Holsteins Makes a Vegas Comeback With Over-the-Top Burgers and Boozy Shakes Off-Strip
The new Holsteins opens Thursday, May 29, at 1216 S. Main Street, joining neighborhood favorites like Esther's Kitchen and Main St. Provisions. The signature menu returns, too — including the forager burger, made with a beef-and-mushroom blended patty, creamy steak sauce, a fried egg, Swiss cheese, and marmalade onions, as well as the blackened chicken sandwich layered with bacon, chipotle ranch, and pepperjack cheese. Diners can also find Holsteins' decadent 'Bam-Boozled' milkshakes: boozy concoctions like a cookies-and-cream shake spiked with whipped cream-flavored vodka, and a Nutella and coffee shake with chocolate ice cream. Each one comes piled high with doughnuts, cookies, and marshmallows.
'Holsteins built an ardent fan base while on the Las Vegas Strip,' says founder and Vegas native Billy Richardson. 'Now we're bringing Holsteins home — to a neighborhood that feels like the soul of Vegas.'
The new 2,800-square-foot location sits next to Velveteen Rabbit, marked by the restaurant's signature colorful cow perched above a glowing marquee. Inside, guests will find exposed wood arch trusses, aged brick walls, and curving booths wrapped around a bar tiled in turquoise glass.
Holsteins will debut at 4 p.m. on Thursday, May 29, and will be open daily at 11 a.m. thereafter. Hours are until 10 p.m. Sunday through Thursday, and until 11:30 p.m. on Fridays and Saturdays.
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Read Rebecca Robinson's ‘The Wicked and the Damned' Excerpt, See Cover Reveal
Rebecca Robinson's The Serpent and the Wolf brought us to the wild world of the Dark Inheritance Trilogy as Vaasa and Reid got together and were torn apart. But that wasn't the end of their story. Now the author is back with the second book in the series that throws us back in the middle of the chaos as these lovers try to find each other again against all of the odds. Cosmopolitan has an exclusive first look at Rebecca Robinson's The Wicked and the Damned, which is set to be released on February 24, 2026. Vaasa is being thrown back to Asterya and there is a bigger plan unfolding that can change the empire forever. Meanwhile, Reid will stop at nothing to get his wife back in his arms. With war and power all on edge, how far will these lovers go to return back to each other? Here's some more info from our friends at Saga Press: And if you thought the cover for the first book was stunning, wait until you see the cover designed by Alan Dingman which also features sprayed edges that you're definitely going to want on your shelf. Oh, but we couldn't just leave you with that. Check out an exclusive excerpt below that drops us right back into the story and shows us what happened to Vaasa. Just make sure to pre-order The Wicked and the Damned so you can find out how it all comes together! An Excerpt From The Wicked and the DamnedBy Rebecca Robinson They loaded Vaasa onto the Asteryan vessel, nothing like the fortified transfer boats built for the sole purpose of towing prisoners to and from. This was decorative, elegant—meant for a show. She sat in an enclosed glass cabin, windows wrapping around the entirety of their space and revealing the oncoming city. A boat like this was never meant for long journeys; it was one her father had commissioned, only ever used to sail around the Iron Bay for show. Waves rocked them as they crossed the water in silence. Vaasa pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, silently grateful for the warmth. Ozik sat at a bolted-down wooden table, hands intertwined atop it. Vaasa watched him from where she stood, her back pressed against the single wooden wall. They were entirely alone. 'Why am I alive?' she asked plainly, her voice barely loud enough to carry across the cabin. Away from Vlacik and the other prying ears, Vaasa wondered if she would finally get something real from Ozik. He was brilliant in front of a crowd, entirely convincing of whatever story he wanted to spin. Ozik cocked his head, his brows threading together. 'You are the last remaining Kozár, Vaasalisa. By law, you are to be our empress.' Disbelief wove through her nerves. For six weeks, she had been in that cell, certain that if Ozik wanted her dead, he'd have killed her already. She never would've guessed this was the reason. 'You murdered my father for his throne and his wife, and now you want to place me upon it?' Ozik crossed his arms and leaned back, resting against the bench. 'I killed your father because he was a vindictive fool who took fifteen years to realize his wife was in love with someone else. He could conquer a continent but he couldn't smell the things right under his nose, and that is what happens when someone fails to mind the four walls of their home.' Fifteen years. Ozik had been having an affair with Vaasa's mother for fifteen years? 