A Mission mission

San Francisco never surprises me as a city with nooks and crannies ready for the finding, and new restaurants popping up every five minutes. How am I ever to keep track of them all? I'm just one person trying to keep my stomach to a manageable size. But, last night was a night of many firsts in a familiar 'hood.

I met Michael for drinks at Sky Lounge (or some other name of a similar vein) on the rooftop of the hostel on Mission at 21st. I didn't know such a place existed in the Mission and walked out of the elevator in a slight state of awe. The rooftop bar had a great view of the city and it would have been a lovely place to get another Campari and soda if the wind wasn't blowing my hair all over the place and making us strain to hear each other talk above the wind tunnel madness.

We ventured over to Pizzeria Delfina, the offspring of the other Delfina next door, which opened just a few weeks ago. For some reason, we weren't allowed to sit at the open table next the window and were relegated to sit at the counter, which was actually kinda fun. I eyed the chefs roll out the dough, ladled on just one ladle full of sauce, and slide that sucker into the oven with one slick movement. Our spot also allowed us a view of all the other kitchen happenings, which was slightly distracting.

We ordered a tomato salad with thinly sliced red onions, drizzled with balsamic vinegar and olive oil, and a crostini smeared with goat cheese. The tomatoes were bright red and tasted of summer freshness. The vinegar was a sweet accompaniment. We split one of their daily special pizzas with a name that neither Michael nor I could pronounce and with toppings that we couldn't pronounce either. It was good though. The crust was thin and crisp with just a smudge of a savory tomato sauce. And, for dessert, we shared a slice of their pluot tart, which had a sugary crisp top. A bottle of wine rounded off our meal.

Our last Mission spot for the night was Cama on 16th at Guerrero. Michael made friends with everyone at the bar, and a couple of Brits outside, including the bartender, who poured us some yummy specials. I called Mo to see if he knew what the word "haberdashery" meant, and he did.