The Richmond. Utter that small collection of phonemes three times in a row a la Beetlejuice and you might suddenly find yourself clad in a thick, grey knit sweater, gazing thoughtfully over the thick foaming head of a pint of stout from a plush barstool at flocks of angry asian women fighting over dragon fruit and flip-flops on the sidewalk outside

Halu Izakaya The confluence of Beatlemania and crispy chicken skin is unlikely.  But it does exist, this union between sizzling fowlic (an adjective I was forced out of necessity  to create) epidermis and all things related to the well-known Liverpudlian quartet; it’s called Halu, located in the Inner Richmond. For those

Ippuku’s sake on tap There was a time when we as a people lived in fear of eating under-cooked pork.  Casting my mind back to the early 80’s, when A-Ha’s “Take On Me” was annoyingly inescapable and dudes everywhere sported see-through mesh t-shirts, our mothers and fathers were unwitting violators