Mayflower Sinks, Pizza Rises

Sorry to be lagging a bit; it's time to catch up with the end of the second week while we move into the third. We had a day off (Christmas) so there were only four eating out opportunities, as well as treatments, last week. We returned to the Mayflower with high expectations, and even dragged two of our friends there for a Christmas Eve lunch. Maybe it was the large number of people ordering fancy dishes like lobster to celebrate, or maybe the chief cook had the day off; whatever the reason, the Mayflower let us down. Dishes that were both novel and nicely prepared just a week ago were suddenly sticky, misshapen, not as crisp, and not as neatly served. I can't blame this simply on being busy, since the Mayflower seemingly serves an overflow crowd every day at lunch (we have not visited for dinner.)Rather than dwell upon the negative, let me simply suggest that there could be a consistency problem at the Mayflower, or it could just be the one bad day out of many good ones. San Francisco is overstocked with good restaurants in every price range. It might be a while before we give the Mayflower another chance.

In what might be seen as an exercise in masochism, we cooked up a couple of our Chinese specialties for our Christmas party for 10. Apparently we can not get too much of a good thing. On the menu were egg rolls and scallion pancakes. There is a lesson to be learned here, which was further reinforced by our added self-flagellation when cooking latkes last night: fried food is best served right from the cooking vessel. The less time spent between hot oil and your plate, the better. Unfortunately, the dynamics of the party dictated that we do advance prep. Thus the oven was used to keep both scallion pancakes and egg rolls at a palatable temperature. While the egg rolls only suffered mildly, the scallion pancakes lost most of their moisture and became scallion pancake crackers. While they were still appreciated by our friends, I have to think that overall they were being charitable. This is quite sad, because a freshly cooked scallion pancake is a wonderment, and while our version may not have achieved world-beating status, it is already better than 74.8% of restaurants, and it's going up the charts with a bullet. I will let you all know when we have perfected it. BUT - - you'll have to taste it right from the stove!

We went into the city with our daughter Sophie on Friday, day after Christmas, with every intention of having lunch at Dosa on Fillmore Street. This is the second outpost of this very successful restaurant, and I can attest that after a recent dinner, I completely grok their achievement, namely, taking Indian ingredients and recipes and doing two things with them. First, they reinvent traditional recipes but make them healthful by reducing gratuitous fats. And second, they appreciate the aesthetic of Indian cooking and use ingredients and cooking methods to create novel but relevant dishes and variants. But enough about Dosa; we will return for lunch and will cover this fascinating restaurant in more detail. What transpired instead was that we got there about 10 minutes before opening, which led to a somewhat aimless ramble up Fillmore Street. This section of Fillmore, above (that is, north) of Geary Ave and below Pacific Heights is a wealth of independent businesses; wine bars, Japanese restaurants from the Japantown era, hair salons, and perhaps the last outpost of stores that sell modern lifestyle accessories. I am not sure what to call a shop like this; some among us might recall Design Research, which sought out beautiful, useful (and perhaps useless) items for the office, dining room and bedroom, many sourced from Scandinavia. Fillmore Street has a few such places, along with boutiques, liquor stores with global Champagne selections, and so on. A Yuppie paradise if I ever did see one. In the process of drifting up this panoply of goods and services, we once again espied Defina Pizza. This is the third enterprise of the burgeoning Defina empire, which now includes their Mission District restaurant; the adjacent pizza outlet; and this more recent pizzeria just off Fillmore. We had eaten there before, but suddenly it beckoned once again. Oddly, there were a few parties waiting outside, despite the fact that we walked up after the putative 11:30AM opening time; turns out that, since it was the day after Christmas, they had arbitrarily moved the opening time up to a hangover-friendly 12 noon. So we dutifully got in line, and were quickly seated. Delfina makes a pizza with a thin crust and bubbly seared edge. They incorporate only the highest-quality ingredients. When it comes to pizza, this is a winning formula, since ingredients are few and flavors stand out starkly. Their salads are equally fresh, and are dramatic only because each component is packed with flavor. A calzone we ordered came packed with esoteric, delicious meats and startlingly fresh ricotta cheese. While it did not seem huge on the plate, the richness and quality of the ingredients were immensely satisfying. In fact, about the only thing I can find to complain about was the background music. This was clearly chosen by a meth addict who dialed in the selection from a mental hospital. The restaurant is loud enough without music, like so many ill-conceived spaces where the owner somehow mistakes chaotic noise for excitement. If they only knew that at least half or more of their clients are gritting their teeth praying for the music to be turned down. Now let it be said that, having reached the age of 60, I am in peril of being called a fuddy-dud. And our daughter at first did indeed compare the music to the Rolling Stones - - "It's no different" - - only to change her mind about 12 minutes later, and say, "You're right - - the music does suck." What you had on the overhead speakers was some continuous version of the primal scream. It would not have been quite so awful if it had not also been turned up to a level that rode over the already-tumultuous riot of conversation. So: Delfina - - if you're listening - - not all of your clients are 12-year old pubescent boys in rebellion against the system. Don't let the guy that takes out the garbage select your audio selections for the day. Keep making that delicious food; turn down the volume and do take stock of your actual clientele. I think most of them would not be heartbroken if the level dropped about 20 decibels. That said, you still get four out of five stars in my book.

Korean Lunch Nirvana

After the frustration of circling around Fourth and Balboa yesterday in search of a new Korean lunch experience, we were ready to join the hunt with new enthusiasm today. Our destination this time was Han Il Kwan, also on Balboa Street, which gave us fear of 'deja vu all over again.' Much like the area we had struck out in the previous try, this is a short block of commercial enterprises located in a largely residential area. Again, no turnover-encouraging parking meters. But for whatever reason, perhaps the lack of popularity of surrounding businesses, we were able to drive right up and get a spot within half a block of the restaurant. Right as you get up to the door you realize this is not your usual neighborhood joint, thanks to the sign that designates the parking area in front of the restaurant as a "no parking except tour bus" zone during business hours. One might wonder just what kind of tour would go to what is by all appearances an obscure Korean restaurant; perhaps the gourmand tour of San Francisco's undiscovered gems? No, actually it is more of a 'coals to Newcastle' scenario; after we'd been in our seats for about 15 minutes, a big shiny bus rolled up and disgorged about 45 Koreans, who shuffled into the back room, which is set up with long tables and obviously exists specifically to feed these tour groups. We had to ask ourselves, if we went on a tour of Seoul, would we look for MacDonald's? On the other hand, Han Il Kwan delivers some serious quality (as well as quantity) of food. So they probably could not have come to a better place.