'I thought you made a bargain with my mother to—' 'I said we made a trade. You must begin listening closely to words; they matter. I did not need to be convinced to kill your father. But your mother and I had a thousand bargains, Vaasalisa. And she broke one. I hope you do not make the same mistake.' 'Did you need her magic the way you need mine?' Vaasa asked bluntly. Ozik seemed to ruminate on her words for a moment. He ran his tongue along his front teeth, looking smug but impressed. 'Most of the nobles have denied invitations since your brother's death was announced.' 'You aren't going to answer my question?' 'You haven't earned an answer yet.' Vaasa grunted, her body aching as the ship tilted and she tried to remain upright. 'Court has not been held since Dominik left for Icruria,' Ozik continued, ignoring her inquiry about her mother. What mattered was the direction the soldiers pointed their steel—and steel was only an extension of coin. So while the fortress itself had a robust system of guards and the city a coordinated force, the throne had no army without Asterya's nobles. If Ozik didn't have the support of the upper echelon, then he had nothing at all. Likely, they were all lying in wait, wondering if one of them could make a viable claim for the throne. 'That is because you are not a Kozár,' Vaasa finally said. Ozik chuckled. 'Obviously. But their empress has returned. All will go back to the way it's meant to be.' Vaasa crossed her arms. 'A woman has never taken the throne in Asterya.' 'Neither has a witch. Yet you and I are the only people still standing.' 'Do they know what you are?' she dared ask. 'Only as much as they know what you are.' Clearly, Lord Vlacik did, and members of the clergy. How much had her own father known? Whispers of magic had always spread about Icruria alongside its reputation for unflinching brutality, but since no one made it alive past Wrultho or Hazut, the only source of information Asteryans had was their own church. According to the Asteryan clergy, witches were agents of the devil. Vaasa's own father had claimed to be a god-fearing man, had bowed his head in prayer and worked in tandem with the Asteryan clergy. Yet it was possible everything her father had conquered had been the result of bargains made with the man sitting at the table before her. Of the very magic he had claimed to despise. 'Is the archbishop in support of the experiments Lord Vlacik conducts?' Vaasa asked. Ozik scoffed. 'If the archbishop knew half of what happened in this city, he would burst into flames.' Mekës was the center jewel of a bloody crown. While her father had made the city seem one of pure grandeur, Vaasa knew the maker of most livelihoods lay in the seedy underbelly of an empire—the city's slums, brothels, and gambling houses were always full, even if the streets seemed clean. Vaasa shifted her weight, her legs still weary beneath her. 'So if you reveal what we are, they will hunt us down for it. The clergy will make examples of us both.' 'The worst part about being an emperor is that everyone knows you are an emperor,' Ozik agreed. Frowning, Vaasa realized what he intended to use her for. Her eyes flicked to the approaching city, all sparkling granite and sharp iron. 'You're going to make me a figurehead. That's what you did to my father, wasn't it?' Ozik chuckled. 'It's truly a relief to be back in the presence of someone worth partnering with. Your brother had half your potential.' Frustration curled in her stomach at the mention of her late brother. Thoughts of Dominik washed over her, and Vaasa tried to shake the image of his severed head in her hand. She looked back to Ozik. 'The nobility will never agree. If you place me on the throne, you're handing Asterya to the Icrurians. That's the law.' Ozik shook his head. 'The archbishop has already signed and delivered the dissolution. You are no longer married to Reid of Icruria.' Vaasa froze. She hadn't been prepared for what the sound of Reid's name would do to her. What it would be like to hear an entire nation attached to him now—no longer of Mireh, but of Icruria. He had been elected Headman. 'What?' she managed through her tight throat. 'He breached his side of the marriage agreement when he attacked Asterya.' Ozik spoke as if it were obvious. A wicked pulse skipped in her chest. Reid had attacked the border. Ice threaded in Vaasa's tone. 