LIGHT ON THE HILL

For years I have been ambivalent about breakfast. I've been told that it's the most important meal of the day, and I scoff at that statement. All one needs is strong coffee and a smoke. That, my friends, is the perfect preparation for doomscrolling, witnessing pet dogs defecating, and street people waking up. As well as householders rushing off to their dreary desk jobs at Amalgamated AI Incorporated for another day of senseless toil over images of the president stomping on the poor and downtrodden in his palatial ballroom.

There are reports that some psychopaths prefer the cheapest brands of pre-ground coffee, drunk black, with either a burley blend or a shitty codger aromatic from the fifties in their pipe. Others, excessively refined and probably yuppie snobs, contemplate life with beans flown in from Borneo and a load of rare McClelland's Frog in their exquisite Danish Artisan briar masterpiece while listening to Vivaldi and watching soothing yoga videos.


Balancing out both of those types, somewhere in this city an elfin woman in her thirties is energetically tucking in to a plate of red stewed fatty pork and rice, dollops of blistering chili paste, washed down with two cups of super strong Graffeo or Trieste, and mopped up with a croissant from La Boulangerie De SF, Tartine, or Arsico's. While looking forward to the latest test results from our wastewater which shows which diseases are currently trending. She has named her microscope 'Ishmael' because it sees monsters in the water. Dual lenses, 200x, plugs into computer. Suitable for both home hobbyist AND lab work.

Just goes to show that the breakfast paradigm needs rethinking. That bowl of pressed sawdust flakes or the plate of farmhouse fried crap just doesn't cut it anymore.
Concoctions of berries, yogurt, and cottage cheese do not hit the spot.
Also can: fresh clam soup with garlic and bean thread.


The red stew pork could be prepared the previous day and put in the ice box overnight, as it benefits from reheating. The clam soup would be at ten or eleven at the earliest, or you would need to keep them chilled before hitting the pan. And living near the coast is, of course, essential.

Apropos of nothing at all, why are there no breakfast restaurants attached to seafood markets on Stockton Street? This is a grievous oversight! Shocking!



Today's first pipe was Carolina Red by Cornell & Diehl in an old Comoy, enjoyed after a strong cup of coffee. Early morning is lovely at the top of Nob Hill. Very few dogwalkers, almost no joggers, and not a single street person. I felt like heading down a few blocks to Chinatown, but then I remembered that I'm not particularly social this early and there is, sadly, absolutely no decent coffee before North Beach.

Walk back instead. Make more coffee.
Time to read about ballrooms.



NOTE: If they don't clean up the alley where Russell lives sometime soon, the rat population will explode. It's disgusting. Those mahjong-playing old disreputables with their greasy fastfood containers should be firmly spoken to. They're lowering the tone.
Which was already damned close to rock-bottom anyway.



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