Molinari's Deli, San Francisco

We just, y'know, stopped off in San Fran for a few minutes. Checked in downtown, had a look around.

Ran smack into the 57th annual North Beach Street Fair. Shit. So much for showing someone all the little places I used to love around here. People were lined up 6 and 8 deep to get mediocre hot dogs.

At Molinari, there were people waiting, but it wasn't out of control. I always loved Molinari. It's one of the few remaining outposts of Little Italy; Chinatown is still crawling up its ass but doesn't seem to have made progress in the last 10 years since I lived down the street (Taylor and Lombard, just down from the crookedations).

They still have cans of tomatoes, a big selection of decent cheese at good prices, lots of good oil, plenty of Italian sweets and snacks, and even planks of genuine bacalao (however you say that in Italian).

Wait, and lots of ham and salami? And bread baked in the neighborhood? That gives me an idea. Let's get a number, wait in line, and pick up provisions.

Hitch a ride back to SFO with my friend Mona

make like Tattoo ("De plane! De plane!" That reminds me, I downloaded a season of Fantasy Island a couple months ago. It was horrendous.)

Pick up some wines once we're inside the TSA fortress, unwrap our garlicky salami, imported prosciutto, and 'sweet' gorgonzola (good thing it's not an enclosed space here, because that's all smelly stuff)

and voila! My neighbors love me!
(415) 421-2337

Much as I'd like to, I really can't claim credit for picnicing on a plane. I was reading Calvin Trillin's Alice, Let's Eat earlier in the trip and there's a great segment where he spends several days and $130 2011 dollars buying provisions to eat by himself on a flight to Miami (there's a snippet here). His food books were a seminal influence on my development as an eater. The arrogant look here is perhaps more homegrown.