But never mind all that; the restaurant swallowed up this group and large amounts of food soon emerged on what was obviously a pre-selected menu. We instead concentrated on the highly affordable Lunch Special menu, featuring only nine choices. I predictably settled on the Pork BBQ, which is marinated in 'special spicy sauce,' largely based on Gochujang, which is a paste of sweet peppers, red chile and fermented soybeans that is remarkably tasty. A large Korean market will typically offer multiple brands of Gochujang, usually in three levels of hotness. They probably used medium for their marinade; the recipes I've followed to make this at home require only that the pork sit in the mixture for 15 minutes or so. Most marinades will have just a few additional ingredients added, in small quantities: a bit of soy sauce, a little sugar, and some garlic. This version arrived sizzling on a cast-iron platter. Despite the humble and streamlined ingredient list, the flavor of this rendition was deep and complex, arguably the best I've ever had. Andrea elected the Seafood Combination Beebim Bap (their spelling.) This dish basically resembles fried rice, except it's usually served in some kind of pot. Han Il Kwan used a cast iron pot that had two endearing characteristics. First, it kept the food hot through the entire meal. And it seared some of the rice mixture to the bottom, creating a crusty skin with a smoky rich flavor. She asked about the seafood, which was comprised of scallops, shrimp and squid. All these are either cut into petite morsels, or in the case of the shrimp, are the small Bay type. Andrea, not a fan of mushy eggs, requested hers "cooked through," which was not an alien concept to the waiter. Some soy sauce, and perhaps other flavorings, are added, although the emphasis here is on comfort and simplicity. The net effect was simply stunning.

As mentioned in the earlier blog about New Korea House, one of the mainstays of Korean dining is banchan (or panchan.) These are the small dishes brought out, usually as appetizers, at the beginning of every meal. In this regard Han Il Kwan both exceeded expectations and in some ways let us down, but overall the scales tip in favor of 'exceed.' This is thanks to two mini Bean Pancakes; you can spend $11 and get a gigantic one, but unless you're going to share it among four or more people, it will be more pancake than you want. The minis were just perfect, and were unique. They also serve a complimentary Soft Tofu Soup, again brought out in a cast iron vessel, and more than enough to serve two. The broth had a drop of hot oil in it, and tiny pieces of highly stewed beef. Rich and reassuring. A nice touch were the lightly pickled cucumber wedges, which were reminiscent of half-dill pickles from New York's Lower East Side. The rest of the banchan ranged from competent to somewhat boring; beautiful thin green beans were crunchy but bland, the kimchee was good but not exceptional; the pickled turnip was perfectly competent; the bean sprouts were wilted and uninspiring. But who cares? There was such a wealth of food that there was no way to consume all this stuff anyway, at least not without purging. And we haven't come to that.

The setting was remarkably pleasant. Large vents hover over the tables, which are inset with a cooking grill. Han Il Kwan uses gas burners, which appear to be downdraft-ventilated, so it is possible that the overhead vents are a remnant of previous charcoal-based grills. If we go back for dinner I can further research and perhaps verify this; the deal of a lifetime appears to be the dinner for four, which is loaded with courses and ends up at $105 for the whole group. Looks like tons of fun to me, and if they say it feeds four, it probably will generate leftovers for everyone for days. The back wall is covered by large mirrors, interrupted by dual entrances to the banquet/tour group room. Booths run around the perimiter, with free-standing tables in the middle (no cook-at-your-table vents.) A modest selection of Korean beer and sake are offered at moderate prices. Service was quite friendly if a bit scattered (because they knew the tour was about to land,)and English was spoken. Folks, we have a winner in the Great Korean Lunch category. Next time you're leading your tour of great San Francisco ethnic eateries, you would be remiss to miss Han Il Kwan.

New Week, Old Favorite

Honestly we tried. Attempted to visit something new and report on it. But the neighborhood where this particular Korean restaurant is located is unfortunate from the perspective of finding a parking space. Unlike most commercial districts in San Francisco, this one lacks parking meters, and although there is a two hour limit on parking, most of the vehicles looked as if they were cemented in place. We did see a couple of lucky souls get a space, but alas, despite circumnavigating the neighborhood three times, nothing.

Since we were already in the Richmond district, it was a very short hop over to Clement Street, one of the hubs of Asian shopping, eating and living. And we found a meter within one short block of the Taiwan. This restaurant has been a mainstay of our 'cheap eats' dining out almost since we first came to California. I need to check in with the management to figure out the year the Taiwan was founded, but it had to be the early 1970's at the latest. The menu here is pretty much the usual laundry list of dishes, but there are a number of standouts. Steamed dumplings are meticulously prepared by one or two men working in the front window; during crowded times you can stand in the entry way and get increasingly famished as you watch mountains of dough and five-gallon containers of ground pork filling transformed into dozens upon dozens of dumplings, ready for steaming, frying or boiling. This is also one of the best places to have Kuo Teh (pot stickers,) since they too are freshly made and incorporate the same delicious filling. Another area of the menu filled with treasures is the noodle section; today we enjoyed a hefy bowl of Szechuan Spicy Noodles. These are pretty much your standard-issue egg/wheat noodle, but the sauce is what makes it interesting. It is a creamy peanut sauce, with some ground pork thrown in, and a dab of hot oil. There is a vegetarian version that omits the pork, but that we will leave for others to explore. This dish, similar to if not identical to Dan Dan noodles, is surprisingly hardy, and we soon realized that one bowl ($5.25) could in fact be sufficient lunch for both of us. That did not stop us from ordering a plate of Dry Braised String Beans. These are seared in a wok with a bit of oil, which makes the skin crackle a bit yet leaves the insides tender. These come with a bit of ground pork, and a dark sauce that probably contains soy sauce, a touch of sugar and maybe a bit of bean sauce as well. Like most of their dishes, these are not overly seasoned, yet offer distinctive tastes. Our final item was Steamed Dumplings, which lived up to their previous high level of quality; in fact, we saw our order being made from the raw ingredients straight through to the steaming. Fresh, and delightful.

