Last night, the Nutrisystem diet that I have been carefully following for the past four or five months, the one that has powered me to lose around thirty-five pounds of the world's largest love handles, was strapped to a rocket and shot into outer space.
Yes, it was the visit of Mrs. P's closest friend from the UK that prompted a celebration at the altar of excess, dinner at Spruce.
You can keep your touristy Gary Danko's, and your somber Masa's, your big name chefs and your fifteen minutes of fame-rs. Quince is for me the best restaurant in San Francisco.
It's not just the food - although that is unparalleled - but the service, the comfort, the decor, the experience, even the location - absolutely everything about Quince makes me delighted to have been, and excited to go back.
I won't list our meals - heaven knows there were enough dishes and flavors to give Leo Tolstoy writer's cramp. And I'm trying to avoid saying 'Ambiance', seeing as that word has lost its cachet since cheap advertisers use it to describe everything from airline seats to the average bathroom makeover.
Suffice it to say that dinner was perfect.
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