Wednesday, July 4, 2007. Happy Independence Day! And in San Fran, it was a glorious day, the weather even better than yesterday. Wow, I’m getting a suntan in what was foretold as a cool, wet, foggy destination. We start off slow, with lots of coffee, a little reading, and a refrain of “What shall we do today?” As always, eating comes to mind, so we checked out our list of untried places, and gave a ring to Yank Sing, touted as the best dim sum restaurant in town. Seat us at 12:30? You bet. It’s at 49 Stevenson Street, and as I discovered, it’s one of those “You can’t get there from here” places. With the top down on the poney, and the golden oldies blaring on FM, we made one circle of streets after another, until we finally found the short little stretch of Stevenson Street, one way, barely more than an alley, that held Yank Sing. One illegal parking place later, and we were in. As the pictures will show, this was a real treat - and another, and yet another. We were seated at a white covered table, porcelain plate, teacup and spoon, chopsticks, linen napkins, and then bombarded with passing carts laden with baskets of steamed dumplings, trays of skewered various bits and pieces, things battered and braised, whole fish, whole ducks, slivers of each. Well, before we could learn to say “NO” in Chinese, our table was full of shrimp dumplings, Shanghai Pork Dumplings (the secret is the spoonful of broth added to the dumpling just before the wonton is pinched shut and cooked), shrimp toast, stuffed mushrooms (with what? I never could understand), chicken spring rolls, slices of Peking duck, sauted green beans, all washed down with Jasmine tea and Pellagrino, followed by a bowl of cool Mango custard topped with a ripe, sweet strawberry. Were we full? Did we waddle? It was great stuff, lovely room, fast and friendly service. Don’t miss it, and they are only open from 11 'til 3, so you can only stuff yourself for 4 hours a day. I wanted some pictures of the world’s crookedest street, so off we drove (yes, the Mustang was still there, and, no, not a ticket to be seen) to Lombard Street, via Market to Larkin. A sunny day, a full tummy, a hot woman and a cool car. Life is good. We cruised down Lombard (with a steady stream of other touristas), then wended our way towards the Golden Gate Bridge, looking for a route up to the heights on the city side of the bridge. After bearing persistently west, we found the Presidio, and the Holacoast Memorial along the high ground, great views, first of the bay and “gate”, then, as we swung south, of the Pacific. After a stop or two for some “ooh, ahh” looks, we ended up down at Point Lobos, where we had dined our first night in town, Saturday, at Sutro’s at the Cliff House. In the dark that night, I had not even seen the beach, but there it was, hugely broad, and a couple of miles long. The beach highway and the beach itself are completely undeveloped, not a commercial building or sign to be seen. All development stops from about a quarter mile inland out to the water, with natural seascapes of dunes, grasses and brush. Quite pretty, very unlike any beaches I have visited anywhere else in the country. We next returned to Golden Gate Park, as Dee was feeling botanical, and wanted to tour the Conservatory of Flowers. The park was teeming with folks enjoying the combination of both holiday and glorious weather, but the park is so big the crowds just weren’t a problem. Families were picnicking, playing ball, throwing frisbees, and couples were, um, wrestling or something like that. We parked a short walk from the Conservatory, and as we strolled through shadowed glens along a pond filled with ducks and turtles, I dropped bread crumbs so as to be able to find our way back to the car.
Yank Sing - dim sum
Lombard Street
Presidio, skyline drive, Holacost Memorial
Beach Highway
Golden Gate Park - Conservatory of flowers
dinner from David’s deli
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