All this was of course too much for one sitting, so our waitress neatly filled two carry out containers without spilling one morsel, better, I am sure, than either of us could do. It seems to be a custom to order more than you need, specifically so as to create leftovers; we've noticed that nearly every table in the predominately Asian restaurants we frequent seems to leave with a bag or two of the ubiquitous little white wire-handled containers.

The Taiwan is decidedly not about dining elegance. The room is narrow with small tables for two or four down each side, and a center with a few larger tables. Our friends call it the Pink Palace, thanks to the generous use of this color on both the exterior and interior surfaces. The room actually has a high walkway, which seems to offer access to some of their storage; the whole effect is somewhat like sitting in a stunted cathedral. That being said, the service has always been friendly once you get used to the rapid pace of the place, which can really get hopping. Perhaps the most amazing thing about the restaurant is the consistency; the dishes we ordered in the 1970's are delivered today with the same flavors and textures that made us believers in the first place.

As for the second week of radiation: nothing to report yet. That is, I am using my new ultra-portable Acer Aspire One to blog in real time. As I sit here digesting Andrea is back in the treatment area. After this visit she will have her brief weekly meeting with her supervising doctor, who is the one who has primary responsibility for the design and course of her treatment. If there's anything outside of the routine you can be sure you will read it here.

What a Difference a Day Makes

The quest for 30 different restaurants in 30 days was broken yesterday by the already-blogged, disappointing return to King Won Ton and Noodle on Irving Street, which did prove to have good dumpling soups, but not much else to entice us back in the future. Having felt the bitterness of a day wasted in trying to put a new place on our map, we fell back today to a familiar friend: Shanghai Dumpling King. This unassuming joint on Balboa Street has an extensive menu, but the stellar items for us are the dumplings. More specifically the xiao long bao (often called 'soup noodle dumpling') are always a treat. These are a small steamed dumpling with a pork filling and about a teaspoonful or less of rich broth inside. How you get the broth to stay inside is one of those special skills that not all that many cooks seem to have mastered; in fact the very concept is audacious. Happily, at Shanghai Dumpling King they have it down to a science. Ten of these little delights arrive in a bamboo steamer tray, along with a small dish with vinegar, slivers of ginger and soy sauce blended. You might consider letting them sit for a minute, because the broth within is probably about the same temperature as the surface of the sun, and will burn your mouth if you dive right in, tempting as they are, when they hit the table. The skins are quite thin, and the whole experience is a delight. We followed this up with what they call Pan Fried Pork Buns. Usually you associate this with a large, doughy bun, but again these are compact, with eight to a serving. They are fried on one side much like a pot sticker, but are round and stand about 3/4 of an inch high.Our final entree on Friday was a Green Onion Pancake, a standard of many Chinese restaurants. Unlike our last experience, this pancake came closer to our ideal, with a flaky texture.

Accommodations at Shanghai Dumpling King are quite modest; there are only a couple of tables in the first room, with a small dining room holding perhaps eight tables of different sizes. The good news is that you are close enough to everyone else to facilitate spying on their choices without too much obvious craning of your neck. But it is hardly a place to linger. No matter; with food as good as this it makes it all worthwhile, and the service is always courteous if not unctuous. When we came at lunch the front room was flooded with high schoolers from George Washington High right up the street, gathering up their takeout orders and adding condiments. It was quite a scene, with dozens of teens gabbing and grabbing their food, but then it was over just as quickly as it started.

We've been on a campaign to avoid parking meters in San Francisco, and have been remarkably successful. There is street parking, if you look for a little while, within two blocks of the UCSF facility. Similarly, if you don't mind walking a block or so you can find spots quite close to our favorite restaurant areas. This is, of course, a silly economy, since the most expensive part of the trip is crossing the Golden Gate Bridge every day to the tune of five bucks (six if you don't have a Fast Pass transponder.) Add a couple gallons of gas, currently down to two dollars each and you've already spent $9. But it is irksome to feed a quarter into a meter and get only ten lousy minutes in return. And carrying around all those quarters is not all that much fun either. So finding the free parking is our way of striking back; never mind the folly of it all.

One final thought about crossing the bridge: it has become a high point of the five-day-a-week trek to the big city. Each day brings something new; a large container ship passing underneath; the Farallon Islands visible (or not) on the horizon; the interplay of sunlight and clouds on the headlands and over the city. We were even treated to the sight of snow on Mount Diablo, something not unheard of but nonetheless rare. So as we pass through the Rainbow Tunnel on Highway 101 South and descend the curves down to the Gate, there is a small tingle of anticipation as to what new visual treats the scene will offer this day. Our appreciation of both the natural and man-made beauty of this area has been heightened, despite having lived here for nearly 40 years.

Of course the destination in all this is the radiation facility, and in this regard, we have a new countdown: one week down, five and a half to go. The extra half of a week comes about because of the intervening holidays; UCSF is closed for Christmas, New Year's and MLK Day, so treatments need to be added on at the end so they total to 30. But - - one sixth of the program is completed, and the patient seems not particularly worse for the wear. We've been cautioned that side effects like fatigue and skin irritation come a few weeks in, but for now all goes well and the more routine the better. Andrea has described a few sensations that occur periodically, one of which is that "the whole experience feels like you are a bug." And a couple of days ago she thought she felt the treatment going through her. This is undoubtedly the product of a rich and fervent imagination, but ya feels what ya feels. In the grand scheme of things, however, it must be said, so far, so good.

Noodles, Dumplings, and a Cheap Joke Waiting to Happen

Today brought a return visit to King Won Ton and Noodle. Andrea and I initially drove randomly, by this place on Irving Street west of 18th Ave, just south of Golden Gate Park in yet another hub of Asian influence and focus in San Francisco neighborhoods. We were in search of dishes that we had seen served at other tables while we knocked down our shrimp dumpling and won ton dumpling soup, and an unusual Chinese/Japanese soup in a miso base with barbecued pork, fish cake and some Chinese broccoli that Andrea added. I think we may have been the only people in the last year to order this; they may well have had to consult the cookbook to figure out how to make it. Not my fault; they put it on the menu, so I thought they were serious.

