by popular demand

Several people, including someone who's celebrating a birthday today, have asked to see the slug-like creatures for themselves. I tried to spare you from the horror of the idea that people are buying bags of these squirming creatures, bringing them into their homes, and then eating them, but you had to see for yourself. Fine, then... I give you slugs.

morning at the fish market

There's no good place to stand in the Noryangjin fish market. If you stop moving for a second, even if you tuck yourself behind a parked ice-truck, you'll be in someone's way.

You'll be blocking the box of crabs that a vendor wants to sell or impacting the path of their moving bicycle or worse still, placing yourself in the trajectory of the saliva wad they're preparing to jettison from their throat. And the whistles and hoots streaming at you won't be because you're cute and adorable but rather because you're in the way and if you don't move right now at least they warned you before they ran you over with their ice-truck.



The floors are wet and anyone who's been to the fish market more than once is wearing rubber boots. The boots protect you from the water that's endlessly dripping from every surface. The boots keep the fish guts off your shoes and the jettisoned saliva off your ankles. But the boots don't keep you from falling: I saw a young ice man step out of his ice-truck and gracelessly thud to the concrete floor despite a sturdy pair.



The fish are no more graceful than the ice men and congregate on the floor in desperate groups. They shake and flop and do what they can to evade the fish women and their blunt blades and heavy lipstick. And for every fish woman with a cigarette dangling from her lower lip there's a fish man swinging an ice-pick. Both are more than ready to clean a fish of its innards in one simple tug.



The regulars here discarded their sense of wonder with yesterday's ice. A huge flounder flipped itself over on the floor and no one cared. A woman I was with bought a bag full of what I can only describe as giant pulsating horned slugs. And vendors ate breakfast snuggled into corners with piles of sea creatures born solely to populate nightmares.



It's a different place, the fish market. People fall out of ice trucks at all hours of the day and worms that look a whole lot like something else keep squirming until they're all bought up. And really, it wasn't so long ago that all of these writhing creatures were deep in the water where they belong.



But since someone went to all the effort to drag them up on land, it seemed a shame not to participate. So I did my part and went home with a kilo of mussels ($2) so fresh that they fought back when we tried to prep them. The kilo of giant shrimp ($14) is now in our freezer and I'm hoping they'll put up less of a fight. Then again, they're from the fish market so you never know.

friday night, 8pm

There's no place like this in the United States. Chicago isn't like this. New York isn't like this either. And maybe Las Vegas is a little like this but I don't think it's quite the same. What we have here is a non-stop flow of people and light in every direction. All coated with a mysterious yellow dust that fills your mouth with a metallic taste.

It's hard to get used to, but in Seoul the flow of life goes both outwards and upwards. The buildings here have a focus on verticality that catches westerners off-guard. If you only look at what's in front of you - at what lives on the first floor - you're missing more than half the story. Because in Seoul the buildings are layer cakes of shopping, dining, hair-styling...



It's important to clarify that I'm not talking about a mall or a shopping center. It's a city street. And taking two steps forward is as varied as walking two flights up. The bold, tall, stretching signage that clings to these buildings is there to shake you free of the idea that what lives at the root of the building is the same as what graces its crown. Here you need to look at every floor or you'll never find the restaurant you're looking for. Koreans have no problem with this upward thinking - even the highest floors are filled.

But ground level has its pleasures too. The streets are full of vendors selling every kind of crap you can think of. The whole point of being out for the evening seems to be shopping; in brick and mortar stores, sure, but even more so at tables covered with cheap headbands, sunglasses, and flip-flops. Or better yet, knock-off purses... if you don't find what you want at the LeSportSac store you can always exit the store and walk ten paces to a street vendor selling the knock-off versions for pennies.



Street food is everywhere. There's the ubiquitous dried octopus seller, and the potato sticks in paper cups. Slices of fresh fruit sitting on slabs of melting ice. Tomatoes and kiwi ready to be whirred into juice by a blender plugged into some magical electrical source stretching from a far-off land.

The coffee shops are full, the restaurants are full. The vendors are surrounded by teenagers with money to burn. And the people just keep coming, streams of them. All arm in arm - couples, friends, old men. All dressed well and looking good in the light of the vertical signs. If you think of Times Square in New York or Piccadilly Circus in London... it's that kind of energy with the light and the swarms and the feeling that if you stood still and tried to withstand the flow you'd be carried away into the wild urban beyond.



