Red Door Cafe
1608 Bush St. San Francisco, CA 94108
During my last day in SF before the holidays (in a last ditch effort to see everyone), we went to Red Door Cafe, which is now my favorite brunch place ever. They’re pretentious in a quirky, fabulous way - my favorite kind of pretentiousness. There’s always a line out the door because there are a total of six tables in the place. The owner, Ahmed, is a scantily clad flamboyant gay guy with wavy hair. This morning he was wearing his naughty holiday getup: cowboy (girl?) boots, booty shorts, and a Santa apron with no shirt underneath.
You have to pass an interview to get in, and apparently sometimes they do reject people. When he first told us about the procedure, I said “well, duh, you gotta have standards,” and he handed me a doll with a missing leg. “This is your ticket in, honey. Her name is Tanya. Take care of her.” Christopher got a doll with a backwards head, and Wendy got a decapitated doll after he cooed over her outfit. As we were waiting in line, he gave us free tacos and told us that “the fake meat is from today’s special, and it’s called I’m Nothing But a Dirty Vegetarian Whore.” It was amazing - the best taco I’ve had since I left Austin (hello, Torchy’s). That’s saying a lot.
Places that put on a show and and act snooty without being able to back it up with great food irk me the most. In this case, the food was definitely great. Christopher said it was the first time in a long time since he’d been genuinely excited about the food at a new place. I agree… and my “two titties” do too. If you want to know what I’m talking about, go there. Now.