SFY by auto; SFO MR; Fook Yuen, etc. (1)
Sep 27, 2004, 8:24 pm
#1
In memoriam
Original Poster
Join Date: Mar 2000
Location: IAD, BOS, PVD
Programs: UA, US, AS, Marriott, Radisson, Hilton
Posts: 7,203
SFY by auto; SFO MR; Fook Yuen, etc. (1)
So I'd dropped about 10 pounds, so what better thing
to do than celebrate by putting half of them back on
again? This took all of two days. My friend Nicholas
gave me a call. He was going with his friends Abby and
Tom to see John Robison the auto wholesaler - I am
(night-blind as I am) fairly uninterested in cars,
and said so. So Nicholas enticed me with the prospect
of a nice Oktoberfest celebration at the Hofbrauhaus
in West Springfield afterward. So I agreed, visions of
foaming steins and ripe madchen in dirndls dancing in
my head.
Rendezvoused with A and T and tootled off to western
Mass. with N's computer-generated map ... which took
us, when we followed it, several miles out of our way
and to the wrong destination altogether. As tempers
frayed and a growing number of policemen became confused
by the map we held out (one of them, although unwilling
to completely challenge the authority of the Computer,
did opine that this particular map was singularly hard
to read), it was decided that we should try to call to
find out where the place really was. Nobody had brought
a cellphone, as we are all well in the technological
arriere-garde, so we stopped at the handy 7-Eleven and
tried using the pay phone. Further complication: no
listing for United Auto, the name of the Robison
enterprise. After many fumblings about, it was
determined that John, having become celebrated in the
small world of vintage car collectors, had discarded
that trade name and reincorporated under the snazzy
and imaginative monicker J. R. Robison and Company.
Instructions having been gotten from the renamed and
rediscovered garage, we found our way with only a
minimum of wrong turnings (one caused by the interesting
intersection of St. James Avenue (labeled St. James on
both map and street sign) and St. James Boulevard
(labeled St. James on both map and street sign).
As we pulled in to the lot I casually asked N what
mapping program he had used. Folks, let it be known that
you should perhaps not put great faith and credit in a
map derived from the 1998 edition of Microsoft Streets.
Even Mr. Robison's remarkable enthusiasm failed to
kindle in me an interest in automobiles, so I wandered
about for an hour while the rest of them chatted about
the merits of various kinds of vehicles. I was, I admit,
charmed by an ancient Buick brought in for servicing
by the chairman of the Peter Pan bus company (and
adorned with bus company logos and whatnot) and by a
Rolls that was painted in the unmistakable color of
baby poop - distinctive if nothing else.
It was well too late for lunch at the Hofbrauhaus, so
we wandered the streets looking for things to do.
Ended up getting coffees and a snack at Gus and Paul's
in downtown Springfield. I had a rather nice appetizer
plate of chopped (beef) liver; A just a muffin, as
suits her svelteness; T some herring on lettuce, as
befits his Scandinavian vigor; and N a PLT, which is
of course a BLT with pastrami substituting for bacon.
Having determined that the "cognac" they pour is E & J
Premium California Brandy, I had a Jim Beam instead.
The visitor information center is just across the street,
so we inquired about the Titanic Museum, and whether it
still existed, and whether we could expect it to be open
on Friday afternoon. Affirmative on both counts (we
figure the fellow manning the center called the fellow
at the museum and told him to stay open for the crazy
tourists). So off with the aid of a real map, courtesy
of the visitor center, to Indian Orchard and the museum,
which is two rooms in the back of a jewelry store. The
proprietor of the store is the curator of the museum;
he became interested in the subject because his son was
born on the anniversary of the day that the ship sank,
and over the years his interest has become a bit of an
obsession. One of the two rooms is dedicated to the large
number of movies that have been made on the subject, and
that didn't particularly thrill me; the other, though,
is cram-packed with memorabilia from menus and stationery
from the Titanic and her White Star sister ships to a
tooth that had been pulled from a passenger by the on-
board dentist to the ship's bell of the charnel vessel
that sadly toiled in the wake of the disaster. Worth the
$4 donation, and we were kept busy for a surprising half
hour. Then finally on, via a cheesy antique store or two,
to our long-awaited dinner.
