Today after taking Almanzo’s* mother to the airport (she was visiting this weekend from Texas), we brunched at a fine San Francisco establishment, The Tipsy Pig. We had heard from our friends, Ali and Ryan, that this place was delicious and seeing as Ryan is a chef I trust his word. Plus, it was called The Tipsy Pig…why wouldn’t we go?
Upon walking in, my heart began to melt.
Books, glorious books!
I almost lost it right there and then. Thankfully, I was pulled along by a lovely server who sat us at a quaint table outside on the patio.
We both ordered iced teas. I looked longingly at the cool people all around us sipping champagne, bloody mary’s and Sauvignon Blanc. I wanted to be cool, too. But it was Sunday morning, for crying out loud!
Actually I would drink on a Sunday morning. I’m just cheap, that’s all.
As for my food, I went in for the kill. I had to do it. I saw it and there was no going back.
That would be the grilled cheese breakfast sandwich with a frittata, ham and cheddar inside with hash browns on the side. It’s not something I’d usually order but I was feeling pretty spunky.
Almanzo ordered the pulled pork, a wise and natural choice.
And I threatened to use force if he didn’t get a side of sweet potato fries.
LORD. Those sweet potato fries.
Sorry, I’m done.
My sandwich was delicious but I think the hash browns beat it. It’s been ages since I’ve had hash browns the old school way like this and every crunchy, greasy, salty bite was total and complete bliss.
I loved the way they presented the bill!
Let it be noted that I didn’t even finish the sandwich (I ate a little more than half) and it STILL continued to sit in my belly like a rock for the next eight hours. No kidding. It’s pushing seven o’clock here now and I’m still not hungry. And that’s not normal.
However, you probably will want to check back later this evening because I’m preparing a pretty epic meal tonight. Or, you may not want to check back later. Things might get ugly. I don’t even know who I am anymore.
*After much thought, I’ve decided that “the boy” needed a more manly-man name on the blog. And who’s more manly than Almanzo, I ask you? There.