A Valentine Worth Waiting For

Valentine's Day is touted as the love all, end all day in a relationship.  Along with birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas and New Year's,  it is a day you will rue if you forget to shower her with chocolate,  roses, and kisses from head to toe which make her melt into a puddle at your feet. And for those without Valentines or significant others, this is the day you wish you had someone to hold, someone to cuddle, someone to show you how much you mean to them. 

But forget them all, who needs a man to fulfill your dreams when you can do it yourself?  Who needs to be dragged down by the constraints of public opinion and popular culture? There's no fun in that. And chocolate after the day is over can be so much more satisfying,  for a fraction of the price. Never let it be said that I would pass up a deal on an entire bag of Snickers just because of a handful of pink hearts.

But, don't let me get carried away. Instead, here's a little retelling of how brunch turned into the best lover's day ever. Especially compared to last year. I'll spare you the horrid details. Suffice it to say, sunshine is far comparable to 2 feet of snow and friends better company than strangers. 

We started out determined to meet at 10:30 by Art's Cafe, a mom and pop diner known for their hash browns... Or as Andrea would later post, hash brownies. Maybe it was the excitement of the delicious fare, the homey old- fashioned feel of sitting at a counter...

watching breakfast being made in front of us...

Hashbrowns on the grill

or maybe... just maybe. .. something reminiscent of SF... ;) Alright, so that would never happen to either of us, for different reasons,  my own being the feeling of nausea. If you're from the Bay Area, you'll know exactly what I mean just by walking past the mission or downtown area and taking a sniff. But I'm getting ahead of myself again.

Before we even met, issues already arose. Myself,  I had the joy of believing a transit app only to have my hopes dashed when my ride was delayed thus destroying any attempts to arrive in a timely manner. On the other hand, Andrea had the joy of encountering sweet little girls with their mothers on a street corner, enticing her with boxes of Samoas... Trefoils... Thin mints. Need I go on? It's girl scout season! 

Avoiding the call of temptation, we walked across the street and waited our turn, chatting away on inane topics. Despite the diner seating only 12 patrons, the turnover time was quick and soon after placing orders for a Bi Bim Bip Omelet; spinach, onions, mushroom and spicy sausage hash brown sandwich as well as strawberry lemonades, we were rewarded with crispy potatoes, buttered toast and a brunch worthy of loving.

Top: Omelet; Bottom: Hashbrown sandwich

It helped to pass the time with postcards plastered beneath a see-through tabletop. My favorite had to have been the handwritten Mastercard commercial that reminded me of a vintage holiday. 

I'm not exactly sure how we finished all that food but somehow it got squirreled away into our stomachs. And! We were going to continue on and find dessert. For once, it was still early,  affording us the leisure of wandering before something sweet. Unfortunately, our adventurous spirits were quickly doused with cold reality. 

We managed to attract unwanted attention on our way to Smitten. There we were, waiting patiently to cross at the street corner,  staying in the shade afforded by the building when we were lightly sprayed with lavender water and our birthright questioned. Bastard, the woman whispered before rambling past, mumbling incoherently. Religious fanatic? A woman on a mission? We'll never know. These little encounters find us in all parts of the city, best and worst neighborhoods. Is there a beacon? A sign that screams "accost them"? Thankfully, the rest of the way was uneventful. 

Smitten. What a name. Who can say no to handcrafted ice cream, churned before your eyes into a frozen confection with liquid nitrogen? The bowls frosted with rime, the sun beating down from above.

And the flavors. Salted caramel, Tcho chocolate, Madagascar vanilla and Earl Grey with chocolate chips. Smitten was exactly how I felt upon spooning that first taste of sea salt and caramel into my mouth. The cold dissolving into sweet cream. Delectable to say the least.

Left: Earl Grey with Chocolate Chips;  Right: Salted Caramel

What happened next may have been a consequence of dehydration,  heat exhaustion, sugar high, food coma, or a compilation of the above. But we walked past another planned excursion, across the street and would have missed Two Sisters Bar and Books if not for wandering gazes.

Sharing a love of books and the Regency era, we had long decided that this bar sounded like a literary and culinary dream, coupled with the story behind its beginning. 

Perhaps it wasn't exactly as we expected, then again... it was 1:30 in the afternoon. Choosing a table, we perused the menu. Not only was this an unplanned stop but it was also beer week. Jasmine infused tequila. Blood orange mimosa with beer. So many choices. But I needed something a bit lighter, not so sweet but still floral and fruity. Bring in the Yerba Buena,  named for part of the city, made with ginger infused gin, lemon, lime, simple syrup and topped with a light beer on tap for the week.

As we sat, couples slowly trailed in, some hand in hand, others together but apart. And because we're in SF, an electic couple had to be a part of the afternoon clientele. Few patrons sat alone nursing drinks.

A vintage afternoon

Then, there was us. Perhaps we looked a bit of a couple ourselves to outside viewers, two glasses nearly empty, cheeks blushing from the alcohol in our bloodstream, laughing together about the absurdity of my half-lidded eyes and smeared eyeliner, giggling over made-up stories of our fellow bar mates. 

Cheeks still pink, like little girls who had applied too much of their mother's blush, we went on our way, leaving the bookish bar for more fun and perhaps a bit of shopping. After all, beyond a BFF, shopping is a girl's best friend. Obtaining new clothes, ingredients for cooking, bits and bobs for crafting. The list could go on forever. Remember that post on running about without parental supervision? That happened again once we stepped into Daiso. Now... I have a skein of cream colored yarn and batting and an Ood will be born. 

Derailing. Yes,  I realize. And I'm stopping myself. On our way downstairs,  we happened upon a massive line. What could it possibly be? Did that many people need an appointment at the hair salon today? It was a mushroom cloud which caught our eyes. You may have heard of milk tea. Of boba. Of pudding and jelly. But have you imagined a cotton candy milk tea?

Neither had we.

Two straws, entwined in spun sugar

Mitsu teahouse is a San Francisco startup, nestled in Japantown, right next to Daiso. And their signature is a cloud of pink or blue cotton candy atop traditional boba milk tea, a bright straw holding the puff in place, speared through the top of the plastic lid. As with any other tea house, we had the choice between black, green or oolong tea as our base. A list of sweet flavors. The decision of how sweet we wanted our drink. And if we wanted to incorporate milk or pearls of boba.

It was a combination of childish carnival delights and familiar tastes. Blood orange green tea, lightly sweetened, hold the milk and boba. The citrus flavored syrup tinged the tea a vibrant orange red, a hint of floral aroma from the tea accentuating the fruit. And the crowning glory, a fluffy sweet cloud of blueberries. 

The drink brought out the child within us as we consumed more sugar than we needed, burying ourselves in a pillow of sticky slumber.

To end the day, a ramble past the peace tower

and a visit from a sweet monster of vague Japanese origins. 

I'm on Ravelry! 

Happy Valentine's Day!