Tuesday, March 22, 2011

San Fran Hash (of the potato variety)

I was lucky enough to stop in San Francisco on my way back from NZ recently and doubly lucky to be staying near a corner diner, one that rang true to my perception of a quintessential American eatery. 

As I crossed the threshold into vinyl booths I had a pancake stack on my mind. But being more like brunch-time I ordered a spanish omelette and as the photo tries to attest, it was huge. 


My stomach is usually fairly expandable for a worthy cause but this meal, I simply could not handle. I say I ordered a spanish omelette, but the thing that I directed my energy into finishing was the hash brown. I have always had an affection for a good hash brown. 


I think it is the combination of the satisfying carbs laced with the tastiness of the animal fats used for deep frying that does the job. And the texture. The discernible pieces of shaved potato each a little packet of enjoyment in itself. I just don't feel the same about chips.


There is something very comforting about watching your food being cooked and my seat at the counter ensured not only a prime viewing spot but it also built suspense for what I could already see, smell and hear but was yet to taste. 

Creating a spatial connectivity between cooking and eating is a very clever tool for engaging the restaurant patron. Afterall we don't eat for the mere purpose of filling our tummies, I would like to think that we also eat to indulge our senses, especially so when we dine out. So it was fortunate that the food tasted as good as it looked on the grill and then on the plate. 


The only thing that would have made me happier was if the diner was encased in metal and in the shape of a railcar. But I think the hash brown made up for it.


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