Against my better judgement, I went to Valencia's bougie taco and margarita upstart Tacolicious/Mosto the other night. Mistake!

My friends and I arrived at 7pm and were informed it would be about a 35 to 45 minute wait for a table, which seemed a little high for a slow weekday night.  But they have a bar/holding cell attached to the restaurant, so we figured we'd guzzle some drinks and stand out like a group of broke hipsters in a room full of beautiful people in sports coats.

The initial conversation at the bar went something like this:

“How much for a house margarita?”

“Eleven bucks.”

”Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh do you have something for a guy who clearly can't afford a haircut?”

“Tecates are three.”

“Sick brah.”

Then a Tecate in a wine glass was put in front of my face.  Took one sip.  It was skunked.

Now, I think I've only had Tecate from anything besides an aluminum can once, so I assumed that was how cheap beer in a wine glass was supposed to taste.  But it was awful.  I could feel the muscles in my face wrenching with every sip.  So after conferring on the taste of this atrocity in a glass with my Mission compatriots, I did the unthinkable: I sent the drink back to the bar.

The bartender was apologetic and poured a new Tecate in a pint glass, and the manager even came over to make make reparations in the form of a complimentary margarita.  The margarita sure was tasty, but the new Tecate was just as shitty as the first one.  But not being one for spit in my food, I foraged for a handful of limes at the bar and drank it anyway.

Now, after a couple more drinks, we realized it was already eight fucking thirty.  For those of you who aren't good at math, that means our 35 to 45 minute wait had been crawling along for 90 minutes.  As we were heading out the door to go to Cancun to drink fresh Budweiser and eat tacos like normal people, the hostess grabbed us and let us know our table was ready.

I won't bore you with the details of my admittedly tasty food, but let it suffice to say that I paid $13 for two tacos and complimentary chips and salsa.

The Pickleback, as seen in its native habitat at the Bushwick Country Club.

You've heard of picklebacks, right? A shot of whiskey immediately followed by a shot of pickle juice.  It sounds nasty.  Oh so nasty.  Hell, some people can barely keep their faces from contorting into an unsightly mess after the pairing:

But it's really not that bad.  Wikipedia claims “the pickle brine works to neutralize both the taste of the whiskey and the burn of the alcohol.”  Which, sure, sounds possible.  But as someone who thoroughly enjoys the taste of pickles and puts up with the taste of well whiskey, I can assure you the combo just works.

What's the point of all this, you ask?  Well, Broke-Ass Stuart, whose been tending bar at 16th and Harrison newcomer Dear Mom, is bringing the pickleback to the Mission this and every Wednesday night:

I'm bringing an East Coast classic to the Mission: The Pickle Back!  It's a shot of whiskey with a shot of pickle juice as a chaser.  I'm doing it with Dickle Whiskey, so it's gonna be Dickel and a pickle back for $4.  Plus the best part is that it's gourmet pickle juice: I'm getting my pickle juice from the guys who do the Wise Sons food truck and will be soon doing the Wise Sons deli on 24th St.

Do yourself a favor and give this a try.  Just, please, never wear this hat while slamming them back.

[First photo by Muppitz, Second by Trecarious]

In case you slept through yesterday, the Niners beat the Saints in a 'nail biter' to squeak out their first playoff win in practically forever.  And, of course, the Mission lost its collective shit and it ruled:

This was the scene at Clooney's as soon as the Niner's scored their game winning touchdown. As you can see, the barflies (many of whom were kicked out for being too wasted/too awesome by this point) were more relieved than anything else.

Drumming on giant Tecate cans proved to be quite the crowd-pleaser.

While Mission Street descended into a car-honking, flag-flying, holding-babies-out-of-car-windows parade, some people took advantage of the empty stores and extended their T-Mobile contract.

And finally, before the game kicked off, this Niners fan (sporting a Love Shack cannabis club t-shirt, might I add) fed a dog in a duffle bag some McDonalds.

According to SFist and the Brass Knuckle Food Truck, taker of the above photos, this shitty Lucille Bluth wannabe cut down the beloved tree swing at 19th and Valencia with a box cutter yesterday afternoon, only to then call the cops on the hordes of outraged onlookers, whom she allegedly felt very threatened by.

Reportedly after this box cutter-wielding crazyperson chewed out the swing's defenders, calling them “occupiers” and suggesting they get a shave (perhaps a nice rose-water-and-eucalyptus-infused shave with a neck and hand massage down the street?), the cops let both the tree swing hater and its “harassing” supporters go, citing his unfamiliarity with tree swing laws.

Another day for justice…

[SFist | Mission Mission]