On Sunday, I couldn't imagine us sitting at yet another yuppie brunch, talking about how bad everything is while sipping a $6 glass of orange juice. And it's not only the cost, there is something that made me want to be around real people, people who eat real food with little to no marketing involved. We decided to go to the armpit of the city, the Tenderloin, and wander around Little Saigon, the area around Larkin, from Eddy to O'Farrell. It's a mix of crack-heads, hookers, dealers, and then the rest of us, just trying to get by. It's also home to some of the best ethnic food in the city.
We first stumbled upon a place selling food from the Yucatan region of Mexico. I couldn't tell you the name - I think it's changed names several times, so it really doesn't matter - to me, it's the Yucatecan restaurant.
The inside was bright and festive, with bright paint on the walls that looked many layers thick. There was one guy at the counter and a table of two men watching Spanish TV in the corner.
Upstairs was a sectioned off room where they were preparing for a party. There was a cook running back and forth between the kitchen and front grill with large pots full of tamales and other food. We ordered two things to try: Empanadas and Panuchos, at $2.50 each.
Above are the empanadas - different from the ones that we are used to from Argentina, but very good. They were made of cornmeal dough wrapped around white cheese and fried, with beef and pickled onions on top. The edges were crispy and the cheese and meat very tender - satisfying , not greasy, and delicious.
Next were the Panuchos - again with cornmeal dough, but this time stuffed with black beans, and topped with grilled, marinated chicken and onions. These were great, from the tender filling to the citrusy chicken. Both dishes were as satisfying as a nice plate of pupusas, but with even more to love.
We met the owner, who is actually Kurdish, and talked to him for a while. Super nice guy, the kind who knows the names of all of his regulars. We'll be back for sure.
Next we went to one of my favorite Indian/Pakistani places, Lahore Karahi. Because of the neighborhood, I refer to it as "The Whore Crack-y" in my head, which I realize is totally juvenille, but it always makes me chuckle to myself.
Anyway...it's sort of a cult classic among jaded foodies and neighborhood folks - a tiny place, with maybe 5 tables, and one guy cooking at the grill. They make everything from scratch, and use all Hallal meats. The curries run around $7-8 and are generously portioned. A plate of nan is $1 - you can't beat that, and it's all good. What stands out are the tandooris, which give the place a lovely charred smell.
The curries are extra spicy and thick and creamy, but without the use of heavy cream like a lot of Indian places fall back on. This is not Westernized food - it is rich, sweat-inducing, made from scratch fare. The chef uses the tandoori chicken in it, not just bland cubes of chicken, and there is tons of meat, which is also unusual - nothing is more frustrating than getting curry with only 3-4 chunks of meat - arrrgggh. No worry here, and there is always plenty to take home. I am always a sucker for the tomato-based curries, like Chicken Tikka Masala.
That, with their fragrant basmati rice, seasoned with plenty of coriander, makes a rich and satisfying meal, lovely on a lazy afternoon or a chilly San Francisco night. A beer or mango lassi (or both) make the perfect pairing. The chef/owner is so nice, which makes the experience that much better. His smile could brighten anyone's day.
Both of these restaurants reminded me of the beauty of old-world cooking. There was nothing formulaic, efficient, or bland about either one. Each ingredient involved care and time in preparation, and the proof was in the results. Neither one was trying to re-invent the wheel, or appeal to a studied demographic. It was just good, real food, prepared well, at everyday prices. Refreshing, and fulfilling, to say the least.