Another risk the urbanites of Seoul face is a mysterious yellow dust that arrives here by way of winds from China. It's the only negative we've found in this city and even the mild levels we sucked into our lungs on Friday made our heads ache and our mouths go acrid. Alas, every pleasure has its accompanying toll to pay.

But even with the dust, Seoul is a city that we should all be hearing more about. Once you get here and start exploring you wonder why people back home aren't talking about this place. You wonder why no one was telling us that we just had to come here to see and shop and eat. But then you get distracted by four stories of glowing signs, and the crowd pushes you forward, and you fast forget what it was like to not know Seoul.

happy birthday buddha

Last Monday was Buddha's birthday which not only gave us a day off of work but also the perfect reason to visit the Bong-eunsa Temple in downtown Seoul.

I may have already mentioned that this city's juxtapositions are infinite and spectacular. Seoul is a throbbing web of ancient culture and impulse-buys, jagged alleys and sparkling skyscrapers... And it's best appreciated by whirling yourself into the superficial and then escaping to the spiritual; dropping waist-deep into the low and then hurling yourself at the high. Get out there and don't stop until you see something you've never seen before.



We'd never been to a Buddha's birthday celebration so that fit the bill. To get to the temple we rode the subway to one of Seoul's largest shopping centers and walked through its powerhouse of shopping and consumerism. We walked out the front doors and crossed the street - and there was the Temple. As simple as that. One side of the street has all of your earthly needs while the other covers the spiritual.

The temple grounds - decorated with thousands of colorful lanterns - were packed solid with happy visitors who were all celebrating in their own way. Families were spread out on grassy patches to picnic and relax. The devout stood before a towering Buddha to bow and pray. Others stood in line to visit smaller golden buddhas in shady temples. And we stood back and watched it all.



The largest Buddha on the Bong-eunsa grounds stands several stories high and when you climb the hill behind him to get a better perspective you find that he drops perfectly into Seoul's skyline. Worshipers are scattered on the ground before him but he stands tall and unmoving as high-rises glint in the sun. Seoul's combination of spirit and cement has never been more obvious.

We ate lunch on the grounds after wandering through a packed marketplace of vendors selling all manner of delicious korean foods. We chose a green onion pancake which was fried in more oil than an elephant ear, and a spicy rice noodle dish which resembled giant worms more than anything else. As expected the food was incredible. Even better, it was easy to order since it was being made right in front of you and you could point at whatever looked good. (And it all looked good!)



Leaving the temple grounds we ran into several groups of schoolgirls giving out free hugs. While we appreciated their signs (in English, yay!) we didn't take them up on their offer, fearing some sort of international incident in the making. We couldn't understand all of the words in their "come and get a free hug" song - which, unlike their signs, was not in English - but they liked that we took photos anyway.



(Korea, by the way, is a great country in which to be a photographer. You're never the only one with a camera, and there's always someone whose camera is bigger than yours. The steal-my-camera target rarely rests on your shoulders alone.)

Despite skipping the free hugs we had a great time at Buddha's birthday. After celebrating, eating, and wandering through the crowds on the temple grounds there was only one thing left to do: we crossed the street and went shopping. Because, my friends, that is what you do in Seoul.

hey jude

When you see a large group of professional Korean musicians in traditional dress you don't expect their playlist to include the Beatles but tonight after wandering around downtown Seoul eating street food and perusing dried octopus arms in the market we were treated to a traditional Korean arrangement of "Hey Jude." We'd joined a large crowd sitting on the steps of the Performing Arts Center and before we knew it we were listening to a three-song Beatles medley that also included Let it Be and Oblah Di Oblah Da. We didn't recognize the instruments or the sounds they were making - and the playbill explaining the concert was in Korean so we couldn't read it - but it's hard to miss three Beatles songs in a row. Especially when they're punctuated with something that sounds a whole lot like a kazoo.

Daegu: sounds like Tay-goo (part 2)

Continued from the previous posting... more of what we learned about Korea this weekend.

4. You can bring your toothpaste to the sauna.

Ever been to a Korean sauna? I have and I can tell you that there are two key components. The first is a whole lot of water. And the second is a whole lot of naked people. And believe it or not, the combination works.

