I am a meat-loving vegetarian. I have always had a strong affinity for all things bacon and burgers (who doesn’t?), but I work hard to put those feelings aside. A year ago, I was a vegetarian wannabe, but today I’m walking down a path paved with tofu and tempeh (not skipping, just walking).

Anyone who knows me knows that my favorite food on this planet (and planets that extend far beyond our Milky Way) is pepperoni. I live for the salty, crispy texture, especially when it’s perfectly nestled in a manger of mozzarella atop a soft breaded bedding. In college, it was my trademark. After a late night of house-hopping alcoholic debauchery, you could predictably find me wandering into the neighborhood pizza joint, where one of my roommates worked, and ordering a cup of raw pepperoni. The oldies knew my order. New hires would scrunch up their faces in bewilderment. “Like not cooked? Just in a cup?” I’d pay my token 50 cents or swipe the stack my roommate would bring home after her shift and eat it at all hours. It became a midnight snack while I wrote theories of political dissidence. A mid-morning munch as I watched cartoons with my other roommate (yes, I lived a glorious collegiate life). The point being that I couldn’t get enough of the stuff.

My one Achilles’ heel and ultimate downfall? I believe in vegetarianism. Though my parents are both vegetarian, they had no problem letting my brother and I eat meat from the get-go. This is especially uncharacteristic for Indians, as the very foundation of Hindu philosophy and culture is rooted in the nonviolent concept of ahimsa. However, given that my brother and I were the only two brown-faced kids in a sea of Caucasian Christians at school, perhaps my parents didn’t want to equip our peers with yet another way to differentiate—nay, alienate—us. To be honest, it did help. We weren’t made fun of for “moldy” sandwiches, which my husband later recounted when recalling memories of kids teasing him for bringing bread with cilantro chutney for lunch. There was no embarrassment about being unable to eat a McDonald’s cheeseburger after softball practice. There was no feeling awkward for refusing scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast after a sleepover. In this regard, my parents were ahead of their time.

What they may not have realized was the ramification of the meat addiction I began to fuel. At least the fact that I was an extremely picky eater limited my exploration of my nonvegetarian palate. But I tried the basics: chicken, turkey, hamburgers, steak, bacon, hot dogs, and pepperoni, of course. However, as I grew older and became more educated on the environmental, health, and moral implications of meat eating, meat had already become an ingrained part of my diet.

My quest for vegetarianism stems from a number of beliefs. From a personal point of view, I don’t understand the treatment of animals as it relates to food production. Americans are some of the most open, accepting, and nurturing people in the world. They are animal lovers—whether they’re adopting a stray cat, oohing and aahing at lions at a zoo, or going to immeasurable lengths to fundraise for their dog’s hip replacement. What I find interesting, however, is the cultural discrepancy between the treatment of livestock and the treatment of domesticated animals. Never in a million years would we think about extending our farming and slaughtering practices to the family pets we think of as our companions. So why is it so commonplace that we don’t apply that same type of thinking to other animals?

Many condemn, are repulsed by, and find it morally inconceivable that people in other parts of the world even consume dog meat. Is that because the manner in which dog meat is produced is really so dissimilar to that of “traditional” American farm animals? Or is it because as Americans, we tend to standardize our own actions as the norm and disregard other cultural practices as barbaric, even though there is no substantive difference? What if American culture had taken a different turn, and chickens were supposed to be “man’s best friend”? Would the same logic apply? The fact is that the average urban American is completely removed from the thought process of how meat arrives at the dinner table—from how it grows on a farm to its antibiotic and hormone injections to its unhygienic living conditions to its prolonged physical abuse to its ultimate death.

The truer fact is that nutritional sustenance is continuing to evolve to a point where we can sustain our diet with alternative foods and proteins. In this day and age, it’s nearly impossible to meander through an urban area without being surrounded by farmers’ markets, billboards touting non-GMO products, and organic food porn. The 21st century is focused on food, and new generations are driving food trends forward. In a society where we can rely on alternative grains and proteins to give us the same health benefits as meat, why wouldn’t we choose the former, given the option to save millions of lives and optimize for sustainability?

Those are my opinions. However, following them is another story. As my levels of animal-product intake increased, so did my guilt. I was caught in a troubling dichotomy. On the one hand, I was a champion of universal rights—as a lawyer, I fought for fundamental issues such as poverty, the environment, and political asylum. I’m what you’d call a bleeding liberal. On the other hand, my Scarlet letter bore a hot-iron “C” for carnivore. 

My friends and family made a smirking eye roll when, time and time again, I swore, “This time I’m really going vegetarian.” Whenever I drove through the I-5 and saw those cows huddled together, I promised that I’d never touch beef again. That would usually last about a week before I’d be tempted by an alluring cut of San Francisco’s finest Kobe steak. Hell, I’d likely gobble it up even if it was the beef and broccoli from Panda Express. When I met my husband, it was days after my New Year’s resolution to be vegetarian that year. As a very strict vegetarian (no eggs allowed), he was overjoyed to hear that I, too, had recently become vegetarian. However, his excitement was short lived when I abandoned that conviction a couple of months in. I became a weekatarian, a pescaterian, a monthaterian. Nothing worked. Even when I found out that my dad had colon cancer and hearing professors discuss the disappearance of cancer cells due to a diet based on whole foods and plants it still wasn’t compelling enough for me to commit to vegetarianism. I slowly became resigned to the fact that this was simply a weakness of mine—a flaw that, no matter how much I felt like a hypocrite, would just be something I couldn’t overcome.

The epiphany came one fine, casual day. I had just hosted my best friend’s baby shower and was spending the evening with my dad. Upon my sister-in-law’s recommendation, we watched an interesting documentary called Vegucated that challenged three New Yorkers to substitute six weeks of TV dinners, frozen foods, and a nonvegetarian lifestyle in exchange for a vegan one. Their journey weaved them through (among other things) various farms, slaughterhouses, educational material, and videos. It took only a three-minute clip for something to click into place. Footage of animal conditions that are all unfortunately routine and commonplace: chicks being thrown away, pigs being dumped into scalding vats of water, and calves being injected with hormones immediately after birth. Chickens may be free range, and cows may be grass fed, but their entire existence—their whole livelihood—is predicated on slaughter. These short clips were all it took for me to exchange my sausage for Soyrizo.

Being vegan or even vegetarian is not an easy choice, especially when it demands that you alter not only your mentality but also your lifestyle and habits as well. Dinner menus are a lot easier when you can sear a chicken breast with some herbs and, 10 minutes later, a meal is on the table. The conscious choice to eliminate animal-based foods from my diet—even if it’s one meal at a time—is painstakingly difficult to make. I wish I could hop on the converted bandwagon and say that since my carnivorous departure, I constantly feel energized, less sluggish, and equipped with power-packed vitamins from more fruits and vegetables. The truth of the matter is that I don’t.

I miss walking into a restaurant and ordering a prosciutto pizza or shrimp linguini. And it takes a boatload of willpower not to do so. However, what I’ve learned is that a commitment to vegetarianism doesn’t have to be black or white. I allow myself to eat a burger or a hot dog on the Fourth of July because I love BBQing. Aside from that exception, it’s been eight months since the cold-turkey (no pun intended) switch, and I fully intend to remain vegetarian. However, just like anything in life, nothing is certain, and who knows if and when that will change when a meaty temptation comes my way? At the end of the day, whether or not I continue down the road of vegetarianism, I’ve learned that moderation and self-awareness about my intake of animal products can satisfy my own moral proclivities. For now, at least, I can revel in the knowledge that I am meating my challenge. 

Have you heard of the San Jose Ballet? If the answer is no, you’re not alone. But there’s a reason for you to think about it now: it’s rebranding itself in true Bay Area tech fashion. Starting today, Ballet San Jose will officially be called the Silicon Valley Ballet. The new name sounds cooler, for sure, but the company is doing more than simply changing its name; they are working on a huge upgrade. Call it Ballet 2.0.

According to the director, José Manuel Carreño (in his second year as director), the Silicon Valley Ballet is aggressively working to integrate tech with ballet. No, the dancers are not all wearing Fitbits—yet—but he did mention that they are experimenting with collecting and sharing data on the dancers’ movements. What they are doing now, which is music to my slightly geeky ears, is making interesting use of lights and projectors that track the dancers.  

In a show titled Bodies of Technology (scheduled for March 25–27), the ballet will offer viewers high-tech effects that attach moving shadows to the dancers, blur out parts of the dancers in interesting ways, and make the dancers look like they have lightning surrounding their bodies. Usually, people expect to see “story ballets” like The Nutcracker, but the show is focused solely on technology meeting dance. And the music that goes along with it is equally interesting and nontraditional. 

Have you heard of a theremin? I hadn’t until they showed me this video (I recommend scrolling to the 2:02 mark, where it gets really exciting).  The instrument consists of two metal rods with a frequency between them that allows the musician to create different sounds by simply waving his or her hand in the air.   

Not all of the Silicon Valley Ballet’s shows will have this kind of tech focus, but all will have an international flavor. Drawing on his Cuban connections, Carreño is bringing Alicia Alonso, a ninety-four-year-old Cuban choreographer, to open the ballet’s 2015/2016 season with a rendition of Giselle, a classic romantic ballet.

It’s this international lineup that has some Bay Area denizens super-excited.

Leah Busque, CEO of TaskRabbit, recently joined the board of the newly named ballet. “I’m so thrilled about José’s vision for the Silicon Valley Ballet. He embraces technology and innovative forms of artistry, and is introducing a new audience to ballet in Silicon Valley,” she said. “To bring such culture and creativity to the masses is an epic and important moment for the region.”

So if you have a friend who invites you to the ballet every year, and you go only because you like to dress up, maybe the Silicon Valley Ballet will be more to your liking. I wish I could say more about how the ballet is planning to use tech in its performances, but in true Silicon Valley form, they’ve explained that they are still in stealth mode and promised bigger and cooler things for future performances. 

Ballet and tech have now been officially paired up. Will the relationship be a good one? Time will tell, but if it’s going to work out, this is the place for it to happen.

We recently sat down with Stuart Brioza of State Bird Provisions and learned about the story behind the restaurant’s name, his own evolution as a chef in the city’s dynamic food scene, and why he couldn’t escape from food even if he tried.   

TBI: Let’s talk about your background and how you ended up here.

Stuart: It’s always a long story. My background is that I’ve always cooked. Kitchens have a way of just absorbing you and taking you in, and it’s hard not to get hooked. I think that one of the first things that really captured me is just the use of all my senses as I cook.

TBI: How did you go from that to being the James Beard Award winner for best chef in the West?

Stuart: I recently did a graduation speech at the culinary institute where I graduated about 17 years ago. When I was there, it was like pulling from the idea of the 10,000-hour rule—of you invest that kind of time. But it’s not just the 10,000-hour rule; it’s doing something that you truly love. “Love” is probably the wrong word for it, but it just truly captures you, where you’re making progress on things. It’s not necessarily work; it’s a lifestyle. I would say probably anywhere from 12- to 16-hour days for the last 25 years, 6 days a week, probably has something to do with it, and just an open mind and a creative spirit.

