I’ll admit, most people don’t know where my neighborhood is. When they ask where I live, I have to explain, “up past State,” “by Daly City, kind of,” and “like Excelsior but not.” Ingleside also gets left out of San Francisco roundups that characterize parts of the city. The houses here are cheap compared to other neighborhoods, liquor stores still stock illicit gems like Four Loko, and the media generally pays attention to the crime stats here more than anything else. Initially, my move to Ingleside was one of convenience, seeing as it was a short walk to San Francisco State. But over the five years I’ve lived here, I’ve found a great community that lacks pretension in a hipster-free zone that I am proud to call my hood.
(Golden Zumba at IT Bookman Community Center)
Ingleside’s neighborhood networks are small but mighty. The IT Bookman Community Center is one of my favorite hubs. Its monthly fish fries, crab boils, and pancake breakfasts would be my favorite events if not for one other thing that’s offered: Golden Zumba. This free Zumba class happens at 10 a.m. every Monday, just one of the many programs the center provides – line dancing, bingo, and tai chi among them. In a recent time of fun employment, I wiped the crumbs off my exercise pants (which had been chiefly used as eat-Doritos-and-watch-wedding-shows pants) and headed over to a class. I was the youngest participant by about 30 years. Golden Zumba caters mainly to ladies in their 50s and 60s bedecked in workout clothes of the “World’s Best Grandma” variety.
Another of my favorite Ingleside fitness spots is the sundial. I found this gem when babysitting two kids in the Ingleside Terrace (read: more suburban) neighborhood. I suggest including a run around the sundial park in your workout routine. The more adventurous among us can include a climb up the steep surface of the dial as well. (Although I can’t recommend it for legal reasons, I can say a certain Bold Italic writer has successfully made it to the tippy top and slid down.)
The restaurants in Ingleside are mostly found along Ocean Avenue. But there is one dining option I can recommend on the Randolph Street drag: April Nine. When I first moved here, this place was a neglected pizza-burrito joint that my roommates and I were pretty sure was a front for a meth lab. About a year ago a new business took over, painted the whole place mint green, and started a delicious and cost-effective Thai restaurant that is a bright spot on the street.
(April Nine)
In my mind, though, Ingleside is the part of the city sandwiched between Alemany and Ocean Avenue, the latter of which is the only real entertainment strip in the neighborhood. It’s a lively street where families and dazed city college kids meander daily. There’s a plethora of delicious neighborhood food here too. The crown jewel is Beep’s Burgers.
(Beep's)
Beep’s is the name your hangover calls in the morning. The smell of sizzling meat pervades the air around it, and the McDonald’s one block over shoots it a wicked side eye all day long. Beep's is a retro-tastic corner stand that serves up everything from burgers to teriyaki bowls. It’s often inundated with high school kids who scrape dollars from the corners of their knapsacks to split crispy steak fries while trying out swear words at the counter. Old-timers park their cars out front and crank Temptations on the radio as they wait for their food. Like the neighborhood around it, a Beep’s burger is straightforward and special. You will find no grass-fed bison here, no trendy brioche buns, nothing approaching an aioli. You will find a burger whose grease dots a white paper bag and whose orange tangy secret sauce mingles perfectly with melted cheese and honest-to-goodness beef. And you will be reminded that simple tastes good.
Kitty-corner to Beep’s is Randy’s Place. Inside is always a holiday, and by that I mean every holiday at once. New Year’s banners cloy with shamrock tinsel, and confusingly, happy-birthday pennants are draped around a whiteboard reading “R.I.P Nick.” Like most of the bars in this neighborhood, the stools of Randy’s Place are permanently filled by locals – usually pushing 60 and full of stories. Sit by any one of them, buy them a beer and a cup of ice to go with it, and they will tell you all about Ingleside and San Francisco, past and present.
A similar crowd convenes at The Ave Bar, the only other bar in the neighborhood. The old-timers mingle with the 20-somethings, sometimes sharing a dance to the blaring hip-hop beat from the jukebox. That is not a quaint word picture; I literally overheard a woman explaining “twerking” to an octogenarian. The bougie downtown bars that boast of “exposed wood” don’t have anything on the Ave, whose walls are actually made of plywood. It’s like drinking in a construction site, a hallmark of many a suburban childhood. No? I’m the only one?
(The Ave Bar)
The bartenders at the Ave can move a shaker with the best mixologists in the city. They deftly swirl vodka, soda, St. Germain, and fresh squeezed lime and lemon juice into a frosty mason jar to create the signature cocktail named, of course, “The Ave.” And I would be remiss as an amateur Bloody Mary researcher if I didn’t mention the Ave’s take on this cocktail. It starts, as all the best things do, with a squirt of Sriracha. That adds a lovely tang to the traditional Mary fixings and makes this cocktail really stand out. If you want a Mary with a leg of lamb or half a boar, this is not the place. Instead, you can enjoy the ample garnish of three pickled green beans and one olive that dives straight to the bottom.
Ingleside may be out of the way from the rest of the city, and often the weather is cold and gray. But I love that it’s bursting with families, regulars, and great stories. Plus, it smells like burgers on a windy day. It’s home.
