Given my age and my size, eating out was fairly easy. And since no one wanted to spend time in the kitchen when s/he could be playing with moi, it was actually the preferred mode of consumption.
Once the Virgin America wheels first touched down at SFO airport, Grandpa picked up us where we headed straight to Mission Rock Resort at 817 Terry Francois Blvd, San Francisco, for oysters, fish tacos and clam chowder. The outdoor patio was warmed by the late morning sun and noisy enough in case I let out a post-six-hour-plane-ride screech. However, like I do every three hours, I continued my East Coast routine of sleep, eat, diaper, a few bats of the eyelashes and repeat. Only to say, I was both predictable and portable.
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| At Mission Rock I not only saw my great-grandfather for the first time but also my first DeLorean-turned power boat. |
After a trolley up from downtown to the San Francisco Fairmont, I also had lunch at the Laurel Court Restaurant. One of my fancier endeavors, yet the lunch time crowd was light, and they had upholstered benches where I spent most of the lunch under a nursing shawl. Mom had timed both meals so I was ready to eat when she was which meant one arm to hold me, one hand to eat and zero distractions. The only trick was ordering food that didn't require any cutting.
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| Laurel Court Restaurant, San Francisco Fairmont. |
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