Roming around the Mission before tonight's Meetup, and I need to plan this better. I emerge from the J or surface from BART and there are TOO MANY FRICKIN' RESTAURANTS. The choices are overwhelming, and I end up hauling ashes all over creation looking for a place that doesn't look like the place next to it. (The Mission has what you might call an over-abundance of tacquerias, for those of you who don't live here or who aren't familiar with the area.) I don't mind walking among all of those Latinos though...as my grandmother whispered breathlessly when she listened to Julio Iglesias records, "Spanish eyes." I look away, blushing deep and they chuckle and giggle in Spanish undertones as I pass.
I started out thinking I would unwind a little at Philz, but I was tired and the sugar was low and I lost the building location, so I made my way north to 21st. I took 21st to Valencia and creeped back a little to Dosa--I'm normally wary of Indian food when I have to be at my best that night (writing is at my best, I would like to think), but I was feeling brave. More hungry than brave though...and I got there around 5 pm and they don't open until 5:30 for dinner service. Maybe next time. So I walked back, two doors, and ended up in Herbivore.
Herbivore is clean, well-lit, with fading light to the sunset. I normally don't go for vegetarian either, but I had a big golf-course bar and grill chicken sandwich for lunch, and I didn't mind just veggies for dinner. I sat in the entry area and looked to the street, watching the hipsters, and spooned Yellow Zucchini soup with basil into my mouth. I also enjoyed some soft tacos (which were enough of a meal that I had to give up and eat them with a fork) and a slice of strawberry and rhubarb pie with ice cream. Most of it was quite delicious, but the only thing that truly worried me was the ice cream. I COULD TWIRL IT ON MY FORK. You would think that organic ice cream would be like Breyers or something, but nope--this stuff was spun syrup. Disappointing. Everything else was good, but the ice cream worried me--milk isn't supposed to do that. I'm guessing it was not milk, but the only consolation there was that my lactose intolerance wouldn't kick in.
Next time, Dosa. :) I bet their ice cream doesn't have to be tore off by the fork twist.