Mission Mission

If you’ve ever been curious about time traveling to 1805 Austria all you gotta do is pop in this pooper and dial 1-323-459-4303. Right around the corner from Rhea’s, or is it Circle K?

Dear San Francisco. I demand Hong Kong street noodles. Immediately.

How come it never occurs to me (or seemingly any of my friends) to have a picnic up on Twin Peaks? I end up up there a lot, but it’s always when I find myself in somebody’s car with some time to kill and we all go, “Twin Peaks!” And then we drive up there, take in the view, run to the top, snap an Instagram and then leave.

Why not make it a destination?? (Like Elizabeth here did.)

My aunt Jane just got back from a lengthy trip to Japan, and she sent along this fun tidbit:

BTW on Okinawa JoJo and I were drawn to a cafe on Kokusai Dori called Mission -  surprised to find out it was started
by a Chinese-Japanese young man who loves the Mission cafes in SF!  He has a beautiful San Marzocco espresso machine
and drip coffee makers just like Blue Bottle!

It’s good to see now we’re exporting more than just our burritos! Thanks, Jane! (Okinawa rules btw, everybody. Hit it up!)

Good news for you non-cable-having freeloaders (self-included):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kp2TzxDWa0k

Yeah yeah yeah, it’s old news. But I haven’t seen this episode yet and just found this link. Watch in horror as Anthony Bourdain transforms your favorite hidden gems into perpetual shit-shows before your very eyes. See him go from “figs on a plate” to “two-fisted, meat-loving drinking town”. Quickly, before Food Network Travel Channel takes it down.

Our pal Plumpy has some travel advice for us:

You know those casino buses that are always parked 8-deep at 16th & Mission, packed full of elderly Chinese women? Have you ever wanted to get on one? Tonight I did. It cost $10, but when I got there, they gave us $30 each for gambling. If you hate gambling as much as I do, you’ll probably blow through that at the slots in the first 30 minutes and spend the rest of your mandatory four hour stay sitting in the bar. But! I won $120 off of their free money. How often do you go out for drinks and come home at 4am drunk and with more money in your pocket than you left with? I’m not saying I’d do it again, but I think everyone should do it once.

Peep the schedule here. Thanks, Plumpy!

On the occasion of Kim Jong Il’s death, Chloe decided to share some pictures from the time she took a look at North Korea. See the rest here.

So says our buddy Kiya from Self Edge, currently abroad. Here are some pics to prove it:

[link]

This girl Genny, a friend of a friend, was sitting with us last night at Bender’s. Some of us had “The Elvis” (pictured above). Genny left early, to catch a flight to New York.

In the morning, SF Appeal and others reported that Genny’s flight had been diverted to Colorado because of a mechanical problem. Genny mentions via text message that the mechanical problem was a FUCKING FIRE:

I was asleep for the fire. But it was scary when they asked for military personnel to volunteer, and then told us to sit in a defensive position when the pilot says, “BRACE, BRACE, BRACE.”

Everyone’s okay. Except those of us that ate “The Elvis.” We all have stomach aches still.

[Photo by Ariel]

When traveling to exotic locales (like Orange County), it’s always amusing to see what passes for adequate representation of your home. Thus it was with cautious enthusiasm that we ambled in to the Alcatraz Brewing Company to sample the fare.

Sadly, our misgivings turned out to be correct, as the menu featured the same basic sandwiches, salads, and sides that can be found at any surburban eatery, although I must admit that the sweet potato fries were quite on point (especially with the accompanying melted marshmallow cinnamon dip). But I’m not going to sit here and sneer like an entitled local; they did the best they could for how much they care.

What I can bitch about, however, is their very un-SF happy hour policy. We arrived just after 6 in the midst of a 4-7 happy hour but were told by the hostess that the happy hour section was full but that we could sit in the regular section. The only catch was that this was the “sad hour” area, as all of our drinks would be regular price.

“So lemme get this straight,” I said, “those folks in the table FIVE FEET away from us get their beers for $3 while ours cost $6?”  The hostess animatedly replied, “Of course, that’s how happy hour works everywhere! That’s how it works at El Torito!”

El Torito. That’s how it works at El Torito. Well then!

It’s good to be back.