How to Eat Your Way through Vacation, or What I Learned in San Francisco

Souvenir is the French word for remember. Since the easiest way into my memory is through my mouth, I have a rule for traveling:

Don’t buy souvenirs. Eat them instead.

In December, I had my first opportunity in 32 long years to go to San Francisco, and man-oh-man did I put that rule to work. While Scheidt attended sessions with 17,999 other geologists – Were there lakes on Mars a bajillion years ago? What shape is dust? What the h is a yardang? – I munched my way through the city, with the occasional stop at a museum to pass the time between meals.

Thanks to the wonder of the Internet, I found 7×7′s annual San Francisco list The Big Eat, which became my guiding star for the stay. Of course I couldn’t even begin to eat all 100 things (let alone afford all 100 things), but I was definitely off to a good start. And by the end of the visit, an SF resident said, “I think you’ve eaten more places in this city than we have.”

Mission Accomplished.

In case you are planning a trip of your own, here are my top tips on making the most of a foodie vacation.

1. Stash some local snacks and breakfast food at your hotel.

Clear some space in the minibar and make one of your first stops at your city’s version of a public market. My very first impression upon entering San Francisco’s Ferry Building was, “#$^@#&@* I don’t have a kitchen here!” Being surrounded by sustainable meats and dairy, foraged mushrooms at crazy-low prices, fresh local produce year-round, wine, beer, pastries, sausages, the whole shebang, was almost more than I could bear without a stove. I ended up stocking up on breakfast food, nabbing some fruit, crusty rosemary buns from Acme Bread and supremely stinky Red Hawk cheese, a buttery house specialty from Cowgirl Creamery. This meant I didn’t need to go out for breakfast every day and could save my money for big dinners.

2. Skip the $30 breakfast buffet at the hotel.

I’ve said many times that breakfast is one of my favorite meals, but the average hotel breakfast buffet does not make the list. Even if you are at a swanky joint, the hotel buffet is usually basic omelets, some sort of steamer pan of baked starch with fruit, and lots of bacon and sausage. I’ve yet to see one that’s worth the exorbitant prices they can get away with charging. Instead, use Urbanspoon or Yelp to identify real breakfast places nearby, or eat from the stash you established up there in step one. Even if you still go out, you’ll save money that can, again, be used toward awesome dinners.

3. Listen to your server.

Our first question at a new restaurant is usually, “What do you recommend?” This paid dividends when Scheidt and I ventured through San Francisco’s sketchy Tenderloin district to get to Brenda’s French Soul Food, an utter gem of a breakfast joint with no more than 10 tables serving up genuine Louisiana fare. (And only one near-assault on the way!)

We started with a flight of beignets – plain, apple, chocolate and crawfish – that forever crushed the idea of donuts in me. Our waiter helped us realize that after four massive beignets, we’d probably be better off sharing an omelet, and handily made sure we had the biscuit – “Biscuit or toast? You want the biscuit.” It was the butteriest, flakiest, amazingest biscuit I have ever bitten - and I might not have ordered it on my own.

4. If there is a line going down the block by a window in the side of a warehouse, get in it.

At Little Skillet in the SOMA neighborhood, Scheidt and I sat on a loading dock to devour fried chicken and waffles with country gravy. Like Brenda’s, this was one of the 7×7 recommendations that scooted to the top of my list thanks to its proximity to the Moscone Center where Stephen was tied up. I dragged him across a highway and down what appeared to be a back alley. In the distance, we saw a line of people. I breathed a sigh of relief; when a crowd of people will travel to a hole in the side of a warehouse to eat, you know you’ve found something good. And you know it’s classy if they provide little seat cushions to put on the loading dock while you eat, so your tushie doesn’t get wet.

5. Roll with the punches and expect to be surprised.

Confession: So I Married an Axe Murderer is one of my favorite movies, and I spent a not-insignificant amount of time looking into San Francisco locations from the movie that I might visit. I know, I’m a dork, and it’s not even a good movie. But suffice to say, that movie meant that I had to go to Alcatraz and that afterwards we had to eat at the Fog City Diner.

So after a damp and blustery morning on the Rock, we scooted on down to the diner. I was totally expecting to order a grilled cheese, but upon arrival we discovered that this is actually a pretty unique restaurant, and not a traditional diner at all. We asked our server what was good, and after some questioning, were intrigued by the Japanese pumpkin salad. Fried sliced of pumpkin were placed in a pool of melted gorgonzola and topped with shaved fennel and apple in a cinnamon mustard vinaigrette – hardly the grilled cheese sandwich I was expecting!

6. Have a dream come true.

I wanted to eat at Chez Panisse since I read Ruth Reichl’s Comfort Me with Apples at least 5 years ago. Reichl managed to cultivate in me a long-standing awe of Alice Waters, the woman who essentially founded the organic food movement in the United States. I knew that the romantic Berkeley restaurant was on my list, but I also knew that Stephen’s schedule of lectures and talks might make the trek across the bay difficult. Displaying a level of craftiness I did not know he possessed, however, Stephen finagled us an open evening and a reservation, and onto the BART we went.

The evening definitely met my expectations, and the whole memory is wrapped in a dreamy haze of delicious happiness.

We asked our server for copious recommendations, on everything from the wine to the appetizers to the entrees to the dessert. He had the most excellent turn of phrase: “I would love to bring you (insert menu item).” His advice yielded a delicious bottle of Prosecco – bubbly wine is my favorite wine! – appetizers of crab and house-pulled mozzarella, and my entree of butternut squash ravioli. Scheidt had the rockfish with peppers, and we finished up with a poached pear tart.

If you are at all familiar with Chez Panisse, it will be no surprise that the vegetables really stole the show. Our mozzarella was topped with a fennel salad that tasted so clean you could wash a window with it. Steve’s peppers were sharp and sweet, and the squash filling in my ravioli was thick and toothsome, balanced with frizzled sage and encased in house-made noodles. Not to be outdone, our bi-color pear tart featured a row of pears poached in white wine next to a row of pears poached in red, topped with an intensely creamy scoop of vanilla.

Before dessert, Stephen asked me if I was happy. I said, “After we had the fried chicken at Little Skillet, I was this happy (hand shoulder high.) And then, after we had the beignets, I was this happy (hand eye high). But now? I am so happy! (Hand as high as it goes.)”

While he was in the restroom, our waiter asked if we were celebrating something – he took the bubbly wine as a sign. I said something along the lines of “No, bubbly wine is just how we roll.” How wrong I was.

It turns out that this was no where close to as happy I could get. I reached that point in the wood-paneled Chez Panisse foyer, where Stephen proposed to me.

Since our taxi had driven away while we were carrying on in the foyer, we went back into the restaurant, where I announced to our waiter and the collective staff, “I take it back! We are celebrating! We just got engaged in your foyer!”

And here we are. We’re blurry, but we’re cute. Goes with the whole “dreamy haze of happiness.”

Tagged as: chez panisse, san francisco, tips, traveling