Mission Mission

Ryan Farr, local chef and Mission Street Food pal, yesterday posted step-by-step instructions detailing the preparation of Cured Rolled Face. Much like his Rabbit Head and Lengua Terrine post, this one tantalizes even as it horrifies. Link.

Oh and here’s another variation on the recipe.

Photographer Gretchen Robinette captured a piece of perfection over the weekend. First published by SF Weekly, it quickly took the internet by storm.

Local blogger Megan Allison spread the word, calling it “the new face of irony.” Tim Dickinson of Rolling Stone weighed in, declaring the photograph “a definitional case of the Narcissism of Small Differences.”

And then our very own zinzin came along and delivered probably my favorite commentary yet. If the kid in the picture doesn’t immediately upon hearing his new moniker launch himself into a career in the music industry making records and touring the world as Grand Arbiter of Scum, he’s fooling himself.

Incidentally, this is his second appearance on Mission Mission. I don’t recall whether he was the one that actually uttered the haiku, but he was definitely a member of the crew depicted in Skate-Punk Poetry Overheard Outside the Nice Lady Store.

Thanks, everybody!

Link to photo in Gretchen Robinette’s Flickr photostream.

Update (Tuesday night): Again, I’m not going to censor anybody, but please try to refrain from making death threats or things of that nature in the comments section.

Also, Gretchen Robinette just posted a new version of the photo, properly exposed and with the addition of a second subject, cropped out of the image above. Check it out!

Update (Mid-February): Tim Dickinson changed his Twitter handle, rendering the above hyperlink erroneous. Try this.

Everything is better with bacon on it. Blogs are no exception.

Thanks, Plebiscite and Burrito Justice!

As Becca puts it, “Guatemalan wall; international truth.”

Oh, and, I’m very excited about the new Heartless Bastards album, out tomorrow.

At Artists’ Television Access tonight, Vimeo Community Manager Blake Whitman screens a selection of films originally produced for viewing on the internet. Expect it to be like a screening of YouTube videos, only less dumb and with better picture quality. Link. (Thanks, Eric!)

Joanie Park recommends this installment of Cat and Girl. Good advice?

Note that this is an excerpt. See the whole thing here.

Ok, I take back every bad thing I ever said about Medjool. Friday night, I had maybe the most fun I ever had at a club. That might be because I don’t really like clubs, but whatever.

The girls were smokin hot, the music was sufficiently kitchy, and there was a nice, bloody fight to finish the evening off. There was a mash-up of The Ting Tings That’s Not My Name and Toni Basil’s Mickey. There was M.I.A.’s Paper Planes, Steve Miller’s The Joker, Sublime’s Santeria, and Beck. Old Beck. Like Loser. And of course, Bon Jovi’s Livin On a Prayer, during which the DJ cut out the music at intervals, concert-style, so the drooling and mesmerized audience could yell out the lyrics. My F.O.B. boyfriend could not understand the crowd’s rabid reaction when Aretha’s Respect came on.

In fact, any watcher from the mezzanine above could visually separate the Americans from the foreigners just by paying attention to who was yelling the words and who wasn’t.

When we finally left, we were standing outside chatting when an angry Arab bum rushed a drunk white guy, and then had to be pulled off, kicking and clawing, by three bouncers. Drunk White Guy’s nose was bleeding so bad, the bouncers had to run inside and grab a handful of towels to catch it all. Angry Arab hung around the nabe for no less than an hour more, possibly waiting for an opportunity to finish the fight. I know because I saw him twice more, before and after my 1am taqueria run.

Cleavage, oldies, and a bloody nose. What else could I ask of the Mission?

Back in June of 1995, a fucking fire engine fucking jumped the curb and fucking took out a fucking cafe. From the Chronicle coverage:

A popular Mission District cafe was wrecked yesterday after two San Francisco fire engines collided in an intersection and one sailed into the restaurant’s front windows.

Eight firefighters were injured in the crash and were taken to hospitals. The accident occurred at 5:36 p.m. and tied up traffic in the area for hours.

“It was like an action movie,” said Brent Coffin, 27, who has worked as a cook for three years at the demolished Radio Valencia at the corner of 23rd and Valencia streets. “There was a huge ka-boom, with glass and water from the hoses flying in all directions.”

Link. “Sailed.” Holy Moses!

Thanks, zinzin, for the tip and the badass photo!

Badass photo by Liz Hafalia, I think.

Full text of the report after the jump, just in case that link is some kind of temporary file or something (document begins with “$temp$”):

Update: Better link. (Thanks, Max!)

SF Citizen just ruined my afternoon with this thing, so I figured I’d share the wealth. Click here if god forbid you want to see it way bigger. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m gonna go make a pizza.

Subtlety in Excess just shone a nice spotlight on the photography of Dizzy Atmosphere. Dizzy’s photostream is four decades of street scenes and portraits from the Mission, Greater San Francisco and beyond. Peruse it for a gnarly series on house movers in the Western Addition, tons of great portraits of San Franciscans out on the street, and artful compositions as far as the eye can see.

Original Subtlety in Excess post is here, and note that though they’re headquartered in New York, they took some photos of their own in the Mission recently. See them here.