Sunday, May 29, 2016

Mama♥s on Washington Square

♪ "Mam(m)as don't let your babies grow up to be stupid cunning linguists..." ♪

(Of course, it beats letting them grow up to be cowboys and lawyers and such.)

Place: Mamas on Washington Square
Location: 1701 Stockton Street (on the corner of Filbert Street)
Hours: open Tuesday through Sunday at 8:00am
Meal: Apple Pan Dore[1] ~ slices of sourdough baguette with sautéed (I added l'accent aigu there) apples in lemon-butter sauce; a side of Mamas Grilled Potatoes (homefries); a large glassa fresh squeezed grapefruit juice; and, afterward, for a breakfastary dessert, un doppio Espresso e un cannolo at 
Caffè Trieste

(Tomorrow is Memorial Day. So, in remembrance, I decided to go with this newer version of Eric Bogle's "No Man's Land" [aka "The Green Fields of France" or simply "Willie McBride"] for a EweToobular juxtaselection. 

The second video is a nice rendition of "The Last Post" performed on bugle to go along with the reference in the first song.)

Mamas on Washington Square is always a nice place to head to on a holiday weekend (the last time I went there was a year ago on Father's Day; see last 'blog-entry from June 21st, 2015). Apparently everyone and their tourista in-laws had the exact same idea this morning (see the above photo of the line of other idiots that would also have an hour-plus wait to get in and eat [I estimate that those near the end and others that would have been just arriving after I was inside would have anywhere from a two hour wait to possibly a three hour wait... seriously]). Even though I had arrived there at 7:30am (which I assumed would have been plenty early enough to get in with the first wave of ravished touristas), it was 9:00am by the time I had ordered, was seated, and finally had been served. This was by far the longest wait that I had ever incurred there.

Be that (wait as long) as it may (have) be(en), I will get back again one of these days. This place is too good to stop going to (Should that read grammatically correctly as: "... to good too stop going too"?), and there are still a few more good ideas yet from which to choose for breakfast. Ferexample: Mamas Sampler French Toast Plate (which is a trilogy of some of their French toast choices: Cranberry-Orange-Walnut [house-baked bread made with cranberries, fresh orange juice, and walnuts battered in egg whites], Swedish Cinnamon, & Banana-Walnut, covered with bananas & seasonal berries [well, botanically, bananas are a "seasonal berry", themselves]; I even talked the Floridian tourista family that were two behind me in line into getting this dish); Scrambled Florentine (baby spinach, bacon, red onions, and white Cheddar cheese served with Mamas Grilled Potatoes and choice of toast; which I would have ordered without the dead, decaying porcine butt product, of course); Mamas Childrens Favorite (sautéed mushroom, green onions, roasted tomatoes, and Monterey Jack cheese); or (off their Weekend Specials board) Bay Shrimp MOmelette (with asparagus, sautéed mushrooms, creamy Brie & Fontina cheese; again, I would have deep-sixed the dead, decaying marine insects here; I guess they would have to rename this the Bay Asparagus MOmelette for me).

Lil Mamas Update (for what it is worth)

Vince (the guy that I had spoken with last year) was not there this morning, but I asked the front counter-guy (who I know has worked there for many years and is probably another family member of Mamas, anyway) what is happening with Lil Mamas. Well, it looks like Lil Mamas is suffering from the same bureaucratic situation (read: B.S.) as Grits and is currently on hold for any sort of opening. I had walked by there earlier in the morning and it did not look as if it was due to open any time in the near future (meaning it may open up by next year... or not).

the Wild Parrots of San Francisco Interlude

While waiting in line, I saw a good-sized pandemonium (probably eleven to twelve) of the colourful noisy birds flying over Washington Square Park. I explained the story (read: bored the heck outta) of the Wild Parrots of San Francisco to the tourista couple from San Diego that were directly behind me in line. (Sorry, with an hour to kill waiting to get inside, you will have to put up with the likes of me butting into your conversations every so often.) They informed me that there is a similar flock of Wild Parrots that roam San Diego, too.[2] (Sheesh! Like a complete stranger really cares to hear your boring ol' stories, buddy.)

