Beer: We like it. So Half Moon Bay Brewing Company — a waterfront restaurant that brews its own — seemed a great choice for a foggy afternoon on the coast.

We had s**t to do that day, so we didn't get to HMB until about three p.m. The anticipated thinness of the post-lunch, pre-dinner-hour crowd didn't pan out; we approached the hostess out on the patio (which was crowded even in the fog, and must be lovely when the weather's nice), who told us the wait would be 20 minutes for a table outside. "How about inside?" our dining companion asked. She didn't know — we'd have to ask the inside hostess. Um, OK. So we went to ask the inside hostess; the wait would be 20 minutes for a table inside. Mightn't we put our name down as amenable to either one? we inquired. No — we'd have to put our name on both lists and sort of...hover there until we heard from one camp or the other. Fine, whatever, we'll wait for an inside table. So we stood there in the high-traffic entryway for awhile, until a pair of meaty young backwards-baseball-cap-wearers in shants (they ain't shorts, and they ain't pants) were called from the bar area to their table, at which point we took their vacated club chairs. Now, we are nothing if not observant, and we could see that clearly, food was being served in the bar, and clearly, there were open tables in the aforementioned bar area. We asked if there was yet a third list for these tables; turns out there wasn't, and we could sit down and be served directly. This we did, but not before making a tut-tutting little black mark beside "service" in our mental journal entry on this establishment.

SFist Lydia, contributing