The women and the men have separate facilities (you can get the general idea via the pool layouts in dark red on the "map" pictured below) and so I can only report on the female version of the sauna experience. I'll also note that Stefano's experience seems pretty darn similar except with more bells and whistles; the men get free hair gel.



As for the ladies, you dump your clothes in a locker and then take your tiny towel, small bar of soap, and packets of shampoo and conditioner out to the sauna. At this stage you're probably trying to drape the too-tiny piece of terry cloth over as much of you as possible, choosing to focus on your front or your back as it's pretty clear that your towel is unable to fully cover one side of you let alone two. If there's ever been an exercise in futility, this is it.

And it's really very silly because once you leave the locker room the only thing you see is naked people. Naked people of every age, every shape, and every size. They're everywhere and in every position. Standing, sitting, floating, bending, squatting, stretching... even brushing their teeth. Nothing is left to the imagination and you immediately get the sensation that nothing about you will be any different than all of this.

So you drop your towel, you pick up a small plastic stool and two plastic bowls, and commence washing. Before you know it you're perched on a small plastic chair pouring bowls of water over your body while your neighbor's doing the same not one foot away. And that's just the start.

Next you move to the real reason you're there: a series of water pools of varying temperature. There's a medium heat pool, a pretty darn hot pool and a skin-scorching pool. (I have to admit that I couldn't look away from the skin-scorching pool as everyone who puts that first foot into the burning water makes some sort of pained expression; even the old pros grimace.) There's also the freezing cold pool which I appreciated after all of the high temps. I experienced neither the steam room (too hot) nor the massage by the naked masseuse (no reason to rush on that one).

The great thing is that once you settle in and take a seat in one of the pools, the day goes by as if you were sitting on your stoop. You have a conversation with your buddy, you watch people come and go... it all feels quite normal. Although I still don't think I'll be bringing my tooth brush the next time around.



5. The karaoke bus is an important development in vehicular entertainment.

Ever board a bus and notice a sound board next to the driver's seat? What about a microphone that is so carefully wired it'll stretch all the way to the back of the bus? The flat screen TV is also a pretty good clue. Or the karaoke song book and remote control.

All I know is that if you're boarding your bus and you see those things, you're in for the best ride of your life. Lots of buses these days have filtered water machines and tasseled curtains over the window - but I'm here to tell you that it's the karaoke that makes the difference.

If you're traveling with a good group of people there'll be a line of folks waiting to sing. We had people start singing even before the sun went down. They belted out ballads, rock anthems, and country classics. And our driver made sure that each one sounded like a pro. Not only was this guy great at making a 16-point turn in lieu of the standard U-turn, but he could tweak the sound board levels at the same time. His attention to detail was perhaps a little less appreciated on the curving mountain passes, but you've still got to appreciate his commitment to audio excellence.

Daegu: sounds like Tay-goo (part 1)

This weekend we went on a language immersion trip to Daegu which is pretty funny because our normal life here is really one big immersion tour anyway: we walk around Seoul and do our best to communicate despite having zero language ability. It definitely makes us appreciate the Italian skills we had upon arrival in Milan although I've got to admit that our sign language has never been better. This weekend's trip was a first step towards developing stronger language skills and although we're no closer today to being able to express our needs in the Korean language, we did learn a thing or two about Korean culture which - frankly - is just as interesting.



1. Don't talk too loudly on the train.

It's a two-hour train ride from Seoul to Daegu and while the time goes by relatively quickly you're still left with nothing much to do for 120 minutes. The natural thing is to start talking with your friends and colleagues since they're sitting across from you and also have nothing to do. From our experience in Italy we know that this is not just an American custom and from what I've experienced on Italian trains, Americans display relatively tame train behavior. However, it seems that we're not quite tame enough for the Korean train system.

There's a lingering formality about the trains here. When you're at the station and first come upon your train waiting on the tracks you're actually greeted by a uniformed employee who does a quick little head bow and points you in the right direction - this type of greeting doesn't happen on Amtrak and the only American comparison I can make is what sometimes shows up in old movies with Cary Grant. Unfortunately, this uniformed attendent is also the person who tells you to quiet down if he thinks you're talking too loud. Which happened to us while we were having what we felt was a fairly muted conversation. And the worst part is that he does it in a quiet voice - kind of like a librarian - so that he's sure to model the proper volume of speech. You never forget your first time being reprimanded at a whisper.



