Pasta Pomodoro in North Beach

Today, Shu and I went to North Beach because she wanted to introduce me to San Francisco's 'Oldest Italian Restaurant' on Union Street across from Washington Square. I dropped her off at the address and found a parking space within 2 minutes. As I eased in to the parking spot, Shu called and informed me that the restaurant had moved to Mason Street. So, I picked her up and we drove to Mason street where we found out that they were still closed due to a last minute fire and move situation.

So, we decided on whim to go to Pasta Pomodoro that's catty corner from Washington Square. This time, it took me 45 minutes to find a parking space as I vultured around someone who had parked in front of a church. Make note that I had found 2 parking spaces 30 minutes into the search but that you're not going to find me parking on a narrow streeted hill that's has a 60 degree tilt.

As I sat down at the restaurant, Shu had our main seafood pasta ready and was eating a cup of Minestrone soup. The waiter came by and I ordered a bowl of Tortellini with braised beef and spinach. MMm, doesn't that sound tasty? Well, he brought me a bowl of Minestrone and I didn't realize it until he had left and I'd had a spoonful(I thought at first that maybe tortellini could be as green as celery). I'd thought about fighting it but decided that fate had set in and I don't like the idea of returned food being wasted. Shu, on the other hand, notified Jennifer, our new waitress, that it was the wrong soup but by then I had almost eaten it all and declined the offer for a new soup.

We continued eating and Shu was making pessimistic remarks about how she thinks all San Franciscoans are unreliable. I fiercely debated her against her few experiences and that she can't judge the whole population of a city based on 2 or 3 bad apples. She relented a bit, but I don't think she ever quite gets that a few experiences with a few people don't justify absolute stereotyping. Anyway, our waitress overheard Shu say something to the effect of, "they're unreliable" as she was walking up and I had the slightest impression that the waitress might have mistook a different conversation topic. The staff of the restaurant then proceded to come back and forth to us at least 5 times to make sure we had everything we needed and refilled my water 3 times. Jennifer smiled a great smile and tried to make our experience the best.

As Jennifer picked up our plates, she accidentally knocked the table cheese onto my shoe. It was quite a little giggle for me that they were tiptoeing on glass when my personality is a granite slab. Later on when we asked for the bill, I saw Jennifer ask the blonde manager to talk over our bill and then she handed it to us without any mention of her extra credit work to remove the charges for my soup. I thanked her twice with big smiles when she brought the check and the credit card back. And as I walked back across the street to get the car, I had some hearty little laughs at what we do sometimes in the service industry to make people happy, even if they're not unhappy.