Now it must be said that the dumplings were all quite good; we ordered them in a broth without the optional thin egg noodles. But we also saw the servers bring out attractive-looking platters of noodles, and what appeared to be a decent onion pancake, a.k.a. scallion pancake. Amazingly, I have learned to make these at home; there is a simple secret, which consists of making a jellyroll and then flattening and folding - - or maybe it's the other way around. Let me know if you need a scan of the actual recipe, which I have from an out-of-print paperback Chinese cookbook. Sadly, my increased knowledge of the mysteries of scallion pancake led me to the conclusion that theirs were hastily prepared and did not have the sufficient folding, rolling and layering to make a flaky, multi-layered product. It was competent, but that was about it. Or in Andrea's opinion, merely oily and undistinguished. And somehow we failed to order the dry fried beef chow fun (with wider rice stick noodles) and got it in sauce with bok choy instead. Strictly boring comfort food, with beef from a modest cut like round, so it is both a bit chewy and simultaneously slightly fatty.

King Won Ton and Noodle is a completely unreconstructed neighborhood place without pretension and might well be lacking ambition, other than to take care of the steady stream of customers that ebbs in and out. They were even moderately busy when we showed up today late for lunch, at about 1:40 PM. It can easily be appreciated for its soups, which include house-made shrimp dumpling and won ton dumpling soups with or without noodles. These are without question quite satisfying taste-wise, more than adequate portion-wise, and quite affordable price-wise. Explorations we made beyond this part of the menu were merely average. Soup; dumplings - - you can't go wrong. Maybe dry fried beef noodle (that just means not smothered in mild sauce,) but not much else. For Asian tastes, there is a much wider range of food styles to choose from, and the walls feature a number of specials in Cantonese with no translation; the only characters I could recognize represented the price.

Now for the complete non-sequitur and today's laugher. Our punsters and comedians clearly lack imagination. There's a joke so large it blots out the sun at mid-day; namely, the name of our latest defrauder and schemer, Bernie Madoff. 

It seems he made off with alotta peeple's money.

Over and out. Still 26 to go, but we've almost knocked out a full week (out of six plus two extra days.) This will be a long haul, won't it . . .

Way Off The Subject - Political Interlude

Just a few thoughts that have been rattling around in my brain that I feel compelled to put down on virtual paper.

First of all, Rudy Blagojevich. There has been no end of commentary from talking heads and pundits about his misdeeds, but I have yet to hear someone say this: it is laughable to think that by taking him down you're doing anything to reduce corruption. About the only difference between Bad Boyovich and most politicians in any significant position of power is that he was comically heavy-handed. If we've learned anything about American politics, it is that it takes money to gain access, and that money entirely influences what laws get passed and which comnpanies are favored. The whole government is for sale, not just one Senate seat. The oil and coal interests paid for Dubya to get elected, and lo and behold, you have a spate of deregulation and policies favorable to their interests, and not necessarily yours. Hey, the oil company representatives even got to sleep with Interior Department employees! Bonus!

So please, don't make me weary with your corruption probes and Congressional handwringing. Either clean it all up or stop pretending.

Second item: the bailout. Let's just call it by its proper name: the FLAILOUT. Enough said for now.

OK, here's another one. It never ceases to amaze me that in all the discussion about the economy, the war (wars) are barely touched upon, as if it was now common wisdom that there will always be a war going on. Orwell was right? With all the hand-wringing about how we can't afford health care or education, you'd think the cost of the wars would be foremost in the discussion. But no, instead it's a conversation about who to tax and when. At least if we move forward on the energy front we'll make progress in the war department, because the source of most of the hard cash for the business of terrorism comes from oil profits. Eliminate the need for imported oil, and you'll have a bunch of terrorists trying to come at you with wood sticks instead of A-Bombs. LET'S TALK ABOUT THE WAR, every day until it ends. This is not a cry for pacifism, by the way; I'm ready to fight the good fight whenever necessary. And there's no question it's a scary world out there. But by squandering our treasure on Bechtel-Halliburton-Exxon socialism,we're becoming weaker and more vulnerable while they become wealthier (and even move their headquarters out of the United States!)

And now, back to my real job. Food. Radiation. and everything in between.

Spicy Chicken Taco

Right there you have the highlight of Tuesday's eating action, the Spicy Chicken Taco at Chino's Taqueria, on the western part of Balboa Street, just past 38th Avenue as it slopes downward towards the Pacific Ocean, which lies just a few blocks beyond, in the direction of China. Chino's was recently featured in the San Francisco Chronicle's Cheap Eats feature, which runs in their Thursday entertainment section called 96 Hours. We were already familiar with the neighborhood, thanks to Shanghai Dumpling King, arguably the premier source of Soup Noodle Dumplings, a.k.a. xiao long bao, in the San Francisco area. But this is a subject for an entirely different entry and will be dealt with at length subsequent to a return visit. At any rate we had espied Chino's previously, and our initial curiosity was further piqued by the newspaper article. And it fit into the schedule for Tuesday.

A few things must be said about taquerias in general. These basically proceed according to a formula. You know what you're in for; some combination of corn or flour tortilla packed with a well-defined set of fillers. At best there will be a choice of beans (black, refried, pinto) and meats (chicken, pork, beef,) along with rice, some salsa, and optionally some sour cream, guacamole and hot sauce. In this regard it is difficult for an establishment to rise above the rest. Some make their own corn tortillas, but the greatest variation is in the different stew and sauce recipes.A few places go the extra mile and offer specialties like lengua (tongue.)

