The previous week wed experience the worst rainy season San Francisco had seen in a long, long time. Buildings by the Bay were flooded at high tide, houses were sliding off cliffs and trees were falling on roads all over the area. In an attempt to stay out of the heavy rain we took them to the Ferry Building to look at the food shops, visit the farmers market and taste some new and unusual things for a few hours. I thought the trip would be a surefire crowd pleaser because one thing I did know about them was that they loved cooking and eating. No dice. Not sure if they werent interested in the exotic shops or werent in the mood but after a pound of dates and a loaf of bread we were out of there.

Wed had a brief break in the weather while walking around the farmers market but by the time we got to North Beach the sky opened up again and it was pouring down. Mr. Ps parents are second generation Italian-American and grew up in the boroughs so I thought wed walk around and find somewhere to get some great Italian for lunch on Columbus, a street packed full of restaurants. Bad idea on two accounts one, we were getting very, very wet because it was just slamming rain and two because it was such a slow day restaurant hostess were standing in open doorways hawking meals with all the subtlety of three dollar whores so when wed stop to get shelter or look at a menu there was someone right on top of us attempting to drag us it their restaurant. Out of desperation we ended up at a small place at Columbus and Green that wed been to before. Where Mr. P and I have always enjoyed the top quality panelle in a no frills setting his parents probably just saw dingy place with a distinct lack of heating. Strike two. After a full leisurely meal and an entire bottle of Pinot Grigio it was still only about 1:30 p.m. in the afternoon, the mood it was not so good.

The rain was still coming down in sheets and Mr. Ps mom wanted to souvenir shop so we ducked into a pottery store which turned out to exclusively sell hand-painted items from Italian artists and featured such bargain buys as a cruet set for $200 and the $1500 fish platter. Once again, not a hit. Then, as we were getting into the car, it started hailing. Hailing big icy pellets, really when was the last time there was an ice storm in San Francisco? Jesus. At least Mr. Ps dad broke off from the group and ran into the deli to pick up prosciutto and cheese snacks and had the chance to speak Roman/Napoli tinged Italian with the counter guys, the one bright spot of the whole day up to that point.

Saturday was also Mr. Ps dads birthday so we surprised him with dinner at a restaurant down by Ocean beach. We had an end of day rally when, thank God, the dinner went well, due to a liberal application of cocktails, a friendly Irish waiter and our birds eye view of a beach party gone awry, which provided absolutely stellar entertainment as a gasoline fueled bonfire released enormous fireballs and plumes of smoke three stories high and it took a good hour for the cops to put and end to it.

Day two summary: hail storm in North Beach thumbs down, Beachfront restaurant, thumbs up. Two days down, seven to go.

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