It’s funny (or maybe just expected) how much, as one grows older, life changes—and at the same time, doesn’t change much at all. In my case, I still work nights, but my mornings are very different. In my twenties, as a young restaurant manager having just fled Modesto, I was so taken with San Francisco—particularly what it had to offer after dark. Nearly every night after work at Lulu, a bunch of waiters, cooks and I would head for one of the city’s bars: Club Deluxe in the Haight, Dalva in the Mission or, most often, El Bobo on Folsom (which has since become Wish). Drinking was followed by a burrito run, inevitably to El Farolito, which stays open until 4 am on weekends. A burrito is a blessing for a poor, young, drunk man.
So, here I am, some fifteen years later. A lot older; debatably wiser. Now, my taqueria call often comes in the morning—a time of day that I rarely even saw in before. Every day, I drive the boys from our home in Bernal Heights to school, then back to the house to pick up Sara and drop her at the 24th Street BART station where she catches the train to 7×7’s offices in Union Square. By this point, it’s only 9:30 am, which leaves me an hour of free, very cherished, time to cruise solo around the Mission before heading to the Marina to Laïola.
In my old age, it’s not El Farolito that I frequent so much. I tend towards Taqueria Cancun or La Palma (where we buy our Tacolicious tortillas) or El Taco Loco or Taqueria San Francisco or my absolute favorite La Torta Gorda. This morning I got out of the hood a little and drove all the way to 20th street, down to the cherry Los Jarittos, for some huevos rancheros.
Sitting there in the cheery space gave me a thought: Why not make hueveos at Tacolicious on Thursdays? We open the stand at 10 am—which to my mind is just the right time to get some Mexican. So come by the farmers market to get your huevos next week.
—Joe (just posted by Sara)