Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
the breadmaker recently built a fancy bakery-cum-tourist sight at Fisherman's
Wharf. There are several places to get sidetracked at this facility, including a not-
so-cheap bistro that catches a lot of business, but self-educators should climb the
stairs to the self-guided museum that charges a few bucks to see. There, in a nifty
bit of marketing, Boudin works hard to conflate its history with that of San
Francisco, which isn't a stretch considering that the bread has been in production
since 1849. You see, Boudin's sourdough relies on a blend of bacteria that, for rea-
sons as yet unraveled by science, cannot survive outside of the Bay Area. Take
some dough away, and the culture dies. That's what gives Boudin sourdough its
distinctive flavor (although, if you're like me, you wouldn't be able to tell it from
another maker's—you'll just know you like it), and why it's thought to taste pretty
much exactly as it did in the gold-rush days.
After the San Francisco history primer comes the main event: You walk along
catwalks over the main baking room, where large Kemper appliances shape loaves,
roll them in metal blades shaped like enormous tulip petals, and then cook them.
Check out the area known, deliciously, as the “Mother Dough Vault,” where bat-
ter descended from the original recipe is stored so that the special bacteria won't
be lost. As you can imagine, it smells divine, and at the end of your tour, you'll
end up in a tasting room where you'll be offered free samples of several varieties
including raisin, multigrain, chocolate, and a sourdough Asiago cheese. I still pre-
fer the plain. You can buy bread on the premises, or head across the street into the
courtyard in front of Pier 45, where a round rotunda-style cafe might have a
shorter line. There's nowhere to buy cut-rate day-old bread, and sourdough isn't
as nice if it's hard and dry, so just pony up the few bucks for the fresh stuff. There
are a few other places to buy Boudin in town, including inside Macy's Union
Square, but this is the most important location for learning about the process. If
you want anything more than a loaf of bread, go to the location at Market and
Montgomery—prices are lower there, including for my favorite: New England
clam chowder in a sourdough bread bowl. Eat the chowder-soaked bread after-
ward—that's the best part.
Although a visit to the one-room
Golden Gate Fortune Cookies Co.
(56 Ross
Alley, off Jackson near Grant;
%
415/781-3956)
is worthwhile, you'll want to
make it short. It's illuminating, from a personal standpoint, to see the workman
environment that produces something so festive. The Asian woman sitting at the
medieval-looking, gas-fired rotary griddle looks distant and possibly depressed. If
you want to take her picture, she insists that you pony up 50¢, and to be honest,
it looks like she could use it. The entire operation, in fact, isn't much more than
a dingy room, painted a sickly green hue and lit by industrial fluorescents. Such
is the no-nonsense environment people have cultivated at this outfit since 1962
to make you your favorite post-meal snack, the fortune cookie. They'll give you a
free, unfolded wafer as an edible souvenir, but I'd buy a sackful of their sweetish
wares for around $3.50, which countless do and then can't figure out how to pack
to get it home without crushing them. Hours vary; go during a weekday for best
results. There is some debate about when and where the cookie was invented, so
I'll just say it has strong roots in San Francisco. Another interesting fact about
them: Because they arrive with the check when customers are about to tip their
server, they almost always only contain uplifting, positive slogans.
