Limón (Valencia St., San Francisco)

It's not my fault I live in the hippest neighborhood in the city, I swear. And thus, it's not my fault that I hit up this always-hopping, hipster haven at Valencia and 16th. Actually, I don't know what I was thinking. This was a terrible food experience, and one I never plan to repeat. Blech. Now, don't get me wrong, some of my most delicious events happened in Peru (eg. squash donuts; grilled heart), but overall, it was not exactly the most....memorable of my South American adventures. So I guess choosing a Peruvian restaurant in the city may not have been the best idea. But I was craving some causa. And the promise of fusion fancy food, plus a menu boasting ceviches and maracuya dressing, gave me a false hope of deliciousness that was, sadly, never to be fulfilled. I mean, the sashimi app I got was tasty and fresh, just a little mushy. So there are some points. But the ceviche (a secret passion of mine) was literally something you would use to maintain a 3-axled vehicle. I'm glad I tasted it first, because even a dab made my face shrivel up in involuntary sourpussness. After a couple of dares and a few elbow jabs, Spencer took the ceviche juice like a shot (as prepared), and I definitely attribute his later queasiness to that gut-wrenching, battery acid of an appetizer. Well, I'm not sure why this was fusion, except for the fish I guess. Oh, and the teriyaki steak. Oh and the terrible mac and cheese....(no stretchiness = unAmerican). Even the causa was lame and filled with way too much chicken salad. Overall, it was like eating in a terrible, Hospital cafeteria lunch line, and that is not something worth paying for without a friend or close relative experiencing some sort of medical care-inducing illness. Blech again. Even the profiteroles (a recent indulgence of mine) were dissatisfying. The worst part was seeing all those fancy-footed idiots in the place pretending like it was the most delicious and exotic food they'd ever had. Final blech.

Final Judgement: "All the hipsters cramming up the sidewalk and looking douchey outside this place like it's the cat's meow lead me to conclude one thing:
CHAIN-SMOKING TO FIT INTO SKINNY JEANS ONLY KILLS YOUR TASTEBUDS!"

Dockside Bistro (Olympia, WA)

Well, who can say no to family? A request received is a gift given. Or something like that. Hence, a refreshing post on a small restaurant in that sexy city on the Sound. Dockside Bistro is an all-city restaurant that has been telebeamed to our quaint downtown (pop. 45k) to provide deceptively simple food in a sensual atmosphere. The food is good. Dare I say it...perfectly cooked. And (thank god) since we're back in the always-shrouded-in-mystery Pacific Northwest (at least to us Californ-i-ans [yep, I'm official]), we are once again treated to the luxury of wild game and local delicacies. Buffalo, salmon, scallops, and elk are just some of the highlights. I can't spew all sugar and strawberries though: I have to lay down the line somewhere. The food was good, yes, but not very daring. I mean, cowardly at best. The flavors were mild and unsurprising. When will I find that place where the highlight of the menu doesn't involve meat and potatoes? Too much to hope for I guess. To be fair, they were excellent meat and potatoes. And the presentation was really with it. Oh wait....Dun-dun!; a golden beam shines down from heaven. The true highlight of this place was the gift of the gods known as the huckleberry buckle. Now, I don't know what the fuck a buckle is, or why they called it that, and I don't really care. It's basically a cobbler with more fruit and less crust. And it is truly a wonder to behold. Ahhh, the buckle. Dockside Bistro also has a full cocktail and wine bar; sometimes samplers, tastings, even music and events. And the location really can't be beat. Unfortunately, this truly is a city restaurant transposed. If my experience there reveals anything (to be honest, it was singular and towards closing time), it's that the city feeling goes beyond the fancy food. For one thing, the place is closed on Monday, the classic condition down here in SF. Even our waiter was from SF! Indeed, be prepared to hear some Oly-trash talk by the drunken patrons and wily waiters. It seems that many a customer may actually be an out-of-towner, just passing through due to the little known fact that Olympia is actually the Capitol of Washington State (gasp! shock!). So, shimmy into those nylons and get yourself down to the Dockside Bistro to find a big-timey husband who might just be able to show a small-town girl like yourself the big, bad world. Or...just go for the food.

I officially deem it: "The fanciest digs in town!/Long life to cobbler, tart, pie, torte, pandowdy, grunt, slump, buckle, crisp, croustade and crow's nest pudding!"