I just got back last night from 10 days in the Yucatan Peninsula.  It was mostly spent reading on white sand beaches in the Mayan Riviera, and truthfully it was Plan B.  The original idea was for my lady and I to visit Cuba, smoke some cigars, drink

Oh man do I love oysters!  Seriously, I think back to ancient times and realize that figuring out what humans could and could not eat, was probably a dismal feat of trial and error.  Like, what sad bastard, or series of sad bastards, said to themselves, “Alright, I’m gonna go around and pry open

I was walking down Valencia yesterday on my way to drop some SF books off at Therapy, when I passed by Fritz.  Every time I’ve gone by there recently I’ve noticed a big sign in the window that says something about $7 lunches.  Usually I’m either not hungry or don’t

  People can often be weirded out by street grub, and the location thereof will probably make or break the decision to consume it.  That’s why it’s an especially uphill battle for Antojitos San Miguel to pull in prospective customers.  Although, they have commuters breezing by them all day and

When you’ve been in the city long enough, one begins to live in routines, sometimes only frequenting the same neighbourhoods, food joints and bars on a day-to-day basis.  Sometimes you need to change things up or entertain someone whose visiting.  It goes without saying that, with few exceptions, places like

I’ve recently moved to the Richmond, which, among many SF purists, isn’t in ‘œThe City.’  I too used to be one of these loveable douchebags that thought there was nothing worth a damn past 19th Avenue.  But I’ve gotten over it, especially considering that my cheap rent, chill neighbors, huge