2. You will pay a fine in the all-you-can-eat restaurant if you over-estimate how much you can eat.

For Sunday's lunch we went to this great all-you-can-eat Korean barbeque buffet. Every table has a skillet-like grill in the center and your job as the visitor is to go to the freezers along the wall and choose what you'd like to grill. It's a bit strange to be picking your meal straight out of the frozen food section but having tried it I've got to say that it's a pretty sound concept.

I walked past all of the beef and pork - tubs full of different cuts and types - and headed straight for the tentacles. There were two varieties of whole squid and one tub of marinated octopus and I've never been happier with eating a plate full of sea life. Having experienced both excellent and atrocious seafood in Italy I was worried that I might not be able to do justice to the marine life frozen in front of me but I shouldn't have worried. All you have to do is plop the creatures on the griddle, ignore them for while, and then eat them with rice.



But don't forget the scissors. Hats off to the Koreans on this one... scissors are a perfect addition to the standard silverware set. What better way to attack a meal that's comprised of several arms and a big bulbous body than with scissors? Or a big bowl of noodles in seasoned soy sauce? A knife and fork will have you chasing your octopus across the room and even experts cut their noodles before going at them with chopsticks. The next time you're fighting with food, give the scissors a try - it works for the Koreans.

The only trouble with walking past freezers full of meat and seafood, side dishes, rice, noodles, and soup is that you want to eat it all. And it's not too surprising seeing as it is an all-you-can-eat restaurant. But in Korea you'd better think again. Because if you think you want to eat it all, you're going to have to follow through or else pay a fine. And while I don't doubt that most of us can afford a $5 fine I do question whether we really want a formal reminder in front of our colleagues that we're a giant pig and wasted a plate of food. More effective than the fine, wouldn't you say?



3. Follow-up: Same goes for temple food except that the fine is bad karma because they really can't charge you.

Late Saturday afternoon we visited the Haeinsa Temple which is one of Korea's three major temples and is also a UNESCO world Heritage site. The temple is a gorgeous structure sitting on top of Gaya mountain and surrounded by lush greenery. However, this temple's prominence and fame derive more from what it houses (the Tripitaka Koreana) than from its beauty, which goes a long way towards explaining the importance of the Tripitaka Koreana.

The Tripitaka Koreana is made up of of 81,254 carved woodblocks and is a compilation of sacred Buddhist texts. The carving of these printing blocks was finished in AD 1251 and despite a jaw-dropping 52,382,960 characters carved into wood by hand, there are no mistakes. The buildings in which these wooden blocks have been stored over the centuries use a sophisticated ventilation system and a combination of charcoal, clay, and calcium oxide to absorb humidity during the rainy season and slowly give it back when the weather is dry. The fact that they're still around in all their glory - despite various invasions, wars, and fires - is no small feat.



We also were able to watch the evening drum performance during which several monks play four types of drums in succession. It's a moving concert and entire families gathered to listen to the various rhythms. The storm of noise was in stark contrast to the dinner we'd just finished. Everyone is welcome to dine at temple meals; there's no charge (you're expected to leave a donation) and you dine in the same large hall as the monks, although at separate tables. There are two rules to this experience in simplicity and spiritual harmony: 1. Don't talk, and 2. Finish everything on your plate.

It's surreal. In the dining hall there are only the noises of chair legs scraping the floor as people come and go and the hushed sounds of eating. That's it. You start by quietly grabbing a bowl and then just as quietly walking past several gigantic pots of food, scooping your portion into your bowl. This is where you have to keep in mind that despite appearing otherwise, the bowls are actually pretty darned big and it's wise to fill them appropriately.



The food was simple and good and as long as your eyes aren't bigger than your stomach there shouldn't be too many problems finishing. Although - truth be told - I had to ask Stefano to help me finish my soup. (Which I did without saying a word, thank you very much.)

At the end of the meal you bring your empty bowl to the kitchen sink and place it atop the towering piles of bowls already sitting there. All empty. I guess no one wants to risk making the monks mad, or sullying their offer of a free meal by not finishing what you take. Personally, I hope I didn't get any demerits for the two hot pepper slices that I left behind; I assumed that the monks in all of their benevolence would understand.

home is where the kimchi is

After flying over Canada, Russia, and the Pacific Ocean we finally heard the words that we'd waited over twelve hours to hear, "Welcome to Seoul." And then there was the small matter of setting our watches. "It's 6:00pm in Seoul. We've crossed the international dateline so it's now Wednesday." So while our hearts and minds (and watches) still said Tuesday, our plane had instead landed squarely in Wednesday.