TBI: One thing that a lot of San Franciscans ask is, how did you come up with the names for these restaurants? You have two now [State Bird Provisions and The Progress]. So what’s the backstory there?

Stuart: I remember it was years ago at Rubicon, and I was serving quail, and just for fun, I had set it down in front of a guest—somebody I knew—and said, “You know, by the way, this is the state bird of California.” I don’t know why, but it just hung out in my memory—that idea. It was this fried quail dish that we serve every night at State Bird. It was one of those dishes that I could service 99 out of 100—or out of 100 birds, 99 people would love it. It was just a home run.

Basically, it’s fried chicken. It’s the shoestring of fried chicken, and it really is spectacular. I still enjoy eating it to this day. I remember saying to my wife, “You know, we can create an entire restaurant around this quail.” She’s like, “Yeah, we can call it State Bird.” That was the start of it.

On our website and the About page, we talk about “State Bird,” and basically, State Bird Provisions is a restaurant that started out as a recipe for serving quail and grew into a restaurant with not a whole lot of parameters to it. And that was it. We added “Provisions” to it because we really thought that this is going to be a great place where you come and get some food and get some drinks in you. It’s like now you’re set; continue on with your night. Little did we know that we would be the night—the night’s entertainment.

As far as The Progress goes—and I think this is just equally as compelling—the building that we’re in was built as the Progress Theater in 1911. When we were doing construction, our architect had thought that maybe it had some of the bones of a theater, so I started doing some research, and I found a book on old theaters in San Francisco, and as I’m scrolling through it … boom! 1525 Fillmore. The Progress. I found that there’s a picture of it, and it’s on our website as well.

TBI: In the time that you’ve been a chef, how has San Francisco changed?

Stuart: After college, I moved off to New York to go to culinary school in ’96. I was gone until about 2004. I spent a lot of time traveling around and living in different parts of the country, and that was really important to me.

When I moved back, Nicole [Krasinski, Stuart’s wife and business partner] and I had landed positions at Rubicon. We had a very midwestern sensibility about us, because we spent our formal years in the Midwest, partly cooking—experimental, less seasonal. Yes, you work seasonal there, but your season is three months a year. The rest is all root-cellar items. Think turnips and onions and pumpkins.

We came with this totally different outlook on food and then slowly started adopting what I think were real California sensibilities, which is local organic and “know thy farmer.” In 2004, what was really interesting in the Bay Area is that it was really becoming a place where all of the chefs were going to the farmers’ markets.

Well, I shouldn’t say “all.” A good number of chefs were going to the farmers’ markets, and we were finding that not only were the farmers’ markets really amazing for produce and ingredients, but it became a community forum as well for us, a place where we would see each other on Saturday mornings and chat for a bit and really come together as a whole.

What I saw happening—and I feel we were very much a part of it and still are—was that San Francisco as a whole was developing this amazing community of chefs and a community of growers—even a community of diners, obviously. I go to the market even today, and it’s like I see a lot of the same faces. I know the farmers, and it’s amazing to grow with the farmers.

At the same time, your food starts really being very valuable to where according to where it’s being grown. Your flavor profiles are being associated with specific farms. I see that all over. The food in the Bay Area is far less conceptual and way ingredient driven—it really is. We talk about that, but I’ve got the good fortune to have a variety of people in my kitchen from all over the country. It doesn’t matter how good of a cook they are or how much experience they have. It’s different here, and there’s a learning curve—a huge learning curve—and it’s hard. There’s a certain way we work.

What I see in the Bay Area is that in the last 11 years the ingredients are amazing. Chefs are no longer cooking specifically regionally. It’s always going to be a California-hyphen-something cuisine, and even more importantly, over the last few years, I think that State Bird falls into this category—that we have a heritage cuisine going on.

TBI: What’s the one thing you would tell people about being a chef that they don’t know that’s not obvious and that would just be a total surprise to people?

Stuart: I would say that the thing that people always assume is that it’s really hard to work. Some days, I could agree with that, but for the most part, I think to myself that it’s hard to believe that someone’s actually paying me to do this for a living. That’s probably one of the best parts of what I do. It’s a lifestyle. It’s not like I have a start time or an end time with my day. It doesn’t turn off—ever.

Everything that we do has some facet of food involved in it everywhere we go. We’ve tried … my wife and I have tried to like, “Let’s just go and just be normal people,” and we’re miserable. We find that we have to do all of our research and be ahead of the game about where we’re going to eat and where we’re going to shop. When we travel, what we’re going to do and what meal—we can’t just let the day just carry us away.

TBI: Let’s wrap things up with what I call a “quick hits” section.

Stuart: OK.

TBI: Without thinking too much, just share your best stuff.

Stuart: OK.

TBI: Favorite coffee place in San Francisco.

Stuart: Blue Bottle.

TBI: Favorite bar.

Stuart: Comstock.

TBI: Drink of choice.

Stuart: Negroni.

TBI: Bottle of wine.

Stuart: Generally it would be champagne all day, all night.

TBI: Which restaurant would you go to on a night in Sonoma?

Stuart: I would go to a restaurant that’s not open yet. It’s called Single Thread.

TBI: Favorite taco.

Stuart: I would say that I am a taco-truck kind of guy, and that would be Tonayense. That would be my fast food of choice. I break all my own personal rules by eating there, but sometimes you just can’t help it.

TBI: Favorite thing to do in San Francisco with your family.

Stuart: Golden Gate Park, hands down. Like bike riding or on the Sundays when they close it off on the weekends—love that.

TBI: Best way to get a reservation at State Bird Provisions.

Stuart: Get in line. Go online. Get in line. I don’t know.

TBI: Thanks so much for your time, Stuart. It was a pleasure.

Stuart: Yeah, thanks.

There is no shortage of San Francisco restaurants touting vegan, organic, gluten-free, and local fare. Kale, quinoa, and kombucha—huzzah!

While these buzzwords are supposed to connote health, most of the items on the menu at any upscale eatery, whether organic or not, are loaded with sugar, fried oil, and refined carbs, and will leave you feeling kind of wonky inside.

So where can a conscientious eater find a truly healthy meal around town?

Here are some of my favorite places to eat well in San Francisco, along with some common pitfalls to avoid while navigating a menu full of temptations:

The Plant Cafe

What to Resist: The smoothies are undoubtedly delicious here, but it’s easy to forget that a glassful of blended fruit is packed with more liquefied carbs than you probably ought to consume in one day.

What to Enjoy: Next time you’re here, split a smoothie with a friend, and fill up instead on the hearty grains and healthy vegetables of the Quinoa Bowl. Ask for the ginger miso sauce on the side.

The Vibe: The Plant has three locations in and around San Francisco, but on a sunny day, you can’t beat the outdoor seating at the Embarcadero location. It’s a great place to go to treat out-of-town visitors.

Mission Pie

What to Resist: The pies! Oh, the pies. Consider this an exercise in mindfulness. Can you walk out without scarfing down an entire slice? Pies are better when shared with friends! 

What to Enjoy: If you can manage to avoid the array of temptations in this baked-goods heaven, the menu here typically also features some variation on their hearty vegan stew with seasonal ingredients. It’s delicious, nutritious, and satisfying. 

The Vibe: This is a small, charming café with a casual, no-frills air. It’s a nice place to warm up on a chilly day.

Jane

What to Resist: You’ll find lots of sweet home-style goodies to tempt you here that are baked fresh daily! Depending on how good you’ve been that day, they may just be worth a splurge.

What to Enjoy: Redeem yourself with a salad! Jane’s menu features a wide range of spectacular salads, such as the colorful Rainbow Salad, which comes with a generous dollop of homemade hummus. Add a hard-boiled egg for extra protein. There are also sandwiches on fresh multi-grain bread (eat it open-face if you’re stressed about the carbs) and a daily vegan soup!

The Vibe: The atmosphere here is hipster but unpretentious and friendly.

Red Door Coffee

What to Resist: This beautiful café partners with local artisan bakeries and restaurants and serves many delicious sweets, including rich donuts and cakes from Dynamo Donuts. Beware!

What to Enjoy: But they also serve a delicious whole-grain salad from their “short eats” menu, prepared by the nearby 1601 Bar & Kitchen. Inspired by Sri Lankan cuisine, this salad is made with toasted barley and tender French lentils. It’s the perfect healthy snack in a pinch.

The Vibe: The 111 Minna location is part of a museum and features high ceilings and great art. It’s a good spot to work, and they serve great coffee too.

Whole Foods

What to Resist: If health is your goal, it’s hard to beat the selection of ready-to-eat food items at your local Whole Foods. But variety can be a curse. Don’t let yourself be led astray by the cornucopia of baked delights on your way to the prepared-foods section. A gluten-free, vegan chocolate chip cookie is still … a cookie. Stay the course!

What to Enjoy: You’ll find a healthy option to satisfy almost any palate and dietary restriction, including do-it-yourself salads, hearty soups, and black-bean burritos with brown rice on whole-wheat tortillas.

The Vibe: It’s a grocery store, so it’s not exactly a spot for a first date, but it has a welcoming atmosphere for the days when you find yourself dining alone! The in-store dining areas vary by location, but they’re generally quite comfortable and well maintained.

I usually ride my bike home from work. Pedaling down Market Street, dodging traffic, and passing the Bay Bridge as I swoop onto the Embarcadero, I feel both invigorated and connected to the city. Like, oh, so this is what living in San Francisco is all about. But on some days, when it’s raining or I feel lazy, I take Muni home, and riding Muni produces the opposite kind of feeling. When I’m on the bus, clinging to a lukewarm handlebar, armpit to armpit with strangers’ flesh, I feel less like a person on a bus and more like a caged rat in transit.

The truth is, riding Muni gives me severe anxiety—the kind that blinds, deafens, and renders the rest of my senses numb. To calm the agoraphobic storm the experience conjures in my head, I close my eyes and repeat in my mind, “This is impermanent. This is impermanent. I am the master of my emotional symmetry.” It’s the kind of hokey New Age mantra whose effectiveness is contingent upon my ability to embrace indignity.

January 6, 2015—the first Monday of the new year—was one of those days when I took Muni home. I squeezed on at 3rd and Mission, wedging myself into a cluster of people who felt much larger than me, some of them breathing openmouthedly to the point where I could smell their wild varieties of breath, hot fumes that mingled with other wet scents to form a humid, vaguely digestible fog of unventilated human odor.

Despite this, I was initially fine. I kept calm as the bus jerked and rattled, swaying alongside my fellow passengers in an amorphous huddle. I even stayed cool when someone’s generous butt cozied up against mine. It was as the bus trundled into Chinatown and my eyes chanced upon a display of dead pigs hanging upside down in a red storefront window that I started freaking out.