Hofbrauhaus, 1105 Main St., West Springfield
I'd never been here in the daylight before (it was before
5 when we arrived) and was surprised to find it quite
unimpressive and in a dubious neighborhood (as if all
neighborhoods in this part of the state weren't dubious).
Once inside, we were transported to ... where? The host
was a black guy, and although the waitresses were buxom
and dirndl-clad, they didn't appear particularly German.
The decor is German in an Epcottish sort of way, though.
Not the wine list, which has a small number of mediocre
German selections at outrageous prices, a somewhat larger
selection of California wines at decent prices especially
on the top end, and a fairly extensive French list at
varying prices. And in the men's room is an advertisement
for Beaujolais night, on November whatever it is!
As Abby doesn't drink red wine, we started with the
Pouilly-Fuisse 2002 (Jadot), one glass for each of us,
the remainder for her dinner. It was perfectly okay if
a bit sulfury to begin with. What was not okay was the
$33 we were charged for it. N and I had just finished a
tale of woe about my committee chair Lee, who'd recently
knocked a glass of red wine over on N's suit, the glass
then caroming around and hitting N's glass, which spilled
onto Lee's wife's new white dress - when Tom knocked over
his glass onto N's suit. But this time it was just white
wine, and a not particularly gutsy one at that, so all
was well. We told T he was shut off, so he had the buxom
young non-German fraulein bring a glass of Fat .......,
which tasted like water that one has recently washed a
dog in.
Our other wine was Vosne-Romanee Les Beaumonts "tete de
cuvee" 1983 (Remoissenet), just slightly over with very
ripe fruit scents and a bit of Camembert on the nose,
a suave and luxurious texture, and an everlasting and
kaleidoscopic finish. Our total wine bill was $100, which
would have suited us if 99 of it were for the Burgundy,
but for some reason we kept grousing on the price of the
Pouilly.
N, having had the largest snack a couple hours before,
was the only one to order an appetizer, which we all
ended up having bites of: potato pancakes, in a quite
un-German style, a la Tater Tots, actually. Okay,
but not what was expected or I think wanted.
They bring a crock of Cheez Whiz-like stuff with
crackers; we sent it away to torment another set of
customers.
Salads, served before the main course a l'Americaine,
were standard, topped with a tarragon vinaigrette (how
German is that?).
Main courses were large.
A's Kassler Rippchen I thought very expertly done,
lightly smoked, lightly salted, two enormous chops
over an impossible serving of fried potato cubes and
a smaller serving of kraut: she told the waitress that
there were too many potatoes and not enough kraut, to
which the reply (the only sensible one) was a big bowl
of extra kraut, all of which A ate, to everyone's
surprise. Next time the Kassler for me.
For reasons unknown T's duck breast with lingonberry
sauce, ordered medium rare, came charred outside and
blood-rare inside. I actually like duck that way, so
I traded several large chunks of my dinner for some
of his duck. Found out that the sauce was really
lingonberry mustard sauce, virtually inedible by
itself and horrible with the wine. Between us we left
about 2/3 of the duck.
Schnitzel Holstein with anchovies and capers was the
most authentically done of the lot, although there was
a $1.95 upcharge for the obligatory anchovies and
capers, a tiny bit of a gouge, but considering how well
we'd done on the wine, nobody was in a mood to fuss.
My Schweinshaxe mit Kartoffelnsalat was appropriately
big, but the inherent mildness of American pork was
made up for by copious amounts of a sludgy mushroom
sauce that not only added flavor but made the formerly
crisp and tasty skin into a gooey resilient mess. I
wished I were back at Haxnbauer, but between T and me
we licked the platter clean. Spaetzle and weinkraut
were the normal accompaniment, but I asked for potato
salad as a substitute: this had burned bacon, underdone
potatoes, and a mustard dressing that would have killed
the wine stone dead. I left it behind and thanked the
heavens that it had been served in a separate bowl.
Before the meal, when we were hungry, we had ordered
the dessert. After the main courses, we sort of dreaded
dessert, so read the commentary with that in mind.
Salzburger Nockerl, an Austrian specialty, are just
big old blobs of meringue dusted with sugar - a nice
light ending to a heavy meal. This version was served
with artificial-flavor-scented strawberry Bavarian cream
and became thus way too heavy as well as stomach-
turningly huge.
