The other night I checked out Klyde Café & Wine Bar, an all-day, all-night establishment opened almost a month ago in Union Square. It's a little French Bistro, a little very nice coffee shop, the kind of place where you can order a niçoise salad or pancakes, and get both in generous quantities. I did in fact order the former, and received a heaping plate that fit nicely into the category of "entrée salad": a bale of crisp lettuce, accompanied by (almost all of) the members of the niçoise family. There were plump anchovies, meaty tuna, perfectly hardboiled eggs, taut green beans, slivered potatoes, and bright tomatoes. Although it was curiously light on olives, the salad presented a big, beautiful end to the day, and made a convincing case for the French bistro/all-day-diner hybrid.
I treat ice cream the way most people treat coffee: as an acceptable substitute for breakfast and a convenient and necessary way to break up the ennui that typically accompanies a workday afternoon. That's one reason why I continue to appreciate the Ferry Building's close proximity to my office: it allows me to stop by Humphry Slocombe with little to no premeditation. I found myself there yesterday, making quick work of a single scoop of fluffernutter that had been wedged into a sugar cone. Though some people, myself included, occasionally have issues with the consistency of Humphry's texture and flavors, this was fautless fluffernutter: heavy on the peanut butter, woven with tributaries of marshmallow fluff. It was a near-perfect scoop, and made the rest of the day that much sweeter.
On Halloween, I found myself at the Pink Zebra, the new place from Mission Chinese Food's Jesse Koide, being served by a waitress whose costume consisted of a floor-length dress and a slit throat. The food was nowhere near as grotesque; there wasn't a shred of Gothic horror in its presentation. The most memorable part of the meal was a big bowl of popcorn interspersed with deep-fried shredded pig's ears and seasoned with Koide's housemade furikake, a Japanese seasoning typically sprinkled on top of rice. Somewhat surprisingly, popcorn makes an ideal accompaniment to fried pig's ears and vice versa: it's kind of like what would happen to carnival food if carnival food got a passport and radically expanded its horizons. Anointed with lime juice and butter, the whole concoction was somewhat (meaning very) addictive, the sort of thing served at heaven's multiplex. Koide may want to consider selling it by the bag.