So we did it; we flew into the future and are here to report that it ain't half bad. In fact from where we sit it's looking pretty good. Seoul is an incredible city - one of the ten largest in the world - and I think we're going to fit right in. I use the phrase "fit right in" rather loosely here, of course. Seeing as we neither resemble the folks who fill this city nor speak their language it might be a little difficult to fit right in. But we sure like the food.



Eating in Seoul is an absolutely fantastic experience although I couldn't tell you exactly what we've been eating. There's a lot of rice; that much is clear. There are also piles of pickled vegetables, sizzling meats, lettuce leaves, and octopus - and that was just our first lunch here. Being unable to read the menu either renders you more adventurous or starving and we've decided to embrace the adventure.

The food here can be spicy and sharp but also homey and comforting. It's ok to slurp at the table and I'm happy to report that you get to use a spoon for your rice. The metal chopsticks are for everything else and we're getting used to the fact that they tend to get a much more slippery grip on things than the wooden variety do. You get a fork and knife if you order any sort of deep-fried meat slab (talk to Stefano about that) and tumblers filled with water seem to come standard with every meal. Another standard is kimchi, the pickled and spicy cabbage that we've been hearing about since the day we knew we were coming to Seoul. The good news is we like it.



Eating street food appears to be as popular as eating inside and by the few items we've already sampled I can see why. Street food is plentiful, cheap, and incredibly good. We've had thick pancakes filled with a layer of molten brown sugar and also cubed pieces of nougat dusted with rice flour. On the savory side we've seen sizzling sticks of meat and steaming pots of stewed bugs. There are sweet potato fries and snails and blood sausages. And all cheap, cheap, cheap.

Seoul and Milan are surprisingly similar and might as well be long-lost cousins with their shared interests in coffee and fashion. Seoul's streets point to a real obsession with coffee - you can't walk ten feet without running into an American chain (Dunkin Donuts, Starbucks) or an Italian-themed café. And while I'm sorry to break the hearts of my dear Italian amici I must admit that some of these coffee places can make a mean cappuccino.



And fashion... these people definitely know how to dress. No one's walking around in sweatpants and the only fashion "dont's" seem to result from an overabundance of fashion "do." For example, older men here like to take a nice suit with a pattern, and wear it with a nice shirt that also happens to be patterned. Unfortunately the shirt's pattern is wildly different from the suit's pattern and while either would be nice on its own you put the two together and bam! you're unintentionally stopping traffic.

Another unique fashion whim of the Korean male is the wearing of a purse. At first it looks as if the guy might be dutifully carrying the purse of a lady friend but no, said lady friend has her own purse under control. These guys are wearing their own purses and while I have no clue what they're putting in them, they manage to rock the look. Italian males, take note.



The city is also ringed by mountains and hills and there are several in the middle of town. It's great to look up from big city Seoul streets and see green peaks rising in the near distance. We've heard that you can take the Seoul subway straight to hiking trails and be on the mountain in less than an hour. (That's assuming you can figure out the subway system.)

It won't be easy living in a country where we can't speak the language let alone read the alphabet, but we're here to stay. Happily, we already know how to say hello and thank you and with only five days in country, we're feeling pretty good about our progress. The real question is how many days will it take Stefano to buy a purse?

goodbye again

(originally written April 29, 2008)

Luckily for us, we had a chance to explore another big American city before heading out east and San Francisco gets high marks, especially for its low pollen count. San Francisco is a great city and we did our best to enjoy it before our giant leap into the future. I call it a "giant leap into the future" not only because we'll be entering a time zone that's 14 ours ahead of Central Standard Time (CST) but also because we're diving into our own future - the place we'll call home for the next two years.

Fearing that guacamole is not nearly as popular in Seoul as it is in San Francisco, we thought it important to eat a Mexican lunch at Ferry Market. With the Bay Bridge in the background we had fish tacos, watermelon water, and chips with guacamole. The weather was perfect and there was a crisp breeze off the water. The fact that my fish taco arrived 20 minutes after Stefano's didn't worry anyone; things just sort of roll along out here - the colors are brighter, the fabrics are lighter, and the sky is blue blue blue.



