Next time you come in to Kasa and order a Thalis plate, order one to go as well. If you're having two Kati Rolls, ask for a third wrapped in foil to take home. Call me Christopher Columbus because I've just made a discovery: Kasa's food might be even tastier as left overs than on the first eating.
The spices, which are the magic behind the dishes at Kasa, have had a few more hours (or days) to inform the veggies and meat that they grace. As a texture eater, I'll vouch for improvement in the Karahi Paneer's green peppers, which have softened but maintained their chewy skin. The carrot spears are sweet with the perfume of garlic and the turkey meat crumbles from its kabob patty to reveal the leaves of parsley speckled inside.
Naysayers might counter that I am a leftovers junkie who would prefer to eat my moo shoo pork, pizza, or any other meal on the next day. Say what you will, but for my next dinner party, I'm serving Kasa leftovers!
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Location Scouting on the Third Day of Spring
This week I put on my real estate hat and set out to scout neighborhoods and intersections in SF, a test run for when it comes time to look for a space for my cafe.
Like a scientist, I hunkered down on a corner of Irving and 9th Ave in the Inner Sunset and got to observing. No hypothesis, procedure, or list of materials here, but it was a legitimate study with a clear strategy. The important first step was choosing a comp restaurant, based on concept, cuisine, popularity, ticket price, etc. A patch of cement in front of a storefront on the north side of Irving afforded me a pretty clear view of my comp, Yumma's Mediterranean, across the street. With that variable assigned, I aimed to tick off foot traffic, with one column for every person who walked by the comp, and another for people who actually entered the comp.
I'd come a little unprepared for the sunny day in long pants and a lack of hat which required me to shield face with my scarf. The sun singed my thighs through my dark jeans but I couldn't bring myself to go into the shade (Now that I don't work in an office, I have to embrace weekday tanning!). Sitting there with my shoes off (sorry mom, it was hot) I felt like the kids Joan Didion wrote about on Haight St. @ Ashbury in the 60's. As I people watched, with my new Skull Candy headphones taking care of the soundtrack ("Dreams Old Men Dream" by Cold War Kids is my favorite song this week) I wondered how I might be hired as a full-time, salaried location scout.
Every experiment has a sticking point, and for me it was the N Judah Muni line (my personal favorite for its route past doggy Duboce park and all the way west to Ocean Beach) passing by every few minutes and blocking the middle of the street. How could I know, for the moments the train was stopped in front of me, how many people were walking past or going into the comp across the street? In a breakthrough moment that would make Sir Isaac Newton proud I decided to adjust my study to count people on my side of the street for those brief periods.
Now it's time to assess results: In the two hour period of my study, 590 people walked past the comp restaurant, and 45 people walked into it. Is there some crazy mathematical equation that can take data points like the weather on the day of scouting, the day of the week, or which side of the street the comp is on, then input traffic count numbers, and spit out a verdict of whether this location is a good bet for our business?
Like a scientist, I hunkered down on a corner of Irving and 9th Ave in the Inner Sunset and got to observing. No hypothesis, procedure, or list of materials here, but it was a legitimate study with a clear strategy. The important first step was choosing a comp restaurant, based on concept, cuisine, popularity, ticket price, etc. A patch of cement in front of a storefront on the north side of Irving afforded me a pretty clear view of my comp, Yumma's Mediterranean, across the street. With that variable assigned, I aimed to tick off foot traffic, with one column for every person who walked by the comp, and another for people who actually entered the comp.
I'd come a little unprepared for the sunny day in long pants and a lack of hat which required me to shield face with my scarf. The sun singed my thighs through my dark jeans but I couldn't bring myself to go into the shade (Now that I don't work in an office, I have to embrace weekday tanning!). Sitting there with my shoes off (sorry mom, it was hot) I felt like the kids Joan Didion wrote about on Haight St. @ Ashbury in the 60's. As I people watched, with my new Skull Candy headphones taking care of the soundtrack ("Dreams Old Men Dream" by Cold War Kids is my favorite song this week) I wondered how I might be hired as a full-time, salaried location scout.
Every experiment has a sticking point, and for me it was the N Judah Muni line (my personal favorite for its route past doggy Duboce park and all the way west to Ocean Beach) passing by every few minutes and blocking the middle of the street. How could I know, for the moments the train was stopped in front of me, how many people were walking past or going into the comp across the street? In a breakthrough moment that would make Sir Isaac Newton proud I decided to adjust my study to count people on my side of the street for those brief periods.
Now it's time to assess results: In the two hour period of my study, 590 people walked past the comp restaurant, and 45 people walked into it. Is there some crazy mathematical equation that can take data points like the weather on the day of scouting, the day of the week, or which side of the street the comp is on, then input traffic count numbers, and spit out a verdict of whether this location is a good bet for our business?
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Waltzing with Bashir
Today, like the past 10 (or 20 or 50) days, it is raining. It's not only raining, but it's hailing at 45 degree angles. So I canned my plan of checking out cafes in up-and-coming neighborhoods and instead ventured to the Opera Plaza Theater (love it) to see Waltz with Bashir, which has been on my to-do list since leaving Israel.
All I have to say is GO SEE IT. It was overwhelming and it exhausted me. In one scene, Ari Folman (the man behind the movie, and main character) probes Carmi Cna'an, a former Israeli army comrade, about his memories from the Lebanon War. As Carmi looks sinisterly across his expansive property, Ari jokes, "All this from selling falafel?" and Carmi replies "Yes, from falafel". The movie takes place in a surreal, nightmarish universe so different from my life that this conversation stuck with me as the only moment I could relate.
All I have to say is GO SEE IT. It was overwhelming and it exhausted me. In one scene, Ari Folman (the man behind the movie, and main character) probes Carmi Cna'an, a former Israeli army comrade, about his memories from the Lebanon War. As Carmi looks sinisterly across his expansive property, Ari jokes, "All this from selling falafel?" and Carmi replies "Yes, from falafel". The movie takes place in a surreal, nightmarish universe so different from my life that this conversation stuck with me as the only moment I could relate.
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