The illicit love between a man and the contents of a corn tortilla: the story can now be told.
This Sporting Life, by David Storey
We tire of food trucks, shall only patronize Viking ships. They have the best cookies.
Sometimes I just want a sandwich with a better sense of self, you know?
The good news? That couple extra bucks for a monthly pass gets you breakfast.
The bad news: no coffee, & generic flakes.
Close enough to the real thing. Warmer, too.
Your disappointment, my art.
It’s just ice cream.
In a baffling marketing move, Red Vines administers the Ludovico Technique.
The local market plays into that distinct and nostalgic stereotype. They will not, per se, leggo.
Rest assured, as the child of a lifelong Oakland-and-Los Angeles Raiders fan, I jump no bandwagon, save the deliciously wrong bandwagon of buffalo tofu.
Trust soft serve, trust cone, trust swirl.
Fresh & free range: a kind of redundancy of San Francisco foodways. Also, the saying of “foodways,” like “farm egg,” very well-duh-yeah. Annoyances of the first-world kind, that what we do for sustenance others do if they’re lucky. Any egg, any bird, will do.
Vegetables.