Warmth

Decadent memories flutter lightly around me like butterfly kisses, and the city fastens me in its arms. I feast off of the dance in my step, gentle smiles shared between friends, and the ever-climbing click of the cable car announcing the next destination. The entirety of my experience is like a three course meal laid in front of me, each bite worth contemplation, each leading into the next creamy cornerstone. There is nowhere I taste the richness of my experience like the restaurants that become my backdrops. Filled with bubbly birthdays, toasts to tickled-pink triumph, and arrangements of flowers and laughter, I can only describe the taste as warmth.

Part One: A Blooming Breakfast

There is nothing like disgruntled sleepy-eyed souls gathered under one roof, soothed back into the beauty of humanity by the first taste of breakfast. Is it worth a 45-minute trudge through a grumbling city, weaving oneself through coffee breath and watch-obsessed work goers? Is it worth an exponentially growing line of San Franciscans that take this one bite of breakfast and happiness more seriously than most take their jobs?

Absolutely. In honor of a friend’s birthday (and made possible by a sudden class cancellation), two friends and I set our sights on the topic of mystic murmurs throughout the city—Mama’s breakfast diner in North Beach. Known as one of the best breakfast joints in the city, we thought an early wake up call and arrival would expedite our anticipated spiritual experience. Instead we resigned ourselves to the back of a line filled with lip-biting, fluttery customers awaiting their next slice of revelation. As we waited we watched Chinese dance lessons slide elegantly through the park, sword-play grow saucy, and children tug their elderly grandparents along like toys.

   When at last our turn came, a beaming waiter opened the door of the temporary oasis, ushering us in while promising the rest of the line “just one more minute, just one more minute.” A table clothed in sunlight awaited, the warm pressure constant and comforting. Amidst Coca-Cola bottles filled with lone roses and an early morning lullaby of murmured conversation, my friends and I shared hazelnut, chocolate, banana, and raspberry French Toast and an oozing cheeseburger. We let the fruit stain our fingers blotchy red and the grease coat our throats. The sun only added to its richness.

Part Two: Charming Cheesecake

As a sequel to our birthday breakfast, my friends and I set our sights higher—seven floors higher to be exact. We put our name in for the Union Square Macy’s top floor Cheesecake Factory. As we waited we wandered through city streets, poking our heads into coffee shop windows and down alleys where tables stood ready for the next Lady and the Tramp. When our name was called sooner than expected, we sprinted back up the hills down which we had so casually strolled, our sample mall perfumes leaving barely a trace.

When we returned we claimed our seats on the outdoor patio. Around us rose a city airbrushed with the light of dusk. A menu of cheesecakes and creamy feathered coffee awaited us. We decided on a dulce de leche, a pineapple, and a coffee chocolate mix. When they arrived we watched each other carefully position our first bites, rotating each plate slowly and methodically. Each bite was so soft yet so textured by flavor, and even as a fast eater I took time to worship every worthy wisp.

We stayed until dusk turned to dark, watching the lights of the city flicker on like jewels caught in sudden sun. My stomach settled serenely, and my friends remained shrouded in the glow of coffee tendrils and smiles even as the sun sank. It felt as though neither wind nor time could shake us from the top of our peaceful palace, even as the buzz of the city crashed like a wave below us.

Such are the memories, strong and sure, worth reveling in and frequenting when waves crash harder. When my very core warms at the taste of nostalgia, at the sight of a friend, at the stirrings of a city. I want my three course meal to last a lifetime, its presence as pronounced as the sun’s touch on the skin and a city’s place in the sky.