'Who gave you such authority?' Any moment she let herself think of Reid, the wider the pit in her stomach grew. She felt it deep in her bones; there was no piece of paper that could nullify the choice she had made to be his wife, even if it had taken her longer than it should have to decide such a thing. Still, Ozik wouldn't tell her this information unless he wanted her to know it. They were at war. Ozik had used Reid's aggression to his advantage. But it also meant Reid had crossed the border. Was he coming for her? Could he even survive a full-scale invasion of Asterya? Confidence rode the upturn of Ozik's lips. 'The thing about authority is that it cannot be given. Only taken.' 'Yet you do not take it. You plan to hide behind me,' Vaasa countered. 'A future that is better than any of the options you previously had. Your father would have sold you off, your brother would have murdered you, and that Icrurian would have cast you aside the moment he got his hands on your throne.' 'You're wrong,' Vaasa snapped, her harsh Asteryan consonants making her sound so much like her father. 'It's bold of you to quote the authority of an archbishop who worships a singular, fictitious god while you sit there with my magic running through your veins.' Ozik's smile only widened at her show of anger. 'Believers give deities their power, not the other way around.' With this legal dissolution, Ozik himself was free to marry her; politically, it made the most sense. If he wanted to assure his own rise to the Asteryan throne, he would silence any naysayers if he invoked a law that already existed. 'If marrying you is your suggestion, I will die first.' Ozik's nose scrunched in disgust and he shook his head, his white hair brushing his shoulders. 'I helped raise you, Vaasalisa. There are certain evils I would never think to commit. You will have a choice. The lords will come, and we will remind them that you are the only legitimate path to the throne, and you will pick. Which useless son can we most easily bring to heel?' Her arms went rigid at her sides. Resentment washed over her at this box she had been relegated to. 'You're going to marry me off? Again?' Once more, then, she was to be nothing but a political pawn for the Kozár name. Ozik shook his head in frustration, his jaw tightening. 'You see the world as a chain of events that have happened to you. It's time you start looking at those events as opportunities.' She glared at him, her untamable anger rising to the surface even though she could hardly breathe. The audacity of him, to claim her subjugation as a gift. 'I won't do this,' Vaasa said. Ozik raised a brow. 'Perhaps you would rather marry Lord Vlacik? He's kindly submitted himself as an option.' Vaasa involuntarily pressed herself into the wall behind her. Her voice dropped to a croak. 'How dare you.' 'He's the last living inheritor of his title,' Ozik said. 'And given that his first wife died before they could have children, you two could be of great use to each other.' Vaasa sealed her lips in an attempt to fight off the bile rising in her throat. She worried her legs might give out beneath her. In silence, they passed in front of the city, no doubt gathering the attention of anyone at the port, especially as their boat sailed into one of the largest public docks. Ozik stood from the table with grace, his white cloak falling over his shoulders. 'The archbishop is waiting.' Vaasa tightened her jaw. 'What do you mean?' Ozik crossed the cabin to stand in front of her. 'With your marriage to Reid and the subsequent trade of salt, the floodgate between nations was opened. Along that trade route, the secrets of Western Icruria spread through both nations. You did far too good of a job convincing the Icrurians of your power, Vaasalisa. Now, everyone in this city believes you're a witch. It is your job to convince them you aren't. To convince them it was Reid who cursed you.' Vaasa gaped at him. 'I won't—' Wretched pain tore through her abdomen, and Vaasa gasped. Through the blur of her vision and the tearing deep in her body, she stumbled forward, but Ozik used his free hand to hold her steady. That singular, tangled cord in her body pulled her up as if she were a puppet on strings. Vaasa choked down a sob of pain. 'With our bargain, I do not need any other access point to magic. I own your power. With you as a source, my abilities can be called upon whenever I want.' Vaasa grit her teeth until hurt threaded her jaw. That meant escape was impossible—she couldn't outfight a witch who wielded her own power. 'Fuck. You.' The burning ceased. Disdain coiled across his mouth. 'If we're to have a chance, you must be willing to work with me. In time, you will understand that everything I am doing has a purpose.' Vaasa took a breath. Ozik needed more than just her magic. He wanted to rule Asterya without the title, and she had to admit there was a layer of brilliance to his strategy. He would make all the decisions, take little accountability, and become as rich as an emperor, possibly moreso. Now that he stood so near to her, she studied his middle-aged features. He still looked youthful and alive, thanks to her powers . His skin held far more color than it had that day in Icruria, as if he had been healed from something wicked. She rolled her shoulders back, tilted her chin up, and met his eyes, narrowing her gaze. Ozik didn't seem intimidated. 