Cherries jubilee were served over ice-cream-filled
crepes. They were okay if grotesquely calorific. I
should have had this, but T and A had this, while N and I
soldiered on with the nockerl.
In sum: a fun if silly and not-too-expertly prepared
meal, for which the price was not too wrong, and the
wine made up for that.
T and A tried to kidnap us to Vermont for the weekend,
but I pleaded poverty and the need to catch the 8:00 to
San Fran the next day.
UA173 BOS SFO 0800 1124 757 2A
So I rolled into the airport about 6:30 and found the
place buzzing, good for United. As an FTer was giving
me my upgrade, I initially thought I would have to see
an agent, but as the Star Gold - First Class line was
about half a mile long I decided to take my chances with
Mr. Easy Chicken, who got everything totally right, a
major surprise. Security was fairly easy, not so easy as
at US Air, where it generally takes moments, but I still
had a good half hour at the RCC, where none of my usual
angels was there - the concierge was a Chinese girl I
hadn't seen before who turned out to be nice as well as
efficient enough when I asked her to check on the IAD-SFO
once she realized what I was trying to find out.
Plane was full up front with 106 in back. Service was
grudging and minimal.
To begin
Fresh from the bakery
A selection of Danish, croissants and bagels
with butter, cream cheese and fruit preserves
Main course
Mediterranean omelette with tomatoes and smoked
mozzarella; Cheddar cheese grits, Canadian bacon,
chicken sausage and fresh fruit
French toast with a dried toast filling; Canadian
bacon, pork sausage, maple syrup and fresh fruit
Fresh seasonal fruit platter; for the lighter
appetite, we offer a variety of fresh fruit and yogurt.
The wines on offer on both flights were the Woodbridge
Chardonnay 02 and the Morande Valle Central Merlot 02.
I had Courvoisier instead.
The French toast was better than usual, reasonably
fresh and not rubbery; the Canadian bacon, however, was
the texture of jerky. I asked for a croissant, but there
were none in the breadbasket; the FA ran off and filled
the basket with croissants (I was in row 2, mind) and
then passed me altogether. No amount of calling brought
her back: I figured I was not meant to have a croissant
this day and ate the Canadian bacon, thinking of jerky.
The fruit appetizer was extremely skimpy - a thin slice
each of the usual fruits (pineapple, honeydew, and
cantaloupe) and two strawberries - although not bad.
Flight was pretty standard otherwise, with great views
of the Colorado River later on in the flight. Shortly
before arrival, we had the chocolate-chip cookies
followed by the hot towel, so that was nice. We landed
half an hour early, and I strolled to the Washington
gate to meet Bennie, who came in about 15 minutes later,
her flight having been held by late departure of the
plane occupying the gate.
to do than celebrate by putting half of them back on
again? This took all of two days. My friend Nicholas
gave me a call. He was going with his friends Abby and
Tom to see John Robison the auto wholesaler - I am
(night-blind as I am) fairly uninterested in cars,
and said so. So Nicholas enticed me with the prospect
of a nice Oktoberfest celebration at the Hofbrauhaus
in West Springfield afterward. So I agreed, visions of
foaming steins and ripe madchen in dirndls dancing in
my head.
Rendezvoused with A and T and tootled off to western
Mass. with N's computer-generated map ... which took
us, when we followed it, several miles out of our way
and to the wrong destination altogether. As tempers
frayed and a growing number of policemen became confused
by the map we held out (one of them, although unwilling
to completely challenge the authority of the Computer,
did opine that this particular map was singularly hard
to read), it was decided that we should try to call to
find out where the place really was. Nobody had brought
a cellphone, as we are all well in the technological
arriere-garde, so we stopped at the handy 7-Eleven and
tried using the pay phone. Further complication: no
listing for United Auto, the name of the Robison
enterprise. After many fumblings about, it was
determined that John, having become celebrated in the
small world of vintage car collectors, had discarded
that trade name and reincorporated under the snazzy
and imaginative monicker J. R. Robison and Company.
Instructions having been gotten from the renamed and
rediscovered garage, we found our way with only a
minimum of wrong turnings (one caused by the interesting
intersection of St. James Avenue (labeled St. James on
both map and street sign) and St. James Boulevard
(labeled St. James on both map and street sign).
As we pulled in to the lot I casually asked N what
mapping program he had used. Folks, let it be known that
you should perhaps not put great faith and credit in a
map derived from the 1998 edition of Microsoft Streets.
