The day couldn't have been teed up better: Day off from work, rolled out of bed at 9:30 after some quality TV time, the SF sun shining down, and a lunch date with my Dad. We agreed to step outside our Financial District comfort zone and head to 14th & Guerrero in the Mission, which might as well be in Siberia. Famous for its burger, Mission Beach Cafe has been atop my to do list for months. After putting away the burger, I kept my health kick alive with an interesting ice cream cone from Humphry Slocombe. Both experiences left me feeling more annoyed than satisfied.
Mission Beach Cafe is located at a seemingly isolated corner in the Mission (hipsters, please correct my geography if I'm wrong). The space itself is uninspiring. The restaurant takes the "cafe" title literally with its tightly packed tables (they may as well be community tables), pastry counter, natural sunlight, minimal decor, and a domination of 20-something clientele carrying Apple devices. I was really looking forward to bellying up to the bar as I'm convinced they make burgers taste better, but there isn't one unless you count a street-facing counter.
My dad forgot his glasses so I got to order for the both of us. I ordered my burger rare with bacon (I would have chosen avocado but they were out). I chose "MBC huevos with pulled pork, rancho gordo yellow indian woman beans, salsa rojo, tomatillo pico de gallo, cojita cheese." My dad tends to like dishes that can be classifed as "everything but the kitchen sink" so this seemed to be a safe choice.
My burger came out piled so high that I was concerned how I would be able to consume it. Once I navigated the many layers and took my first bite, my taste buds were immediately struck with a charred, burnt sensation. Upon closer examination of the patty, there were wide, deep grill marks on both sides. I didn't like it. While the inside of the patty was red, the burn marks dominated the flavor of each bite and made it seem dry. Props for the inch-thick, maple bacon slices (the carmelization was so thick it got stuck in my teeth). The bun was soft and well proportioned; the cheese had a mild but impactful flavor. Neither of these accouterments could overcome my issue with the meat. The fries were completely forgettable. Wait, were there fries?
I didn't taste my dad's egg concoction but it looked delicious. I know I would have had a good time dipping the home-made tortilla chips into the pot of egg, sauce, beans, and salsa. MMMMMM.
There also seemed to be an echo in the restaurant. Not thirty second after our waiter greeted us, took our orders, delivered the check, etc - another waiter came to accomplish the same thing. Not a big deal, but one would think they would have coordinated their efforts by the time our meal ended. No, my dad couldn't see anything but he could hear, thanks.
Since our waiter didn't even attempt to entice us with one of the many dessert options up front, my Dad and I decided to check out one of the several ice cream shops in the Mission. I am a Ben & Jerry's fan through and through, and after my Humphry Slocombe experience, I have a renewed appreciation for their creations. Of the 20 or so flavors available, I could only fathom trying one (chocolate and sea salt). I like to believe I'm as adventurous as they come, but Roasted Beet, Brown Sugar & Fennel, Peanut Butter Curry, and Salt & Pepper honestly make my stomach turn. My scoop was so soupy I had to race to finish it before it dripped down my arm. It was nothing special - honestly reminded me of a 99 cent soft serve at McDonalds. My dad was downright annoyed by it all (actually pretty funny watching him trying to eat an ice cream cone as fast as he could).
Ya gotta give us credit for trying new things.
Remember Healdsburg ;-)
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