To have eaten at Blowfish on Wednesday, Grand Cafe on Thursday, and Garcon on Friday shows how fortunate we are to live here in San Francisco. It also explains why my flu still hasn't gone away, even though I watered it down a bit by passing it on to one of our Garcon party. Sorry Sue, I owe you a bottle of Benadryl.
David, another member of our group said, while we were supping beers on our deck on Sunday, that Garcon hadn't overtaken Florio as his favorite casual French restaurant in town, and I can see why he says that, seeing as he lives just a few blocks from Florio.
My Garcon experience, Foie Gras in traditional sauteed form, and also mousse, was absolutely stunning, and the Coq Au Vin was similarly top notch.
We're spoiled for genuine French service; we live 2 blocks from Chez Papa and Chez Maman, but our waiter at Garcon gave them a run for their Euros.
I smell a Top Ten coming on.
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