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I was born and raised in San Francisco. I moved away for college, but I missed home constantly. Some of my peers spent their junior years abroad (JYA). Instead, I did JYH: junior year at home.

That fall, I moved into an apartment with one of my best friends, Nora, in Noe Valley, a different neighborhood than the Richmond district of my childhood. I took classes at the University of San Francisco, worked in a shop on 24th Street, and interned at Zoetrope: All-Story, a literary journal housed in the copper-green Sentinel Building on Columbus Avenue. 
Back in 2008-9, most of the magazine's submissions came in hard copy, and one of my tasks was to go through the boxes of stories that lined the wall from floor to ceiling. During lunch, I wandered around North Beach, another neighborhood I hadn't spent much time in. It was full of SF lorea strange combination of literary history and vaudevillian strip clubs and cafés that sold cannolis along with dark Italian coffee.

I had no idea that the neighborhood, with all of its glitter and seediness, would inspire the story of Klara Gold five years later, when I started writing
The Immortalists. Recently, I returned to the photos I took during my internship, and I was shocked to see that a psychic shop was visible from the Sentinel Building. I can only imagine it was in the vault of my subconscious as I conceptualized a novel that centered on a fortuneteller's prophecies.
All of this is to say that when I moved to Madison, Wisconsin for graduate school, I assumed I'd fly back to San Francisco as soon as I finished. But life surprised me: I met my husband, found a community, fell in love with cheese curds and iced-over lakes. It's been twelve years since I arrived in Madison, a truly lovely place to live. The slower pace has been good for my nervous system, and there's a sense of groundedness that is hard to find in major cities. Madison is the kind of place where you thank your bus driver, can buy a coffee for less than five dollars, know your local farmers in addition to your neighbors. It's far from perfect, but it's still made me a friendlier, gentler person. 

Then came the pandemic, and I didn't visit San Francisco for eighteen months. When I finally made it back, I fell in love all over again. I came away knowing that I had to spend more time there, if I could. I began to fantasize about a long staya month on my own, a kind of DIY writing retreat. My husband, Nathan, generously offered to hold it down in Wisconsin with the kitties. In December, we spent time in San Francisco with my family; then he came back to the Midwest, and I moved into the Airbnb where I spent the next four weeks. 

Most of all, I'm grateful for the privilege of being able to take such a trip. Still, I couldn't help but return to Madison a little tortured. Much of my mind is still in San Franciscowhich is why I thought I'd dub this edition of the newsletter the San Francisco issue. Below are discoveries, recommendations, and more. I hope you enjoy the virtual visit... and that 2023 brings opportunities to connect, virtually or otherwise, with wherever your home(s) may be.

San Francisco Recommendations

I came to San Francisco with a Notes file full of things to do: places to write, neighborhoods to visit, and treats to pursue (like a facialand on that note, Shari Spakes, who is delightfully straight-up and unpretentious, made my skin clear for the first time in my life). As always seems to be the case, I got through about a quarter of the things I'd planned, but I also had all sorts of happily unexpected experiences instead. 

Coffee is an important part of any San Francisco trip. I'm a longtime fan of Andytown, whose locations are mostly concentrated in the Richmond and Sunset neighborhoods, and I recently got hooked on Philz, the only place I've encountered that makes drinks with brewed coffee instead of espresso; the mint mojito and the gingersnap are now my go-tos. But the place where I spent the most time this trip was definitely Saint Frank, where I drank dreamy lattes and edited outside. 

I also had an inspiring writing day at The Ruby (below, top left), a work and gathering space for women and non-binary artists. And though I planned to work at plenty of other places, I was surprised to find that I did most of my writing at my Airbnb (bottom left); how could I beat the light and that view? The only library I made it to was the Mill Valley Public Library (bottom right), my mom's local branch, which feels like a Northern California Hogwarts. I compensated with visits to bookstores: classic City Lights in North Beach (top right), Russian Hill Bookstore in, well, Russian Hill, Folio Books in Noe Valley, Dog Eared Books and Adobe Books in the Mission, and Browser Books on Fillmore. Two other favorites that I didn't have a chance to see this time are Green Apple Books (in the Richmond and Inner Sunset) and The Booksmith on Haight.
I always try to hit my favorite restaurants when I'm in town, which include Ebisu, Eliza's, B Star, Gordo's, La Mediteranee, and India Clay Oven. For fancier fare, I tried and loved Boulevard, an SF classic, and omakase restaurant Robin. I also celebrated my mom's birthday at Zuni Café, a place I hadn't been to in years. Because we were headed to the ballet (more on that further down), we didn't have enough time to get their famous roast chicken, which they make on-site in a brick oven, but the food was still exquisite. I especially had fun breaking bread directly on the table, at their suggestion.   

