Restaurants
Happy Fonso bongos away to a recorded song coming out of his car. “Working for tips,” his cardboard signs says. “Your help is needed and appreciated. Thanks!” Except, since the lockdown, Old Town is pretty-much …
“Let’s go fishing! I’m at the South Embarcadero. You can rent poles for $5 and buy bait and eat hot dogs and watch Huey sink into the West, all at the same time!” “Where are …
“Hey,” says Kim. “How come they can serve meals inside here? They grandfathered in?” “Make that ‘great-grandfathered,’” I say. I happen to know. This place has been in business since 1886, not that I was …
Gaslamp Quarter. People wary. Streets empty. Seagulls fighting over scraps. One place crowded: breakfast joint on 6th and J. It’s blossoming in sky-blue umbrellas and rosy pink chairs. And busy! Really surprising at this time, …
Coming out of the DMV (trying to get a “Real ID”), Normal Street. Heading for University. Need nosh. But where to? Okay, I already know. Specially now, four in the afternoon, happy hour at my …
It’s green, with golden wounds spilling poached yolks down over roasted, herbed tomato halves and onto a huge side of toasted sourdough bread. You think Croque Madame. I have to ask. “What is this again?” …
‘When God’s not in heaven, He’s in Jamul,” says Dr. Don. “I know it. I feel it.” This is my 84-year-old bar neighbor, out here on the Campo Road. Just met him. I’ve happened in …
So last week, down in TJ, this cool courtyard, Telefonica Gastro Park, instantly reminded me of our very own Quartyard, that deliberately temporary spot for getting together with a few drinks, a few dogs (they …
"Cenosilicaphobia! I’m suffering from Cenosilicaphobia!” I say. “Do something!” Scottish Annie ignores me. She’s scanning Agua Caliente Boulevard like Columbus searching for India. “Ceno...? Och. I canna see a single food truck.” Hmm. Finally I …
“Sobador,” says the hand-painted sign beside me. It gives a phone number. This is on Logan Avenue. I’m standing in the line, as you always do here. Yes, even in these tough times, Las Cuatro …
“Want to try a real Mozambique stew?” says this guy with his dreads gathered in a crocheted rastacap. Mozambique? Oh yeah. Africa. Coast. Southeast. ‘Capital’s Maputo, right?” “Right!” He says. “Nobody knows our capital.” Even …
“Man, this is chilly,” says my friend Alison. “You guys in Fall already?” It’s gotta be 75 degrees out. But she’s from Arizona. We’re looking for a breakfast place, here in La Jolla. “Let’s go …
“What does that mean?” I mumble to myself. I’d noticed it when I came out from Ma’s Place, the Muslim Chinese eatery (see last week’s column). This sign across the parking lot: The Golf Bar. …
“OK. What else?” “OK. What else?” “OK. What else?” The gal’s taking a food order at max speed over the phone. She reads all the items back. “OK. Xié xié (thank you)!” She clacks her …
I’m crazily tempted. Me, eating at the Del? Idea has “disaster” written all over it. Except they’ve just opened their completely revamped sun deck. Plus I have two beautiful women with me, expecting me to …