It’s brunch in San Francisco and The Monster’s last meal so the call is made for Beast and The Hare. Tired and hungover it’s a miraculously close walk at two blocks away which is just about one block too far. There are a few times along the three minute walk The Monster almost gives up. When he sees a dirty pillow and blanket on the sidewalk the thought does cross his mind to stop and take a quick nap.
When finally arriving at the restaurant The Monster quickly orders a pomegranate mimosa under the delusion that more alcohol will help stave off the impending headache that’s currently just a small nuisance pressing against his currently incapacitated brain but threatens soon to be a full-blown epidemic. The drink happens to be wonderfully refreshing and already spirits are lifted. Score one for hair of the dog.
The space itself is fine enough, perhaps a bit plain but open and airy. There is a small pig statue (the beast we’ll assume) that stares down at The Monster from its perch high above. Since The Monster does not eat swine he keeps thinking the beast is looking upon him scornfully. There is an entire made up play running through The Monster’s mind involving an actual pig and a cage match. Somehow that devolves into The Monster recounting to his friends his one-time plan to buy a micro-pig and name it Rabbi Robins. That will someday be reality but first The Monster must order. Seeing duck confit hash there is little doubt what will be consumed for brunch. Along with a side of fruit it seems a once tragic day is turning into all kinds of sunshine and rainbows and unicorns.
While the restaurant is pleasant enough and the menu is enticing, the service is just one shade off at all times. Not sure whether to attribute that to a fault of the restaurant or the fact The Monster’s ability to speak English has been severely hampered by the weekend’s festivities and he looks like a man just recently released from an asylum well before he should have been.
When the food arrives (is the wait indubitably long or is this a case of being famished?) it looks remarkably fantastic and proves to taste even better. The hash is salty and earthy and perfectly cooked and it gives The Monster pause. How did it become that a plate of duck confit hash could be the difference between a day mired in misery and one that portends for greatness? While that greatness never comes (an epic nap however does) food is more than just something we use to gas our tanks, it is undoubtedly a tool we use to gauge our well-being.
Even the fruit is a work of mini-epicure art. Replacing the sad and tired bowl of orange wedges and banana slices with a colorful, tasty twist on the staid.
The Monster cheerily makes the walk back and the pillow and blanket are now gone. Someone must have needed them more. A plane ride back to LA awaits after a terribly successful, impromptu trip to San Francisco. Until next time…
Why go? You need a nap.
Monster rating: 4/5 Monsters
1001 Guerrero Street
San Francisco, CA 94110