Listen up people, if you are in the San Fransisco area and want to be taken care of, head to The Corner Store, a new restaurant that has just open on the corner of Masonic and Geary Blvd. I can tell it is not just because I know Sam the sous chef, this place is ready to wine, dine and wow you with amazon flavors and heart warming small plates.
I wasn’t to hungry to start so I order the small plate of Matt’s Dads Pasta with garganelli, confit sweet 100 tomatoes and a Parmesan cream. But what came out first was the figs and apple salad to start with fennel, goat cheese, wild arugula and walnuts, compliments of the chef.
Second course, still yet compliments, the smokes salmon with potato pancake, egg salad and herb. It was absolutely perfect.
The pasta came out last and wholly hell, that was comfort at its finest!
I should have know to just let Sam take the reins right away, but he knew to step in and I’m sure glad he did.
Anthony, the bar tender created his special upon my request to be surprised and with vodka, a home infused simple syrup and a dried apricot you can not go wrong.
Big thanks to everyone at The Corner Store for creating such an enjoyable evening under the foggy streets of San Fran!
I stand here at a gas station oasis, fumes rising up off the drops of spilt gasoline like a serpent out of a muddy, oily swamp, licking salty sweat of my upper lip and squinty through glasses into the dry abyss.
I finally understand why the 1 is much preferred. But, what people should have been telling me is that no one in their right mind takes highway 5 unless looking for something similar to a death sentence.
This road, once out of LA, tries to pretend its taking you on a somewhat enjoyable journey through mountains that can barely consider themselves as such. The gold sandy hills roll around the road a bit, as entertaining as one would find a baby armadillo, watching with interest but knowing what it is to become, a desert dwelling shell of an animal that’s neither cuddly nor tolerable to have just moseying around a lifeless back yard.
The deception of these hills and of highway 5 become apparent when, like the hoof of an Ox that takes no consideration to what’s in its path, these hills are trampled down to a dusty hot sand box that is ignore by all the kids at recess because some 1st grader took a shit in it.
What’s left of the 5 is the stank of that 1st graders fecal matter and a disgruntled gas station attendant that has to clean up after it, working in a dark and desolate “oasis” 15 miles outside of anything recognized as a town, where the price of gas reflects the inconsiderate absorption of our resources.
So, who is left to suck whatever life is left out of this god forsaken earth but the farmers that are over feeding America with the meat of sad, mistreated cattle and the corn of fields that are raped over and over each year.
Well, with that said I’m sure this journey can only turn into something more pleasant as I head to the city of neck breaking hills and golden gates that open over flowing waters and air so thick it will rest on your skin like a moist towelette cleansing you of your sick guilty conscience that would, again and again take that journey down the 5, screaming to the hills mad and nonsensical phrases of conquering the world and laughing in the wake of some 95 mile per hour speeds that rush you in and out quickly enough beforeyuou can find your head.
If you’ve never seen the show Arrested Development, you must. From the frozen banana stand, The Pageant of the Masters to the housing developments, Orange County has it all. Around every corner one of their jokes is staring me in the face and the realization makes me giggle. The weather here is absolutely pleasant, the […]