Yet Still Another Shameless Plug of a Friend's Brand-new 'blog-thing 

Completely à propos o' nuthin' (Has anyone ever said: "à propos of everything"?), I have added another very informative 'blog-thing to "My 'Blog List" (along the right side column here). With Summer just around the corner (you just know that bastage is waiting to show his ugly hot and humid face any day now), it's time to think about your home air conditioning and the like. This 'blog-site can be very helpful. It is written/kept-up by a professional HVAC-guy (and I am assured that is his actual title "Professional HVAC-Guy") named Christopher Morin. Chris previous wrote/kept up another 'blog-thing called "Excess Air" (Don't worry it was not a political 'blog-thing.), but has migrated to this new 'blog-spot. Check it out, and if you have any questions, feel free to contact Chris for any information (but please keep it air conditioning and heating-related, ya buncha perverts).


This was served as three long slices of French toast from a sourdough baguette ~ first good omen. There were many slices of (what I guess were Granny Smith) apples on top ~ second good omen. And the last good omen, Damien, was that the lemon-butter sauce was extra tasty and very thick and creamy (I was expecting this to be some kinda thin, runny buttery job). Now this may not be as great as the Pain Perdu at Baker Street Bistro, but I am currently calling this "Best 'New' French Toast Find of 2016". (Okay, it is not really a "new" find, but this was the first time that I have ever tried this dish ~ and I have been going there now for at least twenty years. Is it my fault that their MOmelettes are that good, too?)

For condimentary supplements, Mamas offers just Tabasco® Brand Pepper Sauce (Original Red Sauce) and Tapatío® Salsa Picante Hot Sauce. I used some of my own Fat Cat Chairman Meow's Revenge (Scorpion Pepper Sauce) (Thanks, Greg & Cindy! It looks as if I actually still have one last dosage left in that bottle.) on the potatoes.

I didn't forget to take a picture of the Coffee and cannolo this morning. (Not that a stock photo of any cuppa Espresso and cannolo wouldn't have sufficed.) This cannolo had chocolate chips in it; I like that kind, but my favourite style is just a plain one or one with a candied citrus filling.

"An hour-and-a-half wait to get breakfast! Are you crazy, Brian?! Was it worth it?" Actually, after trying this extremely tasty version of French toast ~ yes (to both questions)!

Glen Bacon Scale Rating
Apple Pan Dore ~ 7.5;
doppio Espresso e cannolo ~ 6.4;
the Wild Parrots of San Francisco (and their cousins in San Diego) ~ 8.5


1. Stupid, useless cunning linguist/pseudo-culinaristic pointer of the day, partie a:

As best as I can figger, "pan dore" should actually be spelled as "pain d'oré" (pronounced: "pen doo-ray" [or close enough, if you say it while holding your nose like a true Parisian would ~ especially while looking down it and trying to explain it all to the likes of an "américain stupide"]. This simply means "gilded bread". The term "pain d'oré" in French is just an alternate way of saying "pain perdu" (or "French toast").

Stupid, useless cunning linguist/pseudo-culinaristic pointer of the day, parte b:

At first, I just assumed this came from an Italian term (see, North Beach was historically predominantly Italiano); where "pane" (pronounced: "pah-nay", not "pain") means "bread", but the word for "gilded/golden" would be "d'oro". So that didn't make any sense either.

Stupid, useless cunning linguist/pseudo-culinaristic pointer of the day, parte c:

Then I figured maybe it was meant to be Spanish (as, I believe, Mamas family was mostly of Mexican heritage). The term for "gilded/golden bread" en español is "pan de oro" (I will let you figure out the pronunciation of that phrase all on your ownsome), but that was also incorrect with the spelling they have on their menus.

(And all of that only took me five minutes of Intro-Net searching to find out just what the heck this meant, of course.)

2. From what I could find, the Wild Parrots of San Diego may be the same breed as our local chatterheads.

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