'It's good to know your spirit wasn't dimmed by a prison cell. Now, come.' He turned and walked toward the cabin's exit, taking each step with grace, his white cloak billowing out behind him as he gestured to the doors. Vaasa stared at him for a moment, the thread of magic between them still running strong. She followed, cloak wrapped tightly around her, thankful for the winter sun poking through the clouds. A sentinel took her hand and guided her off the ship, a look of awe on his features that Vaasa didn't understand. 'Heiress.' He tipped his head in reverence. When the panels of her cloak parted and he saw the tattered clothes beneath, he sucked in a breath. Vaasa covered herself again, though from the corner of her eye, Ozik smirked. The dock led them right into one of the city squares, which sat upon the edge of the water. The winter sun beat down on the open area, the granite of the surrounding buildings shimmering in the rays of light. The Sanctum spanned one side, a large structure that held the chancery and exchequer, along with other important offices for prevalent members of the Asteryan court. The entire back half was under construction, iron scaffolding along the outer walls. On the opposite side of the square stood the cathedral, with a single spire so tall it seemed to tear right through the sky, coupled with a slightly smaller one that held a behemoth clock. The granite exterior of the cathedral was studded with statues of disciples—fishermen who acted as prophets for their Asteryan God, each one maintaining their own portion of the building. In between those two grand structures, the ocean churning as a backdrop, was a stark iron pole. Beneath it, a drain. It was here, witnessed by the church and the state, that criminals were tied to a post and slaughtered. Some were kept there for days or weeks, freezing to death. The energy of the place hummed around them, the feeling of death palpable in the air. Vaasa had never considered herself superstitious, but it was as if she could feel them: each and every life that had been taken in this spot. She'd felt it since she was a little girl. As if the plaza itself held memory in the divots between its cobblestones where blood had run. 'Keep your eyes down,' Ozik instructed as they walked her into the crowded city square. The city guard surrounded her, lines on both sides fending off the hordes of people who yelled and tried to push past them. Their screams and accusations poured over her. The words settled on her skin but never sank their teeth in: whore, wasted, impure, cursed. It was only the last one that gave her pause. To all of them, she was inhuman. A public being, open entirely to their criticism. They didn't care how loudly they spoke or whether they conversed about her and her family like she wasn't there. Vaasa stumbled with Ozik as guards pushed through the swarms of people to create a path. The bellowing screams died down as word of her gaunt appearance spread through the crowd. The insults transitioned to new words: dirty, injured, hurt. These people had no idea she had been kept in their own prison. And she realized. Ozik wanted them to think the Icrurians had done this to her. That Reid had done this to her. Her eyes caught on the iron pole again—and the members of the clergy who stood beside it. Vaasa stumbled backward in an attempt to break from Ozik, but the guards flanking them crowded in closer, containing her. Standing amongst the clergy was the archbishop, who watched with his beady eyes as Ozik led Vaasa up onto the platform with the pole. He looked over her in assessment with cloudy gray eyes. A man in his early seventh decade, he had a wise air about him, further solidified by his silver hair and long, brushed beard. He stepped forward, black robes flowing around him, a jewel-encrusted blade held in his right hand. Before she could scurry back, two other members of the clergy stepped into Vaasa's space. They tore the cloak from her shoulders, revealing her tattered clothing and dirt-caked skin. Vaasa shivered immediately, her body no longer listening to her mind. The crowd began to roar, and the archbishop placed a hand over his mouth. Ozik gripped her wrist and yanked her arm forward. 'Prove to this city that she is no witch,' Ozik said. 