Even Mr. Robison's remarkable enthusiasm failed to
kindle in me an interest in automobiles, so I wandered
about for an hour while the rest of them chatted about
the merits of various kinds of vehicles. I was, I admit,
charmed by an ancient Buick brought in for servicing
by the chairman of the Peter Pan bus company (and
adorned with bus company logos and whatnot) and by a
Rolls that was painted in the unmistakable color of
baby poop - distinctive if nothing else.
It was well too late for lunch at the Hofbrauhaus, so
we wandered the streets looking for things to do.
Ended up getting coffees and a snack at Gus and Paul's
in downtown Springfield. I had a rather nice appetizer
plate of chopped (beef) liver; A just a muffin, as
suits her svelteness; T some herring on lettuce, as
befits his Scandinavian vigor; and N a PLT, which is
of course a BLT with pastrami substituting for bacon.
Having determined that the "cognac" they pour is E & J
Premium California Brandy, I had a Jim Beam instead.
The visitor information center is just across the street,
so we inquired about the Titanic Museum, and whether it
still existed, and whether we could expect it to be open
on Friday afternoon. Affirmative on both counts (we
figure the fellow manning the center called the fellow
at the museum and told him to stay open for the crazy
tourists). So off with the aid of a real map, courtesy
of the visitor center, to Indian Orchard and the museum,
which is two rooms in the back of a jewelry store. The
proprietor of the store is the curator of the museum;
he became interested in the subject because his son was
born on the anniversary of the day that the ship sank,
and over the years his interest has become a bit of an
obsession. One of the two rooms is dedicated to the large
number of movies that have been made on the subject, and
that didn't particularly thrill me; the other, though,
is cram-packed with memorabilia from menus and stationery
from the Titanic and her White Star sister ships to a
tooth that had been pulled from a passenger by the on-
board dentist to the ship's bell of the charnel vessel
that sadly toiled in the wake of the disaster. Worth the
$4 donation, and we were kept busy for a surprising half
hour. Then finally on, via a cheesy antique store or two,
to our long-awaited dinner.
Hofbrauhaus, 1105 Main St., West Springfield
I'd never been here in the daylight before (it was before
5 when we arrived) and was surprised to find it quite
unimpressive and in a dubious neighborhood (as if all
neighborhoods in this part of the state weren't dubious).
Once inside, we were transported to ... where? The host
was a black guy, and although the waitresses were buxom
and dirndl-clad, they didn't appear particularly German.
The decor is German in an Epcottish sort of way, though.
Not the wine list, which has a small number of mediocre
German selections at outrageous prices, a somewhat larger
selection of California wines at decent prices especially
on the top end, and a fairly extensive French list at
varying prices. And in the men's room is an advertisement
for Beaujolais night, on November whatever it is!
As Abby doesn't drink red wine, we started with the
Pouilly-Fuisse 2002 (Jadot), one glass for each of us,
the remainder for her dinner. It was perfectly okay if
a bit sulfury to begin with. What was not okay was the
$33 we were charged for it. N and I had just finished a
tale of woe about my committee chair Lee, who'd recently
knocked a glass of red wine over on N's suit, the glass
then caroming around and hitting N's glass, which spilled
onto Lee's wife's new white dress - when Tom knocked over
his glass onto N's suit. But this time it was just white
wine, and a not particularly gutsy one at that, so all
was well. We told T he was shut off, so he had the buxom
young non-German fraulein bring a glass of Fat .......,
which tasted like water that one has recently washed a
dog in.
Our other wine was Vosne-Romanee Les Beaumonts "tete de
cuvee" 1983 (Remoissenet), just slightly over with very
ripe fruit scents and a bit of Camembert on the nose,
a suave and luxurious texture, and an everlasting and
kaleidoscopic finish. Our total wine bill was $100, which
would have suited us if 99 of it were for the Burgundy,
but for some reason we kept grousing on the price of the
Pouilly.
N, having had the largest snack a couple hours before,
was the only one to order an appetizer, which we all
ended up having bites of: potato pancakes, in a quite
un-German style, a la Tater Tots, actually. Okay,
but not what was expected or I think wanted.
They bring a crock of Cheez Whiz-like stuff with
crackers; we sent it away to torment another set of
customers.
