(:)(:)(:)(:) for Blue Bottle Coffee in Hayes Valley

Four Snouts Up for Blue Bottle Coffee at 315 Linden Street (tucked in a sort of alley between Gough and Octavia off Hayes in Hayes Valley), San Francisco. This little gem is hardly a secret. At 10:30am on a weekday there's a line into the street.

But you immediately have confidence that it's worth the wait. It's a window, not a coffee shop. This is not Starbucks. This place is not about choices. It's about people who know more than you choosing for you. It's one of those precious places that has very few things on the menu--just the right apple juice, and hot chocolate, exactly the right size, only one. The sign that says, "we use organic Prairie Valley milk, soy is available," gives me the idea that I'd better forgo the usual soy for the dairy--again, they've chosen for me.

Even the soundtrack is perfect. Sam Cooke is playing just loud enough for everyone to appreciate. The barristas sway back and forth mouthing the words as they perfectly pour the foam into that little leaf shape on the top of the espresso, "cupid, draw back your bow, and let your arrow go..."

It was not the latte of my dreams (which remains Caffe Diem on Macarthur in Oakland's Dimond district), but it was excellent and the experience of waiting for it was a joy.

Three Snouts up for Frisco Institution--"Beach Blanket Babylon"

(:)(:)(:) for "Steve Silver's Beach Blanket Babylon" at Club Fugazi in San Francisco's North Beach. The best part about this play is eating at Il Pollaio, a North Beach long time hole-in-the-wall around the corner from the play at 555 Columbus Avenue (near the corner of Green) which I give four snouts (it would need atmosphere to get another snout). Il Pollaio has an unforgettable eggplant salad with an amazing amount of garlic (imperative to share it with your date if you want to get laid that night), spectacular sour dough bread, crispy perfect roast chickens and fresh lovely salads (also a gorgeous waiter). Our meal for two came to $32 including tip with wine.

The play on the other hand, is notable only for its institution-ness, gigantic headdresses (the Tina Turner hair must have been 8 feet high) and some outstanding vocal talent. Otherwise, it's strictly pitched at mainstream American tourists, nothing that wouldn't get put on CBS primetime. I also surprisingly found it vaguely homophobic and overtly racist (Bill says it wasn't homophobic, just run of the mill gay jokes, references to Gavin Newsome-style weddings, Brokeback Mountain and King Louis being gay because he wears pink all were HILARIOUS, gag).

Some of the political humor was funny though--we liked the designated hot bod girl as Nancy Pelosi singing Leader of the Pack in all leather on a motorcycle backed up by Barbara Boxer and Diane Feinstein (who was, I confess, a man in drag). Also liked an Elvis-style Bill Clinton with massive hair getting in the way of Hillary's election by flirting with every woman in sight (I forget what they sang).

For some reason seeing this play reminds me of my friend Abe Opincar's take on the city, "San Francisco is full of Americans pretending they're in Europe and Europeans pretending they're in America."

This play has an audience full of mid-western and central valley-ites (California's midwest) pretending they're in San Francisco.