A fiver gets you a one-pound tub o' salty, delicious swine-spread, made by pureeing the solid byproducts of lard creation (bits of meat, skin, entrails) with olive oil, garlic, and rosemary; slap it on everything from pasta, to toast, to any pancakes who don't also go by "latke".

This corner cafe's slickly done up in reclaimed redwood, and also boasts ornate old-school ceiling fans and a sun-drenched patio area. The joe and espresso drinks're all Ritual, and coming weeks'll see the arrival of specialty sandos, salads, and possibly crepes -- a prospect that gives you Crepe Expectations, but if they don't show, the devastating potential to plunge you into a Crepe Depression. Crepe.

Hat Club's stocking several fitted variations on the old bridge-bearing Warriors logo, including a navy number with gold trim/brim and one in incongruous red/white. There's another in classic yellow/blue with the less-outdated Cali outline/Sacto-star emblem, which said "Warriors" about as well as a jacked blue dude says "Golden State".

Zero blue guys reside at HatClub.com

This local photoblog matches random candids (from parties, street scenes, public transit, etc) with poetically prickish quips that only thinly veil its curator's disdain for everything from Mission fashion (a particularly pauper-chic Missionite hanging w/ friends = "just trying to feed his family"), to Bicentennial Man ("WALL-E started dressing kinda gay").

You're probably already on SexPigeon.org