The bad news: the forecast's calling for rain...again.
The good news: our weather is a fickle mistress.
Soon, we know, the sun will come out and stay out. And for when it does, we've found the place you'll want to be.
Introducing Passion Cafe, a new French bistro blessed with something San Francisco is sorely lacking: a rooftop deck for dining under the bare sky.
A few caveats. It's set up on a seedy block of Sixth Street, and the interior is nothing that will impress. But you're there for its access to the exterior—sunlight (or moonlight), fresh air and the ability to shout something from the rooftop if you're in the market to shout something from a rooftop.
Head into the century-old building that was formerly a pawn shop and liquor store, and head up the stairs to the roof. Greenery is sparse right now, and the views are of, well, that seedy block of Sixth, but you can lean back in the late-afternoon sunlight with a croque-monsieur and a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. If you have enough of both, lean back and squint a little, and you'll swear you're in the French Riviera.
Until that rain starts up again.
The good news: our weather is a fickle mistress.
Soon, we know, the sun will come out and stay out. And for when it does, we've found the place you'll want to be.
Introducing Passion Cafe, a new French bistro blessed with something San Francisco is sorely lacking: a rooftop deck for dining under the bare sky.
A few caveats. It's set up on a seedy block of Sixth Street, and the interior is nothing that will impress. But you're there for its access to the exterior—sunlight (or moonlight), fresh air and the ability to shout something from the rooftop if you're in the market to shout something from a rooftop.
Head into the century-old building that was formerly a pawn shop and liquor store, and head up the stairs to the roof. Greenery is sparse right now, and the views are of, well, that seedy block of Sixth, but you can lean back in the late-afternoon sunlight with a croque-monsieur and a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. If you have enough of both, lean back and squint a little, and you'll swear you're in the French Riviera.
Until that rain starts up again.
