At the farmers’ market

Eating on vacation is a tricky thing.  It can put a sizable hole in the budget, which is not helped by the fact that Zoe, and increasingly often, Nadia, have outgrown the children’s menu.  This is one area where our usual efforts to widen our children’s culinary horizons clash with our innate cheapness.  We sigh inwardly as we tell Zoe to go ahead and get the $17 fish and chips (which she will completely demolish) rather than the $6 chicken fingers.

Hard-boiled egg with a view

On the other hand, food and drink are such important parts of travel.  We would no more skip San Francisco’s famous cuisines than we would skip the cable cars and the Golden Gate Bridge.  So we try to strike a balance.  Bob packed his suitcase with some homemade goodies to sustain us — granola bars, beef jerky, pumpkin seeds, almonds.  We’ve rented an apartment with a kitchen, and procured some basic staples for breakfasts and snacks.  Before we set off in the morning, we load up the backpacks with provisions, and have mostly been enjoying picnic lunches. Our old friend peanut butter has made an appearance once or twice.

The Big Cheese, partially vanquished

Our first day out we stopped at the famous market in the Ferry Building for lunch supplies.  We ended up with a large hunk of aged goat cheese, which had a taste and texture somewhat similar to Parmesan.  Little did we know that attempting to cut the thing would be the ongoing bane of our existence.  Even normal metal knives (never mind the plastic we initially attempted) cower and bend when they encounter this monster.  On the plus side, this has proven to really make the cheese last; after cutting off a relatively small amount we have to retire in exhaustion.  (The other day Nadia actually managed to hack a bite-sized piece off for herself, and was wildly furious when Zoe then bumped into her and caused her to drop it as she was slowly savoring it.)  We may be bringing home the remainder as a paperweight.

Zoe’s teddy bear, pre-baking

Remains of bear after dinner

Another item we have been enjoying in great abundance is sourdough bread.  On our second day here, the girls did a workshop at the famous Boudin bakery in Fishermen’s Wharf.  They created their own creatures out of dough, and then got to take home a sizable creature-shaped loaf.  We’ve been eating this bread ever since, and still haven’t cracked into Nadia’s turtle.  Luckily it goes well with infinitesimal slivers of aged goat cheese.  (Also, we found that if you want to use up some bread by making french toast, and you don’t have any vanilla or cinnamon or sugar, a packet of hot chocolate mix that a previous tenant left behind does the trick quite nicely.)

Zoe in giant garlic hat

Anyway, going low-budget for a couple of meals a day frees us up to live it up for the last one.  We enjoyed a fabulous Italian feast at the legendary Stinking Rose, a garlic-themed restaurant in North Beach, the city’s Little Italy (Zoe’s choice for her 13th birthday).  We had an adventurous dinner in Chinatown, where we just told the waitress to bring us a bunch of different dishes (with the stipulation, for certain children’s benefit, of no seafood or spicy food).  We had seafood (well, 3/5 of us did) across the street from the Pacific ocean.

For Mr. Sadana

We had gelato and pastry in North Beach, hot fudge sundaes at Ghirardelli’s, cappuccino in the Haight, and wine and microbrews everywhere.  (We did enjoy one budget meal, at In-N-Out Burger.  Nadia’s teacher is from California and he gave her strict instructions to eat there.  Nadia was skeptical as she is not a big hamburger fan, but was won over immediately.  Bob and I couldn’t believe we were getting away with $20 for lunch for 5 people, and no agonizing over the order — cheeseburgers and fries, the only options.)

One of our favorite meals was at a little place right down the road from us, the Nob Hill Cafe.  We’d had a long, chilly day of biking and buses, and were relieved to finally arrive.  However, despite its being a Sunday night, the place was packed.  Bob and the girls ran home for sweatshirts while I kept our place in line (which, given the size of the place, was outside).  In the end, the “25 minute” wait turned into more like 40, but was made more bearable by the fact that we could sit at a little sidewalk cafe table and drink wine while we waited.  We chatted with the equally cold and hungry family sitting next to us (people are very nice and friendly here) and the time went by pleasantly.  The array of breads, pastas, and pizzas that we ordered to share was well worth the wait, although I think the girls were a bit disappointed with their caramel flan dessert (which they said tasted like alcohol).

Tomorrow we set off down the coast, and already have our next target in our sights — a little taqueria in Santa Cruz that our friends have been raving about ever since they were here a few years ago.  After that it’s down to Big Sur, where culinary options are presumably more limited, so we’d better live it up while we can.