> SFVS on Facebook <
be kind to animals, don't eat them
|
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
| 
|
|
|
|
December 29, 2009, Tuesday: It is 7:30 pm and I just got off the phone with a friend who reminded me about Gracias Madre Restaurant in my neighborhood which opened a few days ago. I remembered this salutation from my Spanish class of years ago, meaning "Thank you, mom". It was a rainy evening where I live, about 3 blocks away from the restaurant in the vibrant Inner Mission. I don my coat, beret cap, muffler and umbrella to break away from the evening winter chill. I am on my way to the restaurant.
Upon entering the Gracias Madre restaurant at 2211 Mission St (between 18th and 19th Sts), I entered the dimly alfresco entrance and foyer with neatly arranged empty dining tables and chairs. Being a Tuesday night, I thought to myself that it did not look like it has a busy night. This should be a quick dinner, I said to myself, being by myself. The foyer reminded me of a warm rustic setting in a Mexican countryside. The smell of freshly cut dry wood greeted me as I opened the massive wooden door.
As I entered, I was greeted by the hostesses' big smile, twinkling eyes and a happy face. Her name is Aida, as I would recall. I looked around and saw that the restaurant was half filled, yet all the tables were occupied. The tables, of rustic and unstained wood, would seat 6 people at one time. I did not see any two people seating which would have been good for a "dating” environment. You will have to content yourself to share with someone else. This is a "no-date" seating restaurant. On the far end of the restaurant is a sofa dining that also sits 6 people. Definitely a "no-date" seating situation here. I was planning to bring my date here and was just checking the place ahead of time. Perhaps, I need to change my plans.
Since the tables are too large for one, I mentioned to Aida, my hostess, that I will be more comfortable seated at the bar. I chose the far end of the bar, yet close to everyone and my back away from the door. From my vantage point, I have a view of the kitchen, the bartenders, cashiers and everyone involved in preparing my food and serving me. My bartender, Marco, a young and cute Latin guy, poured water on my glass. The glass was clean yet I could smell some strong agent in my water. I requested for filtered water and I was informed that they serve filtered water and yet something was odd on my drink. Marco and my server finally figured out that the drinking glass had been washed with harsh cleaning solution, leaving an unpleasant after-wash smell. My graceful server was very apologetic and tried to find the perfect smelling glass as she went through every glass in the bar, sniffed it, and set is aside and sniffed it again and set it aside until she found the perfect drinking glass. I thought to myself, I wished she would not have done that as I do not want her nose in my drinking glass. Finally, she found the perfect one and I was somewhat happy and unhappy at the same time. The coarse table napkins and silverware reminded me of those used by Cafe Gratitude.
Now, for the food: I am familiar with Mexican food as I have lived in the Bay Area for 26 years and in my Mission neighborhood for 7 years. A few doors from my house, is a family-owned Mexican restaurant Pancho Villa. I would smell their Mexican food everyday, coming home in the evening. Perhaps, the food in Gracias Madre will provide a much better fare as I browsed through the menu printed on a crisp brown paper. It took me awhile to decide as I read the short description on the menu. I wanted the Chiles Rellenos and the Tamales, but I could only have one entree for the evening, as two is too much. Being a conservative as I am, I chose the Tamales as I had them at Cafe Gratitude. I'll have to order the Chiles Rellenos sometime, I said to myself. Now for my appetizer, I needed the help of my bartender, Marco. He suggested Colifor con queso fundido. Reading through the menu description, I see that it is smothered with vegan cashew cheese. As I feel deserving this evening, I needed to order wine, a white wine that goes well with what I ordered. The restaurant does not have a sommelier other than a wine buyer. The wine list showed a selection of whites, reds, non-alcoholic drinks and beverages. I said to myself, I never go wrong with a California wine, so I decided for a Patianna Sauvignon Blanc from Mendocino: crisp, light and not so dry. It had a refreshing taste.
Time went by quickly and before I knew it, my tamales arrived. Ooops, did I forget to mention I wanted black beans with my tamales ? I glanced quickly at the menu and it did not provide choices of pinto, black or refried beans, a precious luxury that I had at Pancho Villa Restaurant. Before I could grab my fork, my ever accomodating server apologized, took my plate as she goes back to the kitchen to accomodate my request for black beans. As quickly as she left, she came back with my plate, to tell me that the kitchen is already out of black beans. Ahem, I thought. Let me give myself the benefit of the doubt. She offered me to try their complimentary bowl of black beans which I was delighted to acknowledge her free offer. Why not ? The universe provides.
Staring at my tamales wrapped with corn husk, I wonder whether this shall be more special than the other tamales that I've had before. Shall this be an extraordinary experience worth the $10 price or ordinary so as not to try it again ? I gently unwrapped the tamales with my knife and fork, savored the fragrance of the corn masa, cut a slice and forked it into my waiting mouth. Hmmm, a little dry for me. I prefer them moist and would be incomparable to the tasty tamales being served at a little known "soup kitchen" in Inner Mission, Centro Latino de San Francisco, where I volunteer. They have the best tamales lovingly prepared by Tomasa Bonilla.
My black bean soup arrived, served in a contrasting white deep bowl on a saucer and round soup spoon. I wish this is better than the black bean soup I had at a restaurant on Grove St (I could not remember the name) several years ago. It was light and refreshing. I scooped a spoonful of my complimentary black bean soup and tasted it but I did not experience the same refreshing taste from years back. Something is missing in the soup which I could not figure out. Out of nowhere and in front of me, I was greeted by a smiling woman garbed in white and draped with black kitchen apron. She introduced herself as one of the chefs in the restaurant. She was gracious to hear my few comments about this, that and whatever.
At the end of my meal, my plates were all clean with no single morsel left. Being so, my brain is telling me that I have no more space for food in my stomach, yet I requested that the dessert menu be shown to me. I wanted something light, so I quickly glanced at the dessert portion of the menu, a coconut-lime cheesecake or a chocolate mousse ? Despite all the delightful dessert temptations, I did not yield to it. It took me awhile to decide but I was victorious not because of will-power but because I was really....really…really full.
Decision time: shall I bring my date here tomorrow or not ? Looking again through the room and checking for a private seating where I could see none, yet something tells me that I will need to try those Chiles Rellenos that I failed to order this evening. Definitely, I will come back tomorrow.
After paying my bill with a plastic card, a boon and a scourge to an American lifestyle, I donned my coat, my beret cap, and muffler and picked up my umbrella to head home. |
posted by JC on:
12/29/2009 08:42:00 PM
|
 
|
|
|
|
|
|
The latest postings on our Facebook page