In an effort to make us feel at home San Francisco is also sporting several cable cars from Milan. No matter how far we travel from Milan it manages to follow close behind. We don't go a day without seeing something that reminds us of our previous home and San Francisco was no exception; orange Milanese cable cars are regularly running down the streets. Even the little details are there. It says "uscita" next to the exits and Milan's seal is displayed on the sides of the cars. We imagine it must be some sort of cable car cultural exchange. Either that or someone is putting admirable effort into trying to freak us out.

Earlier that same day as a start to exploring the Italian side of San Francisco I'd trekked over to a small bakery on the advice of a food-loving hotel concierge. The word from the concierge was that each morning this bakery makes a finite amount of focaccia, and as soon as it's sold, the bakery closes. Not one to dally when food is involved, I went straight to the bakery and got a slice as large as a linoleum floor tile. The focaccia was brushed with tomato sauce and green onion and tied up with wax paper and twine.



Thankfully, the focaccia was pretty good as the two ladies running this simple shop aren't doing much of anything to heighten the experience. The message is clear: they are there to sell you focaccia and you are there to buy it. For example, I said "thank you" upon receiving my focaccia and in return I got a rough "ok" and a look that meant I should have left the bakery 10 seconds earlier. Later, when I reconvened with the concierge she apologized for neglecting to warn me about the ladies. At least I had an authentic experience.

We had Sunday brunch at a great place that came highly recommended by a friend although I really shouldn't say that we ate there because technically we ate someplace else - at the bar next door. It was the same menu and the same chef; the only difference was that you didn't have to wait an hour and a half to eat at the bar. We'd just finished with a 6 hour flight and as you might know, they don't really serve food on planes anymore so we were ready to eat - and eat we did.



The food at Foreign Cinema was great; well-seasoned and interesting. Their coffee was also way beyond normal expectations and the fresh lemonade made us both pucker. They also had Aperol (another Italian miracle!) and the people watching was spectacular. It was everything you expect from San Francisco. On the way back to the subway we took advantage of a small Mexican bakery and had a slab of Tres Leches cake which was sweet and soft and so so good. It reminded us of our favorite Chicago bakeries except without the gingerbread pigs.

For dinner that night we'd started with an appetizer popularly referred to as "Every Mother's Nightmare." There's nothing better than a hot fudge and caramel sundae from Ghirardelli as a starter for your meal. It was so drenched with hot fudge and caramel that I felt like an overgrown grammar schooler whose dreams had finally come true - a hot fudge sundae for dinner. We had to eat it fast before our moms found out.

For our second course we had a sourdough bread bowl filled with crab chowder over by the wharf. There are tons of places to choose from so we just picked the seafood stand with the longest line and happily, the soup turned out to be pretty great. We ate along the water and did our best not to antagonize the sea gulls as it's their neighborhood and you only come out unscathed if they let you. Thankfully, they let us.



For our final dinner in the United States before flying off to Seoul we ate at a small pizza place that I'd found by hunting around in food blogs and the like. Pizzeria Delfina's atmosphere is quirky and the pizza was truly excellent - very reminiscent of the pizza we would eat in Milan.

As we ate we had the chance to consider what we were about to do. It's not often that you say, "this is our last dinner in the United States for a long time." And when you do say it you get a hearty punch in the guts from whatever it is inside all of us that resists change. But then there are also the butterflies that start rushing around, delighted by the fact that soon everything will be new. To add to that mess of mixed feelings we were eating pizza that was screaming Milan!

And so it was almost like we were leaving Italy again... and we sure were leaving the United States again. Basically, we were leaving behind everything we knew and heading towards everything else. It seems that this is the way we've decided to live and the way that we feel most alive. So then here's to everything we know in Chicago and Washington and Miami and San Francisco and New York and Milan... and to everything we'll discover in Seoul. We'll see you there soon.

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Ferry Market: One Ferry Building, 415-693-0996
Liguria Bakery: 1700 Stockton Street, 415-421-3786
Foreign Cinema: 2534 Mission Street, 415-648-7600
Jocelyn Bakery: corner of 20th Street and Lexington
Ghirardelli: Ghirardelli Square, 900 North Point St
Pizzeria Delfina: 3611 18th Street, 415-437-6800