Tyler Florence’s Wayfare Tavern: An Ode to San Francisco’s Barbary Coast?

by David Farley on
A decade and a half on the Food Network and several cookbooks with his name onthe cover, chef Tyler Florence’s first restaurant, the Wayfare Tavern, has been a hit since it opened in 2010. Reviewers (and even the press material) boast that the handsome teak interior and the menu are an homage to the Barbary Coast. I deviated a couple blocks from the Barbary Coast trail that I’ve been following all month to go find out.

Chef Florence didn’t respond to my requests for an interview, so I couldn’t ask him what makes his restaurant in the former Rubicon space a particular nod to the legendary lost neighborhood and why he did it. The Wayfare Tavern is part of a growing Barbary Coast trend I’ve noticed in the last couple years (more in this in later posts). The dark wood and taxidermy do give it a particularly 19th-century Victorian feel. The food is hearty and rustic and hugely portioned and, from my knowledge, is impossible to know exactly what hungry minors and the newly rich were scarfing down in the mid and late 19th century. The burger, though, was one of the best I’ve had in San Francisco and my dining companion’s pork ribs were fall-off-the-bone tender.

This would have been the place where the newly rich would have come to throw around a few gold nuggets. Today, though, the crowd is mostly bankers dressed in blue polo shirts and khakis. Which, if you think about it, is about as close as you can come to being a Barbary Coast-era nouveau riche.

It’s not likely, though, they’ll let you pay for your dinner in gold nuggets.

Afghanistan reopens tallest mountain to climbers

by Kraig Becker on

In an effort to boost adventure tourism, and show off its spectacular natural wonders, Afghanistan has reopened its tallest mountain to climbers after years of conflict prevented travel in the region. The country now hopes to become a popular destination for mountaineers and adventure travelers seeking new challenges and unique experiences in remote places.

The 24,580-foot Mt. Noshaq is located in the extreme northeastern corner of Afghanistan, falling along its shared border with Pakistan. According to National Geographic, a team of climbers traveled to the mountain in late July to commemorate the reopening by making the first ascent of the mountain by foreigners in more than three decades. Noshaq was climbed by an all Afghani team for the first time in 2009 as well.

Noshaq is located inside the Hindu Kush, a spectacular chain of snow capped peaks that run across much of central Afghanistan and into northern Pakistan. Due to the ongoing conflicts in Afghanistan, however, many of those peaks have been off limits since the Soviet Union invaded back in 1979. Now that a level of stability and security has returned to much of the region, the country is hoping to lure climbers and mountaineers looking for new mountains to explore.

Mountain climbers aren’t the only ones to find new adventures in Afghanistan however. Trekking the Wakhan Corridor has also become an attractive option for adventure travelers looking for an escape to a very remote destination. This narrow strip of land runs between two towering mountain ranges and was once part of the famed Silk Road, an historical trading route that Marco Polo may (or may not) have used when traveling to China. The entire route takes a couple of weeks to complete, during which time hikers cross through high mountain passes, visit tiny villages inhabited by sheep herders, and witness some of the most breathtaking scenery on the planet.

Obviously Afghanistan still has a long way to go to convince travelers that it is a safe place to visit. But by reopening Mt. Noshaq and promoting treks like the Wakhan Valley, they have taken steps to demonstrate to the world that they are a first class adventure travel destination with untapped natural resources for those bold enough to experience it.

I’m definitely ready to go!

[Photo credit: Noshaq.com]

Civil War reenactor injured in groin by his horse

by Sean McLachlan on

Two Civil War reenactors were injured yesterday preparing for a reenactment of the Battle of Wilson’s Creek.

One man playing a Confederate cavalryman got pinned under his horse, while a Union cavalryman got injured when his horse stepped on his groin. Exactly how he got into a position where his horse could do that is unclear. Both were given medical attention but neither was thought to be seriously hurt.

The Battle of Wilson’s Creek was the first major Civil War battle west of the Mississippi. A Confederate army was menacing Springfield and a smaller Union force attacked the rebel camp on the morning of August 10. The Union army was defeated and its general, Nathaniel Lyon, was killed. Both sides suffered heavy losses.

Frank James, brother of Jesse James, fought on the Confederate side in this battle. He and his brother later became rebel guerrillas before ending up as famous outlaws.

Missouri had already been the scene of several small battles and skirmishes, including the Battle of Boonville, the first truly important battle of the Civil War.

A reenactment of the Battle of Wilson’s Creek will take place today through Sunday near Wilson’s Creek National Battlefield.

[Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons]

Echternach, Luxembourg: Non-stop quirks in the Grand Duchy

by Kyle Ellison on

I recently found myself entangled in a linguistic chess match with a Luxembourg waitress.

On a morning stroll of the cobbled avenue that comprises the city of Echternach’s main thoroughfare, the sight of white foam cresting over frosty, oversized beer steins unintentionally drew me to a corner table of an outdoor café. Though a mere 90 minutes had passed since finishing my morning coffee, the lust for some local imbibing had suddenly trumped my desire to explore.

As the blonde waitress casually approached my corner table, I mentally prepared myself for the verbal jigsaw puzzle Luxembourg frequently forced me to construct. Anxiously eying her smiling young face, something about her leisurely stride tipped the scales towards going with French. I decided to strike first.

“Bonjour”, I offered, my American accent completely butchering the romance of it.

“Gutentag”, she shot back, her blonde curls bouncing as she took the final step.

Ugh. German Not my strong suit.