Salads, served before the main course a l'Americaine,
were standard, topped with a tarragon vinaigrette (how
German is that?).
Main courses were large.
A's Kassler Rippchen I thought very expertly done,
lightly smoked, lightly salted, two enormous chops
over an impossible serving of fried potato cubes and
a smaller serving of kraut: she told the waitress that
there were too many potatoes and not enough kraut, to
which the reply (the only sensible one) was a big bowl
of extra kraut, all of which A ate, to everyone's
surprise. Next time the Kassler for me.
For reasons unknown T's duck breast with lingonberry
sauce, ordered medium rare, came charred outside and
blood-rare inside. I actually like duck that way, so
I traded several large chunks of my dinner for some
of his duck. Found out that the sauce was really
lingonberry mustard sauce, virtually inedible by
itself and horrible with the wine. Between us we left
about 2/3 of the duck.
Schnitzel Holstein with anchovies and capers was the
most authentically done of the lot, although there was
a $1.95 upcharge for the obligatory anchovies and
capers, a tiny bit of a gouge, but considering how well
we'd done on the wine, nobody was in a mood to fuss.
My Schweinshaxe mit Kartoffelnsalat was appropriately
big, but the inherent mildness of American pork was
made up for by copious amounts of a sludgy mushroom
sauce that not only added flavor but made the formerly
crisp and tasty skin into a gooey resilient mess. I
wished I were back at Haxnbauer, but between T and me
we licked the platter clean. Spaetzle and weinkraut
were the normal accompaniment, but I asked for potato
salad as a substitute: this had burned bacon, underdone
potatoes, and a mustard dressing that would have killed
the wine stone dead. I left it behind and thanked the
heavens that it had been served in a separate bowl.
Before the meal, when we were hungry, we had ordered
the dessert. After the main courses, we sort of dreaded
dessert, so read the commentary with that in mind.
Salzburger Nockerl, an Austrian specialty, are just
big old blobs of meringue dusted with sugar - a nice
light ending to a heavy meal. This version was served
with artificial-flavor-scented strawberry Bavarian cream
and became thus way too heavy as well as stomach-
turningly huge.
Cherries jubilee were served over ice-cream-filled
crepes. They were okay if grotesquely calorific. I
should have had this, but T and A had this, while N and I
soldiered on with the nockerl.
In sum: a fun if silly and not-too-expertly prepared
meal, for which the price was not too wrong, and the
wine made up for that.
T and A tried to kidnap us to Vermont for the weekend,
but I pleaded poverty and the need to catch the 8:00 to
San Fran the next day.
UA173 BOS SFO 0800 1124 757 2A
So I rolled into the airport about 6:30 and found the
place buzzing, good for United. As an FTer was giving
me my upgrade, I initially thought I would have to see
an agent, but as the Star Gold - First Class line was
about half a mile long I decided to take my chances with
Mr. Easy Chicken, who got everything totally right, a
major surprise. Security was fairly easy, not so easy as
at US Air, where it generally takes moments, but I still
had a good half hour at the RCC, where none of my usual
angels was there - the concierge was a Chinese girl I
hadn't seen before who turned out to be nice as well as
efficient enough when I asked her to check on the IAD-SFO
once she realized what I was trying to find out.
Plane was full up front with 106 in back. Service was
grudging and minimal.
To begin
Fresh from the bakery
A selection of Danish, croissants and bagels
with butter, cream cheese and fruit preserves
Main course
Mediterranean omelette with tomatoes and smoked
mozzarella; Cheddar cheese grits, Canadian bacon,
chicken sausage and fresh fruit
French toast with a dried toast filling; Canadian
bacon, pork sausage, maple syrup and fresh fruit
Fresh seasonal fruit platter; for the lighter
appetite, we offer a variety of fresh fruit and yogurt.
The wines on offer on both flights were the Woodbridge
Chardonnay 02 and the Morande Valle Central Merlot 02.
I had Courvoisier instead.
The French toast was better than usual, reasonably
fresh and not rubbery; the Canadian bacon, however, was
the texture of jerky. I asked for a croissant, but there
were none in the breadbasket; the FA ran off and filled
the basket with croissants (I was in row 2, mind) and
then passed me altogether. No amount of calling brought
her back: I figured I was not meant to have a croissant
this day and ate the Canadian bacon, thinking of jerky.