My Airbnb was in Russian Hill, a neighborhood full of fascinating old buildings and staggeringly steep streets and a particularly San Francisco sense of moody mystery. The nearest thoroughfare is Polk Street, whose quirk and grit prevents it from being as homogeneously trendy as other shopping areas. I enjoyed popping into the vintage store Moody Goosegifty Picnic, and No. 3, a woman- and minority-owned jewelry shop where I found some affordable gold ball studs.  Belle Cose & Molte Cose has a little bit of everything, vintage and new; you can't help but come away with a treasure or two. Across town, I always try to stop into Needles & Pens on Valencia, which carries one of my favorite local clothing brands, Curator SF. And if you like old things as much as I do, I highly recommend a leisurely stroll through Stuff, a sprawling vintage and antique store at the edge of the Mission.

Really, though, the best thing to do in Russian Hill is walk. A warning: the streets are steep, and it took me at least half the trip to make it up Filbert Street without pausing to pant. Take a bluish evening walk around George Sterling Park to famous Lombard Street (below, top left); head downhill to North Beach and go through Chinatown on your way to Union Square, stopping for dim sum on the way; or walk to Coit Tower and down the Filbert Street Steps to the Embarcadero. Elsewhere in the city, start at Andytown on Taraval and trace Ocean Beach (top right) to Golden Gate Park, making sure to see the bison; enjoy the Golden Gate Bridge views along Crissy Field (stop in the Warming Hut afterward!); and wind through the Mission before bringing a burrito (or a Bi-Rite sandwich) to Dolores Park. 

After a long hiatus from in-person yoga classes due to migraine issues—and then the pandemic—I decided that San Francisco would be the perfect place to start up again. I asked my childhood friend Martina Hoshida for recommendations: after years of ballet, we both gravitated toward yoga, and she now teaches in Hawaii. I thought she'd recommend a studio near my Airbnb, but instead, she asked if I'd heard about Yoga on the Labyrinth at Grace Cathedral (bottom left). What more thrilling way to return to classes? I went every Tuesday. With instruction by Darren Main,  different live music each week (I was blown away by harpist Destiny Muhammad), and mats spread throughout the nave, it really was a spiritual experience. I can't wait to go whenever I'm back. 

It had been just as many years since I'd gone to the ballet. As a teenage dance student, I went to see the San Francisco Ballet as often as I could. (Even more performances, I loved the company classes they held periodically onstage for donors; a family friend was a contributor, and she was kind enough to give me her passes.) For my mom's birthday, we got tickets for Program Three of next@90, their 90th anniversary festival. The Opera House enchanted me (bottom right), and so did the balletsespecially Kin, choreographed by Claudia Shreier to commissioned music by Tanner Porter. It felt a time when the perfect piece of art comes into your life at the perfect time. I've been thinking about it ever since.

San Francisco Reads

Reading is one of my favorite ways to travel. Of course, Armistad Maupin's Tales of the City (and its many sequels) are San Francisco classics, and if you do take a real-life trip after reading them, you have to stop by the atmospheric, cobblestone Macondray Lane upon which his fictional Barbary Lane is based. For a more recent novel, try We Run the Tides by born-and-raised San Franciscan Vendela Vida, which takes place in the Richmond district where I grew up (albeit the fancier Sea Cliff part).

When I put out a call on social media for more books set in San Francisco, you delivered. These suggestions included:
And what about San Francisco authors? The city is home to many. My local writer friends include Esmé Wang, Jacques Rancourt, R.O. Kwon, Ingrid Rojas Contreras, and Vanessa Hua, all as talented as they are lovely human beings.