The short story about Chino's is that they make one very tasty meat filling: spicy chicken. This is basically stewed chicken in a red, somewhat hot stew. The pieces of bird are tender and falling apart, and the flavors well melded. Andrea treated herself to the Super Taco ('super' orders add guacamole, sour cream and cheese to the meat, rice, beans and lettuce that come with 'regular' orders.) I had the Pork Chile Verde, which was a mild green sauce with chunks of pork shoulder that were equally well stewed. Of the two the Spicy Chicken was the standout, and was obviously the end product of many hours of work; Andrea overheard one of the workers saying that the place was near-freezing when he came to work at 7 AM (this has been one of the coldest weeks in the recorded history of San Francisco weather.) He was probably starting in on the meat fillings, as well as plenty of other prep, like making beans and preparing guacamole. The irony of a taqueria is that, thanks to all the prep, the final assembly is nearly instantaneous, almost shockingly so, making it hard to believe that anything that decent-tasting can be put together so rapidly. One thing they don't do at Chino's is make in-house tortillas; the tacos came on garden-variety corn tortillas that were perfectly competent but nothing to write home about. Flour tortillas are almost always factory-made; Chino's offers a nice selection of plain, spinach or tomato, and they were certainly fresh
Much of the business is take out, which is not surprising considering the cavernous, unheated, high-ceilinged space the restaurant occupies. Amenities are few; order at the counter, wait about one minute for your entree to be prepared, and either take it to go or seat yourself at the bare-bones tables.We were there for lunch, and mercifully missed the rush from the nearby high school, although driving to Chino's was delayed by hordes of take-out-noshing youth crossing Balboa Street. Our end conclusion was that Chino's makes a very pleasing product, and if were are in the neighborhood it would be a regular stop, but there is nothing that cries out for the mass burning of fossil fuels in order to enjoy a life-changing culinary experience.

On the radiation end, treatment was briefly delayed because two machines were out of commission, but as usual UCSF handled the snafu quickly. Andrea had her weekly meeting with the UCSF doctor, and all was quite routine. In fact, "routine" is a word that could easily describe the course of treatment; show up for a few minutes, five days a week; change into a hospita-style top; lie on the table, get your few seconds of zap; put your shirt back on, and leave.Andrea's treatment is about the warmest and fuzziest you can have; more severe conditions in less convenient places can require much more radiation. She is getting off easy, in a relative sense.

Each day when it's over, we both count down - - two down, 28 to go.

Seoul Food Lunch

Monday was get down to business day. First session of radiation. We found ourselves running enough ahead of schedule (Andrea's moment in the 'sun' is 1:15PM) so we could roam a bit before treatment. We decided on New Korea House, which is opposite one part of the Japan Center, a multi-block project that urban-renewed a particularly rotten part of San Francisco that sat at the foot of Pacific Heights as you traveled south and lost elevation. It may have been worn and weary, but some four thousand residents were displaced by The San Francisco Redevelopment Agency's Western Addition Project A-1, implemented by, it turns out, Justin Herman, he of the plaza across from the ferry building. A-2 kicked out another 13,000 warm bodies. Here's a quote from KQED's History of the Fillmore: Justin Herman prophetically declares, "Without adequate housing for the poor, critics will rightly condemn urban renewal as a land-grab for the rich and a heartless push-out for the poor and nonwhites." So true. Muttered all the way to the bank, I am sure. But enough of the sordid history of the Western Addition. We're here for some decent grub before the first treatment. The New Korea House fit the bill perfectly. Right off the top it must be stated that the menu at New Korea House is identical to that at Korea House, a few doors down. Korea House appears to have two dining rooms, one upstairs, while New Korea House is a single-floor operation at the ground level. I am sure that there are numerous differences, and a whole story about the need for a new version of a restaurant a few doors down, with the same menu, but these finer details will await further reconnaissance.

Korea House is a rectangular room with tables down each side and a row down the middle. The red and gold decor is broken up by overhead vents for the charcoal grills that are built into the tables on each side. At lunch the grills are covered over; the full-on Korean BBQ experience, with one of your party quickly grilling a mixed platter of high-grade protein, is reserved for dinner. Lunch is a practical affair. There are eight items under the BBQ section, which is misleading because three of them are Doi Sot Bi Bim Bap, which combine an egg, various proteins and veggies in a fairly substantial sizzling clay pot, with a choice of bulgogi (marinated ribeye,) seafood (octopus, squid and baby shrimp,) or a pure vegetarian version. While some form of Doi Sot is at the top of my list of things to try next , I opted instead for something I am a sucker for: Korean Pork BBQ. This is thinly sliced pork that's marinated briefly in Gochujang sauce, with some scallions thrown in for good measure. It's grilled quickly, probably over a grill similar to the ones built into the tables for the dinner extravaganza. Andrea opted for the Bi Bim Bap, assorted vegetables and meat served in a big bowl with seaweed, pickled veggies and bean sprout salad as accompaniment. Many of these flavors had already been experienced as part of the banchan (sometimes panchan) that define the Korean dining out experience. These are small dishes of various appetizers that are set down before the main course appears. In this case New Korean House laid out kim chi cabbage, potato in a near-potato-salad state, bean sprout salad with sesame oil dressing, tofu with scallions and a dollop of spicy sauce, pickled turnip (way better than it might sound if you like pickled stuff,) and a couple of items that I had a hard time defining precisely. Perhaps some kind of fish cake in a sauce, and some squiggly gelatinous rice dish cut into jello-like 1/2-inch-square sticks about two inches long. If you check out Wikipedia you get some idea of the diversity of banchan that can be offered. A small bowl of light chicken broth with just a sheen of fat and a dusting of scallions was also served. As you might imagine, it is possible to put down a bunch of banchan and not really require a whole lot more food, and it is not uncommon for these plates to be refilled upon request. However, given the generosity of the servings it is probably just best to move on once each dish is sampled. There's also plenty of rice tea served; Korean rice tea is similar to Japanese, but there is a subtle difference in flavor that I can't pin down in words, but this green tea is easily consumed and we destroyed a full pot of it. All the food arrived very quickly, both due to the fact that much of it is prepared in advance, and helped by the unfortunate fact that there were never more than six people in the restaurant at one time, the time being the peak of the Monday lunch hour. Hopefully this was the slowest day of their week. Andrea's Bi Bim Bap was a generous bowlful; I ended up inhereting her egg yolk, which is cooked runny; it is typically punctured and runs over the contents of the bowl, but Andrea is not a fan of this. So I dumped it over my little bowl of rice, which was quite enjoyable. A ketchup-style container of Gochujang sauce, or a slightly diluted version thereof, was provided, and when added along with the egg to the rice, furnished a nice but not overwhelming kick (you'll find Gochujang in three 'hotnesses' in Korean markets. This must have been the mild one.) Andrea's bowl contained bulgogi, which is barbequed marinated beef, which was lean and flavorful. The final touch was an included dessert which amounted to rice in a light syrup, a kind of very light rice pudding. I took one taste; it was just sugar water with some well-cooked rice that tasted more or less like Rice Krispies that had been left floating overtime in your breakfast bowl. While I appreciated the gesture, it joined my list of "Asian Desserts I Could Easily Live Without."

