So today I went to a bar for a lunch with an awesome friend of mine living in San Francisco.
It was a nice and quite empty bar in the Haight-Ashbury, called Squat & Gobble (SFgate.com spent good words towards it). Somewhat cozy, enough friendly to feel welcomed, with a fair amount of choices in the menu, and a kinda lame wi-fi password (but hey, it’s free wi-fi all the same!).
And I had my first taste of a crab cake. And, supposedly, my last.
It’s not that I really hate them. It’s just that… well, maybe I don’t get them. Are they to spicey? Are they to crab-bish?
It’s not you, it’s me. Ok, babe? Let’s just stay friends!
(Beware: I really love shellfishes. Believe me: I *do* really love them. Really. Ask my mother about my sordid relationship with all those shrimps during the holidays.)
The thing is: I wasn’t disgusted, the crab cakes weren’t awful at all; but I had that strange taste in the back of my mouth that totally didn’t make me enjoy them. Like, totally.
Luckily the overall dish was enjoyable, instead. Well cooked poached eggs, nice sauce. Only the side potatoes were just a bit… overcooked, maybe?
But is The Slow Traveller becoming one of those strange foodblog? I hope not. I can barely taste, guys.
So, summin’ it up: is Squat&Gobbles a Place To Go in San Francisco? “Meh” is an answer? It’s not a “Hell No!”. It’s not a “No”, either. And it’s not a “Yes”. It’s somewhere in the middle.
But hey, the inside veranda was ok. Every place should have an inside veranda. Trust me.
* Yeah, I know it’s “cup of tea”, you morons