Late last week I decided to do what I do best and play the part of third wheel by tagging along with my friend and her husband for a Friday adventure in San Francisco. (Side note: Not to toot my own horn, but I’m a pretty great third wheel during busy season. And I’m not too embarrassed about it, either). The day’s main attraction, China Beach:
Imagine this, you are driving through homes that had to have cost more than our country’s current debt when suddenly you find yourself in the cutest little cove you ever did see. With a perfect view of the Pacific and our friend the Golden Gate, the spot is ideal for afternoons spent wishing it was warm enough to wear a swimsuit.
Surprisingly, there weren’t that many people hanging around; besides a few brave souls baring their winter white in bikinis, it was rather quiet. We did meet an intense fisherman who was catching crabs like nobody’s business, and that was pretty cool, I guess.
After a while our bellies started grumbling. So we considered the fact that San Francisco is home to the best food on earth, swung by the financial district to pick up a certain accountant and headed to a little french lunch.
I really, really wish I could remember the name of the restaurant (Peyton, a little help here?) because my life was changed by their Croque Madame. If you have never had one, find the nearest French place and order one, STAT. This is the stuff that food babies and dreams are made of, people.
All in all, it was a pretty terrific day. My spirits were revitalized with a little ocean air and my belly left happy. What more can a girl ask for?