My friend and fellow-alien, Andromeda Strained, came to visit from planet Oregonia. We had brunch at a typically San Francisco breakfast/brunch place called Red Door Cafe. Why do I refer to it as "typically SF"? Well, let's see...
the food was surprisingly unlabel-able. Is it french? They serve crepes. Is it Japanese? They served our mochas in miso-soup bowls. Is it Mexi-Cuban? Um, they're menu offered "mexidilia" and "roll my cuban". See what I mean? It defies any label you want to stamp on it. The servers were inked like they were giving Bombshell McGee a run for her money (BTW, the best made-up name ever! Sorry, Sandra Bullock, but it's true. She knows how to coin a great monicker). One of the servers, I think he was the owner, sported a very tiny wife beaters, matched with an even skimpier pair of shorts. See? All in all, the place is very San Francisco.
We knew the food would be presented in an equally unexpected and unique manner, they didn't fail us. Andromeda's lox came with a scaffolding of chopsticks and green apple. My crepes came with beans, a drizzling of viniagrette, and a squirting of Sriracha. I was unsure which I adored more, the fact that I received a squirting or that the squirts were of Sriracha which embellished the top of my crepes (love that Asian import).
The food was: myeh, but I'll come back again to try the less adventurous fare. Sometimes you can take uniqueness and innovation a bit over the edge. Oh no, not you Bombshell McGee, you can never have enough swastika tattoos on your labia.
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