Traveler or Tourist?

"Be a traveler, not a tourist." That's the tag line of Tony Bourdain's current show. He goes traipsing around strange countries, looking for what's good (read particularly odd to outsiders) for locals, not the average tourist. His intent is to show that tourist fare is primarily homogenized garbage, leaving you without a real feel for the country or its people.

I spoke with my father a few weeks ago, and he related his stories of business trips to San Francisco from decades past. His key piece of advice was to not walk anywhere. The people who were actually walking at night were the ones that had nothing better to do and no place else to go. He described his brief attempts at being a walking traveler in SF to be an exercise in (sometimes-scary) oddity. There were people who scared you off with odd demeanor, as well as those with outrageously large odor radii. Of course, my dad at the time was walking back to the hotel with as much alcohol as he could carry, at the order of the company-owner's-son-slash-VP for a customer party.

So Sunday night I had a dilemma. Do I venture out on foot to find a meal, or do I hide in a taxi? I wanted to get a feel for the place, but I probably look like a slow moving gravy train to the wrong sort of people, and I'm on my own. I decide on a hybrid approach. I've been wanting to try Roy's since my last trip to San Jose. So, I made a reservation, figuring that I'd get in less trouble if I had a targeted destination in mind. I memorize the turns on my map, as there were only 2 of them, and headed out. I carried only my phone, license, corporate card, and a handful of dollar bills in case an impromptu tip was required.

On the cab ride in, there were some pretty scary folks on the street, and this was daytime. This was maybe a step beyond what I've seen on the far south side of Chicago or in DC. I figured I would just march straight ahead with a purpose. When I stepped out of the hotel, I was pleasantly surprised. The area it's in is the 'Union Square' part of town, which means it's where the high-end shopping is. On my walk, I passed places like Tiffany and Bulgari. The streets traffic was reminiscent of Michigan Avenue in Chicago...a couple of panhandlers but nothing out of hand.

Until I unknowingly passed the restaurant.

The more gleaming facade gave way to an environment where the old, established businesses were struggling, and many others had already given up under the crusing weight of city real estate. There was nothing flashy, just honest. A nice little Japanese place, family owned, that looked far more welcoming than the sterile joint inside the hotel. A Thai place filled with local couples. The local bookstore, independant after all these years. Now, I won't lie to you, there were some shadows down the alleys. I was definitely off the designated path for outsiders. But, it was well populated and friendly on the street without being cloying and commercial.

I did find my way, and I had a spectacular meal. The sashimi plate with house sake was tempting, but I knew I should have my mind clear to walk back. I instead started with Lobster Potstickers, which were interesting but ultimately a diappointment. The outer shell and peanut sauce drowned out most of the subtle notes of the lobster. The main course was a local halibut, pan seared and served with a dashi creme fraiche. The fish was fresh with a hint of sweetness, with the dashi (bonito broth, likely first pass) adding a rich, salty accent. This was accompanied by a rice pilaf made with short, red Himalayan rice with a pleasant, mixed texture. A side of string beans added a strong, earthy counter to the overall richness of the meal. There was also a blanched leek, which I felt only distracted from the rest of the course.

Now, before I even started on my entree, the waiter asked if I wanted dessert, because it would take 20 minutes to hand prepare. I ordered the chocolate lava souffle, which came served on a splash of raspberry reduction with a scoop of vanilla. There are only a handful of ingredients here, but the execution was flawless, including the fresh-from-the-oven molten chocolate core. At the end, just to remind you of the link to the everyday sundaes, there were slivers of ice cream cone hidden under the vanilla.

When the dessert arrived, the waiter brought me a handful of treats on a side plate. He said he had forgotten to bring me a second piece of bread, so he made these as an apology. I should ask busy waiters for bread more often, I suppose. Some fresh berries, along with two tarts and two cookies, all bite sized. The first tart was a standard lemon cream. The second, which I thought was chocolate, turned out to be hazelnut, a nice surprise. A pinwheel cookie, which expected to be chocolate and vanilla, turned out to be chocolate and orange zest. And this finished with a deeply caramelized coconut cookie. This was a wonderful meal compared with the hurried two-slices-of-chicken-on-white I had grabbed from the picked over feeding line as I rushed into the hotel.

On my way back, I took another wrong turn. (Stupid streets that don't meet at right angles...) I was tired and wanted to get back (sleep+21 hours), but I also was curious about what I might find. Unfortunately for the adventurous, all I found were more chain shops, though I now know where the Walgreens is for some Advil, and where Ghirardelli is for Marti's chocolates.

So am I a traveler or tourist? Well, I never was brave enough to wander into one of those out of the way places, but I probably wouldn't have any trouble doing so. That said, this is still the US (sort of), and I'm not sure I'd be so brave if I weren't speaking the language. Only time will tell.