You’re young. Nothing is tying you down. Why not get out and experience the world? Friends have looked to me for relocation tips just as often as they have teased me for moving so frequently. “How did you find a job so quickly?” “How do you pull it off

Need to come up for air?   The weekend San Francisco exploded will be coming to its sun-kissed crescendo Sunday. Every year the first weekend in October is nuts, but this year has been particularly insane with the addition of America’s Cup, ball games, etc. If you feel the need

I am a Californian living in New York City.  I was born in the suburbs of Los Angeles, raised in the suburbs of San Diego, and went to college in the Bay Area, so I’d kind of consider myself somewhat of a semi-expert on Californianity.  Living as a Broke-Ass-West-Coaster-Gone-East for

Next trip: The Crispy Duck Sandwich It would take a dog’s life span to experience everything that Clement Street in the Inner Richmond has to offer, culinary and otherwise.  That’s why being in the restaurant business and/or having friends in said business helps immeasurably.  Recently, a work friend recommended Café

My very dear and very talented friend Victoria Smith is having a photo show on Friday 9/28. Victoria has shot everyone from Coldplay to James Brown to Geographer to Gotye. Plus she even did the cover of my SF book as well as pics in my NY book. Basically, she’s

              Don’t order the specials   Howard’s Café is a diner in the Inner Sunset.  Remarkable? Not particularly, and that isn’t to its detriment. American diners represent comfortable familiarity with a twist of that quality us State-Siders would like to think we invented: individuality. 

It was a late Friday on the eve of the Folsom Street Fair, and I was sitting at the Hole In the Wall sandwiched between the well and two guys aggressively licking each other’s armpits.  My roommate had flaked on me per usual, so I decided to throw in the

The belly of the beast One of my favorite happy hours for sushi is brought to you by Sushi Time, secreted down in an anonymous little nook of The Castro.  It’s like a little wad of cud some forlorn cow forgot in the back of its mouth. If that’s not