Thursday, May 26, 2011

Play at the Plate

I should have written this earlier. Before our baseball world got imploded with Buster Posey's ankle. (I'm watching Sportsnet Bay Area right now. That is one quiet locker room. Oh, and pictures.) But I didn't, because I am easily distracted by shiny objects/the fleeting matters of my own brain so I'm less exuberant about last night than I would have been otherwise.

Anyway, I went to the Giants game last night. It was predictably cold. Those of you that don't have the pleasure of San Francisco summers, the main descriptor would be temperate. I have undoubtably mentioned before that it wasn't 'til I went to college in South Louisiana that I finally figured out why were wearing short sleeves at night on all those Braves broadcasts that Turner shoved down our throats in the '90's. "Oh! You mean you don't buy hot chocolate in July at night all over the country? Who knew?!" Not I, that's for sure.

So Tuesday night was one of those chilly weeknight games. Angela got a Kalua and coffee. The Giants lost. That all seems really trivial in the wake of our adorable, well liked, hard playing catcher getting bowled over at home and...we won't even guess at what the outcome is.

But before the game, and tonight's game, was dinner. OMG dinner. We went to Don Pistos. You guys need to alert me when something awesome happens in North Beach. This place was amazing. I meant to ask to bring a back of chips home to eat later because they were that good but by the time we got done sharing all the small plates, I was too full to remember. The flavors were all really fresh and bright. It was just so delicious. You can tell when something is being made with careful attention, you know? This was. Shrimp tacos, chicken tostadas, grilled pork chop, the beef with the fried eggs so the yolk oozes... Have I mentioned my new favorite condiment is egg yolk? Yeah. It is. This is why I will be fat forever. Between frisee, lardons and a poached egg at french restaurants, the ravioli uovo I had at Seven Hills the other night, a fondness for carbonara, and my penchant for breaking the egg yolk all over my roasted potatoes at breakfast, I'm pretty sure no matter how much I run, I will never ever get thin. This is a conundrum. I'm already trying to give up soda and potatoes. Not sure I can add egg yolk to that list. (We won't even mention my fondness for ranch dressing...actually, we will later. I'm gonna do another what I eat thing.)

So yeah. Dinner was awesome. Baseball? Well. We still have a WS trophy in the case don't we? No one can take that away.

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