First, there were the pigs. You hate to see dead pigs. Very unsettling. But then from somewhere in the front of the bus a lady started screaming—a real keening lament, similar in pitch and volume to the sound I imagine those pigs made when they were slaughtered. My heart rate spiked. Cold sweat spidered down my back. Then the bus lurched with particular violence, and everyone bowled into each other. The woman continued screaming. I regained my footing and closed my eyes, repeating my safe words, but that didn’t help.

Flash bombs of paranoia detonated in my head, fluorescent and vivid against the underside of my eyelids. I’m wasting my youth in a cubicle—POP. My writing sucks—POP. My family isn’t happy—POP. My girlfriend doesn’t like me—POP, POP. My friends hate me—POP, POP, POP. I felt invisible ants crawling on me, and a rancid taste like vinegar and orange juice frothed in my throat. Then, whoever the crazy lady was screaming at started giving it right back to her in a high-pitched, kitchen-knife voice: “Fuck you, lady! Fuck you, lady!” A crying baby joined the chorus. The Muni driver shouted over his shoulder, “Shut up!”

All the while my fellow passengers stared ahead blankly, enduring with dead eyes and passive, as if none of this were actually going on. Their disinterest seemed almost stoic. I thought my head was going to explode. I again chanted to myself, “This is impermanent. This is impermanent. I am the master of my emotional symmetry.”

To be fair, I have struggled with anxiety—or the Badness, as I call my personal brand of it—for most of my life. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been susceptible to sudden, almost thermogenic attacks of nervousness and paranoia. To combat these attacks, I’ve frequented therapists, self-medicated (both with substances that might have medicinal value and those that definitely do not), and, yes, developed mantras—all to varying degrees of effectiveness.

The sources of my anxiety are wide ranging, but until I moved to San Francisco, public transportation was not one of them. For a long time, in fact—back when I was living with my parents in Walnut Creek because I’d just started working and didn’t have any money—riding Muni represented a reprieve from anxiety. If anything, I looked forward to riding the bus. It made me feel like an adult and independent, as silly as that may sound. I told myself that once I’d saved up enough cash and found an apartment of my own, all the Badness that pervaded my thoughts would evaporate, and I would feel—finally—unburdened and happy.

Predictably, the Badness didn’t evaporate so much as transmogrify. I’ve come to realize that riding Muni, while unpleasant, is more than anything else a trigger—the latest in a long line, only for whatever reason more intense. The paranoia I feel while riding is never actually about the crowds or the discomfort or the potential for contracting incurable diseases; it’s about my friends, my family, and the gnawing sense that I should try to be a better person—the same shit I’ve always been anxious about, in other words. Muni has become the literal embodiment of my unconscious, a rolling hothouse from which every regret and doubt and humiliation I’ve ever experienced bursts into toxic life.

But still, does everyone on the bus loathe the experience of riding it as much as I do? Does Muni inspire this sort of demented, caged-rat desperation in other people? These were the questions pinballing around in my head when, at Union and Van Ness, the stop before my own, the man whose butt had 20 minutes earlier rubbed against my own sat down in the plastic seat across from me. He was an African American man of considerable girth who seemed desperate for both greater lung capacity and a wider seat to sit on. As he sat, we made eye contact, sparking the brief, sympathetic rapport you sometimes experience on public transit.

“This bus, man,” he said in a drawn E chord. My self-pity dissolved like aspirin tablets in my stomach. If I’d had a flask, I would have passed it to him.

“I hear you, man,” I replied.

A few minutes later, as I got off the bus, I started thinking that maybe the questions I’d fallen into the habit of asking weren’t relevant—or at least not useful. Because the truth is, when you’re transfixed by a moment, it’s nearly impossible to consider that what you’re going through, what you’re feeling, is ultimately inconsequential. Of course, no one likes riding Muni at rush hour. It’s not just you, Daniel. The Badness is not a product of anything tangible, so much as it is a side effect of yourself.

Pleasure Point is a gem of a neighborhood overlooking Monterey Bay in the Capitola area of Santa Cruz County. Santa Cruz is a rustic beach area nestled among dense redwood trees. It can be sunny and beautiful, as you’d expect a California beach town to be, but don’t count on it. It can also be foggy, windy, and bitterly cold — and not just in the winter.

And don’t call it the Bay Area! Santa Cruz County is far enough south to deserve to be grouped in the Monterey area. Santa Cruz residents don’t like to be associated with the Bay Area, which they refer to as “over the hill.” At just 80 miles from San Francisco, Pleasure Point is an easy weekend getaway and well worth a visit.

Pleasure Point has an eclectic, old-school vibe reminiscent of a pre-Silicon Valley Bay Area. The neighborhood is filled with a variety of colorful and quirky houses, auto shops, dive bars, and beach shacks. As with the entire Santa Cruz area, the local lifestyle centers on the majestic outdoors.

_{Pleasure Point Surf Contest}

Proud locals include farmers, cyclists, surfers, skateboarders, artists, coffee snobs, liberals, truck owners, and everything in between. Bearded, tattooed, laid-back locals can be found surfing, walking their dogs, or riding beach-cruiser bikes along the cliffs. Ironically, the locals most often wear “Santa Cruz”–branded clothing. There may be no other surf town where locals dress like tourists.

Just a mile from well-known, touristy areas like the Santa Cruz Boardwalk and Capitola Village, Pleasure Point is an authentic nook of the Santa Cruz area that is a must-visit for anyone who wants to experience the authentic character of Santa Cruz County.

Walking Tour

The best way to get know the Pleasure Point area is to explore it by foot. Start by the restaurants on 41st Avenue and walk to the Hook, then along the cliffs to Pleasure Point and back again. The 41st Avenue area is charming, because it’s a real local neighborhood chock full of local eateries, surf shops, and art shops. It hasn’t been rebuilt as a tourist destination, like Capitola Village has.

Check out incredibly authentic, affordable Mexican Food at Taqueria Vallarta No. 2, or grab a gourmet burrito at Chill Out Cafe. Stop into Verve for locally roasted coffee, and don’t forget to get an artisanal ice cream at the Penny Ice Creamery — with the roasted marshmallow topping!

_{41st Avenue}

Looking for the perfect souvenir? Don’t leave Santa Cruz without getting what I call “the uniform” — a Santa Cruz hoodie. You’ll see them everywhere. The Santa Cruz Boardroom is the Santa Cruz surf and skateboard headquarters.

_{Matthew McConaughey wearing “the uniform” (photo credit: AKM-GSI)}

The Hook and Pleasure Point are famous local surf breaks. From atop the cliffs you have a great vantage point of the surfers riding Santa Cruz’s world-famous cold-water waves. And look for wildlife. Sea otters, dolphins, and harbor seals are very common in the area. And often humpback whales.

_{Checking the Waves at 38th Street}

See that solitary green house on the cliff between the Hook and Pleasure Point? That’s Jack O’Neill’s house. Jack O’Neill is famous for inventing the wetsuit back in the 1950s. He’s a renowned surf legend. O’Neill’s original surf shop and wetsuit outlet can be found on 41st Avenue.

_{Walking from the Hook to Pleasure Point}

Learn to Surf

Feeling ambitious? There is no better place to learn to surf. Rent a surfboard and wetsuit from a surf shop on 41st Avenue, and ask about cheap two-hour surf lessons. The local wave is (usually) a gentle point break, making it one of the more consistent, beginner- friendly long-boarding waves you are likely to find. Don’t be intimidated by the cold water — a rental wetsuit will keep you warm and toasty. You could even rent an O’Neill wetsuit and surf at “Jack’s” break, right in front of O’Neill’s house. And don’t worry about territorial locals who don’t like tourists on their waves — there are plenty of less-crowded spots that are popular among beginners.

Looking for a local beach? Check out Moran Beach just west of Pleasure Point. Bathroom and parking lot included.

Can’t Get Enough Santa Cruz?

Got time for an easy hike among banana slugs and ancient redwood trees? Drive south on Highway 1 to the State Park exit, and find the Nisene Marks parking lot. Walk less than a mile along the Old Growth trail to find the legendary Advocate Tree. At 1,200 years old, the Advocate Tree is one of the only old-growth redwood trees in the area . She’s a beauty. Give her a hug.

TBI: Tell us a little bit about your background, your story.

Michael Mina: My story?

TBI: Yeah. How did you get into this business?

MM: When I was 15, I started working in a small restaurant kind of group in the center of Washington state about 100 miles east of Seattle. I worked in the small restaurant of a self-made chef who spent some time in Europe and was cooking kind of old-school European food. I fell in love with it. I was a dishwasher, a bus boy and a prep cook and just really gravitated toward the kitchen and started coming in on my own time, all the while learning and learning. Literally between 16 and 17, I had decided I wanted to be a chef. This was back in ’82 or ’83. 

I went to the Culinary Institute when I was just 18—almost 19. In the middle of it, you do an internship. I did my first year in New York and did my internship in Los Angeles at the Hotel Bel-Air. At that time, I met George Morrone, who was the chef there, and I met another gentleman named Gerry Hayden, who was out there helping George, who was going back to New York to be the chef at Oriole in New York City for Charlie Palmer. I really got the best of both worlds, which is really kind of what launched my career, as I had a great externship.

In the second year of school, I got to go down and work at Oriole with Charlie Palmer and with Gerry Hayden every weekend. I think that that really helped kick-start my career, because I got a real live look at the beginning of a true iconic New York City restaurant. Then I worked there after school and also went back and worked at the Bel-Air and then got the opportunity with George to move here to San Francisco and open Aqua. That restaurant was great because we were able to conceptualize it from the beginning. This was back in 1991, and we moved here in ’89 and opened in ’91. A couple of years after we opened the restaurant, George left, and I started at that point. About four years after that, we started looking at more than one restaurant, doing multiples.

A lot of times people will have a restaurant and open a second restaurant that’s bigger because of the success of the first one, but going from one to two is very hard. The second restaurant I opened was small; it was called Charles Nob Hill. It was up on Clay and Jones, and it was a very small restaurant. Then I got the opportunity soon after that to do the Bellagio in Las Vegas with Steve Wynn, and so I opened another Aqua there and really enjoyed that experience. 

By 2002, I had opened eight restaurants, four of which were partnerships with hotels and four of which were stand-alone leases. Still, with the Bay Area being my home, and given that the majority of them are in the Bay Area, my ex-partner and myself decided to part ways. Basically, I kept the Las Vegas properties. At that point, there were two of them—soon to be three—and I started a new company, Mina Group, which was founded on the idea that we were going to be more of a management company and really leverage the things that we do well and partner with hotels and developers who are great at building.

We started that company in 2003, and my partners in that company are Andre Agassi and Steffi Graf. Knowing that San Francisco was going to always be home, I wanted to build a nice showcase restaurant in San Francisco, and I knew the space that I wanted, which was at the St. Francis Hotel. I wanted an iconic space like that because I felt like it was leaving Aqua, which was a very, very iconic space, and I wanted to make sure I was able to be part of another iconic space. We opened Michael Mina, and it was the most challenging restaurant that I’ve ever done in my life.  

