Dinner on Market Street . . . or He of little faith

There’s a lot of great food in San Francisco, and we did our best to eat a lot of it.

So where was I, oh yeah it was last Thursday, our first day in San Francisco. I went to Golden Gate Park, the Japanese Tea Garden, the de Young, the Flower Conservatory, Nob Hill, Grace Cathedral for the Keith Haring chapel, the Masonic Temple to see the 1957 Emile Norman glassy mosaic windows, Chinatown and then Brian and I went for Dinner at . . . you guessed it . . . Zuni Cafe.

Zuni Cafe is a two story jigsaw puzzled layout restaurant on Market between the Civic Center and the Castro, sort of in the Fillmore. It’s been there for 20 years and is one of my favorite places on earth to eat. Headed by Judy Rogers, the kitchen doles out fresh food without airs and the copper topped 30 foot bar serves up great wine and excellent cocktails.

We walked into the door, the light was streaming in the windows and gleaming off the copper bar, which is where we headed to wait for our table. (we were early, the table wasn’t late).

“Oh my god!” I gasped like a little girl who’s just spotted Hannah Montana, then grabbing Brian’s arm and trying to whisper, “It’s Alice Waters!” Yes. The foodie goddess was sitting next to the guy playing the baby grand piano. “That’s not her,” Brian said, “she’s too young”.

(Did you hear that Ms. Waters?)

Chef Judy Rogers worked under Ms. Waters at Chez Panisse in Berkeley and brings Water’s Slow Food approach to Zuni’s menu. Ms. Water’s worked on a charity show house kitchen for us while I was at Met Home and I not only helped get her everything she wanted, but I had the honor of meeting her.

But Brian doesn’t believe me, even when I assure him, pointing out that Alice does go out to eat, this is her stomping grounds and that she is known to often be in the company of good looking young men, as was the lady by the piano. Even when he witnessed said woman continually approached by adoring fans, would he believe? no.

We were led upstairs, to a great table by the window. We ordered wine, (turned out Brian is so into rosé* wine these days) We got the menu and toasted our get away and our dinner. Then a dozen oysters on the way, Brian excused himself. He was only gone for a minute or two.

“I was right,” he said as he got back to the table, “It IS Alice Waters, the waiter said she comes here at least once a week.”

If we hadn’t taken Donna’s suggestion and ordered the brick oven fire roasted chicken for two, served over warm Tuscan-style bread salad with frisée, currants and pine nuts, I would have thrown him out the expanse of windows overlooking Market Street. But we had, and I didn’t, and the wine was cool and delicious and there was a wonderful aroma in the air.

My blissfull mood saved his life.

And the chicken was delicious.

- - - David