'Her curse has been cleansed.' Vaasa fought the urge to bare her clattering teeth. This was a useless test, entirely misguided. Her eyes landed upon the clergyman who had scribbled notes at Lord Vlacik's behest just the day prior. He knew this would prove nothing. Witches bled the same color as anyone. But the archbishop dug the knife into her palm and slashed. Vaasa grit her teeth to contain a pained cry. Red blood ran over her palm and through her fingers, dripping to the stone platform below. A cut that deep would take weeksto heal. 'There is no curse here!' the archbishop bellowed into the crowd. 'After what she has endured, we should welcome our heiress home with open arms. It takes great strength to look the devil in the eyes and refuse him.' Home? This was nothome. Roaring applause and screams filled the square, but Vaasa didn't hear them at all. Bells rang out from the cathedral, the sound echoing in her weary mind. In the haze of the onlookers and the flurry of the guard around her, Vaasa's gaze wandered across the square until it reached the Sanctum, her eye catching the topmost room, which belonged to the Emperor and his family. She remembered being nineteen and watching from that room as they executed a notorious pirate. As the executioner sharpened his blade, every pair of eyes clung to the promise of carnage. That evening, when the nobles and her father celebrated their retribution, Vaasa had slipped into one of the servant's halls with Roman Katayev, the sentinel she had loved for perhaps her entire youth. I wonder if justice is ever that simple, Roman had whispered in Vaasa's ear. She'd wrung her hands, trying to forget the taste of her father's violence and disappointment. It wasn't reserved for only criminals; she had been no stranger to his cruel discipline, nor to Dominik's, but Roman's question had fueled the part of her that had been exposed to enough stories and learning to begin questioning the cruelty of the men around her. Now, as she stared upon that building, shivering in the cold, she retreated to that tiny sliver of light and warmth, escaped into the teenage memory of Roman out of habit. After all, taking refuge in that boy had once been an unbreakable pattern. She'd tried so many times to quit, but every time he had pulled her back in, until her father's simple justice had ended in Roman's death. 'Walk,' Ozik hissed in Vaasa's ear, pulling her back into the present. She stumbled down the platform, the city guard forming a wall around her as the crowd pushed and trampled to get closer. Ozik's narrative was an easy one to believe, and Vaasa heard it whispered in the crowd: he had rescued her from Icruria, from the man who had murdered Dominik Kozár. What a brutal, terrible marriage he had saved her from. Now she was nothing but a damaged, broken victim, harmless in their eyes. Not a witch. Ozik knew something profound about human nature—in order to be considered a threat, power was a prerequisite. To convince these people she wasn't a danger, he had to strip her of it. So here she was, their poor, beloved heiress, bruised and bleeding in the snow. Her clothing torn, dirt smeared across every visible inch of her. Never mind that the freshness of her bruises didn't line up with the time it would take to journey from Icruria to Mekës. That he could have bathed her at any point along such a journey, could have let her keep her cloak to cover it all up. No, these people didn't care. They wanted to be fed fiction. Behind her, the archbishop and his clergy were led into an open-top carriage pulled by two chestnut horses. Ozik remained at her side. He paraded her through the streets, forced her to walk from the public port all the way to the looming Iron Fortress. Every painful step she took, the crowd screamed in performative sympathy. Their voices closed in on her. Instead of listening to them, she went somewhere else in her mind: a new refuge, an escape from this city. The witches' tower in the Sodality of Setar, vines hanging from swaying pots and the smell of parchment permeating every inch of the room. In her mind's eye, she gazed at each shining face of her coven. Suma's salt-and-pepper hair, her graceful smile. Romana and Mariana, the twins that never were, mischievous glances shared between them. Amalie, alive and well, her softness a strength. Melisina, her jade-green eyes and deep carved wisdom. The calmness of her voice as she guided Vaasa toward healing. And then it was a white willow tree, the Icrurian breeze passing over the veranda outside of Reid's villa. Her villa. The home her own great-grandmother, Freya, the very founder of the Veragi coven, had once lived in. Vaasa sank into that vision, pretended she could feel the wind on her skin. The rancid smell of ocean salt turned Icrurian sweet. It threaded with amber. In her mind, she wasn't alone. Arms wrapped around her waist from behind and pressed her into the low stone wall that