My heart is set on finding breakfast in an old diner! The best way to find one is to set off down the extremely steep California Street and search the side streets; to heck with the pinging in my knees. Where have they all disappeared? Finally, I spy the busy Bourdin San Francisco Sourdough Bakery on Market Street, and they serve breakfast. Good enough!
I sit in the sun on the sidewalk waiting for my ‘Greek Scramble’ – olives, capsicum, red onion and fetta, and coffee – all for $8.99. (Those nuisance copper pennies are still here in America).
A steaming ‘grey’ concoction piled in a hollowed-out sourdough roll arrives. Just as I am about to taste what appears quite inedible, I hear the rattle of a tin cup and feel the hot breath at my ear as a stranger jibes me in his sing-song voice, “Don’t be greedy. Feed the needy”. I could have offered him a Greek breakfast!
My next culinary experience is in a fresh Korean Juice shop where I ask for ginger to be added to my carrot, apple and lemon juice. I see the lady peel a thick seven-inch ginger root, but don’t realise the whole thing is to be whizzed-up in my drink. (The ginger will probably generate enough ‘thrust’ in me to get us to Zurich in record time tonight on Swiss Airlines.) And so delicious!
I thank the lady with the only Korean greeting I know, ‘good morning’ – ahn-nyong-ha-se-yo. And she corrects me with a big smile saying the words for ‘thank you’, gahm-sah-hahm-ni-da. I’ve googled them, so I can learn the words for next time!.
Lunch has to be a simple affair, and indoors. So I fall back into the safety of a Neiman Marcus café. Their salads are always crisp and fresh, and I have a hankering for crab. Not exactly Fisherman’s Wharf, but there’s an obvious mental connection. I’m not disappointed, sitting in the sun-filled Rotunda sipping on my blood orange and prosecco waiting for my salad and warm popover with whipped strawberry butter.