TBI: In the past 25 years, what’s changed about the city, and what’s changed about the San Francisco food scene?

MM: I think people know now more than they ever did why San Francisco is one of the best food cities in the world, including people coming from outside of the Bay Area. There was always this “There’s great restaurants, and there’s good product.” People are more aware about product than they’ve ever been, and everybody really looks at San Francisco as the place where that all started and where that awareness really started to get amplified. 

I think now with social media and everything else—being here and having it be hub of it—that’s helped amplify it even more. I think that what people are doing and what people are cooking in San Francisco—people are seeing it everywhere very quickly. I think that that helps a lot. I think that one of the big things that’s changed a lot is if you look back 10 years ago, there were more of the larger restaurants, more of the Postrio, Boulevard, Aqua Stars—more of those types of restaurants. Now I think that there has been a big movement in San Francisco to some smaller neighborhood restaurants and less seats in the restaurant. I think that that’s definitely been a change.  

TBI: How has the emergence of the tech scene affected you, if at all? Any commentary on that?

MM: I mean, I think it affects you. I have ramen bars, so it’s kind of fast casual, so we probably get affected more in the restaurant like that. It affects you because your guests have changed. Your guests are changing constantly. They want more stimulation. It’s more about what’s relative today, right now, in the moment. Your job as a chef and as a restaurateur is always to read your guests and to try and accommodate all the guests that come in in whatever way you possibly can. 

If they come in and they want a certain type of experience because they don’t want to be bothered or they don’t want to be really noticed or anything else, then you have to give them that. Then there’s other people who want to interact and want to learn everything and want to know exactly about where that product came from and everything else, and you want to give them that too. Technology helps you do that; it helps you decide which category they fall in and helps you give those experiences to people.

TBI: There’s this new idea that in this day and age, you, as a restaurateur, know your guests better than any other time in history.

MM: Yes.

TBI: How do you use that inclination? Do you Google guests before they come to understand their preferences? 

MM: Yeah. I guess a lot of it has to do with the restaurants themselves. We have a large group of restaurants, so we use a lot of technology to cross information between all the restaurants. That’s usually where we start, and then we don’t Google every single guest who’s gonna come in each night. I know some places do, but we don’t do that, and there’s a reason why I don’t do it. I will say that if someone makes a reservation for somebody, and they let us know that they’re very important and kind of give us the lead on who the person is, I will Google them then to find out more information. 

If somebody wants to be recognized, I will do that. I worry sometimes about when people don’t want to be recognized that much or when they just don’t want to be fussed over, somebody will approach them with a piece of information, which makes it a little awkward that they would know that about the guest. That’s why we don’t make it a policy to Google every single guest. 

TBI: Do you read Yelp reviews?

MM: Of course. We read every review, not just Yelp. We read them all. We read OpenTable, TripAdvisor and everything that somebody writes about us. We read Twitter, Facebook—we read ’em all. We analyze them all on a daily basis and on a weekly basis and take whatever information we feel is relevant and try to use that to create better experiences for our guests. 

TBI: Aside from San Francisco, what’s your favorite food city?

MM: In the United States or …?

TBI: In the world.

MM: Tokyo. Tokyo. Yeah, hands down. I just love the amount of effort that goes into every little thing. It’s breathtaking, and I love the taxis. Because you get in a taxi, and it’s so clean. They all have linens in the taxis, and so that experience of getting in that taxi and going to the restaurant—you already have a mindset of what the experience of the restaurant’s going to be like. 

TBI: Let’s close out with a quick-hits section.. 

MM: OK.

TBI: All the answers should be Bay Area–centric.

MM: OK. 

TBI: Favorite bottle of wine?

MM: Sandi by the pool.

TBI: OK. One dish and one restaurant in San Francisco that you could have right now, other than your own restaurants?

MM: The chicken at Zuni.

TBI: Favorite coffee in the city or the Bay Area?

MM: I’m not a big coffee drinker. 

TBI: OK.

MM: Honestly, I would be doing you a injustice by answering that question.

TBI: Movie or TV show. Or TV show that you’re currently watching or the last movie you watched? Any variation of those.

MM: True Detective.

TBI: Favorite sports team?

MM: San Francisco 49ers. 

TBI: Favorite athlete?

Michael Mina: Present? Vernon Davis.

TBI: Favorite bar? 

MM: I like to go to hotels. I go to places with views. I got to say, I went to Trick Dog the other day, and I loved that. 

MM: I don’t go to that many of them, but I like ones like that. Trick Dog was really fun. Let’s say that. 

TBI: Good. We’ll just close out with one last one. You get away for two hours anywhere in the Bay Area, aside from Napa or Sonoma. Where do you go?

MM: See, I have a very particular spot I go.

TBI: OK.

MM: It’s over in the Presidio up on the other side. You kind of look down on Baker Beach and all that. 

TBI: Very good. Thank you so much for your time. This was a pleasure.

MM: My pleasure. 

I’m a vegan, which means I don’t eat meat, eggs, or dairy. It’s a philosophical stance, since I believe it’s wrong to butcher sentient beings for food. I’m also a scientist. I studied genetics in college, and now I help build and fund biotech start-ups. I work in downtown San Francisco and live in Oakland (which I love).

Living here in the Bay Area, I see a lot of confusion about genetically modified foods. For instance, some people think that if you eat non-GMO produce, it means you’re eating natural, but that’s wrong (fancy scientists would call this thinking the “naturalistic fallacy”).

Almost nothing you or I eat is actually natural. Our ancestors have been selectively breeding plants for at least 20,000 years, and in that time, they’ve developed most of the foods we know, love, and eat today. I hate to be the one to say it, but our food is almost all artificial—the corn you eat, the bananas you enjoy, even your broccoli and cauliflower. None of those foods is natural; they were altered by our ancestors.

And no, eating a Paleo diet does not get you closer to how we evolved to eat. The cows you eat today aren’t bison, and those pigs aren’t boars. Look again (and watch your cholesterol). Primates don’t eat that much meat!

Even more importantly, the practice of agriculture is also unnatural. Those organic apples you love are made from clones, grown artificially in fields that are artificially irrigated and artificially treated with biopesticides to prevent the destruction of crops by insects. In fact, the same genes that are inserted into GMO corn, an insecticide called Bt, is sprayed on your organic apples. It’s the exact same biopesticide. Think about that for a second, and then do a double take the next time you hear or read organic marketing materials. I repeat: it’s the same thing. Look it up!

Remember those biblical plagues of locusts and the famines that followed? Where did they go? That’s right—science and modern agriculture eradicated them (for now). If we were to grow food naturally, the organic produce wouldn’t even last one growing cycle—the plants would just be sticks in a field.

So why are so many people anti-GMO? Is it because the food is toxic? No, there’s no substantive data to support this perception, and no, you should not believe any of those sketchy blog sources with conspiracy theories. The reality of it is, if you believe climate change is real because of the overwhelming data, then why wouldn’t you believe GMOs are safe due to the overwhelming data in support of them? I’d encourage you to dive deeper into the science, specifically a scientific paper published in 2013 that reviewed 10 years of scientific data and peer-reviewed published papers about the safety of GMO crops and found that “scientific research conducted so far has not detected any significant hazards directly connected with the use of GE [genetically engineered] crops.” That is, GMO crops are safe!

“Ahh,” you’re thinking, “but the EU has banned GMOs. Gotcha!”

The EU’s GMO ban is nothing but a political smoke screen. In reality, the EU eats a ton of GMO products. Take cheese, for instance. Do you love your British Cheddar? If so, you’re eating a GMO—microbially derived rennet, an enzyme needed for cheese production in the vast majority of cheeses. If we were to get this enzyme naturally, it would come from the stomachs of dead calves (no joke). As a result of the GMO rennet, cheese is now vegetarian and a lot less gross (once you know how it’s made). So the anti-GMO posture of the EU is mostly just political theater.

So why, specifically, am I a pro-GMO vegan? Because I believe that mindfulness, knowledge, and science are more important than political games. I am against the use of sentient beings in the production of our food, and I think we can use science to give everyone what they want—milk, cheese, eggs, and even real meat—without harming animals.

My hope and aim through my work and the work of others is that one day (in a few years), you’ll all be pro-GMO vegans. Even if you keep eating steak, one day it will be lab grown, rather than sourced from suffering animals in cages—and that will be just fine by me. I might even have a few bites. Yep, real vegan steak. Ponder that for a while!

Since San Francisco started opening up data a few years back, it’s become a lot easier to access the health records of restaurants as well as a ton of other information. TBI readers ate up Hana Nobel’s recent article about visiting the city’s restaurants with the worst Yelp reviews, so we figured that adding the government’s official data to the mix would be good food for thought. How well do Yelp scores correlate with health scores, you ask? It’s a weak link, which kind of grosses us out. Below you will find a list of the lowest-scoring restaurants based on health score (on a scale of 0 to 100). Anything below 70 is considered poor. 

** Updates - Les Joulins underwent a new health inspection two weeks ago and is now up to a 77, and off the list. Karachi Chicken is closed. Updated neighborhoods to reflect conflicts between city data/Yelp data. 

—Unclean or degraded floors, walls, or ceilings [date violation corrected: 11/4/14]

—Improper cooling methods [date violation corrected: 10/24/14]

—High-risk food-holding temperature [date violation corrected: 11/4/14]

—Unapproved or unmaintained equipment or utensils [date violation corrected: 10/24/14]

—Permit license or inspection report not posted [date violation corrected: 10/24/14]

—Inadequate and inaccessible hand-washing facilities [date violation corrected: 10/24/14]

—Insufficient hot water or running water [date violation corrected: 11/4/14]

—Inadequately cleaned or sanitized food-contact surfaces [date violation corrected: 10/24/14]

—Unclean nonfood-contact surfaces [date violation corrected: 10/24/14]

—Food-safety certificate or food-handler card not available [date violation corrected: 10/24/14]

—High-risk vermin infestation [date violation corrected: 11/4/14]

—Improper thawing methods [date violation corrected: 10/24/14]

—Foods not protected from contamination [date violation corrected: 11/4/14]

—Improper food storage [date violation corrected: 11/4/14]

Yummy Dim Sum:

—Permit license or inspection report not posted

—Improper food storage

—Foods not protected from contamination [date violation corrected: 5/20/14]

—Unclean hands or improper use of gloves [date violation corrected: 5/20/14]

—High-risk food-holding temperature [date violation corrected: 5/20/14]

—Insufficient hot water or running water [date violation corrected: 5/20/14]

—Unauthorized or unsafe use of time as a public-health control measure [date violation corrected: 5/20/14]

—Improper or defective plumbing

—Contaminated or adulterated food [date violation corrected: 5/20/14]

—Inadequately cleaned or sanitized food-contact surfaces [date violation corrected: 5/20/14]

—Improper thawing methods [date violation corrected: 5/20/14]

Yee’s Restaurant:

—Unapproved or unmaintained equipment or utensils [date violation corrected: 7/9/14]

—Foods not protected from contamination [date violation corrected: 7/9/14]

—Inadequately cleaned or sanitized food-contact surfaces [date violation corrected: 7/9/14]

—Insufficient hot water or running water [date violation corrected: 7/9/14]

—Inadequate ventilation or lighting [date violation corrected: 7/9/14]

—Unclean or degraded floors, walls, or ceilings [date violation corrected: 7/9/14]

—Unclean nonfood-contact surfaces [date violation corrected: 7/9/14]

—Improper food storage [date violation corrected: 7/9/14]

—Inadequate and inaccessible hand-washing facilities [date violation corrected: 6/27/14]

—High-risk food-holding temperature [date violation corrected: 7/9/14]

—Improper cooling methods [date violation corrected: 6/27/14]

—High-risk vermin infestation [date violation corrected: 7/9/14]

And just for fun, here is every restaurant with a 4+ star Yelp rating with a health score below 65:

The takeaway: eat at your own risk. All this data is available, and if you care about sanitary conditions within restaurants, you can always find this information publicly. 

