Tin Fork
I used to have a conscience about this: eating at a place that I knew was kind of working the system. I felt, ‘What about all the others who are staying closed down, playing by …
“It’s pandemic Armageddon, downtown,” says Jess. She’s the general manager here. She’s just brought out my poutine. “We’re hanging on by our fingernails.” Armageddon? She’s talking about the number of homeless people who come by, …
“I’ve got a hundred bucks that says we celebrate!” I say. “Uh huh,” says Annie. “Now, on this braw, bricht, moonlicht nicht?” It’s like five o’clock. Dark already. We’re just starting out along the Imperial …
David hunches over the ocean, elbows on rail, playing his harmonica. He holds long notes. “See? They like it,” he says. “See? See?” And wow. I’m looking below, and two dolphin fins come knifing through …
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 …