bocadillos, or how i learned to kick the tapas trend

i love the idea of tapas. but slowly and sadly, i am arriving at the realization that they don't work well in practice. sort of like marxism. in manifesto form, everyone involved is happy and well fed. in execution, not so much (see: ussr, late 20th century).

well tapas too. is it not every visit to a restaurant that after looking at the menu, you are faced with many more options than you could possibly try? not with tapas. instead, you get a taste of all the dishes that strike your fancy. mix it with a pitcher of sangria, a fex kalimutxos and a cafe con leche after dinner, and not only has your yearning for food been satisifed, but you're just caffeinated and inebriated enough for a night of socialization (and further revelry).

at least in theory. i've given tapas a fair chance. more than fair some would say. in addition to bocadillos, i've frequented esperpento, ramblas, picaro, alegrias, thirsty bear, cesar, cha cha cha and others i'm sure i've forgotten. i'm still waiting to be overwhelmed.

bocadillos has its high points, the foie gras roll and the grilled shrimp with pepper flakes most notably. but it has its low notes as well. the calamari was oversalted and the short ribs didn't fall from the bone when my knife and fork nudged them as they should. considering bocadillos represents the finest tapas san francisco offers, well, perhaps it's best to just stay away. the portions grow smaller, yet the price not to the same extent. the service seems rushed and uneven and the kitchen's execution inevitably tends toward inconsistency. maybe they're just asked to handle too many dishes at once. or possibly, the unshakable hipness of small plates these days means attention to cuisine just doesn't matter much.

whatever the reason though, i think i've finally learned to stay away. let the young urban professionals who populate the in-crowds fill the tapas restaurants; i've got other places to squander my paltry salary.