The cafe is a tiny place, maybe 20 tables, all of which are just big enough for two people.  So if a group of three or more comes in, tables get pushed together.  The floor is cement, and so are the walls, in totally unfinished style.  You can see the big metal I-beams on the roof, bare light bulbs are screwed into sockets, etc.  It's the look of the place, and it works well enough.  I mean it feels a little like you're in a warehouse, but it's sort of cool.

The only real problem is the noise.  Totally bare walls and ceiling absorb no noise, so even with the place less than half full, dad and I were having to almost shout to hear each other from three feet apart. Of course the louder you talk, the louder other people talk, and so on.

Food was good, service was pretty quick, prices aren't bad.

They serve the water in canning jars, which are sort of cool.  Nice to feel the texture of your glass as you pick it up.  Quick with the water refills from an ice-filled pitcher.

The bread before food was very nice.  Focaccia bread, cut into cubes and rectangles, with sprinkled cheese bits (mozzarella?  Parmesan?) and diced red and yellow peppers sprinkled on top.  They serve it with two small plates, and two bottles of oil; olive and balsamic.  You pour those onto your plate and dip the bread into it, making fun swirling patterns of the non-mixing oils.  Very tasty and entertaining.

The menu is all Mediterranean and international cuisine, so pretty interesting stuff.  No cow sandwiches or steak or any of the typical American crap. 

I got free form chicken lasagna, and dad got swordfish spinach salad.

Mine came on a large, deep plate, and totally filled the plate. It was probably 1.5 inches deep and about 10 inches in diameter.  I ate a ton, much more than I do at a normal meal, and still had enough to fill a doggy box.  It was "free form" since they bake it in something else, and then put it onto your plate for the eating.  It was basically pasta with big chunks of chicken, spinach, and lots of herbs, covered by about a centimeter of melted cheese.  Over that was sprinkled more cheese and bits of herb, as well as the red and yellow pepper choppings that came on the focaccia.  All around the rim of my plate, in the nice-restaurant style of making your food visually pleasing.

It tasted sort of smoky; reminded me of a wood fired pizza.  I hadn't had chicken in months, but none of their fish dishes sounded that good, and I love veggie lasagna, so I said what the hell.  I didn't regret it.

Dad devoured his entire salad, which was a mountain of big spinach leaves, shredded cheese and various other veggies, and then two big slabs of grilled swordfish on top.

Certainly beats the crappy mass-produced junk and slow service you get at Chili's, for instance.

The neighborhood the restaurant was in is the big gay area of San Diego.  Not that everyone there is gay, but Hillcrest is the artistic downtown weird person place, and has a high gay population as well.  Nice area, low crime, good for people-watching.  It's one of the older areas of town, and the business district is like a big city, without the skyscrapers. All paved, lots of little stores crowded in on each other, little apartment buildings accessed through a small walkway between two bars, that sort of thing.

I don't like it, personally.  It feels crowded and urban.  Like Europe, w/o the charm of centuries to redeem the concrete and lack of elbow room.  I would never want to live there.  Where I live sucks too, I admit, but at least there are open areas with trees and grass and even if it's just weeds and a rocky canyon side, at least it's not something man-made.

People are always out and walking around there.  Next to the cafe was some sort of bar/night club, little hole in the wall, we could see a long bar and a few pool tables as we walked past.  A gay place I assume, since there were maybe thirty people visible in side, and all were male and about 25-30.  The funny thing was the doorman/bouncer was about four inches shorter than me, and built like a bike messenger.  Skinny little guy, unless he had a double black belt or a gun, he wasn't bouncing anyone.  I thought he was valet parking at first look.

Across the street from there is a big gay nightclub, which I was inside of once, years ago, with two hot chicks.  Yes, there was grinding involved.  I'll write about that at some point.  I have two amusing memories of the place.  One was when the short, butch, lesbian bartender to button my shirt up after I had unbuttoned it since I was hot and sweaty from the dancing, and the two non-gay ladies I was there with wanted to run their fingers over my rippling musculature (back in the days of 250+ sit ups a day). The other was that there were two very short gay men standing against a pillar by the bathroom door, and making out for the entire hour or so we were there.  Just standing, leaning into each other, and kissing.  Which is fun and all, but could you manage it for a full hour in a crowded club?  You can have your partner of choice; it doesn't have to be a short Italian-looking man.

I think I'd want to leave and have some more privacy, take a break to get a drink or dance some, or at least sit down somewhere. They did none of those things, and just kept nuzzling and lightly hugging the entire time we were there. Such dedication.

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