Does it seem to you like I write too much about things to do in San Francisco? Because it seems to my boss, our general manager, that I do. I am, in fact, openly discouraged from finding new things for you to check out in, as she must grudgingly admit that everyone around here calls it, “the city”. There’s so much around here that isn’t San Francisco, she insists time and time again, and, anyway, everyone will always go there without us telling them to.
The thing is, I don’t even disagree with her general position, but what am I supposed to do about the particular things that I feel a moral obligation to share with you? Yesterday, for example, I had two scoops of ice cream on a cone, one salted licorice and the other black sesame, and I think my life was changed by the experience. Un-sweet ice cream was already a revelation, but to get to go even deeper into those complex flavors was, and I’m sorry to sound insane and, no, I haven’t forgotten that I’m talking about an ice cream cone, but it was moving. Seriously. I kept telling my friend how lucky I was to have it in my mouth.
You’re curious, aren’t you? You’d defend my decision to write about this, I think. Especially after you’ve been to Humphrey Slocombe and seen for yourself.