This Sabbatical journey usually includes hours at an industrial arts non-profit in a notoriously violent inner city locale, where I answer phones for free and refresh myself with free-trade chai tea lattes from our specialty vending machine. After this saintly act of goodwill, I scurry to my car using my $15 thrift store peacoat to hide my $100, leather bound Fossil laptop tote. I then take a 40-minute drive over a 2-mile bridge to treat myself to an authentic Bay Area meal.
An authentic Bay Area meal can be a number of things.
The place was called Toyose. We found it on a deserted street lined with Frisco's signature low-income, double stacked, cubby hole housing. The visible shoreline drive to Toyose suggested fine-dining superiority; the neighboring plastic signboard liquor stores insisted otherwise.
We opened what seemed to be a garage sidedoor and entered what appeared to be an East Asian countryside hut. A corridor of attractive wooden booths lined either side of the chic shoe box of a diner, and the back opened up slightly to a section walled with mirrors, lined with similar booths, and topped with a faux gazebo-esque roof strung with lights. -- O holy and chic Zion, grace us with thy victual blessings -- At the time my guest and I were the only ones seated; however, judging from the cutesy powder pink and blue posters featuring unnaturally fresh-faced foreign models I could tell who would inevitably be joining us.
Moments later, small groups of soju-sipping Korean twenty-somethings piled in, and by that time we had already broken bread -- crispy squid tempura, egg-topped kimchi fried rice, and assorted Korean pickles and starters. The food was good, but not great; a strong indicator of a classic Option #2 meal. There was also no dessert available, which is unacceptable, but the overall experience was satisfying.
We finished up the meal with several rounds of pacifying hot tea, let out a sigh of contentedness and reverence, and headed home.
A relatively relevant link...Black Jesus. You're welcome.
- A pricey organic meal in a restaurant practicing sustainable business methods.
- Hole-in-the-wall eatery characterized by mediocre food, unconventional themes (sushi in a 50's diner), and the neighborhood patrons that support it (drunks, hipsters, bored college students).
- Ethnic food served in a place where all communication is done with hand gestures and head nodding (except the suspiciously enunciated price).
- A regular American meal plus avocado.
The place was called Toyose. We found it on a deserted street lined with Frisco's signature low-income, double stacked, cubby hole housing. The visible shoreline drive to Toyose suggested fine-dining superiority; the neighboring plastic signboard liquor stores insisted otherwise.
We opened what seemed to be a garage sidedoor and entered what appeared to be an East Asian countryside hut. A corridor of attractive wooden booths lined either side of the chic shoe box of a diner, and the back opened up slightly to a section walled with mirrors, lined with similar booths, and topped with a faux gazebo-esque roof strung with lights. -- O holy and chic Zion, grace us with thy victual blessings -- At the time my guest and I were the only ones seated; however, judging from the cutesy powder pink and blue posters featuring unnaturally fresh-faced foreign models I could tell who would inevitably be joining us.
Moments later, small groups of soju-sipping Korean twenty-somethings piled in, and by that time we had already broken bread -- crispy squid tempura, egg-topped kimchi fried rice, and assorted Korean pickles and starters. The food was good, but not great; a strong indicator of a classic Option #2 meal. There was also no dessert available, which is unacceptable, but the overall experience was satisfying.
We finished up the meal with several rounds of pacifying hot tea, let out a sigh of contentedness and reverence, and headed home.
A relatively relevant link...Black Jesus. You're welcome.