_{Photo courtesy of vhines200.} 

We’re biased, but we aren’t alone in believing that San Francisco is the best food city in the country right now. Not unlike the microclimates in the Bay Area itself, each neighborhood in the city has its own set of preferences. We were tipped off to this map that the folks at Caviar put together of the most popular dishes ordered for delivery by neighborhood based on the company’s data (please note that the data is constrained based on their service areas). For a city so popularly known for being all things earthy, the results are interesting and pretty unexpected.

Inner Richmond: Burger
Outer Richmond: Cheesesteak
Bernal Heights: Reuben Sandwich
The Mission: Burrito
The Castro: Pizza
Outer Sunset: Fried Chicken
Inner Sunset: Burger
Russian Hill: Rice Bowl
Nob Hill: Taco
Pacific Heights: Garlic Noodles
Western Addition: Burger
Noe Valley / Twin Peaks: Burrito
Mission Dolores (Inner Mission): Grilled Cheese
Glen Park: Reuben Sandwich
Hayes Valley: Burrito
SoMa: Salad
Potrero Hill: Salad
Haight-Ashbury: Pizza
The Presidio: Rice Bowl
North Beach: Pizza
Marina: Garlic Noodles
St. Francis Wood, Miraloma and West Portal: Burger

Most surprising to us is how popular carbs are in San Francisco. With all the gluten allergies, paleo diets and other special dietary requirements we’re known for, we’re surprised to see so much bread on the list. We’re also pleasantly surprised to see East Coast regional foods on the list, like cheesesteak. Is Outer Richmond home to a lot of Philly transplants / Eagles fans?

Napa is usually considered a playground for grown-ups, not kids. I don’t mean that in a Vegas kind of way, but rather in a sophisticated “I feel so grown up” sort of way.  Grown-ups find pleasure in wine country by taking walks in vineyards, learning about viticulture, experiencing the art of food and wine pairings, and basking in the romantic scenery—all things that are utterly boring to a child. And yet sometimes in order for adults to engage this epicurean side of their brain, they have no choice but to take their kids. While Napa will never be as fun as Disneyland, there are some wineries that do welcome adults with children.

NAPA CELLARS: Napa Cellars is located on Highway 29 between Yountville and Oakville. It’s easy to spot, with its hexagon-shaped tasting room. Behind the tasting room is a beautiful lawn area where guests and their kids are welcome to eat a picnic lunch (if they’ve brought one). While Mom and Dad sip on the $10 tasting flight, the kids are welcome to play bocce ball, cornhole, or water ball. It’s a fun, laid-back atmosphere the kids and the adults are sure to enjoy.

INGLENOOK (a.k.a. Rubicon): Inglenook is located in Rutherford at the intersection of Rutherford Road and Highway 29. If you’ve gone to their website, you may be surprised that I’m suggesting a $50 tour and a sit-down tasting. Don’t worry; I’m not. What I’m suggesting is a stop at the lovely little café where they not only sell wine by the glass but also have some of the best coffee in the valley. While the grown-ups soak in the beauty and history of the property, junior can set sail to an old-fashioned wooden sailboat in one of the water-fountain ponds. The staff there is very friendly and will often allow guests with kids to look at the “museum”—that is, Francis Ford Coppola’s personal collection, including one of his Oscars. (Please note that beginning this November, the café will also require an appointment.)

POPE VALLEY WINERY: It’s a bit of a drive out to Pope Valley, but it’s worth it. It’s like going back in time, but with really great wine. Pope Valley Winery is owned by the Eakle family. After deciding they were more interested in farming than winemaking, the parents gave the winery portion of their business to their kids, Diana and David. Diana and David are both in their 30s and have young families. Many times their kids can be seen running around the property, and if they aren’t there, their toys are and can be used by other kids visiting the winery. There is also a bocce ball court and lots of wide-open spaces. With advance notice, you can arrange to have Brunch & Bubbles for $35 per person. If you let the staff know that you’ll have young kids with you, they’ll always make the brunch kid friendly, at no extra charge.

LAVA VINE WINERY: Lava Vine is the antithesis of everything you thought Napa was. The tasting room is the old barn or chicken coop … or some other farm structure. If you go there on a weekday, you’ll get Pete or John as your winery host.  Pete’s favorite pair of pants is a pair of khakis that sports a really nice duct tape patch. But for what Pete lacks in fashion, he makes up for in music. He and John will sing you and your child a song while playing the guitar and banjo. I can’t guarantee that the lyrics will be age appropriate, but more than likely, your child won’t notice.  Once the kids are bored with John and Pete’s antics, they can check out the farm animals—sheep, chickens, and ducks. It’s a very non-Napa atmosphere with very good Napa wine.

If you’re coming to Napa and have some other wineries in mind, it’s best to call the winery ahead of time to make sure children are welcome. Because of parents who either could not control their children or who tried to sneak their kids sips of wine, some wineries just don’t allow kids, to avoid all problems. Don’t take it personally; just reserve those wineries for when you finally have some truly grown-up time.

How great that you’ll be moving to San Francisco so soon! It sounds like you landed a great job at a local tech company. Now you write asking for advice. What should you be aware of before moving to San Francisco?

Before I sat down to write this, I took a few hours to think about what parcel of wisdom would be best to share with you on this topic. Would it be more prudent for you to know that a de-humidifier is one of the first things you should buy when furnishing your new apartment, or that a Scoot membership is, surprisingly, the best way to get around? Should you know what the best places for day-drinking are before you get here, or would that be a personal matter you’re better off discovering for yourself? I anguished over this for some time.

Ultimately, I decided that the most important thing you should be aware of before moving to San Francisco is this: the city is changing, quickly. Mechanisms of gentrification have upended neighborhoods with the abruptness of lightning strikes, dividing the citizenry. This is important, because from the day you get here, you’ll find yourself in the middle of this divide, caught in anxious, awkward suspension between two worlds: one that’s losing control of its identity and one that hasn’t really figured out what its identity is yet. I should actually amend that statement: you’ll feel like you’re strung in the middle of two worlds. This will not be so.

See, the world that hasn’t figured out its identity yet is probably better known as the tech community. This community consists of people whose move to San Francisco was made possible by way of companies related at least peripherally to the technology industry. Yes, this means you. What this also means is that many of your neighbors won’t see you as a benevolent outsider caught unknowingly in the middle of what is, essentially, a class war. You have, by association, already chosen your side. And the association will be your shame. Some people will assume even before they meet you that you care only about your company’s app; that you don’t appreciate the more intrinsic aspects of your new home; and, moreover, that you don’t respect the impact that your being here is having on it—namely, accelerating the ultimate selling out of San Francisco’s soul.

For context, people are right to be angry; shit is certainly fucked up. Since 2010, rents have risen by 40%, and eviction rates have risen by 38%—two rapid changes that have had very visual consequences all across the city. Much of SoMa, for instance, looks like an elephant graveyard. Sidewalks look like the surface of the moon; alleys are littered with broken glass; and streets are strewn with sleeping persons and human shit. All of this can be observed from in the shade of the brand-new office buildings and luxury condos that now line the streets everywhere east of 4th Street.

Walking among this baffling contradiction of circumstance and wealth—along with being blamed for what it represents—will almost certainly have an impact on you. You should be prepared for this. At some point during your first few months here, you’ll be sitting on the sand at Crissy Field or the grass at Dolores Park, and you’ll be watching the sunset perforate the fog; or you’ll be looking at the skyline with the bay glistening behind it, and you’ll figure yourself blessed, and you’ll think, “How lucky am I to live in this pretty fucking magnificent place?” But then you’ll start wondering if you deserve it—the chance to live here—and if the fact that you are living here really has resulted in teachers and writers and shoemakers being evicted from their homes—or, if not that, then in the less tangible eviction of all the things that used to make San Francisco, San Francisco.

If you’re like me, all this wondering and anxiety will leave you feeling, above all else, lonely—like a child of divorced parents, perennially plagued by the anxiety of an unanswered text, kept awake by the suspicion that … this place you’re in? Yeah, you don’t belong.

My hope for you, though, dear friend, is that with the proper amount of awareness, you’ll be able to more quickly recognize that this was happening before you and would probably be happening without you—that what’s happening isn’t your fault.

This far from absolves you, though. It’s not a blessing to dismiss these problems as separate from your own. That’s the point: these are your problems now. The next step is to ascertain which aspects of your influence are in your control.

Still with me? I’ll explain. In a recent interview with The Bold Italic, author, local icon, and current mayoral candidate Broke-Ass Stuart fleshed out a pretty common perception of the tech community:

“I have nothing wrong with tech. … My problem is the culture of aloofness. It’s a culture of not caring enough about the place you’re at; it’s just a place where you work. Part of what makes us San Franciscans is that we live in the streets here. You walk around to get places. You ride your bike. You take Muni. When you opt out of that, you’re opting out of San Francisco. When you work obnoxious hours at work and then take an Uber home, and then you don’t leave your house and order something from your phone, and you walk around as a clipboard for your company, you’re opting out of the experience of being a San Franciscan.” 

What he’s saying here is that those who move to San Francisco and don’t engage with the community dilute and adulterate San Francisco’s sense of character. And he would be right, dear friend, to condemn you for this if you behave this way in the future. Everyone who loves and appreciates San Francisco would be. As they also would be if you were to move here and demonstrate noxious asshole behavior like that of Peter Shih—because the real reason why many people dislike the tech community, you see, isn’t that they think tech employees are actually personally responsible for the gentrification of their neighborhoods (so long as such people aren’t renting apartments made available by way of landlords forcing out old tenants, in which case they would be responsible). Rather, it’s because many members of the tech community have not only failed at bettering or participating in their new community; they’ve also belittled and berated it by acting like complete dicks. 

