By Paul Reidinger

IF I KEPT a journal, I would note that the spring of 2003 has so far been peppered with visits by out-of-towners, many of them quite hungry. More on this anon. But first – since I have kept a journal only at rare intervals in my life, and this isn't one of them – I must remark here on the freshening effect out-of-town visitors have. They see the city as if for the first time, with delight, and through their eyes the jaded local can enjoy a renewed sense of appreciation, particularly if the weather is fine – clear, with just a slight breeze to prevent overheating, and the whole town looking newly whitewashed as it slinks up and down hills still green with winter.

On such a day recently we set out with an old friend from New York who hadn't been here in years. He was bedazzled, and we were all hungry, and I didn't feel like cooking when there was so much talking to do. Clearly the answer was an al fresco lunch in the garden, with plenty of wine and singing birds; the only issue was the food itself. For this we popped into the Lunch Club and General Store, which is just the sort of place you want to pop into if you're people like us – hungry people in search of quality fast food that suits a picnic for rememberers of things past.

The new place – on a block of Valencia Street that already seems to be almost entirely occupied by food establishments of one sort or another – is, for me, reminiscent of A.G. Ferrari, the local chain of high-end Italian delis, except that it's neither a chain nor, with some exceptions, Italian. On the last point: polenta pizza ($4 for a big square), essentially a pissaladière of caramelized onions and goat cheese, built on blocks of congealed polenta instead of a yeast crust. The toppings were good; the base a bit gelatinous.

Better balanced (and French-inspired) was an asparagus tart ($6 for a slice), essentially a quiche with a fabulous pastry crust that would have done credit to any number of dessert tarts. Macaroni and cheese ($6) was dressed up, very much in the local style, with distinctive cheeses (white cheddar and goat) as well as kale and garlic bread crumbs; I like the idea of these high stylings, but I am not sure they actually improve the dish.

For heft, a confitlike whole leg of chicken ($7), given a Provençal swabbing of honey and penetrating lavender, then roasted. And for health, a navy-bean salad ($4) tossed with leeks and tarragon and dressed with a red-wine vinaigrette; and chunks of roasted beets ($4) – golden and watermelonlike chiogga – basted with some herb butter. The beets needed salt and had been very conservatively roasted, but they glinted like precious stones in the sunshine.

Later the same day. Sunshine has faded to a medium blue evening, and a faint breeze blows. We are not really hungry, but we are not really not hungry, either. On our way to somewhere or other we duck into Jade, the new bar and finger-food palace opened recently by Greg Medow, the man behind Indigo (which is just around the corner). The front window is basically a waterfall, with the water ending up in a wishing well downstairs – at the edge of what amounts to a kind of grotto furnished with lounge chairs. There is also – to complete the tripartite arrangement and invite a comparison to Bacar – a mezzanine.

It is easier to go down than up, so down we go. The bartender is suitably gregarious and bubbling with enthusiasm about Bay to Breakers, which he plans to sleep through. The menu is brief and notably Asian-influenced; everything costs $6. The kitchen no longer uses shiitake mushrooms in the spring rolls, we are told, because they are too rich. We are relieved, and we find the replacement stuffing – shredded cabbage and carrot – to be quite satisfying. The rolls themselves are more tender and pastrylike than the usual very crisp sort you would find in a Chinese or Vietnamese restaurant. The Jade salad, of green papaya, jicama, and mixed greens, has a pleasant cilantro-mint breath and a spicy rice-wine vinaigrette. Ahi tuna poke is served in four Chinese porcelain soup spoons, with a pile of potato chips that remind me of autumn leaves gathering at the side of a street somewhere. The minced fish is spiced up with Fresno chiles and enriched with a soy-sesame dressing; its texture is silken, voluptuous.