I can be somewhat picky in my restaurant outings, but only in so much as how it comes down to two criteria:
1) Was the food good or better?
2) Did I come out of the meal with the same level of health I had going in?
If a food establishment can meet the bare minimum of those two requirements, I’ll usually be okay with them. If they happen to be cheap and make a good tika masala or burrito, all the more fun.
I’ve found places that have failed these two guidelines, but they were bound to fail. Burrito joints on Capp Street in the Mission are suspect, as well as just about any Chinese restaurant that’s in Chinatown. If you get sick there or find the food to be crap, it’s not a surprise. So, it was with great amazement that Postrio on Post Street was able to fail both of these requirements without my even eating there.
It came down to a time when my mom was in town and her, the girlfriend, and I went out to eat. We couldn’t get in to Canteen because we foolishly hadn’t made a reservation. So, we wandered around a bit and found ourselves in front of Postrio. The menu looked good enough for all our palates, so we wandered in.
As soon as we got in, we felt unwanted. The hostesses at the podium eyed us up and down and just didn’t like us. We asked if they had a table and without really looking down to check they said, “No.” Pretty amazing as it was 6PM on a Thursday. Even more amazing, since I could look in to the dining area and see that maybe 10 of the 180 available seats were full. We quickly realized what was going on and saw we had little choice as the gates of snotdom had closed before us.
It’s rather funny because it’s true, I wasn’t sporting a suit and was wearing jeans, thus looking ordinary. But Postrio is not high dining as I see it. They have entrees that start at $15. Not that that is mark of a spotty restaurant, but it shows that they really aren’t all that to the point where they can charge $50 for a plate of pasta. In essence they had no right to refuse us service, but they did. It’s fine though because I can write about them on my blog, forever refer to them as Posterio, and eat at one of the thousand other restaurants in San Francisco that really are good and want my service even I come in wearing jeans.