FINGER LICKIN' GOOD

SPORK. Not only is it a perfect metaphor for human existence, it's a really good restaurant right here in San Francisco.
It happens to be in the old Kentucky Fried Chicken building on Valencia Street, which makes sense of course - KFC being early pioneers of the spork-as-eating-utensil technology.

Let's see, despite any insecurities I may have had about the hipness factor (moderate) and misgivings about their "slow food in a fast food shell" philosophy, I was pleasantly surprised with the simple decor and simply delicious food.
We had the airiest dinner rolls to start off. They are $0 dollars, come sprinkled with sea salt and a side of whipped honey butter, and all you have to do is ask for them. They will bring more if you ask again. Still $0 dollars!
We also shared calamari with crispy brussel sprouts (yum), and housemade gnocchi with ricotta in a light tomato sauce (more please).
Both excellent and fresh, just like the cute--but too waifish for my taste--waiters.
For the main stuff, D had halibut, newly single Sara (holla) had scallops and I had the wild mushroom pasta. Mine was the only dish that was slightly off...the fresh pasta was lumped up and a little too greasy, but it was way better than a 12 Piece Original Recipe bucket combo for sure.
We had to try dessert given how smoothly things were going down the hatch, so we got beignets and an order of "Elvis has left the building." Yeah, dumb name but smart flavors...a homemade peanut butter cup with ice cream, caramel sauce, bananas and salty nuts. Peanuts! Hubba hubba.

Yours Truly, The Colonel