Oh, San Francisco, how I love you...

...but sometimes you crack me up.

I went to dinner with friends a couple weeks ago to a restaurant called Farmer Brown's, or actually "farmerbrowns." It's on a nasty downtown block, and looks from the outside like a real dive (beat-up security gate, papered windows) but inside it's fancy and sleek, with a well stocked bar, specialty drinks, and a good-looking young mostly-black staff. There's a DJ spinning old school jazz and portraits of the usual suspects (Miles Davis, Billie Holiday) on the walls. The clientele, including us, was entirely white and yuppified, though I do take the hippie exception myself. The menu was full of southern style comfort food--the fried chicken is phenomenal, I must say! But aside from the general weirdness of such upscale cultural appropriation, the "black-people-love-us" vibe, here's what really cracked me up. I opened the menu, and the first thing on the specials list was this:

"chicken fried organic wildwood tofu po'boy"

Doesn't that just sum it up?