I don’t like pie. At least I don’t like most pie. I prefer savory over sweet, and most pies seem too sugar-laden to really taste the other ingredients.
At least that’s how I felt until I ate at Mission Pie. Fresh off of an epic taco crawl in the Mission District, I sat down with a couple of friends for a cup of coffee and a bite. (Because after three tacos, a cone of ice cream, a cob of elotes, and a watermelon agua fresca, we clearly weren’t yet sated.)
We tried their walnut pie, and Internet, I swear this is the best pie I’ve ever tasted. It’s nutty, it’s gooey, it’s sweet but not too sweet, and the crust is flaky and oh-so-buttery. Behold, the perfect pie. And what better to wash it down with than a strong cup of coffee?
The vibe at Mission Pie is warm (there’s sunlight in this hood!) and casual (big, beautiful wooden tables), with none of the hipster pretentiousness that’s permeated some other parts of the Mission (*cough* Valencia *cough*). I could sit here all day, and if it weren’t for all the tacos, I may have gone back for a second slice. Perhaps I love pie after all.
Food trucks have taken over the world. At least that’s what it feels like in downtown San Francisco. When a colleague first told me about Casey’s Pizza, I was intrigued, and not just because I love pizza (who doesn’t?). Casey’s Pizza features a brick oven in its truck, an impressive feat that makes all the difference for their old world-style and locally-sourced pizzas.
Casey’s Pizza changes its menu daily, and on the day I visited on California and Sansome, they featured margherita, kale, and Zoe’s pepperoni pies. I went for the pepperoni and was not disappointed. Salty pepperoni, aged mozzarella, and full flavored grana padano cheese topped the thin crust, which had achieved that perfect crispy-yet-chewy texture.
This pizza truck moves around daily, so check ahead of time to see where they’ll be at. Paired with a root beer, Casey’s Pizza makes for a terrific lunchtime meal in the (fickle) San Francisco sun.
I’m a little picky when it comes to Iranian restaurants. As an Iranian-American, I grew up with home-cooked Persian food: fragrant basmati rice, herb-flecked stews, grilled kababs, and tons of fruits and vegetables.
There are a few noteworthy restaurants in the Bay Area, but I never had a favorite in San Francisco until Lavash opened up in the Sunset District a few years ago. I knew I was in the right neighborhood when I realized I could smell the smoky aroma of kababs on the grill more than a block away from the restaurant. I recently visited for dinner with my friends Rebecca and Laura, excited to introduce to them the often-overlooked (but delicious) world of Persian cuisine.
We started with an assortment of appetizers. First came the sabzi panir, which is a platter of fresh herbs, walnuts, cucumbers, feta cheese, and flatbread to roll into tiny, fresh bites. Next, we ordered kotlet, or ground beef, onion, and potato patties. These are one of my favorite picnic foods, but they served us just fine in a restaurant too. Lastly, we sampled the kashk-e bademjaan, a super garlicy eggplant dish similar to baba ghanoush. (For those curious to try it at home, I’ve posted my recipe here.)
No Iranian feast is complete without doogh, or yogurt soda, so we ordered a couple glasses. “Are you sure you want to order this? It’s an acquired taste,” said our friendly waitress to my friend Rebecca. Doogh is salty, minty, and popular throughout the Middle East and South Asia in various permutations. If you’ve never tried it, you must.
We each ordered a different kind of kabab as our entree, and I had the kabab barg. Barg is sliced beef fillet that’s been seasoned with saffron (and often marinated in lemon and yogurt, lending it a tender and piquant flavor). This came served with a bed of saffron-flecked rice and a grilled tomato. I felt like I’d been transported right back to my childhood.
For dessert, we split an order of makhloot, a decadent treat that’s half Persian ice cream (think rosewater, pistachio, and saffron) and half faloodeh, any icy rosewater-flavored thin rice noodle dish drizzled with lime juice. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.
Lavash is what I’ve been waiting for: a solid Iranian restaurant that’s centrally located and serves good quality fare. Home-cooked fare may still be at the top of my list, but Lavash is the next best thing.
I’ve been on the hunt for good Turkish food ever since I visited Istanbul four years ago. Turkish food in the US is often more bland than what I tasted in Turkey — the produce isn’t as fresh, and the spices aren’t as powerful.
At Turkish Kitchen in downtown Berkeley, though, I finally found the taste of Istanbul I’d been craving. I met up with my friend Navid one evening, and we sat down for a meal of beyti and manti, washed down with ale.
Beyti is like a sandwich, only saucier and more delicious. Ground lamb kabab are wrapped in lavash and covered with a mouthwatering tomato and yogurt sauce. At Turkish Kitchen, the beyti was served with a delicately seasoned rice pilaf.
The manti didn’t disappoint, either. Manti are Turkish dumplings, filled with ground beef, onions, and spices. These were served with a yogurty, garlicy sauce. Manti can be found in various iterations throughout much of Asia: in Afghanistan, they’re manto and often include dried mint or split peas. In Korea, they’re mandu and can be served with soy sauce and vinegar.
Service is friendly and casual at Turkish Kitchen. The food has been solid during most of my visits, though not without a couple of misses (I’m looking at you, doner kabab). Stick with the beyti and manti, though (with a side of ayran, or Turkish yogurt drink), and you’ll easily be transported back to Istanbul.
You know when you’re craving pizza but really want surfer/skater-esque California 1990s music to go along with it? Yeah, me neither, until the first time I ate at Golden Boy Pizza. Tucked away in the hills of San Francisco’s North Beach, Golden Boy Pizza serves pizza up by the slice, and with a soundtrack to boot.
The vibe is super casual at Golden Boy Pizza: you line up, you order your pizza (and beer or soda) and you take a seat at the bar. There’s no table seating here, and the space is small and loud, but the pizza hits the spot. Their super-cheesy clam and garlic pizza is a standout, though the sausage pizza is solid too.
An auxiliary benefit to dining at Golden Boy Pizza is that I discovered I still remember the lyrics to nearly every Sublime, 311, and Weezer song that ever was. By the end of the meal, I was ready to dust off my Etnies and hop back on my old skateboard.
But back to the pizza: it’s not gourmet, it’s cash only, and the line can get long, but it’s tasty. And perhaps most importantly, it’s nostalgic.