Things to do on a future visit might include trying the soups, either Kom Tang (thick beef) or Dah Roh Guk Bap (spicy beef and vegetable.) Other Korean favorites are bulgogi, Kalbi (Korean-style short ribs,) and BBQ chicken. New Korea House gets credit for producing very clean food that left both of us satisfied without being overwhelmed, over-salted or over-greased. Two entrees totalled up to about $20, which is not dirt cheap, but then again, this is a comfortable, clean restaurant with nice separation between tables, lots of food for your ten bucks, and attentive service. There is a very faint but discernable smoke aromoa, but it is a serious undertone and did not bother either of us. A very fair value for the money. The final verdict: really competent Korean food, with no surprises but no let down in any dish.

Having gotten ahead of the game we had some time to kill and so drifted across Post Street to Ichiban Kan. This is more or less a dollar store with lots of Japanese content (some made in China.) This place is no end of fun, with a pastiche of useful and junky items covering housewares, cosmetics, school accessories, plastic boxes, bags, packs of ramen, bento lunch boxes and a whole bunch of additional wares that defy simply categories. It was truly like being transported to another country (that being Japan of course, having already had a virtual visit to Korea only shortly earlier.) We blew about $13, left with our trinkets, treasures, and token holiday gifts and headed for UCSF.

Andrea got her first treatment and came out in great shape. She reported one moment of apprehension caused mostly by thinking about what was going on; the actual 'zap' is not much at all, but the movement of the machinery around you, and the concept of radiation passing through you can be unsettling. Two machines were temporarily down, and this caused a slight delay. I occupied myself by reading up on the day's news thanks to my Blackberry. We marched out of UCSF into the blustery, rainy day and headed out for a quick frozen yogurt at Woody's in Mill Valley's Strawberry shopping center. It was only later that I looked up the ingredient list for their delicious, non-fat Yo Cream plain frozen yogurt and found mono- and diglycerides on the list. Needless to say, Woody's is now off limits for us.

Ye Olde Cheesesteak Shoppe

At risk of being abused by Philadelphians, I have formed a definite opinion about the vaunted Philly Cheesesteak Sandwich. First a few confessions: I am not from Philly and do not ever plan to move there unless under duress. And second, Andrea and I have probably sampled a wider variety of Philly Cheesesteak Sandwiches than the vast majority of Philadelphians, each of whom has a well-formed opinion of what constitutes the best cheesesteak available. We have gone out of our way, sometimes very far off the beaten interstate, in pursuit of the ultimate cheesesteak. In that spirit, I share my conclusions: the Cheesesteak Sandwich is not rocket science, even though it may at times appear to be so.

This was reinforced by last Friday's visit to the Cheesesteak Shop, a mere one block up from the UCSF Cancer Treatment Center at what used to be called Mount Zion Hospital. We're feeling good about that newly-erected, modestly-sized sign in the lobby of UCSF that you pass on the way to the down elevator: "One of the Top Ten Cancer Treatment Facilities in the United States." Or so it has been recently voted. On this particular Friday Andrea headed in for the final of the dry runs, where you are positioned on the device and they make sure that all their metrics and programming actually line up with your physical being. Short and sweet. But since we had arrived with not a ton of time on our hands, we sought a nearby place that could produce lunch on short notice. And the Cheesesteak Shop delivered, since we previewed the menu online, and called in our order when we were about 15 minutes away on our drive into San Francisco from Marin. Our order was up by the time they got around to taking Andrea's money at the counter.

The 'not rocket science' part comes down to this: there is not a whole lot of complexity to one of these sandwiches. A soft roll. Meat. Provolone or Cheese Whiz; sweet or hot peppers; grilled (fried) onions. Or not. That's about it. And most places do not tolerate the newcomer lightly; you're expected to know what you want by the time you're at the front of the line.

But where it gets sticky is how you  provision each of these ingredients, most notably, the roll. A quality roll can be summed up in one word: Amaroso. This brand from Philadelphia defines the genre, and although it might seem easy to produce a slightly puffy, white-bread, soft, slightly sweet roll, the truth is quite different. Even though Cheesesteak Shop is located 2,500 or more from the factory, they go the extra mile or thousand to order Amaroso rolls. Other than that, it's largely a question of meat. The last time I was at the Cheesesteak Shop I watched them remove a solid piece of nearly-frozen, nearly fat-free, deboned rib-eye from the cooler and throw it on the grill. By virtue of a lot of horizontal chopping with the spatula and a number of minutes of cooking, this was rendered into a simmering heap of lean, well-cooked meat. Some separately-grilled onions were shoveled in, and a slice of provolone, garden-variety deli stuff, was placed on top and allowed to soften. Then about half of the meat and onions were neatly folded on top, and the whole concoction neatly swept onto the spatula and dumped into the waiting roll. The desired accouterment were added, and in my case a splash of very yellow all-American mustard completed the toppings. There is no end of debate about the right way to season a cheesesteak. My take on it is: put on what you like and leave off the rest. One of the beauties of the genre is that each sandwich is in fact custom-made. The antithesis of McDonalds!

Since the Cheesesteak Shop has gone to the trouble of doing everything according to common practice and proven tradition, the result is quite authentic, and is all the more remarkable for capturing the flavor and feel of Philly a coast away. That being said, like a true Philadelphian, I am always looking for a great deal, and it is not like they overwhelm you with meat; for under five bucks you get a satisfying meal, seven inches of steak sandwich with goodies, but not one that leaves you stuffed for hours. They offer no end of upgrades, so if you're willing to throw down a few bucks more, you can achieve a state of groaning saturation. That is still far less expensive than booking a trip to the East so I can get a bigger portion.

