Living in China Town this past year has opened my nose to smells that I hadn't fathomed. Plumes of incense and aged green tea waft between columns of spices and unidentifiable dried plant in Chinese medicine shops. Fish markets reek of putrid fish and as fresh Tuna are unloaded off of trucks onto bare pavement, you resolve to thoroughly wash every piece of meat you buy for the rest of your life.
After my year long education in Eastern culture, I've since moved a short walk away and am now enjoying the familial atmosphere of North Beach. It's known as the "Little Italy" of San Francisco and open-air cafes and gelato abound. I produced a piece about the transition between culinary cultures for those of you that can't join me in Washington Square for a cappuccino and gelato, or a glass of wine and plate of prosciutto and cheese.How does that sound?