Rain welcomed us into San Francisco. Perhaps not rain, but a strong mist that turned the whole city gray. We were far from gray ourselves. The prospect of four days, free of obligation, in the lovely city that is San Francisco, (was exciting).
The food in San Francisco is worth the travel itself. While Michelin has showered many restaurants in the city with stars, the small and historic joints are where she proves her worth. Bourdain approved hole in the walls serving good grub in the most real of manners. Sam’s (The Bourdainest of hole in the wall joints) served us coke in a red solo cup and delicious, messy burgers on paper plates. Just up the road is three starred Quince who’s alumni are leading the best kitchens across California. That’s why San Francisco rules.
The best of our meals came at The Progress. Sister to the well known State Bird Provisions and one starred itself.* The entrance is perfect. The front door opens to a corridor with a small taste of the ballet taking place to your left. You’re out of the way enough to feel comfortable while getting acquainted and in it enough that it’s not jarring when you’re seated. The host stand, mainly the lack thereof, makes the stylish, smiling lady (she reminded me of my fifth grade art teacher whom I adored) a joy to come across. We scored what was a cutout in the wall parallel to the bar, our cubby for the evening. The lighting was warm. The volume was busy but not loud. The feeling was intimate but not isolating. My experience with this place in the past left the ordering up to me. My excitement got the better of me, however, as the server had to kindly let us know we were biting off more than just the two of us could chew. Our first round of cocktails and the dressed up version of caviar on potato chips that is the potato cloud were a delight. Upon our reconsidering of my original menu choices, I left one dish up to the server which came in the form of white fish with aguachile. It was gnarly. Sent by its lonesome, it was freezing cold and refreshing, a nice contrast to the deliciously rich and salty few bites of the dish previous. Two glasses of (gamay I think) and a decadent cavatelli with figs, black pep, and corn finished with mascarpone. Schnitzel with a roasted pepper sauce and pork with stone fruit, black eyed peas, and jam. Unique in their own rights while not rocking the boat. No two dishes ever saw the table together, the pacing of the courses gave us ample time to singularly enjoy every dish, free from distraction or disruption of our pallets. We didn’t feel rushed. There was ample time to enjoy an espresso and pour of fernet while some house cashew milk was sent to celebrate my lady and I’s “anniversary”. Thank you to our server, the busser I saw in line for the bathroom who gave me a smile, and my fifth grade art teacher, it was a lovely time.