As far as decor, there is a reason I have held off on this aspect for so long. There simply is none, but the layout is practical. They have tables. Napkin dispensers are everywhere, even wall-mounted as well as on tables. There are seats. Water is readily available. Everything is clean, if not sparkling. That's about it. Not a place to linger for hours, and no table service. But Wadda Ya Want  - - dis ain't French Food!

Pilgrimage to the Mayflower

Before I get going, let me admit that this post is a bit of a cheat; a dilution of my original purpose. This blog is supposed to be about all the great and not so great food Andrea and I experience as part of her six-week radiation treatment for breast cancer. Since we find ourselves in the middle of San Francisco, one of the best restaurant towns in the known Universe, this should be like shooting fish in a barrel. And then eating them. But today there is no treatment. In fact, the treatment begins tomorrow, with no treatment; there is a final 'dry run' where you line up the patient on the actual device, the radiation-zapping device, and make sure that your four little tattoos, and all the measurements you've programmed into the radiation-zapping computer, are actually correct. Then next week it begins in earnest, for six weeks total. So this is actually the dry run for the dry run. We just wanted to make sure that our eating machinery was in order. The Mayflower proved the perfect place for the rehearsal.

The Mayflower. This unassuming restaurant entered into my consciousness relatively recently. I think it had something to do with endless trips west out Geary Avenue, usually on the way to the new and (arguably) improved Cliff House, or perhaps the Beach Chalet for a burger and a house-brewed beer. Or Park Chalet out behind the Beach Chalet (more on these fine establishments in the future.) Every trip past the Mayflower revealed a hum of activity. Today we arrived at 27th and Geary in the Richmond district of San Francisco, and stepped inside. The interior is typical Chinese restaurant, but with a few defining differences. There are aquaculture tanks at both the crowed entrance and at the back wall of the dining room, with quite a few varieties of seafood, including live lobster, shrimp, fish, crab (in season,) and geoduck. The restaurant obviously does a business in fresh seafood, especially, I suspect, at dinner. But lunch seems to mainly be about dim sum and noodle dishes. Another thing: tablecloths rather than paper doilies. The napkins were paper, but not the tablecloth. A little touch of class. Also, the Mayflower has chosen relatively well-padded, high-backed seats instead of opting for the butt-torturing standard fare found in so many restaurants. This extra comfort makes it easier to linger over a meal. I suppose the final notable feature is the lack of excess noise. At no point did the Mayflower feel dead, yet conversation was remarkably easy. Maybe it was all those soft bodies filling all the seats; human beings are a great absorber of sonic energy.

I think I have to credit Yelp with making me aware of the Mayflower. There are several dim sum and Chinese food places we enjoy in San Francisco, and I think the Mayflower came up as a related link to them. The consensus seemed unusually positive, so I put the place on my mental checklist of "new places to try." Today was the day.

My niece Erica and her co-worker Christine happened to be visiting us, having sneaked up coastal Calfornia Highway One for a quick visit from their conference in Monterey, before a return flight to Phoenix. Erica is my older sister's daughter. Both she and Christine are in a graduate program with the same boss, but their fields of expertise are different, proving that their boss is involved in a complex environmental program involving many disciplines. I didn't get to the bottom of this at all - - that is, I have no idea what either of them actually do in life, but Christine is involved in Environmental Engineering, and the last I heard, Erica is concentrating on some advanced form of biochemistry.

Either way, they, and we, were both quite hungry. Christine, originally from the eastern part of Germany, had never had dim sum but was reasonably handy with chopsticks, indicating a more than passing familiarity with Chinese food in general. Erica is a vegetarian who can if needed bend the rules to include seafood. She's had dim sum in one form or another almost from birth.

We arrived a few minutes before them, and stood in line in the narrow, confused entrance/exitway, and eventually demanded a number. This proved to be a good idea, since otherwise the manager would have continued to seat his regulars in front of us, whether issued a number or not. But this was, in all, a minor nuisance, and once we sat down into surprisingly comfortable seats (about 10 minutes total wait,) it was all good. The dim sum menu consisted of a two-part NCR form that listed all the dim sum available. Put in your quantity and away you go. Andrea read it to me (only one checklist per table, and I did not want to change glasses anyway,) and we quickly clicked off a bunch of things to try, before our lunchmates showed up. Shrimp Dumplings in Soup. Pan Fried Chinese and Meat Dumpling. Deep Fried Minced Meet (sic) Dumpling. Deep Fried Crispy Diced Pumpkin. Stuffed Egg Plant. Har Gai Shrimp Dumpling.

That pretty much did it, but Erica added Chinese Broccoli in Oyster Sauce, and eventually added Sesame Balls as a dessert. Also I thought for Erica's sake I would add a stuffed Bean Curd Wrap. This turned out to have meat in the stuffing. So Christine and I had to do it in, which turned out to not be so tough.

The Mayflower does a big volume in dim sum, but unlike many restaurants of its size, there are no carts. Everything is delivered by waitstaff from the kitchen. And everything, it is to be said, emerges completely fresh, just out of the wok or steamer, right to your table. This might be the defining characteristic of Mayflower dim sum. Nothing has ridden around on a cart for 15 minutes, or even four; right from the wok to your plate seems to be the order of the day. The other unique thing here, from the dim sum point of view, is that you will find quite a few items you've never seen elsewhere, plus most if not all of your familiar favorites. Since this was the first visit I have no idea if all of our choices were the most brilliant, but based on what they put on our table, it might actually be hard to pick something bad.

