Some Like It Hot

I’ve probably been in love with San Francisco ever since I saw Bullitt as a callow youth. Soon after that I became a Deadhead and the love affair grew; all this without ever having visited the city. Then, maybe two decades ago, I did for the first time, and had the opportunity to visit City Lights. And that, given my love of books, was that. Done deal.

Now, as of today, I have a new reason to keep returning to San Francisco.

Dosa. As in the restaurant on Fillmore named after the South Indian dish dosa or dosai. Absolutely fantastic. Worth going there just for the selection of dosas there:

I went there tonight as the guest of good friends Sabeer and Tania Bhatia, of Hotmail, Live Documents and Nanocity fame. Tania, a Calcuttan like me, told me that the Habanero-Mango Masala Dosa was a must-have. And it was. Absolutely delightful. Good dosa, thin and papery without tasting like cardboard, a fresh potato filling that wasn’t too mushy and liquid-y, a habanero-based sauce to die for, all accompanied by coconut chutney and sambar of a very high order. My starter, the north/south samosas, was also pretty good, but not in the same class as the dosa.

Sadly, the other dish that Sabeer and Tania raved about, the mustard halibut, had done a lateral arabesque off the menu. I hope it returns, at least long enough for me to try it once.

But in the meantime, if you get the chance to go to Dosa, go. It’s worth it.

[And speaking of City Lights: I’ve just found out that Lawrence Ferlinghetti is about to turn 90 next week. And only this week my 17-year old son asked me to get him a copy of Kerouac’s On The Road, which I went and did. I couldn’t find my reading copy. The only other copy I have used to be Robert Pirsig’s; he chose to bind it together with Baron Munchhausen. I found the potential juxtaposition of On The Road, Munchhausen and Zen And the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance too tempting to miss.]