Lazy Monday roundup

Weeks' worth of meals have come my way since I've come around, and instead of a roster or ingredients dossier, I have a few threads to put together, in no particular order.

Food is like music and like so many other things, in that some people spend an enormous around of time and energy crafting and harmonizing and others don't care if you get soggy fries with that. Forget about going on vacation: At the beginning and end of the last work week, I sipped at slow gin/Ramos fizz before lapping up the cioppino at Tadich (thanks to the gracious Jomo), and that was in every way a counterpoint to the crap I had at at Harrington's, which does not give a hoot if its salads or sandwiches are lousy or its fries are soggy, since you're drinking anyway. Funny how the average customer's income at both places is about the same. Just goes to show you can run a hedge fund, but your taste will forever be for shit.

What is it about a composed salad that is so hard to understand? Why is serving a simulacrum acceptable? Harrington's has no excuse for its lame-ass everything, being in San Francisco, but I felt particularly violated by a so-called Niçoise salad I had at a fancyish bar and grill in Easton, Pa. -- the Boston/Bibb lettuce pulled and plated wrong, the glaring omission of olives for God's sake, a piece of tuna that either was past its prime or proof that the grill needed cleaning. Because it smelled like armpit. Best thing about the bar and grill, a watering hole for big-shot lawyers and others working in the county courthouse and prison up the street, was the beer. $2 for local pints!

The setting was almost as sketchy and depressing in the Mission Saturday, on the block with the two small-plates-and-sangria drunk tanks. (We had a gift certificate.) Formally, this type of food makes no sense, and I'll save that rant for another post. First off, you can't tell the staff apart from the clientele. Am also glad someone took the trouble to get goopy cream into a squeeze bottle, but zigzagging it on black beans isn't impressive or appreciated anymore.

One of my favorite times at table over the recent period was when Kristen and I got gyros at a Greek diner in the town of Milford, Pa., on our stint away from the Lehigh Valley. The pita sandwiches came warm, wrapped they were in wax paper so that they stay hot and so that you can actually pick them up. The fries, for the record, were crispy crisp. These things are satisfying, and I can't think of an excuse for those who want to get by with less.

I want to wrap on another up note: We won over a couple of converts by bringing croissants from Schubert's over to brunch just earlier today at Alex and Emily's. A few minutes in the oven, and their savory flakiness (the pastries, not the hosts) resets perspective. You are what you say you eat.

Review: Papalote

May I suggest a tag line: "The Taqueria for People Who Don't Like Taquerias."

Alternately: "We Should Have Gone to La Corneta."

The homemade salsa was as good as advertised. Everything else was crap, from the one-tortilla tacos (two per taco is standard to prevent disintegration), to my dull chile verde, to Fanch's grilled chicken plate (dry rice, dry tough chicken, only two tortillas on the side), to the absence of a DIY salsa and chip bar (though there was a help-yourself jar of jalapenos by the register).

Here's the ultimate insult: I wasn't allowed to order two tacos with a different meat in each. Two tacos per order, and only one meat choice. "But I want to try two different meats," I said. "Then you have to order four tacos," was the reply. Complete, utter, unprecedented bullshit.

I should have known. Always be suspicious of a taqueria with no Latinos at the tables. Skinny white girls with $200 jeans who eat taqueria food with a knife and fork do not generally make for knowledgeable patrons. Call me judgmental.

Headline of the Week

"Arroz con Caca," in the SF Weekly. Here's La Rondalla's glowing grade of 49 from the city's Department of Public Health. Yuck.

Look Who's Back

Our old Pizzetta friend Tamar has resurfaced, according to this Chron column. Was she cheesemaking in Vermont this whole time? We must go visit and ask. She's executive chef of Socha a new cafe in the Mission/Bernal Heights area, near the Safeway. Note: the article calls Pizzetta a "cult favorite."