Hipster park

My friend Bill apparently has been on a hipster eating tour of San Francisco restaurants. And, this time around, with me as his companion, he crossed Luna Park off his list.

So, first off, what makes Luna Park a hipster restaurant? Let’s discuss.

1. Location: Luna Park is located right at the epicenter of the San Francisco hipster kingdom on Valencia at 18th.

2. Clientele: The people who eat at Luna Park tend to be on the young-ish side and don the requisite hipster attire. Let’s take for example Bill’s and my outfits. Him: A red button-down collared shirt (but not like the type you’d wear with a tie to a business meeting), dark jeans, Converse All Stars, and a black leather wrist band. Her: Short brown skirt over black tights, fitted black tee-shirt, cute flats, and chunky plastic-framed glasses.

3. Atmosphere: The dim lighting in Luna Park makes it hard to see the person who’s sitting across from you, which is good for first dates. The unnecessarily loud music of the indie-rock persuasion makes it hard to hear the person who’s sitting across from you, which may also be good on first dates. The red walls eerily make you feel like you’re in The Shining. And, for a cute touch, the women’s bathroom sign is an arty-looking piece rather than the usual triangular-bodied white figure.

4. Waitstaff: Not only do the waiters and waitresses of Luna Park exude an “I couldn’t care less” attitude, they also demonstrate it by lounging around chatting as guests walk through the door hoping to be seated and also as they wait for their order to be placed. The waitstaff is also uniformed in the ways of the hipster. The boys, of whom I am known to be fond, are displayed in dark non-loose jeans, black tee-shirts, shaggy mop of hair, prominent and non-sleazy facial hair, thick plastic-framed glasses, and tattoos.

5. Food and drink: The dinner menu is nothing fancy but boasts some well-made comforts--pork cutlet with mashed potatoes, baby back ribs, and macaroni and cheese. And, Pabst Blue Ribbon (“in a can!”) can be purchased for $3.

As Bill and I were properly attired, we were set to walk through the red curtains and enter the dimly lit lounge that is Luna Park. We started with the goat cheese fondue with grilled bread chunks and green apple. The cheese had the texture of the bright orange version that tops the nachos of some of the neighborhood taquerias, but it was a tasty addition to those toasty cubes of bread and a salty, creamy counterpoint to the crunchy, sharp tang of the apple slices.

I ordered the grilled salmon with black lentils and a salad of mandarin orange slices, kalamata olives, cherry tomatoes, and watercress. The salmon was nicely cooked with a crispy skin and a velvety rare interior. It, however, was heavily seasoned with salt and pepper (and not much else), which wasn’t the most pleasant experience. The black lentils were also a little more salty than suits my preference, but they were tender and a satisfactory accompaniment to the fish. The salad was the highlight of my plate, with refreshingly clean and fresh flavors.

For dessert, Bill and I shared the bourbon pecan chocolate cake with mint chip ice cream. It was my choice of dessert, and I chose it because it seemed to the most interesting combination of flavors. I should have known to stick with the classics, such as the crème brulee. The cake we had was okay but nothing spectacular. It was quite dense though, taking a good amount of arm work trying to cut my spoon through the slice. I could have eaten the mint chip ice cream all night long though.

To drink, because you can’t have a hipster meal without drinks, neither Bill nor I ordered the $3 PBRs. I had a glass of the It’s Okay Rose, and it wasn’t only because of the name, although that was a huge draw. It was because the season when it’s still socially acceptable to drink roses is soon coming to an end. My rose was more red than most, but it had a fruity and clean flavor.

We headed across the street to the Elbo Room afterward for more drinks: two vodka tonics with extra limes for me and two PBRs at $1 a piece for Bill. There we were, two twenty-somethings drinking vodka tonics and PBRs on a Monday night—it couldn’t get more hipster than that.