We came, we saw, we ate, we ate some more, we ate yet more, we went home and took a nap. Somehow we have managed to live here for two years without realizing that this was a thing. Serendipitously though, we took one of our frequent trips to 4505 Meats to indulge in the wonderousness of their chicharrones; one of the world's most unhealthy food substances which means, of course, that it is also one of the world's tastiest. We also staved off starvation with one of their marvelous meat presentations (Rachel's favorite is the Frankaroni, which is fried macaroni and cheese stuffed with pieces of their bacon studded hot dog. Yes, it does taste as good as it sounds and yes, it will pack on the pounds if you aren't careful). But I lost my train of thought in the midst of my rhapsodizing over 4505's food. Right, the 6th annual SF Street Food Festival. On one of these trips to 4505 Meats, we were presented with a napkin that advertised said event and so we marked our calendars.
The San Francisco Street Food Festival. What is it? Frankly, it is the greatest concentration of good food on the planet (okay, so there might be exceptions but I can't think of any off hand). It is a six block long strip (with more on the side streets) of food trucks and booths from area restaurants with an emphasis on those who sell their goods, quite literally, on the street. It was started by La Cocina, a group whose goal originally was and still predominantly is to help low-income immigrant women sell their food products. They offer a great many services to individuals hoping to earn a better living doing what they do best: cooking. The Street Food Festival started as a block party that, because this is a city full of food obsessives (of which we are two), and hipsters (not guilty), sort of mushroomed into something much larger. How much larger? 6 city blocks, around 90 vendors, and approximately 50k people larger, that's how much.
The set-up: Each vendor offered three items, one small bite, one large bite, and a beverage (alcohol was served but due to legal restrictions, the alcohol spots were in separate, fenced off areas) with costs for each item between $3 and $8. For those of you who don't live in or near San Francisco and, therefore, cannot know how insanely expensive food is in this part of the world, I will tell you that those prices were rock bottom bargains.
The food: We, with the help of a friend, ate more food than was entirely comfortable and we still only managed to scratch the surface. We made a list of places that we desperately wanted to try but either because of an insane line (The Kronnerburger's line stretched half way down the block at 10:30 AM, a full half hour before the event started) or bulging waistlines, we couldn't get to a great many of them. The food itself hit on just about every culinary tradition in the world with a heavy representation of Latin American (this population making up the bulk of the low-income immigrants in the city) and Asian food (this population making up a large portion of the residents of the city). We were especially excited about Little Red Riding Truck (German), because of the fact that they were selling currywurst and about the empanada offerings.
What we managed to eat before giving up in defeat: Our first stop was for El Sur's empanadas. We had an Empanada Caprese (ripe, heirloom tomatoes with basil and mozzarella - the best empanada caprese Rachel says that she has ever had, including at several well known places in Miami) and an Empanada de Tira (Malbec braised beef ribs with caramelized onions, served with chimichurri sauce - the empanada was a new kind of incredible and the chimichurri was excellent though the empanada didn't need it. We took it home to enjoy later). Then we stopped at The Whole Beast for the Berber Spiced Lamb. The lamb was excellently spiced and the vegetables that were wrapped up with it were suitably cold (this is no small feat, by the way). As for the sauce… slightly spicy, runny (we made rather a mess with this entree), and absolutely divine. Our only quibble, in fact, was that it was wrapped in what is called “California Lavash“, which neither of us are particularly fond of. This is largely the fault of where we were born. Rachel comes from Ohio, which has a large Greek population. She, therefore, favors the lovely, thick pita shaped breads that they use to serve souvlaki and even gyros. I come from Germany, where the Turkish population serve their döner (very similar to a gyro but with different spices and sauce offerings) between a Turkish “flat“ bread (it is flat but it is also very thick and does contain yeast in some form or another) that they slice ¾ of the way through and then stuff with all of the makings of the perfect sandwich. “California Lavash“, on the other hand, manages to have less flavor than a Mexican flour tortilla.
Feeling quite full at this point but determined to persevere, we made our way to The Little Red Riding Truck. I devoured the currywurst, which Rachel doesn't like for the sauce (somehow she's not fond of the sauce, spicy and a little sweet), with the help of our friend. She opted for the Schnitzel Sliders with German Potato Salad and we shared an Apfelschorle (apple juice mixed with sparkling water - very refreshing on a hot day, which it was… at least for San Francisco). Now we come to the only disappointment of the day. Rachel adores schnitzel and she likes proper German potato salad. She says that the schnitzel slices were too small compared to the bread so that, in the end, it tasted like bread with a hint of pork flavoring. As for the potato salad. Well, she loathes pickles (she was a very picky eater as a child and I have won her over to the wonders of many of the foods she came to Germany still hating like sausage or sauces with mustard in them. She still can't abide the smell of sauerkraut, or the taste of pickles though. I'm working on it!). Well, all of the varieties of German potato salad she had encountered to this point consisted of potatoes and onions and were served room temperature. It is the habit in certain regions of Germany though to mix the potatoes with pickles and to serve it cold. This was the case here. She braved three pickle free bites (she picked the pickles out first) and then gave up. All in all the truck is great and the offerings are of good quality but personal preference didn't match the full oferring in this case.
At this point we decided that we were all badly in need of something to aid in digestion so we headed for Rice Paper Scissors, a Vietnamese pop-up that is quite famous in the Bay Area, in search of Vietnamese Coffee, a strong concoction of very dark coffee and sweetened condensed milk. It is one of my favorite food addictions. On the way I was distracted by the smoke coming from Good Foods Catering. My nose led me to Fried Smoked Chicken with Bacon BBQ Sauce. Words fail me! One of the best fried chickens I ever had! Our friend was distracted by the Fried Breaded Olives from A16. Rachel doesn't like green olives and her comment was, “Man, these are good!“ Hurray for another triumph over her tastebuds. We finally made it to Rice Paper Scissors and though somewhat disappointed initially at the size of the coffee offerings, we found that it was so strong, more would have made us jittery. Our friend also ordered the Fried Daikon Cakes. She tells us that they were amazing but we could no longer breathe so we took her word for it. We did, however, find extra space when she decided to order the Pan de Queijo (Brazilian Cheese Bread) from Kika's Treats. They were served with Tomato Jam, which while good in and of itself was unnecessary to the excellence of the Pan.
Finally, unable to eat another bite, we headed to the sport's court of a school, the location of the beer and cocktail booths. We sat in the sun in a food coma, enjoying a hard cider and then, a beer (well, we didn't share the beer. This is the responsibility of Rachel's sense of smell; she thinks it smells like rotten bread. I encourage her to maintain this particular scent/tastebud aversion because then I always have a designated driver when we are invited somewhere for beers).
At last, we called a Lyft and went back to our friend's house, where we lay on the sofa in a state of absolute discomfort, until about 6 PM when Rachel sat up and said, “I'm hungry. Are there any good pizza places around here?“