Mean Streets

I bought this great 24 x 30" oil of these young ladies in the mission district yesterday. I believe that they may be girl scouts trying to sell some cookies. A man came by and told me that the location was 18th and South Van Ness in the Mission District of San Francisco. Whiz Burgers is in the background. I think that the feel of the painting is early seventies from the cars and the brushwork.

I can't make the signature, something like Juva maybe. The seller told me that it was purchased from a gallery originally. Kind of Hopper meets Thiebaud. Really dig.

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Last night Melissa and Gary came down to the South Bay to join me for dinner. We picked an old warhorse, The Iron Gate in Belmont. The Iron Gate is one of those elegant restaurants of yesteryear where tuxedo clad staff deliver old world service. Decidedly Ratpack. It is the kind of place to take your parents, something I did when my father was able. 

Salads are made tableside and lots of dishes are flambe'd. Foster, Jubilee, curbside caesar's. Chateaubriand. It is a charming place to enjoy a swank evening. 

Last night we started off with escargot, which was delicious. Gary and Melissa split a spinach salad which was torched tableside. I had a great bowl of minestrone. They brought out nice blackberry sorbet's between courses. We ordered our entree's and then things started to get weird.

There was a couple sitting right behind us with serious issues. He was a thirtysomething mediterranean sort that might have driven a Transam or Vette. Ring on his thumb, a real dandy. Very well dressed but quite subordinate companion in a black and white houndstooth coat. The vibes were getting really bad as he started letting her have it. Very dark cat. They ordered steak diane and then decided they didn't want it, than they did again . He decided to be a nasty prick. People started turning their heads. Suddenly it rose to a crescendo as he started pounding his cutlery on the table shouting "fuck, fuck, fuck!" The poor girl paid the bill and hustled him out as the rest of us shook our heads in bewilderment.

We got our entrees. I had sand dabs that were off menu. My favorite fish, they were lightly battered, flavorful and just perfect. Melissa had a New York steak and Gary had veal saltimbocca. Her steak came out overcooked and she sent it back. The next one was tough. Gary was happy with his dish as was I. 

We ended the meal with delicious soufleés, both grand marnier and chocolate.  They couldn't have been better. Our waiter's were attentive and charming. There is no nouvelle to be found at the Iron Gate. The same chef for the last two decades. Nothing ever changes. A clientele on the far side of the AARP divide. If you want a nice dinner and an old school evening in a classy joint that is showing it's age a bit, check out this neat restaurant. Next time I want to try the Tournedos Rossini with truffles and pate.