Date night just got easier with this list of five local theaters that serve more than just popcorn and Junior Mints.
I don’t care what you say, this is not hummus. It is called favosalata. If you insist on calling it hummus, I will persist in telling you that you are wrong, however politely.
Where I work, we are very good at pretending the customer is always right, even when he isn’t. I hear our guests make ordering blunders on a nightly basis, which isn’t surprising, considering the fact that our dinner menu is in Anglicized Greek. It’s downright confusing to the uninitiated. And, of course, un-Greek.
I have a problem with the word “moist.” Anyone who knows me well understands that. For me, it’s right up there with the words “classy” and “slacks.” Upon admission to another person of my distaste for these words, the three are invariably strung together in a sentence, as in “Did you get of load of the moist, classy slacks on her?” It never fails. In fact, I expect it. Still, the mental images these sentences produce are just too jarring.
Things are tough all over. This isn’t exactly news. I can’t think of a single person I know who hasn’t been hit on some level by the mess our economy is in. Everyone, it seems, is scaling back on spending.
And who can blame them?
In a city that prides itself on it food scene, San Francisco’s restaurants have taken a very hard hit. With fewer people lunching and dining out these days, many places in the city have either laid off staff or cut their hours. Some once-favored haunts have decided to close their doors for lunch, some have chosen to to hang out the “Now Open for Sunday Brunch” sign (which is usually an indicator of fiscal desperation), some have been forced to shut down permanently.
As a professional waiter, I consider myself very lucky to be working in a popular and (blessedly) busy restaurant. Hell, I consider myself lucky to have a job. Period.