The fruit appetizer was extremely skimpy - a thin slice
each of the usual fruits (pineapple, honeydew, and
cantaloupe) and two strawberries - although not bad.
Flight was pretty standard otherwise, with great views
of the Colorado River later on in the flight. Shortly
before arrival, we had the chocolate-chip cookies
followed by the hot towel, so that was nice. We landed
half an hour early, and I strolled to the Washington
gate to meet Bennie, who came in about 15 minutes later,
her flight having been held by late departure of the
plane occupying the gate.
Sep 27, 2004, 8:25 pm
#2
In memoriam
Original Poster
Join Date: Mar 2000
Location: IAD, BOS, PVD
Programs: UA, US, AS, Marriott, Radisson, Hilton
Posts: 7,203
(2)
VPescado and travelkhatt were soon by to pick us up,
and we were on our way to a large and satisfying dim
sum lunch. When we arrived, there was about a 3 minute
wait at Fook Yuen; I guess we hit it at just the right
time. The servers came upon us like locusts, offering
things left and right - we ended up eating and spending
probably 50% more than we needed or had anticipated.
Many iterations of shrimp dumplings - fried, baked,
steamed; the oddest were with spinach, rather nice, and
with scallops, less nice as they cost more, and the
scallops were tasteless.
A couple kinds of fried seafood - "fish ball," which
was goujonnettes of some white fish (one waitress called
it "sea bass," but I thought it a little lean for that),
and squid, both quite tasty and relatively oil-lean.
Roast duck was pretty nicely done, not as astonishing as
in Hong Kong, but I'll take duck however it comes, except
in mustard sauce.
Roast suckling pig I thought better, the paper-thin
skin crackling nicely, the tender but lean meat
delicate and delicious; it came with baked beans, just
like in Hong Kong (especially Yung Kee).
Perhaps the highlight of the meal for everyone but
V was the baby octopus with seaweed salad, served with
those same baked beans - utterly delicious.
Gai lan with oyster sauce was good and fulfilled the
vegetable obligation; we also had fried bean curd skin
with cabbage, which was also vegetarian but perhaps a
bit overcaloried, as V pointed out.
A normal assortment otherwise, no chicken feet or
entrails or anything like that. All quite good but not
writeworthy.
Oh yes, I ordered two taro things - the white turnip
cake with taro and pork skin and the fried mashed taro
balls with meat. Nobody else seems to like taro; I am
ashamed to say that I ate almost all of these dishes
and took the rest for noshing on the plane (which I
didn't do, and the remains still sit here in my fridge
having been out uncooled for about 13-14 hours).
VPescado said he couldn't leave without mango pudding,
so we had mango pudding. It was good. I prefer the
sticky rice things, but given my failure with the taro,
I figured that going with the flow was fine.
The bill was large. I know that we ordered a few
double dishes (most of the things come in sets of
three (which sounds like Heaven in Mandarin) rather
than four (which sounds like Death), but I still have
this nagging suspicion that a few of the marks on our
bill were manifestations of what V calls "the roundeye
tax." We then accompanied V and t to the Park Hyatt, where
they were to spend a romantic weekend. Nice room with a view
of the roof garden of the next building; after inspection
of same, in the interest of privacy and conjugal bliss we
took our leave and went down to the ferry terminal (B
loves the water, and how much water can you do in a
couple of hours?) and took the next available boat,
to Sausalito, where we wandered around an hour or two
(B bought some tacky t-shirts after having admired a
pair of sushi-pattern pajamas but rejected them at $88).
Back on the Marin in plenty of time to head back, but
the sea air had made us a bit peckish. And Hog Island
had just closed up, worse luck. During the wide-ranging
conversation through lunch, somehow among all the
flying-related chat there'd been a bit of art talk as
well (one of our choices for afternoon entertainment
had been MOMA), and somehow the name Maxfield Parrish
came up. To which VPescado and travelkhatt had told us
to check out the bar in the Palace Hotel, because it has
a big Parrish mural of the Pied Piper (and by consequence
is called Maxfield's). So we decided to go for a snack.
B's burger (she likes rare steak and roast but for some
reason medium-well burger) came as ordered but still
juicy and tasty. I had the oysters of the day, which
came as three Kumamotos and three of the other kind that
Hog Island grows - the former were lovely and melony,
the latter rich and unctuous - with a couple of Guinness.
