Tin Fork
Ahhh... Slurp, burp, slurp again. Pinky finger raised, of course. I clink my cawfee cup down in its saucer. Sitting like a captain of industry here at the corner of Ash and India. Behind yellow …
Boy, this is straight out of The Jungle Book. A ginormous fig tree spreads over me. I have to tilt my head back to look for the giant snake Kaa, just in case he’s wrapped …
It’s an amazing feeling, sitting up to a bar watching the Padres on a bunch of great screens, including one that’s 12 feet, while the actual Padres are playing in the actual ballpark about, oh, …
Baktiar has surely found the sweet spot. This is where folks wandering down Fourth start running out of steam. They can’t see anything ahead except the bricky Horton Grand Hotel. They hesitate and, most of …
‘The problem with La Jolla,” says Siamak, “is that its people are not experienced in sociability. It is a wonderful town, but it is very conservative. The locals don’t socialize.” Derissi strokes his beard and …
Hey! What’s up? Wass goin’ on? Was it something I said? A moment ago, I was sitting in the middle of a sidewalk café, surrounded by tables, chairs, a canopied counter. Now, the whole thing …
Editor's note: As of 2010, this restaurant is closed. Love? This could be it. The question hits me mid-bite into my second-ever quesotaco. It’s a scrunch of crispy grilled cheese over little chunks of steak …
Hank had been on about this for the longest time. He’s a carpenter and wannabe carver, and he reckons the carving of the horses in the carousel at Seaport Village is the best. In the …
Najem Al Ekabi sits beneath the forest of red, white, and black Iraqi flags. He’s intent on a video on his laptop. “Look, see?” he says. “The one on the left. That’s me. Winning the …
Clock’s ticking toward midnight down here in the deepest Stingaree. I’m heading for Ciro’s, the pizzeria. Why? Because I’ve spent the last couple hours holding up the beautiful old (1885!) Tivoli bar, listening to a …
“I’ve got troubles,” I say. I’m trying to explain why I’m half an hour late. “Trolley security. Hauled me off the damned train. Lemon Grove. Must have been 20 of them swarming on board. The …
‘I.B.” “O.B.” “I.B.!” “O.B.!!” “OK. How’s about Oceanside?” “I tell you, man,” says Hank. “Nothing beats O.B.” We’re ambling west down Newport, arguing, as per usual. Size, of course. Like, who has the longest pier. …
‘See? Skin on the ends. Never, in Fronce.” That’s how Eric says it, of course. “Fronce.” He’s French. He’s pointing to his French fry. It does have patches of skin at either end. Actually, I …
Help me out here. Why is the state of Virginia called a commonwealth? And who was Virginia? And, oh yeah. Do Virginians make crazy omelets like this, with two hamburger patties and a bunch of …
The vapors, the vapors. Oh, man. Me thinketh I shall swoon. Unlike Bill Clinton, I inhale deeply. Rose aromas? Cardamom? Honey? It sits steaming under my schnozz here at the granite-top counter as I wait …
This restaurant is closed. “We’re opportunivores,” says Brian. “No,” says Jake. “We’re freegans. Like vegans, but only when it’s free.” Everybody’s sitting around two tables here inside Roots, chatting to stop the teeth from chattering. …