Pickled Tink

This morning we got up at 06:00. Yes it is Sunday. And I'm not sickening for something.

We had plans to have a proper breakfast at Mama's on Washington Square; they open at 08:00, they're only little and there's always a line outside waiting to get in. We left Mission Bay at 07:00, not really conscious, wondering where all the people were (as it turns out they were all in Chinatown, which was already bubbling) and arrived at 07:50 to a queue with about twenty people already in it. We watched a man lift up a car on his own and take it away to pass the 15 minutes before we got in and chose our breakfasts.

I had Eggs Florentine (like Eggs Benedict, but with spinach), Bluessinger had French Toast (which is apparently eggy bread with fruit and icing sugar) and Holly, who's staying for the week, had scrambled eggs and bcaon. Because we couldn't resist them we also had pancakes.

It was the best breakfast I have ever had.

I like food, I eat it every day and seldom don't enjoy it.

It was the best breakfast I have ever had. If you find yourself in San Francisco at ten to eight in Washington Square, just go. If you're anywhere else, make your way there for about that time.

I can't stop smiling.

So to continue the feeling of glee, I'm off to make sock puppets, re-enact Playschool and pickle my knees (in cheese of course).