Doin' Lunch
Apologies to my dedicated readers (both of you) for my unannounced absence last week. After a whirlwind round of grand opening parties -- Dine (Mo, the food and service were top-notch), Ana Mandara (a gorgeous remodel; nice corner table, Don), and Chaya (replete with all the usual suspects) -- I had to go into hiding. Recovery came in the form of a trip to Sundance. It was actually kind of fun to spill martinis and have my feet stepped on by James Woods, Kathleen Turner, Spike Jonze, and Kirsten Dunst. Don't worry, though -- Harry won't go L.A., babe.
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Open Wide
Pisces in Burlingame, spawn of Aqua and Charles, is now open for weekday lunch and weekend brunch. The brunch menu will feature a Maine lobster omelet and Muscovy duck and scallion crepes. One little warning: Watch out for those seats near the central oyster bar. There's a deep fryer there that causes quite a ruckus and a distracting cloud of fishy grease. Can't they do that in the back?
In a Pinch
The Dead Fish in Crockett -- purveyor of recently demised fish and other dead things -- part of the restaurant group that includes the Stinking Rose and the Crab House on Pier 39, has scuttled sideways onto the Web with its "Killer Crab (R)" dinner at CrabExpress.com. This service promises to deliver two Dungeness crabs, secret sauce, bibs, and implements of destruction overnight to your door. The site is simple and the price is nice.
A Spoonful of Sugar
Moot as the point may seem, with the premature primavera sun shining through as I bang on my keyboard, there is one little thing that has been bothering me about this damn rain -- and it isn't this damn rain. Umbrellas are a scourge. Packs of pedestrians scurrying along beneath their varicolored Totes, paying attention only to their feet and the two inches of sidewalk ahead of them, are anathema to us in the hat brigade. A rainy day walk to us is like slalom skiing through a forest of shifting eye-level metal spikes. And now, to make matters even worse, someone went and invented golf umbrellas. Is there anything stupider than a solitary shopper tiptoeing down the avenue with a brolly wider than the sidewalk? Am I supposed to duck and walk beneath someone else's traveling awning, or step into traffic to avoid being forced to share well-covered yet decidedly personal space? These stretchy star-spangled and otherwise-decorated atrocities may function perfectly while spectating on the 16th hole of Pebble Beach, or strapped down to the custom racks atop your SUV, but they have no place on our city streets. I can't wait for the gusty weather. Then these wind scoops on a stick will serve their purpose and send their users careening like Mary Poppins into the streets and up in the air, where they will be pulled uncontrollably into solid objects like telephone poles and Muni buses.
Oh yeah, that felt good.
Know something Harry doesn't? E-mail Coverte@aol.com and sweep the dirt out from under the rug.
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