lined the veranda, surface warm from the sun. Her midriff was bare, loose breeches tied at her belly button. Her inky hair lifted in the breeze. Reid placed his chin on her shoulder. As they neared the fortress, she was still there in another time, another place, another world. And in that vision, she turned her head and laid her cheek against Reid's, neither of them having anything pressing to do but stay right where they were. Excerpted from THE WICKED AND THE DAMNED by Rebecca Robinson. Copyright © 2026. Reprinted by permission of Saga Press at Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved. The Wicked and the Damned, by Rebecca Robinson will be released on February 24, 2026. To preorder the book, click on the retailer of your choice: AMAZON AUDIBLE BARNES & NOBLE BOOKS-A-MILLION BOOKSHOP APPLE BOOKS KOBO TARGET WALMART POWELL'S BOOKS HUDSON BOOKSELLERS GOOGLE PLAY
Eater
a day ago
- Eater
The Best Dishes Eater San Francisco's Editors Ate in July
There's certainly no shortage of excellent food to be found in San Francisco and the Bay Area — but there's plenty worth skipping, too. Luckily for you, Eater editors dine out several times a week (or more) and we're happy to share the standout dishes we encounter as we go. Mentaiko spaghetti at Bon, Nene Dianne de Guzman If you've ever hit the perfect trifecta of a San Francisco moment — friends, perfect weather, great food — it's a testament to what makes San Francisco great. These three elements came together on a recent July afternoon, topped off with an excellent lunch at Bon, Nene in the Mission. The cozy dining room felt welcoming, and it felt like a charming neighborhood spot as diners chatted over their dishes, or locals dropped in to pick up something to-go. The mentaiko spaghetti seemed right for the occasion, and although I initially had worries about the dish — Would I tire of the cured cod roe mix, like any experience of too much of a good thing? — it wound up perfect. The saltiness of the mentaiko was tempered by the use of butter, emulsified into a sauce, clinging to the al dente spaghetti. I worked my way through each bite, and before I knew it, I had polished off the dish, a surprise to even myself. In fact, the entire table had finished their plates in short order, and we walked away impressed and vowing to return. And when I do, this is one plate that will be on the table. Bon, Nene (2850 21st Street, San Francisco) is open for lunch from noon to 2:30 p.m. Tuesday through Friday, and noon to 3 p.m. on Saturday; dinner from 5:30 p.m. to 9:30 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday. — Dianne de Guzman, regional editor, Northern California/Pacific Northwest Barbecue plate at Breakwater Barbecue Paolo Bicchieri I lived it: after two, three decent rips, I carried my seven-footer out of the Princeton Jetty and remembered Breakwater Barbecue's new spacious location was just thirty seconds away. I grabbed a table at the country bar-ish resevoir, a cowboy hat-wearing dude posted up by the smoker in the parking lot, a much more effective advertisement than the peppy sign spinners of yore. Got a half-pound of the brisket, a mini loaf of cornbread, and beans and greens, a medley of Simms Organics Swiss chard, black eyed peas, garlic, and house-smoked sausage. The cornbread was graciously moist, the beans and greens rich and a little sweet, and the meat itself was powerfully indulgent, a rare carnivorous splurge worth the price. It's no surprise to me that the bar and outdoor tables were full, the lazy Friday night energy paired with baseball and pro surfing on TVs above the breezy scene. Breakwater Barbecue (10151 Cabrillo Hwy, El Granada) is open noon to 7 p.m. Thursday through Sunday. — Paolo Bicchieri, editor, Northern California/Pacific Northwest Pistachio baklava at Baklava Story Rebecca Roland You can smell Baklavastory before the tiny sidewalk sign comes into view, an aroma of sweet syrup and fresh-baked pastry drifting out to Harrison Street from the compact storefront. Owner Tolgay Karabulut is usually at the front of the store, handing out samples of his pistachio or walnut-riddled squares of baklava. At the same time, guests decide on a tray to take home. The fatal flaw of many baklavas is too-thick pastry sheets, which turn the entire sweet gummy. But at Baklavastory, each sheet looks almost fragile, strengthened only by the number of layers and semi-sticky syrup. Baklavastory only sells by the tray, which may seem like too much at first, but it's a great excuse to gather friends and share over some tea or plan for a few days of baklava breakfast. The walnut filling is great, but I think Karabulut's pistachio baklava may be among the best preparations I've ever had. Baklavastory (1830 Harrison Street, San Francisco) is open 