My Bloody Valentine
There's nothing that says Valentine's Day like skullduggery. It's with that in mind that I stood on a deserted corner in Bayview yesterday with a cellphone clamped to my ear informing my contact that I was there and needed directions to the rendezvous.
Rewind two weeks. I am thinking of Valentine's Day and how to take part without actually becoming a Hallmark drone. Across my desktop comes an intriguing invitation to take part in "subculture dining". An image of Fight Club meets Scarecrow and Mrs King comes to mind, and I eagerly sign up for the Valentine's night repast. I was sure that the indefatigable Dr Germ would be more than pleased to come along and follow this particular treasure map to the large red X. Illegal dining, no menu, no health inspections and no liquor license - it could either be great, or it could be a way station on the road to gastro-intestinal trouble.
All this in mind we found ourselves on Potrero Hill wandering around in a car trying to find some obscure corner. Earlier that day we'd both gotten emails, telling us where to go and giving us a number to call when we got there. On a corner that gave a lovely impression of urban blight we parked and then, standing in all our finery, made the call. Within minutes we were directed to a swank apartment, completely out of place in the grimy industrial area we were in. It was filled with well-heeled foodies all slumming it for a chance at an amazing meal.
And an amazing meal it was. We were seated in a living room opening onto the kitchen of the apartment and as such were able to observe the chef at work. 7 courses, each better than the last, and of course made that much more delectable by it's illicitness. Why are bad things so good? Four hours later we stumbled out of dinner and back to the cool streets of San Francisco.
Comments
Can we talk about how happy it makes me that you mentioned Scarecrow and Mrs. King on your blog? BTW: Either post more often or email me back please.
XOXOXO
Posted by: Karen | February 24, 2007 6:56 PM
Sounds like fun. You will have to give me more details.
Posted by: Pedro | February 24, 2007 7:01 PM
Intriguing, but I don't quite get it. So you just go over to someone's place and pay them for dinner. What's subculture about it? Did they provide some romantic background music from the shoegazer gods referenced in your title? Does this really require rave party way point check-in protocol to dodge the pesky health inspectors, or is the mystery and intrigue just to make things more memorable. (While running the risk of having a V-day fight with your significant other if you happen to get lost... I didn't know you were such a risk taker!)
Either way, it beats the icy storm we had in Boston that night. Bollocks!
Posted by: Les | February 25, 2007 6:09 PM
K- I will email I promise
P- we will discuss and I will make you jealous
L- The "big deal" as twere is not that it's someone's house. It's someone who cooks better than all your friends and it could be anywhere - a boxing gym, a warehouse, etc. It just happened to be at a swish apartment this time. Plus it beats the ice storm in Boston.
Posted by: Lo Fat Mo | February 26, 2007 8:46 PM
I checked it out online and it looks amazing! We will be finding a way to get in on this the minute we move up there. (Although Erik might be terrified of the lack of the big Blue 'A' on the door.)
Posted by: Karen | February 27, 2007 12:14 PM