Winter Recipe: My Lentil Soup

I am not a person who is inherently excited by soups. But when it comes to winter lunches, I find them difficult to beat: easy to cook, easy to reheat, and healthy enough to make me feel virtuous before partaking in cheesier, meatier dinner options. I cobbled the following recipe together after trying lots of lentil soups, and it's an easy, reliable kitchen sink favorite.
Ingredients
1 tblsp olive oil
1 celery stalk
1/2 to 1 yellow onion
3 garlic cloves

Salt and pepper
2 c. water, or more
2 c. vegetable broth
28 oz. diced tomatoes 
1.5 c. brown lentils, rinsed
Bay leaf
Thyme

Rosemary
Red wine vinegar
Spinach (optional)

 

Directions
1. Dice celery, carrot and onion. Set oil over heat, then add vegetables. 
Stir until softened, about 10 minutes.
3. Add garlic, salt, and pepper. Stir 1 minute.
4. Add broth, tomatoes with juice, and water, pouring the water into the tomato can first to get any lingering tomato.
5. Add lentils and herbs. 
6. Bring to a simmer, then cook uncovered for about 1 hour, testing for desired softness of lentils.
7. Use a blender (I like an immersion blender) to blend a few cups of soup, until it's slightly less chunky.
8. Add salt and pepper to taste. If using spinach, wash and add. Ladle soup into bowls and add a dash of red wine vinegar.

The great thing about this soup is its flexibility. Everything is scalable (if you love carrots, add more!), and if you don't have the veggies I used, throw in whatever's on hand. It comes out a little bit differently every time, but it's always tasty. And don't skip the red wine vinegar! The brightness of the acid evens out the earthy lentils just before serving. 

What I'm...

Watching: I get no points for originality, but I inhaled the first season of The White Lotus while in San Francisco. I'm now rewatching it with Nathan before we start season two. I loved the ensemble cast and the painfully apt culture satire, though the latter is also the reason that Nathan has termed it depressing.
       "But Nathan," I said, "you're bingeing Game of Thrones."

       "Yes," he admitted, "but White Lotus is realistic."
       Watch at your peril. 
Reading: Michael Zapata and I became internet friends a few years ago, and we’ve been struck since by the parallels between our work and interests. I knew I had to read his novel, The Lost Book of Adana Moreau, which defies description but is about history, stories, parallel universes, Hurricane Katrina, migration, friendship, and survival. 
As I began, I had the distinct sensation of discovering a new favorite writer. His sentences are full of music, pathos, and humor, and they're often daringly long; sometimes I held my breath to see if he could pull another one off, and he stuck the landing every time. The novel plays acrobatically with traditions like science fiction and magical realism, as well as the mythologies of New Orleans, Chicago, and the Dominican Republic. And, like all of my favorite books, this one captures the both/and of existence: how pain and loss are braided with escape, love, and delight.
Knitting: In my last newsletter, I talked about my Myrtle sweater in progress, and she's finally done! In four colorways from the Explorer Knits Ireland Collection, it feels perfectly lacy and moody, a bit of a '40s throwback. I modified the sleeves to three quarter length to match the cropped length, and I've been loving it with high-waisted jeans. 

Orange feels like a quintessentially San Francisco color to me, and while there I knit Olga Buraya-Kefelian's Roku hat (Ravelry/non-Ravelry) in Brooklyn Tweed Ranch 01's Madder colorway, one I've had in my stash for a little while now. It's such a cleverly decreased pattern, the kind of thing that looks simple but is really worth the purchase.
Meanwhile, I'm knitting my second Trompet sweater (Ravelry/non-Ravelry) in the same yarn (Woolfolk Fleck) but a different color than my first: a raisin-y brownish purple. I love my original Trompet and wear it everywhere—the slouchy, cozy cut contrasts with the elegant cables—so I know I'll get good use out of another.
I want these newsletters to feel like sitting down for a cup of coffee with a friend (on a very cozy couch). I'm always happy to hear what you think of them and what you'd like more of, so feel free to hit reply. 
Until spring,
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