Point is, the role you will play in this city is not predetermined. If you arrive in San Francisco sympathetic to the sensitivity of its circumstances—and are aware of the stereotype you’ve unfortunately inherited—you’ll be better positioned to become part of a larger solution here, as opposed to contributing to any preexisting badness. You’ll learn that there are a number of things you can do, including but not limited to the following: 1) signing up, participating in and joining communal events, occasions and organizations; 2) actually talking to people in bars, cafes and restaurants; 3) taking public transit rather than Uber, as smelly as it can sometimes be; and 4) informing yourself. You can start on this last bit by reading up on Stuart’s campaign for mayor. He has good ideas for solving some of the city’s major problems, like the aforementioned public-defecation endemic—something current mayor Ed Lee has merely frumpled his weird little moustache at.

Ultimately, young grasshopper, what I want for you to know is that your experience living in San Francisco will only be as rewarding and fulfilling as the sincerity of the effort you put into it. The good news—as it turns out—is that when you do get involved, and when you do immerse yourself in the community, you’ll start feeling less lonely and more like you belong. The bigger picture will start to make better sense, availing itself to you from underneath the clouds of frustration and confusion. I know from experience.

Anyway, I’m excited to spend some time with you here. San Francisco is an amazing place, and I hope you’ll grow to love it as much as I do.

Let me know once you’re done moving all your shit into that shoebox you’re paying too much for. I won’t be available to help, but I’d be happy to get those beers with you after.

Welcome to San Francisco!

^{Photo courtesy of Jared Eberhardt.}

Indian summer is kicking off in San Francisco, and what better way to enjoy it than by kicking back with a classic summertime cocktail—a gin and tonic? Gin has its origin in the 17th century, when numerous distillers from Amsterdam began the practice of redistilling malt spirits with juniper and coriander. It was also used to treat various  ailments. 

The gin and tonic became especially popular during the British colonial era. In many of the tropical regions of the British colonies (including India), gin was often watered down with tonic, which was basically soda water with dissolved quinine (an antimalarial). Quinine had a bitter, off-putting taste, so the invention of the gin and tonic was quite an ingenious vehicle for malaria prevention.

The popularity of gin has waxed and waned over the years (vodka and rum have been the leaders over the past decade). However, in the past three to four years, gin has come back in full force, likely due to renewed interest in classic cocktails and retro culture. In San Francisco, a number of places offer interesting takes on the gin and tonic. Here are a few to visit. 

Dosa (Fillmore)

This may come as a surprise to some of you who have frequented Dosa only for their food, but the restaurant has one of the most creative selections of gin drinks in the city. I chatted with bar manager Chris Lukens, who told me that when Dosa opened in the Fillmore seven years ago, they were one of the first bars to feature primarily gin-based drinks. Dosa has 30+ types of gin, as well as gin flights ($17), which I recommend pairing with a rava masala dosa to get full enjoyment out of the experience (and to prevent a nasty hangover the next morning). Dosa’s take on the classic gin and tonic ($12) is not to be missed. They create their own 14-ingredient tonic water by adding the essence of 15 figs, 2 lemons, pink peppercorns, cinnamon, cardamom, and a few additional spices. Finally, the concoction is topped off with some herbaceous St. George’s Botanivore Gin to make a delectable, refreshing drink.

Cockscomb

This place has one of the most extensive gin selections in the city. The bartender whom I chatted up that night estimated that they carry over 100+ gins on a rotating menu. Cockscomb’s classic gin and tonic ($14) is simple and elegant. It’s served in a large wine glass, which I enjoyed because I was able to taste and swirl the drink much like a fine wine. The gin and tonic featured Sloane’s Gin, which is on the sweeter, lighter side of things, with nuanced citrus notes. They used Fever-Tree Tonic, which I especially appreciate, because it highlights the bitter notes of quinine, adding a slight bite to the drink. Cockscomb’s gin and tonic is creatively garnished with juniper berries, lemon verbena, and slices of lemon and lime. This is a perfectly balanced take on the cocktail, and I highly recommend enjoying it with some of Cockscomb’s tasty bar bites.

Trou Normand

This newish bar and restaurant (founded by Bar Agricole owner Thad Vogler) actively touts its “turn of the century” recipes for cocktails, and before I visited, I had heard only fantastic things from friends who had tried the drinks there. Trou Normand did not have a classic gin and cocktail on its featured-drinks menu, but you can certainly ask the bartender to make you one, as they have a wide variety of gins. I decided to try something a little different this time and went for the Fruit Cup ($15), which features gin, lemon, apertivo, bitters, and ginger. I loved this drink. It was sweet, citrusy and tangy, with just a hint of bitterness. The ginger added a subtle spice element to the cocktail, and my drinking companion and I enjoyed this drink to its very last drop. The bartender was kind enough to share the recipe, which I will be using at my next dinner party one of these evenings.

Fruit Cup

1½ oz. Hayman’s Gin

¾oz. Cocchi Aperitivo Americano

¾ oz. lemon juice

½ oz. ginger syrup

Top off with soda water

ABV

Head over to the Mission to try ABV’s fantastic take on a gin and tonic, the Gin and Celery ($12), which features Old Tom Gin, lemon, tonic, celery bitters, and salt. I loved this drink. It’s a perfectly balanced cocktail that is refreshing, tangy, slightly sweet and salty. The celery flavor really shines through and makes this a perfect summertime drink. I asked the bartender about the celery component, and she mentioned that the owner was a bitters “guru” who made the celery bitters by hand. I could have consumed three more of these cocktails, without any issue. Don’t miss the bar bites here. I tried the octopus and potato dish ($10), and I’ve heard the picked vegetables($6) are fantastic as well.

Aaxte

Aaxte has an extensive list of gins; the bartender estimated that they carry 54 gins in total. One of the coolest things about the drinks menu here is that Aaxte has a separate color-coded wheel menu that helps you mix and match your personalized gin and tonic. You can choose the flavor notes for the gin you typically prefer (floral, herbal, classic, or fruity) and can match it with the suggested tonic for the gin of your choice. I tend to like gin with both floral and herbal notes, so the bartender suggested I have a Sipsmith Gin with Fever-Tree Mediterranean Tonic ($13). Sipsmith is an excellent gin with hints of juniper and spice and just a slight hint of bitterness. So what’s the reason behind Aaxte’s extensive gin list? The bartender mentioned that the gin and tonic is Spain’s most widely consumed drink at this point, and that the Spanish drink more gin per capita than any other country—hence the inspiration for the wide variety of gin offered on their menu. The food here is great too. Aaxte features Basque-inspired dishes, such as an octopus salad and braised sepia and pork belly over lentils. 

San Francisco has a long history of being a phenomenal filming location. Some of the greatest movies of all time were shot in our fair city (including Academy Award winners such as Forrest Gump and classics like Dark Passage starring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall). We decided to take a closer look. Below is data pulled from the City of San Francisco containing information about every film permit ever filed in the city.

1994—The Most Prolific Year for Filmmakers Using San Francisco Locations

Fun fact: among the movies that were shot in San Francisco areMona Lisa Smile, The Parent Trap (the Lindsay Lohan version) and City of Angels (go figure).

Clint Eastwood and San Francisco Seem to Go Together

Eastwood is to acting in San Francisco as Hitchcock is to directing in San Francisco —that is, both happened quite often. Here is a list of popular actors and actresses who made frequent appearances in movies shot in San Francisco. Note that our former governor shot three films in our beautiful city.

The Fairmont is a Surprisingly Popular Filming Location 

Below are the most popular filming locations in the city.

Seeing this data makes us nostalgic about some of the great—and some of the not-so-great—movies shot in the city. 

I’m a pizza snob. To me, a great slice of pizza is a work of art. 

I grew up in New York, went to college in New Haven and used to think that the only pizza worth eating in America was on the East Coast.When I first came to the Bay Area over 15 years ago, there wasn’t much here to change my mind.

But San Francisco has experienced a pizza renaissance since then. So much so, that I would venture to say that we now have the highest density of world-class pizzerias per capita of any city in America.

Pizza Pleasure Scale:

With any burgeoning art scene, however, comes a lot of hype. Pizza is no exception. The industry has its fair share of charlatan pizzaiolos and bogus standards, which often have no relationship to how good the pizza actually tastes.

So how does one evaluate the worthiness of a slice?

I use something I like to call the Pizza Pleasure Scale, which has four parameters:

1) Crust. The crust is the foundation of a top-notch slice and tends to be the most difficult to get consistently right. Most artisan pizzas have a crust that’s too thick and doughy, which overwhelms the sauce and toppings. The best crusts have a combination of crispy and chewy, not crackery or doughy. Some have a touch of sourdough.

2) Sauce. I like a saucy pizza. My favorite sauces tend to be bright and acidic,  although a sweeter sauce, which is a more traditional New York approach, can work as well. The quality of the tomatoes is key, but strictly using imported San Marzano tomatoes is not.

3) Cheese. High-quality cheese, made from happy cows, has a huge impact on pizza pleasure. Most mediocre pizzerias hide the imperfections of their pizza under mountains of bad cheese. Don’t be fooled. A great slice has just the right amount of excellent cheese.

4) Mouth Feel. More important than any individual element is how it all comes together. Each bite should be supremely satisfying. Balance is everything.  

A pizza that scores a 10 on the Pizza Pleasure Scale gets all four of these parameters right, almost all the time.

Note that a pizzeria must be evaluated on the basis of its Pizza Margherita, or plain pie, first and foremost.

The Best Pizzas

There is no such thing as “the best pizza.”

There is substantial variance from day to day in any pizzeria. For example, oven temperatures can be difficult to maintain on busy nights (pro tip: avoid weekends for optimal pizza pleasure). And artisan pizzas are so different from each other that comparisons among them are meaningless.

There are a handful of pizzerias in the country that consistently score a 10 on the Pizza Pleasure Scale. Four of these are in San Francisco.

Here they are:

Photo credit: Pete Lee

Pizza Hacker

This is what I call an American Neapolitan–style pizza, inspired by the traditional Italian style but with modern improvements to the crust texture, the quality of the ingredients and the balance. This crust has a strong sourdough flavor with a slight chewiness while also attaining a charred crisp. It has the perfect amount of sauce, which isn’t too sweet. Their pizza generates high pizza pleasure every time. The vibe here is appropriately hipster, and they can accommodate larger parties too.

thepizzahacker.com

Pizzetta 211

This style is best described as California Neapolitan because of the cornmeal crust. Although traditional pizzaiolos consider cornmeal to be heresy, the reality is that, when it’s done right, it tastes wonderful, gives the slice structure and adds a supremely satisfying crumble to each bite. The sauce here is a bit sweet, but it complements the crust nicely. This place uses excellent local ingredients, has a charming atmosphere and is a great place for a date.

pizzetta211.com

Photo credit: Prerna Gupta

Arinell

Arinell offers a classic slice to rival that of any heralded slice joint in New York. The crust is neutral and surprisingly light and crisp, but it stands up perfectly to the cheese and sauce. As with any proper slice, it’s heavy on the cheese and features shredded mozzarella, but the ingredient quality is impeccable, as is the care with which each pie is prepared. In terms of mouth feel, this is pizza perfection. This place is standing room only, but it’s open late (by San Francisco standards), and you get an authentic Mission experience here.

