the deliciousness that is Ali Baba's Cave on Valencia Street. I'm a shawarma-smitten kitten.
Their lamb is spit roasted and tender, and complimented with soft potato strips, hummus, Tzatziki cucumber yogurt, and a spicy mystery sauce. It comes wrapped in a large, crispy lavash, heated on an open grill and served to you in less than 10 minutes. This is the kind of fast-food a girl can get used to.


I've been vegetarian for over ten years, and in the cities I've lived in as an adult (Chicago and Portland) it has been very easy to accommodate my needs when I go out. But something I always felt was missing from my experience was a place for fine wine and top notch food in an intimate, refined setting. Millennium, on a sloped corner in the Tenderloin, serves up everything I've ever wished


San Franciscan's love their brunch, and I'm no exception. I love it even more when it involves $10 bottomless mimosas, Yahtzee, an outdoor patio, and is within stumbling distance of my apartment. The Sycamore might be the new kid on the Mission Street block, but it has quickly become the living room I knew I always wanted but couldn't afford. With an assortment of board games and drool worthy sliders

ALI BABA'S CAVE 799 Valencia Street • San Francisco
MILLENIUM 580 Geary Street • San Francisco
THE SYCAMORE 2140 Mission Street • San Francisco
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The geography of ingredients that grace the menus of our fair city's restaurants read more like a map of dairies and farms than that of a food menu. There is now a responsibility on the part of the Chef to validate his ingredients; their pedigree and radius from the restaurant seem suddenly as important as their taste. Now, I am not saying this is bad for food, or us, or dining in general, but is it done for flavor, or for fashion?

Restaurants have become beholden to the snobbery of their guests, or in some cases, their ignorance. People are suddenly less willing to eat something that may not be from a nearby farm. If a beet is not organic, it is stricken from the list. The hypocrisy of diners runs deep, though I don't suggest it is necessarily done with ill will, but rather the nervous energy of a youngster that doesn't know better.

There was a time when people discussed things over dinner like politics, relationships, music, and the simple pleasure of things tasty is no longer enough. Now the discussion of what we are eating is most important, every morsel dissected, looking for faults. Diners are more anxious than ever to fill their bellies with food that has a legitimate pedigree.

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