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Maybe I was still euphoric from the Warriors win the night before, or just the pleasant walk through Inner Sunset, but I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect meal in this cozy nook on a Sunday April afternoon.
I enjoyed a warm bowl of shrimp wonton soup, which they made spicy on my request, and my partner, sweating, relished his griddled bean curd pot, claiming, “Finally, someone who respects spice.” We also ordered the bean jelly appetizer, which was a close replica of the liangpi from my childhood summers in Chengdu. Around us, two middle-aged college men were plotting their next steps in life over bowls of peanut noodles, leaning in to make sure they really understood each other. Two parents and their adult son put aside their expectations of each other and shared plates of garlic fried string beans and grilled fish, collecting the bones on a separate plate. Six USF students each got the lunch special, so there were copious bowls on their table. They were laughing gayly. The bowls and plates here were all porcelain or metal, so I didn’t have to worry about microplastics leaching into my food.
“I haven’t had a meal like this in a while,” my partner said. “It’s pushing my limits.”
He was on his third water glass refill. My partner can’t go a week without turbo-blasting his sinus system with extreme chili, and it seemed he finally met his match.
We asked for a to-go box for the unfinished bean curds. Serving sizes were generous without being overwhelming. And service was invisible in a good way; I felt none of the anxiety I get from some social interactions and suddenly our plates were cleared and water refilled. It allowed my partner and me to give our full attention to the meal and each other’s company. The only downside was that I felt the appreciation too fully and had to break off to write this review. I only hope that my sacrifice will allow more people to visit this special place.
When I told my partner I was reviewing the place, he said, “you had Type 1 fun but my fun was Type 2.”