“Gutentag. Bitte ein bier” I countered. (Everyone at least learns how to ask for a beer).

“Oui, une bière” came the half-expected French reply.

She was catering to me. I was catering to her. We had danced a full circle.

Before I could internally translate my next thought, however, I was unexpectedly struck by a hailstorm of guttural syllables. Luxembourgish: a language I didn’t even know existed until I had entered the country three days prior.

“Big”, I sheepishly guessed, my reply in English. We had finally succumbed to our Mother tongues.

“Oui”, she giggled, her blonde locks dancing off in the direction of my incoming beer.And so begins another day in Echternach, a city of 4500 people on the banks of Luxembourg’s Sauer River. Officially, Luxembourg is the world’s only Grand Duchy, though I’m still unsure exactly what that entails. From the marked difference between the opposing banks of the Sauer River, I’m guessing it has something to do with acting remarkably aristocratic. On the other side of the Sauer lies Germany, its riverbank populated by large trailer parks and dingy flea markets. Here on the Echternach side of things, however, there are manicured walking trails and sprawling historical gardens. I figure the difference must have to do with the Duchy.

During World War II, American troops stormed across this river in the epic fight that would become the Battle of the Bulge. A monument to their bravery stills stands outside of town today. A few kilometers from that monument rises the Abbey of Echternach, a massive concrete sanctuary constructed by the English monk St. Willibrord in 698 AD, thereby making Echternach the oldest city in one of the world’s smallest countries.

In perfectly quirky Luxembourgish fashion, for the last 500 years the Echternach dancing procession has taken place each Tuesday after Whit Sunday in the large square fronting the Abbey, though no one knows exactly why they are dancing. A curious celebration that features pairs of strangely clad Luxembourgish civilians hopping and clapping their way down the cobbled streets, the dance is officially recognized on the “UNESCO Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity“.

When not filled with poofy-shirted dancers, an alarming amount of bars and outdoor cafes spring from the town’s two main streets, though this should come as little surprise seeing as the Luxembourgish population potentially consumes more alcohol per capita than any country on the planet. Wedged between the vineyards of France, the Traapist beers of Belgium, and the Oktoberfest mindset of Germany, there really is little room to blame them.

More than a city of dancing and drinking (though really, what else is there?), Echternhach is also regarded as being one of the best places in Luxembourg to embark on the Mullerthal Trail. Tracing the wooded hills for 110km through Luxembourg’s Mullerthal region, the trail passes a number of natural sights that are potentially more fun to say out loud than they are to look at. Places with names like Schnellert (a forest), Schiessentumpel (a waterfall), and Wolfsschlucht (a dramatic stone canyon known as the “Wolves’ Den”), spring up along the trail, all of them part of the remarkably scenic and comprehensive network of trails that criss-cross the forests of the Grand Duchy.

Back at my corner table, a curious clamor in the distance draws my attention away from perusing a pocket map of the Duchy. Cheerily in the midst of draining my second Belgian import, a rogue troop of nearly 30 local children are now marching down the main street beating a variety of drumsticks together in a mal-rhythmic terror. There are no words to accompany their impromptu march, just the clashing of wood on wood and little footsteps moving out of synch across the cobblestone. The blonde waitress shoots me a glance that she has no idea what’s going on either. It seems no one knows, yet oddly, no one seems to care. This is just another morning in Echternach, medieval Luxembourgish city of incessant curiosities.

Portsmouth Square: San Francisco’s Great Hidden Public Space

by David Farley on
When I lived in San Francisco, I walked down Kearny Street past Portsmouth Square hundreds of times, trudging between Market Street and North Beach. I’m chagrined to admit I hardly noticed the square. Elevated in 1960 to make room for a subterranean parking garage, the square has an enclosed feeling to it. Almost uninviting. Which is bad (because you can walk right by without noticing it) and good in that it creates an intimate atmosphere, one of San Francisco’s great public living rooms. Portsmouth Square is really San Francisco’s great hidden public space.

Or so I learned on a recent visit. Since one cannot seek out the Barbary Coast without going to this historic public space, I finally climbed the dozen or so stone steps from Kearny Street and plopped myself onto the square. And what a surprise. The place was crammed with Chinese locals–it borders on Chinatown and the Financial District–many of whom were in tightly clenched circles, energy bursting from each one. Some were squatting in that intriguing Chinese manner, playing a board game called Go or cards. A couple non-Chinese were anchored on the periphery of the square in full lotus position, deep in meditation. Locals strolled by flashing curious looks at them.

Until the 1906 earthquake, this was the center of San Francisco. Instead of being lined by Chinese and Vietnamese restaurants, produce stands, and a Buddhist supply store (I’ll take a large dose of enlightenment and a side of wisdom, please), the square’s periphery was occupied by brothels and saloons. Where the tall, homely Hilton now stands was the first city hall. Minors, liquored-up on bad booze, would loiter in the square, where today Chinese residents are playing cards for money, thus carrying on the tradition of vice (depending, of course, on your definition of it) by making it the city’s only ad hoc casino.

Starting in the 1850s, Chinese immigrants came in waves after waves to get in on the Gold Rush. At first they were welcomed, but when more and more began turning up at the same time the unemployment rate was going up, laws were put into place to restrict and tax them. They persevered and today Chinatown and its particular Chinese-style architecture was a symbol that they intended to stick around a while. And thank goodness for that. After I left the square, I popped into a bakery and bought a barbequed pork-stuffed bun (for just one dollar) that tasted, at least for that moment, like the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life.