Unhealthy stuff in San Francisco (yes, it's possible)

My first few days in San Francisco felt like a whirlwind tour of what you can take out of food and still manage to eat it: gluten-free, meat-free, soy-free, lactose-free, and of course, fat-free. More on that in my next post, but I wanted to celebrate all the unhealthiness of the city first.

I have never understood why American students always come to London and moan about the lack of Mexican food. Even with the advent of Wahaca, I still don't really get the appeal of what I see is essentially a cuisine made of mixing some kind of tortilla with some tomatoes with some meat, and then smothering it with cheese.

La Taqueria in the Mission is such a favourite amongst my friends, that Fil has come straight here when he gets off the plane, and apparently we are going to all live in a communal squat with Eugene and Aisha just so that we can be near. This humble Mexican joint has been in the Top 100 San Francisco restaurants for many many years now, and was suitably crowded with an eclectic crowd when we went, a mixture of local Mexican families to what looked like a well-fed white Texans on tour.

Inside, the menu is small, you can basically get either various kinds of tacos, or various kinds of burritos, served with a small selection of drinks. The walls are adorned with the numerous awards the place has earned over the years:

I went with the expert, who recommended the carne asada burrito with a strawberry agua fresca. At this point, it remained somewhat unpromising:

But unwrap the tinfoil, and I finally, finally understand what this was all about. This was unlike any burrito I have had, in London, US, or Mexico. There was no rice, no avocado, just a perfect mixture of beef, tomato salsa, and beans in a tortilla wrap, nothing more. And I am thinking that this might only work in California where the tomatoes are just amazing. It was so juicy that I think I used up half a carton of napkins, and hence why the photos suddenly stop. It took a long walk around Mission to digest it, but that only helped me to think it was the best neighbourhood in San Francisco (living in East London helps).

Oh, and the agua fresca was amazing too, probably because the strawberries in California are in season and amazing right now. Sorry, British strawberries will never again cut it for me.

Somehow, we managed to top this food coma with brunch at Dipsea Cafe in Mill Valley, a local favourite serving 'homestyle breakfast' in Marin. It is like one of those cute little American diners that you always see in films, complete with the booths and the unlimited jug of coffee and the overly friendly waitress. I was almost expecting Pumpkin and Honey Bunny to come and rob everyone.

Their breakfast menu is a little ridiculous for choice, including some interesting things like huevos rancheros, gravlax scramble, but I thought you should just go with the locals, and ordered the Dipsea Special of two buttermilk pancakes, one egg, link sausage, bacon, and home fries.

Now, I'm used to a good old big English breakfast, and was getting my stomach prepared for the onslaught. But I still wasn't quite expecting the enormity of the pancakes that were presented to me. I was expecting little drop-scone sized things, but they turned out to be bigger than my face (and ever since my teens I have been teased for having a huge face):

And that huge nob of butter on top was just unnecessary. I somehow managed to plough through about one of those pancakes before admitting defeat. I have a Nigella recipe for American style pancakes, the proportions of which are so huge that I have to halve the recipe each time, but now I understand where she's coming from. We actually spotted another table on the way out which had ordered an extra full stack (3 pancakes) and side of bacon on top of their normal breakfast.

Fil started getting worried about me during the trip because I kept refusing food, saying I wasn't hungry. If you've ever met me, you would know that this is not normal. I didn't want any dinner that day, and I'm sure I am still digesting some of that pancake right now.

One last naughty outing was to go to In and Out Burger, mainly to placate my foul mood after I found out about the inconclusive election results and was missing the Guardian last Thursday. There is only one branch in San Francisco (and another in Marin), so unsurprisingly it was packed that lunch time. I had forgotten what all the secret codes were, so we went for a straightforward cheeseburger & fries. It was much better than the one I ate in LA this time last year, it is certainly a superior fast food burger, and I think it's strategy of keeping the number of branches small probably ensures the quality.

Don't worry, a full report on salads, fresh fruit, and ridiculous healthiness in the next post :)