B wanted a froufrou drink, so she ordered the Watermelon,
which has something red (Grenadine?), something white
(??), and something green (Midori mixed with something
to lower its density), layered in that order. Tastes like
watermelon, only not so good. And on to the subway and
the airport.
Don't count on BART to run too frequently on weekend
nights. We didn't get an airport train until 8:54, after
rushing so hard to get to the station that a bottle of
Cheap Red Wine (bought no doubt for the label) slipped
out of B's carryon to smash on the sidewalk to the
chagrin not only of ourselves but also to the passersby,
many of whom by the looks of them have been well
acquainted with such disappointments in their lives.
The train took about 45 minutes; that and a short wait
for the red line shuttle got us to the United counter
about 40 minutes before my flight, which would have
been fine except that Mr. Easy Chicken couldn't figure
out what to do with my upgrade request and instead spat
out a nonboarding pass that told me to hash things out
with the gate agent. This of course confused the security
staff, but they let me through anyway, and other than
waiting a quarter of an hour while an endless procession
of wheelchairs and people with odd bits of contraband in
their pockets filed ahead of us, everything ran pretty
smoothly. Got to the gate just at boarding; the friendly
agent there put things right with just a few dozen
keystrokes, and I was off to the comfort and safety of
UA178 SFO BOS 2220 0653 320 3A
The front cabin filled up late; bunch of Premiers I
guess. As soon as we'd loaded up Captain Barnhart came
out with some weather maps and gave us an entertaining
little lecture on what we were to expect on our flight.
Nice gesture, but as I remarked to my seatmate afterward,
it would be even more effective if this attention were
given to the coach customers, who are probably much less
loyalty-driven than we are.
Takeoff was flawless, mirroring the excellent and
attentive cabin service; the junior FA serving F seemed
to remind me of TransWorldOne, a bit of a compliment.
The offering was a deli plate that actually smelled kind
of beefy. I passed, having eaten plenty during the day,
and just had the chocolate-chip cookie and two brandies,
whereupon I conked out, waking up only when we were over
Boston Harbor. At my side I found the captain's business
card with a little inscription about how much my
patronage was appreciated.
and we were on our way to a large and satisfying dim
sum lunch. When we arrived, there was about a 3 minute
wait at Fook Yuen; I guess we hit it at just the right
time. The servers came upon us like locusts, offering
things left and right - we ended up eating and spending
probably 50% more than we needed or had anticipated.
Many iterations of shrimp dumplings - fried, baked,
steamed; the oddest were with spinach, rather nice, and
with scallops, less nice as they cost more, and the
scallops were tasteless.
A couple kinds of fried seafood - "fish ball," which
was goujonnettes of some white fish (one waitress called
it "sea bass," but I thought it a little lean for that),
and squid, both quite tasty and relatively oil-lean.
Roast duck was pretty nicely done, not as astonishing as
in Hong Kong, but I'll take duck however it comes, except
in mustard sauce.
Roast suckling pig I thought better, the paper-thin
skin crackling nicely, the tender but lean meat
delicate and delicious; it came with baked beans, just
like in Hong Kong (especially Yung Kee).
Perhaps the highlight of the meal for everyone but
V was the baby octopus with seaweed salad, served with
those same baked beans - utterly delicious.
Gai lan with oyster sauce was good and fulfilled the
vegetable obligation; we also had fried bean curd skin
with cabbage, which was also vegetarian but perhaps a
bit overcaloried, as V pointed out.
A normal assortment otherwise, no chicken feet or
entrails or anything like that. All quite good but not
writeworthy.
Oh yes, I ordered two taro things - the white turnip
cake with taro and pork skin and the fried mashed taro
balls with meat. Nobody else seems to like taro; I am
ashamed to say that I ate almost all of these dishes
and took the rest for noshing on the plane (which I
didn't do, and the remains still sit here in my fridge
having been out uncooled for about 13-14 hours).
VPescado said he couldn't leave without mango pudding,
so we had mango pudding. It was good. I prefer the
sticky rice things, but given my failure with the taro,
I figured that going with the flow was fine.