Photo credit: Eric Wolfinger

Delfina

Delfina’s pizza is a long-standing San Francisco favorite in the American Neapolitan style, which makes it worthy of its continued popularity. The crust has a slight sourdough tang and is perfectly light and airy on its best days. However, the quality of the crust varies, perhaps because the restaurant is often busy.

pizzeriadelfina.com

Pro tip:squeeze a touch of lemon on your slice! It brings out the flavors of the sauce and cheese.

Think I’ve missed an SF pizzeria that deserves a 10 on the Pizza Pleasure Scale? Let me know!

My first time on a surfboard was when I was 13 years old during a vacation in Florida with my aunt, uncle and cousin. We loved it so much that my cousin actually convinced my aunt and uncle to buy him a surfboard and took it back to Chicago (you can imagine how many Thanksgivings it took for my family to let that one go). Now that I live in San Francisco, I know that Florida is not the ideal state for catching real waves—California is.

Sure, we’re not in Southern California, but the surf scene here is just as vibrant and—most importantly—just as fun. I know what you’re thinking: the water around SF can be pretty cold. This was one part of surfing that I was afraid of, but to be honest, it’s not that bad, and you get used to it right away. It can also be quite intimidating when you’re not an SF native and you see those cute surfer dudes and chicks at Ocean Beach. They look pretty damn cool walking along the shore with their boards and sporting their hip-hugging wetsuits. As a bystander, it feels as if there’s this exciting surfer universe happening without you—and really, that’s true. The good news is that you don’t have to live the rest of your life lost in a fog of FOMO. Anyone can become a surfer chick (or dude). Yes, you read that correctly—even you can become a surfer. Here’s how to get started: 

1. Find a Friend/Coworker Who Knows How to Surf

The easiest way to catch a break in the surf world here is to know someone who is already immersed in it. Personally, this worked for me because a friend I work with has been surfing for ages. In my mind, he’s basically like professional surfer Kelly Slater’s offspring. It’s really helpful to have a friend who knows what they’re doing and can teach you the basics on a foggy weekend day. This is also helpful because this insider will know where to go and when. The waves and riptides can get pretty dangerous around here, so it’s important to go with an experienced surfer for the first couple of times. The best places to get started are Linda Mar Beach in Pacifica or Bolinas Beach. Both are popular beaches for beginners and have surf shops nearby where you can rent a wetsuit and board. 

2. Join a Meet-Up

Groups like the Northern California Surf Crew and Ladies Who Surf and are a great way to find and meet people who surf too. It’s probably best to join one of these groups after you’ve surfed a couple of times and feel confident being out there on your own, though. This doesn’t mean you have to be able to actually ride a wave to shore, but you should know how to paddle out, stand up and—most importantly—get yourself out of a riptide in case you find yourself caught in one. The best part of surfing is that everyone is usually really nice and helpful, unless you bring too many of your friends to a local spot or cut someone off in the lineup (then you’ll be yelled at). But generally, everyone remembers what it was like when they first got started surfing. The people you meet in these groups will be happy to give you some pointers.

3. Date Someone Who Surfs

I list this as a way to get started only because I do, in fact, know a couple of women who have taken up surfing because their boyfriends like to surf or they went on a few dates with a surf enthusiast. It’s actually a great way to start and a fun date idea. My friend was lucky enough to find a guy of interest who had an extra wetsuit and board. If you are serious about pursuing this, I highly recommend updating your Tinder profile to say that you’re looking to learn. I bet you will get a lot of replies from some surfer guys—just sayin’.

4. Find a Teacher on Thumbtack or Craigslist

Hey, we’re in San Francisco, so shouldn’t there be a start-up for this? If there isn’t one now, there probably will be one in the near future. In the meantime, use marketplaces like Thumbtack and Craigslist to find a teacher. This way you can set your own price and get a one-on-one lesson from someone who has been doing this for a while. Trust me—you’re not going to want a crowd to watch you get in the water for the first time as you swear like a sailor.

5. Take Official Group Lessons

And then there’s always the traditional route. You can take official group lessons in the Bay Area, but you’ll have to travel a bit to get to them. Surf schools like Adventure Out in Santa Cruz and Bolinas Surf Lessons come highly recommended.

Wherever you begin your surfing journey, know that it’s going to be a long one, but with lots of fun and laughter along the way. There’s nothing quite like spending a day in the Pacific Ocean paddling and trying to catch some waves. You’re not going to become Kate Bosworth’s Blue Crush character overnight; it takes time to learn and a lot of patience. But always remember that even if you don’t catch any waves, the scenery, exercise and camaraderie make it all worth it.

We San Franciscans know we’ve got it good. We’ve got access to some of the best food in the world; our bridge-filled sunsets are golden; and we absolutely lose our minds when the temperature strays from the typical 55°–68° range. (Author’s note: I’m not kidding. How does one actually survive in Texas?)

But what we forget from time to time is that we are literally (yes, literally) surrounded by breathtakingly stunning and accessible wilderness. For those of you who crave wildlife sightings and are tired of run-of-the-mill trash pandas,* don’t stress. A short drive north to Point Reyes is bound to fulfill your mini-safari-esque cravings. Follow this guide for your next North Bay wilderness and wildlife adventure.

Getting There

Start your day at the Point Reyes Lighthouse, which is about a two-hour drive from San Francisco via Highway 101. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a chance to see both the lighthouse and possibly a whale or two. (Note that peak gray-whale-viewing season is mid-January through mid-April.) I personally was treated to a wall of Karl on my walk from the parking lot to the lighthouse, which is roughly 15 minutes up, followed by 300 stairs down the cliff to the lighthouse itself. But even with the fog, the lighthouse area is a perfect place to check off as your first task in this guide.

 1. Spot the Tule Elk

Whether they’re in the fog or grazing with their herd in the sun, tule elk are plentiful in this area as well as in neighboring Drakes Beach. In fact, Point Reyes National Seashore is the last remaining US national-park unit with tule elk. These majestic creatures are accustomed to human Instagrammers but should be given ample space. But if you’re patient, and especially if you have a zoom lens, you can snag some great shots and spend some peaceful moments with these animals.  

At the risk of sounding fatalistic, it’s also worth noting that the tule elk have been impacted significantly by the drought. One hundred and one elk calves were born in 2012, but only 23 survived by 2014.

2. Hike the Jagged Coastline

Forget the Cliffs of Moher (OK, don’t, actually—I hear those are awesome). Look at this. I’m not kidding—this coast is two short hours north of us. What’s your excuse? OK, I’ll settle down. But seriously, most people would travel days to see this, and yet this is in our northern backyard.  

After taking in the lighthouse area, reverse your route; but instead of keeping to the left at the fork to stay on Sir Francis Drake Boulevard, take your first right to head to Chimney Rock. Park at the trailhead and head up on the hike to your right. This partial loop trail will not only treat you to the view pictured but will give you ample opportunity to take in local wildflowers, including mule’s-ear sunflowers, lupines and good ol’ California poppies. Spring is the best time to see this colorful carpet in full bloom.

From the view above, I saw not only several hawks but also a handful of elephant seals in the distance. It was chilly even in the sun, so bring a jacket. But consider having a windy but view-tastic picnic from the top of this two-mile hike. In fact, if I were you, I’d bring some Chimney Rock cheese from Cowgirl Creamery, Acme bread and Vinho Verde. It would be perfect in so many ways.

3. Experience the Blorpitude of Elephant Seals

After chowing down cheese and bread, you might feel a little blorpy yourself. But fear not. To experience some true blorp, you only need to walk toward the water from the Chimney Rock parking lot. Head to the left to find the elephant-seal overlook, which will give you a direct but distant view of a beach often filled to the brim with these tubular beauties. Head to the right toward the historic Point Reyes Lifeboat Station. Chances are you will have a chance to take in a closer view of a single bull (an adult male elephant bull) or two. As with all wildlife, remember to keep your distance. Also, remember that these things can and will climb up from the beach to the driveway. If you spot a rock that seems to be breathing, think twice about approaching it. I had to.

These creatures are incredible to witness in person, especially if you’re able to get to a close but safe viewing distance. Males can reach 20 feet in length and weigh over four tons. Females can live up to 22 years yet lack the elephant-ish proboscis that gives the species its name. (When I say “proboscis,” I mean trombone nose—just so we’re on the same page.) Hunted to near extinction at the end of the 19th century, these animals have made a fantastic recovery on account of the Marine Mammal Protection Act.  

4. Go Bird-Watching

Your day isn’t over! You’ve seen the land. You’ve seen the sea. Now it’s time to take in the sky. Whether you’re still parked at Chimney Rock or headed back down Sir Francis Drake Boulevard, look up. Seriously, just stop and look up. Point Reyes is home to nearly 500 different species of birds, from red-tailed hawks (pictured below) to the adorably poofy (and ultra-protected) snowy plover.  

I’m not a bird watcher myself, but I have found that if I’m willing to sit still somewhere, even for 15 minutes at a time, I can often spot a pretty sweet bird in flight. Give it time, and that bird might land somewhere near you and give you enough time to take a photo. The hawk pictured landed right next to me while I was sitting in my car. I rolled down my window and got this shot (and about 20 more) before it took off.

Want to know every type of bird you can see? Check out this list here. Bonus points for barn-owl, mockingbird and turkey sightings.  

5. Watch the Sunset

OK, you’ve had enough hiking, blorping, nomming and elk viewing (or have you?), and it’s time to head home. Whether you detour north to Tomales Bay or take the scenic Highway 1 back home, make some time to take in the sunset. There are countless places to pull over and take in the beauty. Be careful as you pull over, but do it! You won’t regret it.

*No insult intended to the trash pandas (i.e., raccoons) of the world!

The Folsom Street Fair, where if you spank someone, there’s a good chance someone will be there to spank you back. 

Fun and fashionable with mint heels.

This is GlitterBeard, known for his … um ... beard made of glitter. 

Sometimes it’s nice to have a gladiator make sure your car doesn’t get towed away. (Note the car-tow sticker.)

Eddy, Derrick and Yvonne—my vote for best-dressed Goths this year.

It’s true—the FSF is bunny friendly!

Katia and her dog, Mick, were visiting from France and absolutely loved their stay in San Francisco this weekend.

Norbert and his partner have been FSF volunteers for many years. They were keeping the peace, and having lots of fun doing it.

Who says the FSF isn’t political? Trump rears his head—and behind.

Body mutilation isn’t uncommon at the FSF. These feathers really make the outfit.

Everyone knows that going with a group is way more fun!

Leather cowboys were a-plenty at the FSF this year.  