9:30 a.m. to 6 p.m. Monday through Saturday. — Rebecca Roland, deputy editor, Eater Southern California/Southwest Baby corn at Maritime Boat Club Maritime Boat Club Dianne de Guzman Yes, Maritime Boat Club is a seafood-focused restaurant, but it's the produce that really shined on my first visit. Beautiful slices of tomato paired with torn shiso leaves, balled melon dressed in tiny elderflowers, the entire dish a gentle pond of tomato water, dots of elderberry shrub and olive oil, was just on of quite a few dishes showing off for our region. But of all the summer produce highlighted on the menu, the baby corn stood out most: a plate of baby corn, husk and tiny kernels charred, giving way to tender cobs that provide a sweet, central, toothsome bite. Steamed, shucked, then grilled, gently cooked before being given the confidence of a sear. Crunchy bits of cranberry beans give the corn another dimension of texture, and the corn was accompanied by a burnt ash sauce and a smooth quinelle of Brokaw avocado puree. It made for a lovely addition, but these seasonal gems, under the hands of Maritime chef Felix Santos, was a treat. He says there's a small window to get them, so he can't pass them up when they appear at the farmer's market. If you, too, like me, mostly only ever experience baby corn through a tin can, this will also make you wonder what else you're missing out on. Maritime Boat Club inside Palihotel San Francisco (417 Stockton Street, second floor, San Francisco) is open 5:30 p.m. to 9 p.m. Tuesday through Thursday, and 5:30 p.m. to 10 p.m. Friday and Saturday. — Dianne de Guzman, regional editor, Northern California/Pacific Northwest Strawberries and cream at Friends and Family Paolo Bicchieri The heightening pressure on queer communities in the United States makes the scene at Friends and Family feel all the more significant. That may be a reality or burden not that desirable for the destination bar. But headed over for the first time it was a palpable relief for me and my party, the aesthetics and staff offering a sense of familiarity before the exquisitely made drinks hit the table. Chef Gaby Maeda's dishes across the board landed with all four of us — the sesame-sprinkled onigiri and herby tteokbokki riffs were particular highlights. The strawberries and cream, though, merged the overt commitment to sweetness and Maeda's restaurant chops in fine fashion. Demerara sugar-studded strawberries, held to the surface with a straight-up sour cream, does something special to the soul these days. If nostalgia serves any purpose, maybe it's to remind us of a world that still feels, as poet and writer Hanif Abdurraqib notes. Thanks to Friends and Family for keeping bellies full and hearts beating while so much of our country eats itself. Friends and Family (468 25th Street, Oakland) 5 p.m. to 11 p.m. Monday through Thursday and 5 p.m. to 11:30 p.m. Friday through Saturday — Paolo Bicchieri, editor, Northern California/Pacific Northwest Fishin' 4 Heat from Gigi's Cafe Rebecca Roland One of the best sandwiches I've had recently was from a Burlingame office park. Gigi's Cafe, set on the ground floor of an office building, right across the street from Embassy Suites, is a daytime cafe and sandwich shop hidden on the first floor of an office building. The mostly takeout operation (there are a few seats at the edge of the parking lot) serves a handful of breakfast items like croissants and egg-filled burritos, alongside a comprehensive sandwich menu. As a tuna melt devotee, the Fishin' 4 Heat immediately caught my eye, with tuna salad, pepper jack cheese, avocado, lettuce, tomato, and jalapenos on a craggly Dutch crunch roll. I almost missed the turnoff for Gigi's — a tight driveway at what looks like a dead end — on my visit. Towards the end of the day, the cafe was quiet, with one other diner in the parking lot hunched over a table, caught in a sandwich trance. Unwrapping the Fishin' 4 Heat, it was the size of a small animal — almost too large to hold, but I found a way. The tuna was the right texture, and the cheese did lend a welcome kick. The Dutch crunch fared better than most bread would, doing its best to hang on to the oversized creation. I'm already looking for my next excuse to take to Burlingame and head back to Gigi's. Gigi's Cafe (111 Anza Boulevard Suite 111, Burlingame) is open 8:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. Monday through Friday and 10:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. Saturday. — Rebecca Roland, deputy editor, Eater Southern California/Southwest Eater SF All your essential food and restaurant intel delivered to you Email (required) Sign Up By submitting your email, you agree to our Terms and Privacy Notice . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.
