Farmer brown

Last night we hired a sitter, met up with some friends, and headed to Farmer Brown after First Thursday at the galleries in downtown San Francisco. I didn’t see a ton, and this isn’t an art blog, but it ends up I’m a sucker for stories about stolen chickens and photos of tumbleweeds.

So six of us went to Farmer Brown (or, as my dashing husband likes to call it “Farmer John”). One of our group “has peoples” from the South, so pressure was on. She seemed satisfied with her fried chicken and collard greens and macaroni and cheese. My shrimp and grits was really rather fabulous once I removed the shards of parmesan cheese from atop it. I know cheese and grits is a thing, but the parmesan seemed out of place, no? Anyone know more about these things? I do know this: That shrimp was perfectly cooked and then given a nice and comfy bed in some creamy, lovely, stone-ground grits. And that? That was engrossing even as the conversation around me sparkled and flew.

Part of conversation centered on an upcoming spring break trip we’re taking through the Southwest — West Texas and New Mexico to be specific. Recommendations — food and otherwise — would be most welcomed.

p.s. The Dinner Files on sfgirlbybay today. If you like green garlic, that post is for you.