There is a Leonard Cohen poem called For Anne that goes like this:

With Annie gone,
whose eyes to compare
with the morning sun?
Not that I did compare,
But I do compare
Now that she’s gone

What’s there to say? You drank too much last night, made some poor decisions, and now have to live with yourself…and a terrible headache…and possibly the shits. At least going to these places will make it all more tolerable.

Restaurants are in a perpetual state of flux. A dishwasher at Gracias Madre is caught smuggling quinoa back to the Bolivian farmers who originally produced it and is shown his walking papers; a pastry chef and assistant manager at Gary Danko, nude except for a couple of heavy parkas, are interrupted in the walk-in freezer mid-coitus, white powder rimming their quivering nostrils.

A few years when GQ Magazine said that San Francisco was experiencing the nation’s most exciting food movement, it just solidified what most people already knew: San Francisco is a food lover’s paradise.

Let’s go back 1,000+ years and explore history through some of the finest drinking establishments known to man. Do you like history, witchcraft, and booze? Well, this is the article for you.

The quest for the finest offal in the city. A Multi-Colored Brick Road (ahem) strewn with Brains and Heart for the Courageous.

Hungry? Broke? Malnourished? Do you live in a city where anything green costs more than what you make in an hour? Then stop reading this, get PareUp , and treat yourself. And you’ll be helping to curb food waste while you’re at it. PareUp connects users with discounted food that New

For those interested in the consumption of fine entrails, we present to you here within The Organ Trail, a weekly collection of macabre signposts pointing towards zones of high offal-saturation scattered throughout our little slice of peninsular heaven.