Former San Francisco Mayor turned lunatic Willie Brown stopped by Wayfare Tavern recently. Much to his dropped jaw's horror, the downtown restaurant no longer serves the deviled eggs Mr. Brown so desperately, so deeply craves. Best of all, he goes nuts about it in his most recent column, and then God only knows. The man is a genius/possibly a total mess. Let's dive in...
"It was a signature on the menu since the restaurant opened, so I called the manager over. He said it was on the menu for four years, and since so many other places were doing them nowadays, they decided to replace it," Brown writes. "What did they replace it with? They said pretty much nothing. So I just ordered the hamburger and got the hell out of there."
Fabulous. That is a shit fit bordering on Diana Ross-ian. He adds: "Iām going to get a hold of the Google Bus protesters and tell them I have another job for them: Save the Wayfare Deviled Egg."
Continuing his Godzilla-like quest for eggs of the satanic variety, Mr. Brown stomps over to Park Tavern ā whose deviled eggs, in my excellent opinion, are the best in the city ā where his insatiable appetite is held at bay. For now. Meanwhile, a bruised and hobbled Tyler Florence lays incapacitated inside Willie's basement, Misery-style, forever forced to pipe yolk mixture for Mr. Brown's childlike pleasure.
Godspeed, Tyler. Godspeed.
