Fiericrotch: We know, you're sick of it. But just one more peek at the Great American Food and Music Fest, courtesy of Bay Area Bites' Stephanie Im, who must be a very, very nice person. Why, she makes the day seem almost idyllic, including photo evidence that it was possible to score a Katz's Deli sandwich. Not so appetizing? Im's shot of Guy Fieri, arms raised rockdude style (did he shave his pits?), sportin', quite literally, firecrotch. Major eww.
Pull over: Are Jane and Michael Stern merely phoning in their hoary roadfood shtick? Menu Pages' Adam Martin caught the Sterns' only local pick for their latest, 500 Things to Eat Before it's Too Late. Here's Martin: In a Wall Street Journal article today Stern pointed to the Morning Bun, from Berkeley's Bread Garden, as the only Bay Area entrant in his short list. Seriously? The Bread Garden? The crunchy-clunky place behind the Claremont Resort? Martin wonders if the Sterns didn't, oh, miss somethin' here, like burritos or sourdough. Sounds like it might be too late for the Sterns.
But noooo! After briefly citing his source of inspiration (Richard Scarry's What Do People Do All Day, which de Botton read to his two young children), it turned out that de Botton had spent four months of his life tracing the journey of tuna from the Indian Ocean to dinner plates in England.
Locavores, stop reading right now: By page 42, de Botton is tracking 12,000 California strawberries waiting "in the semi-darkness" in an enormous food warehouse: "They flew in from California yesterday, crossing over the Arctic Circle by moonlight.... At any given moment, half the contents of the warehouse are seventy-two hours away from being inedible...The supermarket will never again let the shifting axis of the earth delay its audience's dietary satisfactions: strawberries journey in from Israel in midwinter, from Morocco in February, from Spain in spring, from Holland in early summer, from England in August and from the groves behind San Diego between September and Christmas. There is only ninety-six hours' leeway between the moment the strawberries are picked and the moment they start to cave in to attacks of grey mould."
The longtime rock producer seemed to take personally the messages describing how in some cases the festival -- which suffered from hours-long lines and food shortges - ruined attendees' birthdays and anniversaries. "I'm taking responsibility for what happened," Lewi said. "At the same time, is there a future for this event? There is no question in my mind." The producer is compiling notes about what went wrong from both attendees and participants such as concert producer Live Nation and food company Aramark, in preparation for next Monday's formal postmortem. "We want to find out who dropped the ball, when they dropped the ball, and how they dropped the ball."
Lewi reported that ticket sales prior to the event were sluggish, followed by a surge of last-minute interest, one reason food providers may have undercalculated amounts. "There didn't seem to be a lot of buzz around town, but then all of a sudden we saw the traffic start to back up."
First up? For out-of-towners seeking a night out beyond the pink ghetto of the Castro, a four-pack of slightly splurgy, gay-friendly (though not necessarily gay-owned) restaurants. Leave your camo cargoes in the hotel room and dress up a little, bitch: We're takin' you someplace nice.
Chez Papa Resto 414 Jessie (at Fifth St.), 546-4134.
Half a block from the dense retail mecca of Westfield San Francisco Centre, Chez Papa feels like a total refuge with a whiff of Euro modern. Dump your Abercrombie bags, grab a cocktail, and sink into the black-and-persimmon ambience. If Catherine Deneuve were a restaurant, she'd feel like this: alternately kittenish and sophisticated, accessorized with glittery black bling. The food skews Provençal modern without abandoning the bistro classics: duck confit, steak tartare, profiteroles. Go crazy, only check your faulty gaydar at the door. Sure, the waiters totally seem gay, but many are just, well, French. Translation: man jewelry, hair gel, and a rugged flirtatiousness not necessarily aimed at you. Merde!
Let's do lunch:
Stodgy? Think of it as charmingly homey. SF Weekly restaurant critic Meredith Brody advises scarfing the golubsty (stuffed cabbage) at Cinderella Bakery and Café (436 Balboa at Sixth Ave., 751-9690).
Drink therapy:
Sorry, straight dudes: the lady-on-lady action here is strictly a participatory sport. Welcome to Womanizer Tuesday at The Bar on Church (198 Church at Market), with happy-hour drink specials, 4-8 p.m.
It's Taco Tuesday, only not the way you're thinking: Score $1 tuna tartare tacos all night at Andalu (3198 16th St. at Guerrero, 621-2211), 6:30-10:30 p.m.
