Don't Call It "Frisco"

As server issues impacted postings in the midst of my recent series on San Francisco, I think it only fair to revisit my visit. (Besides, Ho will kick my ass, if I don't. He works out and plans a trip to NYC in the new year. No need to provoke his wrath...) So, here we go: Memories from the cobwebbed corners of my mind...

*Making a festive brunch of heirloom tomatoes, burrata cheese, champagne-shallot vinaigrette, sourdough bread and sauteed sausages - all ingredients, fresh from the various farmers and vendors at the Ferry Building Marketplace.

*Following up brunch with the appearance of a pumpkin-colored Chevy Trailblazer, rented for a day's exploration of Point Reyes and Stinson Beach.

*Stopping said Trailblazer in front of a pumpkin patch in the Lucas Valley. (Pictured above.) Clearly, we had our theme for the day. Pumpkin rules!

*Sipping Marin County vino at the Point Reyes Vineyard.

*Following up the vino with beer and BBQed oysters at a well-worn seafood shack that's favored by locals.

*Turning several shades of green, post-shellfish, as Hi drives us through the sharp twists and turns of Route 1 towards the Golden Gate.

*Feeling oodles better once we're back at Telegraph Hill, as Hi and I decide to skip out on Ho to get ourselves the infamous roast chicken at Zuni Cafe.

*Watching our Zuni waitress' shock and awe, when Hi, armed with a strong North Britain accent, chastised her for forcing a dessert menu on a "fat man" - not long after he requested to peruse the sweets options. Needless to say, it took her a few moments to realize that he was joking. (We took a pass on dessert nonetheless. Why? Nothing made with pumpkin. What can I say? We were still committed to the day's theme.)

*Waking up the next morning to see Ho happily tinkering away in the kitchen, fixing up a breakfast that featured an egg scramble containing no less than a full stick of butter. (And to think, I'm scared of him kicking my ass. In truth, he's already kicked my arteries!)