HOW COME THEY DON'T SELL FISH?

On a day like today you don’t really want to go out. You just want to sit at your desk and grumble about the weather, and how there are no good food places near the office.
And by “near the office”, you really mean ‘parked in the lobby to the left of the bank of elevators’.
How about a hot-soup seller right next to the front desk - instead of a grim security person and a sign saying "cuidado, piso mojado", a twinkling Vietnamese woman selling hot noodle soup with sliced meats, basil, cilantro, lime, and beansprouts?



SMELL THAT? YOU SMELL THAT?
NOTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD SMELLS LIKE THAT!

At some point soon, the enterprising Mexican gentlemen on Mission Street who operate the sausage carts will discover that there is a captive audience in the financial district. Imagine the wonderful fragrance of grilling chorizo de juicy smoked Puerco wrapped in bacon, plus onions, chilies..... wafting out from the streetside niche where the ATM machine is, or from the empty doorway of the Savings and Loan that went out of business.

I just returned from my mid-day pipe in the archways of Citibank Plaza. Dark red and stoved flake with Dominican cigar leaf in the press - it wasn't that good. But the nose was intriguing.
My feet feel cold and nasty. It’s grey out, and chilly.

I find it immensely cheering to know that the suburbanites who will be coming in to town tomorrow afternoon to assure themselves of a good spot on Market Street several hours before the parade starts will have a much more miserable time. They’ll be cold. They’ll be wet. They’ll be trembling and hungry. For several hours. The collective aroma will be reminiscent of wet dog. A thousandfold wet dog.

The operative concept here is schadenfreude.
I'll be gloating in my warm dry office several floors above the pungent crowd.
Neener neener freezing neener!

Perhaps the Mexican gentlemen from Mission Street (who operate the sausage carts) should set up shop. Imagine the smell of grilling chorizo de juicy smoked Puerco…….. they’ll do a booming business.
This is San Francisco. Bacon-wrapped sausages on the grill should be a part of every celebration. Along with Vietnamese women selling hot noodle soup, fragrant with basil leaves.

Why AREN'T there any good eateries in the lobby downstairs? It's so intuitive!

Some poached fish would be very nice right now.
A drizzle of soy sauce and sesame oil, some scallion, and sprigs of cilantro.
Plus green chilies on the side.
And a big bowl of rice!

I think I'll drop by Chinatown today or tomorrow. Stockton Street. Pick up a live fish.
It will still be trying to fight its way out of the bag when I get home.
I've got all the fixings. As well as a large pot.
Don't try to stop me.


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