Food

So this is a column for drunkards.
But not a column about drinking. No, there will be no bar reccomendations or drink recipes here. This is about the other times, about those magical, yet sadly non-alcoholic hours between two and six in the morning, when the booze stops flowing and the club trash crawl back to the suburbs, when the doors are shuttered and the lights go out.
This is life Beyond Last Call.

So it seems only appropriate that I would start our journey with one of the most recognizable and universally revered palaces of late night consumption, that tiny beacon of hope on the long deserted shores of the Mission…

EL FAROLITO
Oh yes… And let me just say, if you haven’t ever been there, or worse, never heard of it, well… I’m afraid I cannot, in good conscience, continue to speak to you until you do. It’s at 2777 Mission Street in SF. Corner of 24th. You can’t miss it. Go ahead. I’ll wait…

Breakfast for me is an indulgence, not a necessity. Usually I just have a bagel, granola and yogurt, or cereal if I’m feeling whimsical. And coffee, always coffee. It’s a must. But sometimes, if I drag myself out of bed early enough, I get to go out to breakfast with my parents at one of our many regular spots (after all, the best part of a meal is getting someone else to pay for it.) Here’s a couple of them:

Allison’s - Ventura, CA

This one’s for all of us. Our first open column, if you will, because this is a subject everyone has an opinion about. One of the most contentious subjects in the history of humankind, a subject that has troubled the world for eons, with no clear resolution in sight.

Where should we go to breakfast?