Let's start with the weakest link: the deep-fried pumpkin. On the plus side, this was very cleanly fried (obviously the Mayflower changes its frying oil often,) but the overall effect was very mild in taste, and lacking in color as well; it was more like sweet potato tempura than anything else. Despite this, we ended up eating all of it (as well as every last scrap of every other dish, I might add.) Another dish that arguably lacked finesse was the stuffed eggplant, although this may have been by design; the outside of the stuffing was golden brown and a bit tough, but biting into it revealed a dense yet delicious shrimp filling. At first I thought it was fried chicken (!) mostly due to the well-browned exterior, but the true nature of the eggplant's contents were soon revealed. I guess I am a fan of less-browned, moister shrimp fillings, but . . . again . . . empty plate. The Chinese broccoli came and went; nicely steamed with some crunch but no excess fiber, and with oyster sauce on the side. Absolutely nothing fancy, just plain, fresh ingredients, freshly cooked and served immediately. Shrimp dumplings could have been used as the Wikipedia definition of the genre. The Chive and Meat dumplings turned out to be (perhaps by mistake) shrimp and chive filling in a very green wrap, made of glutinous rice flower. These were tough to eat, since they were too big for picking up in one fell swoop, yet too congealed and cooked to be easily separated with chopsticks. My solution was to deconstruct it; a pile of green outside on one side, and the filling on the other. Pick up a bit of each and eat together. Yum. Again, empty plate.

On it went, plate after plate, after bowl. Shrimp Dumplings in Soup was simple and delicious - - a light broth with six thin-skinned dumplings within. It's good that we were with a polite crowd, because no fights broke out over the distribution of the final two dumplings amongst the four of us. The bean curd wrap with filling was actually one of the most delicate of the dishes; very thin, semi-transparent layers of bean curd with a shrimp and pork filling, sitting in a light brown sauce. This was not all that hard to demolish, despite no help from Erica (vegetarian) and Andrea (told to avoid soy because of natural estrogens.) A highlight was the late ordering, and equally late delivery, of sesame balls. The slowness of the process was a result of the fact that these were made fresh for our table, with a total prep time of something like 15 minutes. I am not a big fan of these treats, or any other Chinese dessert, but I did decide to try 1/2 of a sesame ball (neatly cut in half by our waitress with scissors.) Very enjoyable, with a marzipan-like almond-flavored filling. The dessert was still warm . . . in fact, downright hot, and Erica came dangerously close to burning her mouth off while absorbing the heat of the first bite. But she survived intact.

The staff provided plenty of tea, and at least a glass of water per patron upon request. Drinking water with the meal is clearly not part of the Chinese lifestyle, and I'm told this is because it has a dilutive effect on digestive juices. I am happy to say that I personally consumed at least 1/2 pot of tea along with this meal, along with water, and had no problems, digestive or other.

It is notable that there were only six Caucasians in this restaurant at the time we were there; four of us and two at the next table. This restaurant is clearly a neighborhood favorite, and the neighborhood is predominately Asian. However, we were well cared for and tolerated even when asking the table next to us what noodle dish they had ordered, so we could be better prepared for the next visit. In fact there is a completely separate Noodle menu with about 16 items on it, and even if the seafood combo includes Jelly Fish among its fruits of the ocean, it looked absolutely fantastic on the next table.

The bottom line? The Mayflower scores for freshness. And neither of us suffered from long-term ill consequences, which can sometimes be the case when food is laden with hidden oil, salt and possibly sugar. The Mayflower cooks in a very clean manner, and even what appear to be the heaviest dishes do not suffer from greasiness. Bill for four: $43 including tip. Value for money - - GREAT! Highly recommended, especially for warming up to the six-week drama that lays before us. And at the end: no take-home boxes; just a stack of empty plates and full stomachs. A most fine prehearsal. Clearly we can't wait another six weeks for a return visit.

have fun while prepping for radiation treatment

It all begins here: my wife had a very small cancer removed from her left 'boob' and now it is time to get ready for radiation treatment. In order to receive treatment, which basically consists of a few seconds of radiation, repeated five days a week for six weeks, we have to commute from our stultifying yet bucolic Marin County setting into the remarkable facility at USCF Mount Zion in San Francisco.

Our clever strategy for trying to turn a pig's ass into a silk pursuit is to find a different and hopefully unique and tasty place to have lunch for each of the sixty visits that this protocol demands. Right now we're just in the warmups . . . that is, a few preliminary visits to precisely align the radiation beams to the physical body involved. This requires four dot-sized tattoos to provide markers for the technologists when they actually turn on the zapper device. But for now, just a few indelible dots  on the body, lie on your side, thank you and see you in a week.

To erase the not particularly traumatic memories of this event, we met our daughter Sophie near the base of Chinatown in financial-district San Francisco, where she is (mercifully in this economy) gainfully employed. We navigated two blocks north to the R&G Lounge. This unique eatery is a cut above most Chinese joints, with an attempt at basic elegance rather than your typical rat-trap elemental seating and tables. Wood paneled walls, designer strip lighting in the ceiling. Service, I must say, is second to none; your water is filled, your tea refilled, your plates cleared all in an instant.

As for food, very nice. Salt and Pepper Scallops are a standout, but you would not want to be sucking them down every day. It's deep fried fare, done at it best, which is to say, not overcooked, and not over-greasy. Nice salt and pepper taste; many dishes in this genre are often over-sweetened but in this rendition the simple seafood, salt and pepper flavors shine through. As Sophie says, eat this maybe once a month but not more. Really delicious in our sampling for December.  Egg rolls - - west coast version, that is to say, what we might call a spring roll. When we grew up back in the 50's/60's on the east coast, egg rolls were all about big fat rolls with meat in them. those days, apparently, are long gone, since we have not seen a big fat egg roll in years and in fact have resorted to making them ourselves when the craving arises. Even in New York these days you get something suspiciously like a West Coast spring roll. That being said, R&G put up a respectable and not overly-greasy (but not overly greaseless) version of egg rolls.  Nice, and delicious, and they delivered hot mustard to the table in a timely manner upon request (this does not always happen.) Moo shu pork was delivered with six ultra-thin pancakes, and the contents were suitably high quality: pork without fat, cabbage, scallions and who knows what. Very conventional, but very competent. Finally shrimp and chinese broccoli atop crispy noodles. this is the very definition of comfort food; a simple, mildly thick, moderately salty sauce enveloping shrimp, sliced broccoli stalks and plump shrimp (prawns) in its transparent richness. guileless yet effective. 

that's about it for the first visit. As we go down the radiation chain I am sure we will have many more fascinating posts about both food and radiation treatment. Stay tuned!