The bill was large. I know that we ordered a few
double dishes (most of the things come in sets of
three (which sounds like Heaven in Mandarin) rather
than four (which sounds like Death), but I still have
this nagging suspicion that a few of the marks on our
bill were manifestations of what V calls "the roundeye
tax." We then accompanied V and t to the Park Hyatt, where
they were to spend a romantic weekend. Nice room with a view
of the roof garden of the next building; after inspection
of same, in the interest of privacy and conjugal bliss we
took our leave and went down to the ferry terminal (B
loves the water, and how much water can you do in a
couple of hours?) and took the next available boat,
to Sausalito, where we wandered around an hour or two
(B bought some tacky t-shirts after having admired a
pair of sushi-pattern pajamas but rejected them at $88).
Back on the Marin in plenty of time to head back, but
the sea air had made us a bit peckish. And Hog Island
had just closed up, worse luck. During the wide-ranging
conversation through lunch, somehow among all the
flying-related chat there'd been a bit of art talk as
well (one of our choices for afternoon entertainment
had been MOMA), and somehow the name Maxfield Parrish
came up. To which VPescado and travelkhatt had told us
to check out the bar in the Palace Hotel, because it has
a big Parrish mural of the Pied Piper (and by consequence
is called Maxfield's). So we decided to go for a snack.
B's burger (she likes rare steak and roast but for some
reason medium-well burger) came as ordered but still
juicy and tasty. I had the oysters of the day, which
came as three Kumamotos and three of the other kind that
Hog Island grows - the former were lovely and melony,
the latter rich and unctuous - with a couple of Guinness.
B wanted a froufrou drink, so she ordered the Watermelon,
which has something red (Grenadine?), something white
(??), and something green (Midori mixed with something
to lower its density), layered in that order. Tastes like
watermelon, only not so good. And on to the subway and
the airport.
Don't count on BART to run too frequently on weekend
nights. We didn't get an airport train until 8:54, after
rushing so hard to get to the station that a bottle of
Cheap Red Wine (bought no doubt for the label) slipped
out of B's carryon to smash on the sidewalk to the
chagrin not only of ourselves but also to the passersby,
many of whom by the looks of them have been well
acquainted with such disappointments in their lives.
The train took about 45 minutes; that and a short wait
for the red line shuttle got us to the United counter
about 40 minutes before my flight, which would have
been fine except that Mr. Easy Chicken couldn't figure
out what to do with my upgrade request and instead spat
out a nonboarding pass that told me to hash things out
with the gate agent. This of course confused the security
staff, but they let me through anyway, and other than
waiting a quarter of an hour while an endless procession
of wheelchairs and people with odd bits of contraband in
their pockets filed ahead of us, everything ran pretty
smoothly. Got to the gate just at boarding; the friendly
agent there put things right with just a few dozen
keystrokes, and I was off to the comfort and safety of
UA178 SFO BOS 2220 0653 320 3A
The front cabin filled up late; bunch of Premiers I
guess. As soon as we'd loaded up Captain Barnhart came
out with some weather maps and gave us an entertaining
little lecture on what we were to expect on our flight.
Nice gesture, but as I remarked to my seatmate afterward,
it would be even more effective if this attention were
given to the coach customers, who are probably much less
loyalty-driven than we are.
Takeoff was flawless, mirroring the excellent and
attentive cabin service; the junior FA serving F seemed
to remind me of TransWorldOne, a bit of a compliment.
The offering was a deli plate that actually smelled kind
of beefy. I passed, having eaten plenty during the day,
and just had the chocolate-chip cookie and two brandies,
whereupon I conked out, waking up only when we were over
Boston Harbor. At my side I found the captain's business
card with a little inscription about how much my
patronage was appreciated.
Sep 28, 2004, 11:14 am
#3
Join Date: Sep 2000
Location: Burlingame, CA
Programs: TK Miles & Smiles, CM ConnectMiles, AA Advantage
Posts: 2,130
Thanks for this interesting report. Ah! The joys of living in the Bay Area, one of the few great gastronomic enclaves of the USA. That is why I live here and pay dearly for it. Fook Yuen is one of the few decent dim sum places in the Peninsula. A highly recommended one but pricier is Koi Palace, going north from the airport towards the city.
Here's a link for more info: http://koipalace.com/about/
Glad you enjoyed your stay in SFO.
Here's a link for more info: http://koipalace.com/about/
Glad you enjoyed your stay in SFO.