On my recent trip to San Francisco (pre-hurricanes; seems like years ago), my solution to the maximum-grub-for-minimum moolah equation was to do lunch instead of dinner at a couple of the most suggested spots. Turned out to be a fabulous idea. Even better that we were the first guests of a Sunday at Limon, a knockout Peruvian restaurant nestled comfortably among the eclectic storefronts of Valencia Street. I love being the first table. The food is fresh and first of the day, the server is fresh from his morning coffee, and I can walk around the dining room and check it out without feeling conspicuous. What's more, Limon is a beautiful space in the daytime light, stylish and colorful without pretension.
The wine list shines with a well-selected and wide variety, organized for easy browsing (thank you very much), and the house n/a beverage is a sort of punch made from blue corn that appeared on every table once more people began to appear. My server brought me a sample, which I found very unusual and refreshing. But I decided to stick to my prosecco. It was too early not to be drinking.
I think there was a side of rice, too, but who needs to fill up on starch? We gotta do dessert.
The only mishap of the morning was my wine, which was ill-paired with the entree. My fault, though; I chose a Spanish Montsant (review later) which I remembered liking, thinking that the grenache blend would work. It was a bit of a clash with the cream sauce.
After our lunch, we hit a number of fun stores, including Good Vibrations, where we giggled at dildoes and marveled at the un-illegal-ness of open conversation regarding their proper use. See, here in Texas, one must call one's dildo an "educational device", similar to the way a bong is called a "tobacco accessory" in a head shop. I had my eye on a certain model...but after so many urban legends about dildoes in suitcases, I just couldn't do it.