Why I Love Bernal, Part 17

When one lives in a city, it is easy to fall into a routine, much as one falls into a routine anywhere. Well, at least it is easy for me. There have been times when I have simply wanted to come home after work, the initial thrill of exploring new areas of the city having seemingly faded back behind my desire to relax at home with a book, a movie, good food at home with Marina.

But there is still much to see and do in San Francisco, especially when it comes to food and drink. Recently, Marina and I have started talking much more seriously about moving out of the city in the not-too-distant future. There are many factors for this. We both love small towns; Marina has lived in the city for ten years; we would love the space to have a garden; her sister and brother-in-law and nephew are moving to Santa Cruz in November, and her mother will likely follow.

This is still up in the air, but seems a probable destination. In the meantime, it has reinvigorated in me the desire to pay attention to and absorb as much of this city as I can. One project involves writing poems about San Francisco as a means of recommencing poetry as a frequent practice. The other project, more germane to this blog, is the continued experimentation with new bars and restaurants, because everyone likes to read about places to drink and eat.

We live in a corridor rich in food and drink, much of which I have not yet explored. I've written before about Pi Bar, Emmy's Spaghetti Shack, Specchio, and a few other places in the Valencia/Mission district, but this barely scratched the surface of our options.

Recently, a cocktail bar opened literally down the hill from us, right at the corner where Mission meets Valencia. The Royal Cuckoo took over the premises abandoned by a prior dive bar named Belinda's. As you enter the long, narrow room, you see a bar dominating the right wall, with shelves of liquors and mixers illuminated and glittering in contrast with the overall dim light. It is relatively dark in The Royal Cuckoo, but it isn't the I-can't-see-to-whom-I'm-talking-or-what-I'm-drinking dark, but the relax-and-savor-a-cocktail dark. Benches and chairs line the left wall, alternating with small wooden tables with short lamps. In the back--and this is a cool feature--instead of a jukebox, there is a list of records--by which I mean vinyl records--that you can peruse and turn in a request to the bartender. The scratchy sounds of a record player add a certain character to the music that blends perfectly, somehow, with the emphasis on cocktails over beer or wine.

There is a mellow vibe, with the red paint of the walls and the dark mahogany of the bar giving a warm feeling, although the second time we went there, on Friday night, it was somewhat busier than the first time, which was on a Wednesday night. People may be starting to discover the place, or maybe it was just a weekend phenomenon. I had delicious brandy sidecars on both visits. Marina tried one of their specialty cocktails, the red margarita, which was smooth and tasty.

On Friday night, after the cocktail at The Royal Cuckoo, we spontaneously decided to eat at El Patio, kitty-corner from the bar, and still just down the hill from home. I have walked past the place for years, but had never eaten there. It specializes in Salvadorean and Mexican food. I was keen on trying proper pupusas, as my only prior experience had been with the pupusas we bought from Whole Foods. We ordered cheese pupusas, a plate of flautas, garlic prawns, Coronas and corn chowder--which was so sweet and tasty that I could understand why some people have it for dessert. The pupusas were satisfying, loaded up with coleslaw and salsa. (The Mexican version of Judge Judy was on TV, which was fascinating to try to guess what the plaintiffs were complaining about so vociferously. I'm able to catch a few words in Spanish here and there--for instance, I was able to figure out fairly quickly that Marina had ordered the entrees for us--but for the most part, Mexican television is a mystery to me, as my ears don't work fast enough--the same holds true while watching a Mexican soccer game.)

Overall, I enjoyed the meal, although the light felt a little bit harsh against the white stone walls. It could be it is a place better to eat at during the day, when the shade might be a comfort against the sun, or the outside light from the window moderates the need for the overhead lights. I would definitely go back for the corn chowder or the pupusas, although the rest of the food didn't seem vastly superior to Puerto Alegre, which has a much cozier atmosphere.