Pink knee-highs really do make any outfit complete. 

Dear Tiger Mother, 

Did you get the magazine I sent in which I was mentioned? I hope you were able to show it to your weekly real-estate-investing / college-admissions group! I know it’s not the cover, but there was another Asian person on the cover already. And no, it wasn’t one of our neighbors—for once Constance is not my competition!

While I know you are fairly happy with my career, I wanted to address our conversation earlier this week about me “finding someone.” Despite your best intentions, I have come to the conclusion that you, Tiger Mom (and your tiger-parent friends), have some serious learning to do on the relationship-advice front. Please read carefully below, especially if you want to meet any of my future dates.

1) Online dating is nothing like the SAT, Mom!

Sure, there are some logical reasoning and math questions, but ultimately you have to meet someone to figure out whether they are a fit when it comes to chemistry, personality and brains. I know you would rather have potential mates submit a photo, their SAT score and their GPA, and that grandma would want their lunar zodiac sign, but on the Internet, there’s no way to tell if people are telling the truth. There’s no proctor, and many people don’t even look like their online pictures! So it’s important to meet the person.

2) “Twenty questions” doesn’t work.

Despite how proud you were of my test scores, grades and first chair in the orchestra (remember my letterman jacket?), no one really likes being tested. More importantly, no one wants to feel like a piece of meat being directly asked, “How smart are you?” It’s ironic, really; you just want to see if this person is better looking, more personable and smarter than average, but you just can’t bluntly ask them! Since I know you won’t take no for an answer on this issue, I wanted to let you know that proxy questions can gather the same data (this will help when I finally do bring someone home for you to meet). Consider this:

Try not to ask, “What were your grades? What were your test scores? What school did you go to?” Instead, ask this: “I read an article recently in the New Yorker/TheEconomist / TheAtlantic. Did you read it? What do you think?”

Try not to ask, “What is your greatest weakness?” Instead, ask this: “What was the subject in school you liked the least?”

Try not to ask, “What are your political views?” Instead, ask this: “Do grammar mistakes annoy you?” or “Do you want the people in your life to be simple or complex?”

3) Being too frugal can ruin a date.

Now every good tiger mother teaches her children to be frugal. Nevertheless, I’ve probably been a little too frugal. Turns out, the Costco food court is not a great place to take a date (you’re right—it does close too early). I’ve also found that not every date is open to taking leftover condiments; it’s as if they live in a world where condiments are just available everywhere! And what if the person asked me out? Do I pay at all?! Little Sister tells me that she makes her date pay for EVERYTHING, but if my potential mate is so irresponsible with their money, how will we manage our finances together?! Which leads me to my next point …

4) “Classy” moves don’t really work (especially on non-tiger-mom-raised dates).

Don’t turn on classical music and say, “Oh, this is nice. Is this Stravinsky or Vivaldi?” I know, it’s an easy question, but maybe their family was a modern jazz family.

Don’t drop $20 on the ground for your date to find. It’s a lose-lose situation. If they keep it, you’ll think they’re frugal, but they could be a thief! If they give it away, you’ll think they’re not frugal. Also, Mom, just because they give it to the homeless doesn’t mean they’re giving money to the homeless for drugs. 

Don’t assume that everyone likes karaoke. Some people don’t like singing but prefer to play the piano instead. Some people also have terrible voices, like Little Sister.

Don’t take too many pictures. Not everyone likes cute pictures, pictures with food, photos of people jumping or any combination of the three.

5) Dating is not like an Asian soap opera.

If someone says they’re going to the bathroom, they’re probably going to the bathroom and not texting their other lover. Don’t misinterpret a pensive look or a scrunch of the nose; it doesn’t mean they hate you or are in a bad mood of some sort. They might just have eaten a bad burrito. NOTE: this probably doesn’t count for people who are just like you, dear Tiger Mother.

6) The rules of the dating game have changed.

Dating only one person is a bad idea. It doesn’t help you understand what you like. Not everyone looks in a newspaper, finds the top test scores and then arranges meetings through grandmothers. In fact, our generation tries to date more people—luckily, I think you’ll be happy to know that I found a mathematical equation for this problem, which we’ll call a secretary problem.

7) It takes work to dial down tiger habits.

I’ve learned that when I find someone who is a potential match for me, it’s important to dial down my tiger habits. Despite how much I really want my way, saying something louder and more frequently does not allow me to win an argument. Also, bargaining is best left for the night markets in Asia, I think. A good example is when someone says they’re full. They’re probably actually full. Forcing them to scoop up more food will not make them love me more. Less is more. Actually, that’s probably unrealistic, because we all have Tupperware (or they should finish their plate).

I hope this list is helpful, Mom! Oh, and the funniest thing is, although the above prose discusses things one shouldn’t do, if someone else did them to me, I think you’d be proud that I wouldn’t be judging … too much.

—Your Tiger Cub

P.S. I know, I know—I don’t have a lot of time left. And yes, I am wearing sunscreen and have done all my health checkups (including a dentist appointment).

_{Hero Photo Courtesy of Chris Michel.}

Last week, Uber announced that it purchased the boarded-up former Sears building in Oakland’s Uptown. Immediately following this announcement came a torrent of ominous Tweets predicting that the tech company’s arrival would have dire consequences for the people who make up the less tangible aspects of the city’s soul:

“hide me while oakland rents skyrocket like WHOA” —@leechrissyd

“… really sucky for a lot of people” —@gwachob

“RIP Oakland” —@susie_c

Generally speaking, the fear is that Uber—like a ship full of ride-sharing pilgrims sailing across the bay—will bring with it the same diseases of displacement and gentrification that have so gutted San Francisco. The fear is understandable (gentrification aside, if one were to imagine the tech community as one big, hyperconnected high school, Uber would be the tall, symmetrically featured, misogynistic douchebag who represents the antithesis of everything that makes Oakland, Oakland).But I think that that fear is ultimately misguided. Or at least the energy behind it could be better spent. If, in two years, an even larger percentage of the people and families who’ve cultivated Oakland’s ethos are at risk of being forced out of their homes—and being replaced by zip-ups and luxury condos—it will not be Uber that is to blame. Rather, it will be mayor Libby Schaaf and the City of Oakland itself.

The truth is, Oakland has been feeling the more negative effects of gentrification for a long time—way before Uber announced it was coming to town. From November 2013 to November 2014, rent prices for new listings in the city jumped by 9.1 percent, giving Oakland the highest rent growth in the country. (For context, San Francisco rents increased by 7.4 percent.) Over the past decade, Oakland’s African American population has declined by 24 percent. Families have been hit hard too—particularly those in the flatlands. Between 2000 and 2010, the Oakland Unified School District lost more than 10,000 students (meaning that families with children can no longer afford to be in the area), and home ownership in East Oakland declined by more than 25%.

The situation is so serious that earlier this year, the city released the 107-page A Roadmap toward Equity, in which the potential perils of allowing these trends to continue are outlined in detail. The language mirrors the tone of the Tweets:

“Facing a rising loss of families with children and a dramatic loss of African American households, Oakland risks following in San Francisco’s footsteps and losing the intergenerational treasures of our community.”

It’s safe to say that Uber has had nothing to do with any of this. It’s not because of Uber, for instance, that from 2007 to 2014, Oakland’s housing production met only 25 percent of its Regional Need Housing Allocation (RHNA) production goals.

This isn’t to say that Uber’s arrival won’t have an impact. It will. As will the arrival of the tech companies likely to follow in its surge-priced path. But whether or not that impact betters only a segment of the city or all of it is, ultimately, up to the city. Which brings us to consider the potential for Uber to genuinely improve Oakland.

I’m writing this from inside the Tierra Mia Coffee cafe, across the street from the giant dead tooth that is the Sears building. A massive gray block that’s the color of dirty dishwater, the building gives off the vibe of a tombstone on steroids. The rest of the surrounding area doesn’t look much nicer. Almost each of the neighboring storefronts on both Telegraph and Broadway has either wooden boards or black tarps covering the windows. The area needs revitalizing.

It isn’t difficult to imagine revitalization happening once Uber moves in. In fact, it’s pretty much certain that it will happen. New businesses, shops and restaurants will create jobs and—hopefully—bolster community spirit. In Uptown Station itself, Newberry Market & Deli has already committed to taking over 20,000 square feet of ground-floor retail space.

Uber’s presence should also ignite calls for more altruistic behavior. We’ve seen the positive impact that companies led by thoughtful leaders, like Marc Benioff of Salesforce (who, since 2010, has donated more than $200 million to the recently renamed UCSF Benioff Children’s Hospital), can have on the communities they call home. There’s no guarantee that Uber will invest in the people of Oakland so heavily, but with a $50 billion valuation, and with the eyes of the entire Bay Area upon them, it’s certainly possible. Also possible is Uber partnering with local organizations like Black Girls Code and Hack the Hood to prepare and equip local residents with the skills needed to compete for the high-paying tech jobs that will soon be much more widely available in the East Bay.

None of this matters, however—not for reasonably anxious longtime residents, at least—unless Oakland learns from San Francisco’s mistakes and prioritizes the preservation of its people and culture so that everyone can benefit from Uber’s arrival.

The good news is, it can.

In its Roadmap, the city fleshes out nine strategies it can reasonably take to stop and prevent future displacement, including the following: 1) the creation of policies that will stop bad-faith evictions and adjust tenant-relocation requirements; and 2) the passing of initiatives aimed at preventing and reducing homelessness, such as assembly speaker Toni Atkins’s recently proposed plan to add $500 million annually to the California Housing Trust Fund. Additionally, Oakland actually does have the resources and opportunity sites to build the critical housing needed for people of all income levels, partially because Oakland possesses none of San Francisco’s exclusionary housing policies, which have made it impossible for San Francisco to meet its housing demands.

It’s important that Oakland figures out a way to act and utilize its resources; at stake here is the idea that a city can improve and grow and benefit from something like the arrival of an Uber in ways that don’t disregard any community members or components of it. Albrey Brown, a native Oaklander and the founder of Telegraph Academy, recently said in an article published on TechCrunch, “This is a very big chance for us to step up to the plate for everything we’ve been talking about … about creating a different kind of tech scene in Oakland. We could make a blueprint for all the other cities that want to keep themselves more socioeconomically diverse.”

But again, this is up to Oakland—not Uber. Uber’s moving to Oakland can and should be a very good thing for the city—the Town.

At this point, it seems to me that Oakland should view gentrification—or rather the impending proliferation of tech within its city limits—as something of an accelerated iteration of global warming. Whether or not it’s happening or will happen is not the question. The question is, what will the city ultimately do about it? Those nine strategies outlined in the city’s Roadmap to Equity? Those don’t mean a thing if Mayor Schaaf and the City of Oakland don’t follow through on the commitment to ensuring that all of Oakland benefits from the increased prosperity that’s likely to come to Broadway Avenue in 2017.

Here’s to hoping they do.

^{Photo courtesy of James Daisa}