Anticipating how tired we would be upon arriving in San Francisco, I really only had one thing planned: Pizza. Delfina Pizza to be exact. 

Tired and weary, we worked our way four windy (like, Chicago windy!) blocks towards the extremely tiny, yet busy pizzeria.

At the door we were immediately met with a swell of expectant patrons, equally as hungry and cold as we were. There were twice as many people waiting to get in as there were actually sitting down eating. Delfina is small – with seating for maybe 18 people in the entire place.

But we were determined to stick it out. We wrote down our name on the chalkboard waiting list and passed our time as only true tourists can – staring at each and every pie that passed us.

Finally, after twenty minutes, we were invited to sit at the “counter,” the less desirable section of the restaurant. I don’t exactly understand why though– we got a behind the scenes peek into the kitchen while we dined. I can check “watch someone stuff a canolli” off my bucket list now.

Great pizza. Great wine. Great conversation. Great start to the week.


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