Catch-22

I love hitting new restaurants, and we're extraordinarily lucky, not only in that we live in the Bay Area, where you can throw a kumquat in any direction and probably hit an interesting new place, but also that we have lots of friends who love hitting those restaurants with us. People who suggest that hot little Thai place, or that new skewer plate spot, who are adventurous with their orders, don't mind sharing, and most importantly, are willing to wait until we take pictures of the food before diving in.

"Wait, wait," says Ms. Art Attack, slapping her husband's hand as he reaches for a fork. "Don't touch it -- we have to take a picture first."

The waiter is standing over us trying to refill a water glass, but frozen as we try to stabilize the image on our poor little camera. Damn food bloggers -- just take the picture already. Jeez.

So on this trip we had dinner with our friend, Ms. Croix de Candlestick at the new Pacific Catch on 9th near Lincoln.

Housed in the space that was formerly the Canvas --a nifty little art meets cafe place, Catch focuses on, everybody altogether now, seafood. I gather they have a place in the Marina as well, though I've never been there. It's kind of a Chevy's type chain, but they're committed to fresh, sustainable seafood, so we figured it was worth a try.

I wanted to like the place -- it's in a district I like a lot, not expensive and hey, fresh seafood. However...

Light levels were low in this place, so it was hard to get photos of any sort. That must also be why it was hard to get service of any sort as well. The staff seemed nice enough, but though they seated us early while we waited for Ms. Croix to arrive, we were quickly forgotten and it became impossible for us to flag anyone down to even get a glass of water, much less a menu and a drink. My Omnivore and I finally took matters into our own hands and he went and got drinks from the bar while I went over to the hostess and got menus. Sheesh. I know we're in Chevy's land, but, come on, you've only been open two days and we seem to be working in cafeteria style.

Ms. Croix arrived and we again spent some time trying to obtain a drink for her, but the arrival of a third must have given our party the critical mass it needed, because the server finally noticed us.

To begin we got a mix of starters, all decent, but nothing spectacular. My fish filet was a bit greasy, and somewhat flavorless until you added a squeeze of citrus over it. The Sweet Potato Fries were probably the best thing on the menu, but not much else was memorable.

In fact, now that we come to it. I'm racking my brains to recall just what we all had. Hmmmm, not a good sign.