delicious)

What I do like about this place, apart from the whole experience, superb service, delicious wines and select delectable dishes, is its concept. Incanto is a nose to tail dining experience, the whole idea of not wasting any bit of the animal, but instead utilising and eating every part of it. Also, they produce their own sparkling water in house and serve it in recyclable and reusable glass bottles. Gotta love an environmentally conscious bunch!

So all in all it wasn't bad, it was actually great apart from the two out of five dishes ordered, but when I look at it as percentages it works out to 60/40 good/bad which is borderline, so its the tree hugging, ambiance, service and fantastic all Italian wine list that make it really great for me.

San Francisco: Mozzeria

I love Urbanspoon. Especially on holidays when I don't tolerate much room for food/dining error. I didn't travel around to the other side of the world to eat shit. I can eat shit in Sydney if I wanted to thank you very much! So any spiel or rant I may have made in the past about technology or social media or digital this or that taking over our world and changing the way we communicate, evil, bad, blah blah. Park it. Social has totally changed they way we engage and it has become abundantly clear to me during this particular trip, where I have loaded up my social and online capability to the max between iPhone, iPad and iPod. I am fully connected and integrated. I have information at the touch of my fingertips 24/7 (and especially in a place like the USA where wifi is free and readily available).

Social has given me the ultimate power as a traveller. It has enabled me to act like, in fact to be, a local. And ironically enough, as a tourist, that's all I ever wanted to be. I troll through Urbanspoon, Yelp and OpenTable like a machine. I will find where people have been going for years, what the local hotspot is and where the food is good, where it's bad and what some random dude ate three hrs ago and whether he liked it or not. This concept, as I think about it more and more, seems surreal. Long gone are the days of wandering aimlessly and giving a diner a "try". I'm on a mission and I won't stop until I get to my chosen food destination.

So it seems only fitting that we hit up Mozzeria in the Mission. This place is run by (what is the politically correct term?) - deaf people. There is no speech by the staff at Mozzeria. Sign language as a skill and mode of communication is a plus...alternatively as are really fast typing skills on your smartphone.

If not having their hearing is a penalty, then taste surely makes up for it tenfold. Every fucking dish (and drink), and I have to be crude to get my point across, was fucking finger licking mouth watering delicious! My hat off to the chef and pizza maker. I wish I went back there again before we left...

We ordered:
- gnocchi with pork ragu
- Italian sausage, fennel and caramelised onion pizza
- peanut butter ice cream with chocolate chip cookie sandwich
- tap Californian beer (my bad for not writing the brand, but I was too busy eating!)
- Californian Pinot Noir

The decor was simple yet trendy consisting of my favourite colour combination of red, black, white and grey. Plus the bonus of an in house fire pizza oven. I gotta get me one of those.

The staff were super friendly and sweet and even wrote down a welcome note "hello my name is Justin and I'll be your waiter tonight". We pointed at our menu choices and off our taste buds went on their delicious journey.

I'm not isolating dishes - they were all simply melt in your mouth.

If you're ever in San Fran, you must go there.

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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Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations
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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!