Results tagged “slanteddoor”

When ordering an after-dinner tea at Slanted Door, you'll be asked, "Smokey or floral?" This is what you get with "floral." Isn't it loverly?

Man, we can tell how long we've been doing this by the number of Zagat posts we've amassed!

--Picture of a woman collecting bottles from people in the iPhone line by reader zombie. Thanks for sending them in, zombie! [ZombieTime.]

--Daly's not wearing green beads anymore.

about the Westfield San Francisco Shopping Centre's reopening of the old Emporium space on Market and Powell this Thursday (the 28th). Cross your fingers along with us that the opening ceremonies will include Gavin cutting a red ribbon with a big ol' pair of scissors!

We did not really expect to meet with Dr Evil, but we really wished Nina Zagat would do some air quotes here and there. The quote is the hallmark of the guide. Could she do them when she talks about the "laser" or the "tractor beam"? No such luck. Come on, not even once! Boy, were we disappointed. The Zagat 2006 is out, and it's the 20th anniversary of the SF edition. So we got to hang out with Nina in her suite at the Four Seasons. She did not wear a burgundy jacket either, but she was like her guide: passionate about food, yet very organized. She was still raving about her lunch at the Slanted Door, and especially the excellent jasmine tea she had.

It is no wonder that, when stealing the word amuse-bouche from the vocabulary of French cuisine, Americans commonly take only the first part, and unceremoniously dump its trailer. The First Amendment covers the freedom to butcher the French language, we cannot let old Europe's silly traditions straight-jacket the American idiom into a convoluted and elitist language. So amuse it is.

You know we love San Francisco. You should also know that we hate the fact that nobody f**king delivers (coming soon to an SFist Rant near you). So when we heard about a new service that delivers gourmet food to your door, we got excited. But, of course, there's a catch.

GOOD STUFF

To paraphrase and bastardize Six degrees of Separation, San Francisco is like 18th century Florence, with brilliance on every corner. Here, EssEffist humbly attempts to give you a shapshot of that brilliance, as seen through the pages of this week's local food media.