Since I’m moving from the Financial District to Cole Valley, I thought I’d spend one of my final lunches in my soon-to-be-former neighborhood trying out the café everyone’s been raving about: Myth Café.
Luckily, I rolled in just in time to order a sandwich (be aware: the full menu is only prepared until 2 p.m., though the hours are listed until 4 p.m.). After I was done ordering, I saw a friend who happens to be a wine director for a nearby restaurant. We greeted each other with one of those shoulder-forward, one-armed, half hugs that guys do these days and then he opened his bag as if showing me something that he’s smuggling.
Inside his bag were two half-full bottles of California cult Cabernets: one a Merus and one a 1999 Harlan Estate Red Wine, the cultiest of the cults and retailing these days for about $500 a bottle. Offering the bottle, he asked, "want a glass of Harlan with your sandwich? It's been open a couple of days, but still might be good.” “Alright,” I said, and snatched it.
Back home, I poured myself a glass of the 1999 Harlan and unwrapped the Cuban sandwich from Myth Café. The wine was a tiny bit oxidized, but not too bad. Its slightly jammy, deep black fruit flavors came through strongly, and its notoriously pillowy, ultra-sensual texture was still in tact. However, the real star of the lunch was the sandwich—oh my god, it was good. Easily one of the best sandwiches I’ve had in San Francisco and, frankly, everything on the menu looked tempting. As someone who considers himself a bit of a sandwich expert—since my one year during college working in a gourmet deli in Texas—Myth Café’s sandwiches were mind blowing.
It’s my last day in the neighborhood, and I’m going back . . . .