Pardon me, I’m a bit emotional today. On this day, three years ago, I bought a one way ticket to San Francisco.
I never knew you could love a city. I mean – not just the things in it, but everything – the culture, the land, the whole thing. I never knew you feel protective of a city, appreciative of it. But I love SF with all its flaws, even the snobby people. SF promises that when you feel complacent, it’ll show you mountains and oceans that fill you with awe. And if you feel something weighing on you, it’ll send a man wearing a hippo costume down the street, just cause, on a Tuesday. I think it’s so easy to not feel gratitude most days, except here. Because here, every day is fresh and strange and wondrous and beautiful and geeky and silly and thought-provoking and unique. If I could put a ring on a city, it’d be this one.
Last night, I dined at Frances, famous for its Californian cuisine, and it does what the rest of San Francisco does to you – it ambushes you with thoughtful surprises. You think you’re going in there because of the bacon beignets (because, read those two words again, slowly, lovingly, without wanting to kiss the chef – I dare you). And then what knocks you off your high stool is the lemon pavlova. How tart and sweet and unique, and how it made me want to sing and dance, which is fascinating considering how I had just been stuffed with burrata mushrooms and tender duck. But that’s what this city does; it just kindly serves you adrenaline and love, because it believes that people can do incredible things, and armed with that faith, the people here actually do incredible things. It’s amazing what a little push or a lemon pavlova can do.
wrapmeinbacon 
Leave a comment