Sunday Brunch

After a long unintended drive through the City and a palpable sense that the other passengers in the car were about to incite a Bounty-like mutiny against yours truly, we stopped for brunch at a place that T and I had been wanting to try for some time, The Magic Flute (link here) in the Presidio Heights area. While the food was a tad overpriced, brunching on their elegant back patio on a warm sunny afternoon more than made up for it. The weather on this particular Sunday was spectacular. Anyhow, their chicken hash and eggs accompanied by an Arnold Palmer (iced tea with lemonade) was definitely a welcome reprieve from my extreme beef overdose from the previous evening. On Saturday night, I had downed a "Sloppy Jose" sandwich (a standard sloppy Joe but with some taco seasoning thrown into the mix) at the Peninsula Fountain & Grill in Palo Alto and quickly followed it up with some sauce-drenched roast beef sandwiches at the Menlo Park Arby's. A bit much? Thomas Jefferson once declared that a revolution every now and then is a good and necessary thing. Just replace "revolution" with "chopped beef sandwich binge" and I would agree wholeheartedly. Anyhow, I didn't have too much to fear as Stanford Hospital (link here), with its excellent cardiology department, was a stone's throw away.