ON HER LAST day in town for How She Spent Her Summer Vacation, Orange Pop wanted to buy a souvenir T-shirt from the Stinking Rose. She wanted the T-shirt to say "Eat Garlic" on it. She didn't care if it said the "Stinking Rose," or even "San Francisco." She just wanted "Garlic," and I took it as a good opportunity to go ahead and actually eat at the Stinking Rose, maybe even say a few words on the subject, right here, right now.

Didn't happen. Instead, the same thing happened that happens every time I get it in my head to actually eat at the Stinking fucking Rose. First, I see from the sidewalk menu that nothing on said menu is under 12 bucks, let alone 10. Then I wander up Columbus looking for somewhere else to eat. Then I realize that all the Italian restaurants in North Beach are about as expensive as Stinking Rose. Then I start to wonder what the hell I'm doing in North Beach anyway, North Beach being no kind of place for a cheap-eats guy in his or her right mind. Then, on the very brink of losing said mind (which is exactly what happens to me if I get too hungry), I stumble into some really cool, really great, and perfectly-affordable-after-all North Beach eatery. In this case: Caffe Puccini, a bright, unpretentious, triangularly shaped hangout with big windows looking onto Columbus Avenue and sidewalk tables with big guys talking loud Italian, for atmosphere.

Now, I don't know Giacomo Puccini from Salvatore Flores, although I'm pretty certain that Salvatore Flores, like Puccini, either is or was at one time a person. Unless I'm mixing him up with that guy who used to coach the Raiders. But Orange Pop, it turns out (and this is exactly why I'm always so proud to have her for a sister) Orange Pop used to do some work for the Cleveland Opera, changing light bulbs and moving ladders and whatnot, so she knows all about Tosca, the Friendly Ghost or Flying Elephant – I forget which.

Myself, I'm more into food than the arts, as you know, so while I admired the beautiful old opera posters and enjoyed the opera music right along with Orange Pop, it was the $8.50 pick-your-pasta, pick-your-sauce special that drew me into Caffe Puccini and made me weep, so long as I was sitting there.

Looks like the pasta dishes are generally $8.50 anyway, but on the specials board you can choose which one you want with whatever: penne, spaghetti, linguini, ravioli, tortellini ... for example; marinara, Bolognese, porcini, Gorgonzola, pesto, carbonara, and rabbit.

"What's porcini?" Orange Pop wanted to know while we were waiting to place our order. You order at the counter, see, coffeehouse-style, and then sit down with a number. Anyway, I was glad she asked about porcini, because now I had the chance to flex my expertise.

"Oh, don't you worry about porcini, fratella mia." I put my arm around her shoulder, protectively. "Even if you weren't a vegetarian, I don't think you'd want to mess with that, given the ethical considerations."

"Which ones?"

"Let's just say," I said, tousling her hair, "that the rabbit sauce I'm about to order with my ravioli will have come from a rabbit that at least lived to be full-grown, or I wouldn't be ordering it. If you catch my meaning."

She didn't, but she stayed away from the porcini anyway, on account of an eggplant sandwich ($6.75) with roasted red peppers, mozzarella cheese, grilled onions, and some other stuff, I think.

I didn't like this sandwich that much, but I'm not the biggest eggplant fan in the world. (That would be Salvatore Flores.) Orange Pop loves eggplant, but her stated reason for loving the sandwich, incredibly, was – and I quote – "it reminds me of French onion soup."

That's good, in my opinion. When sandwiches start reminding you of soup, that's when you know you're onto something. Now if only someone would figure out how to make soup taste like fried chicken. Wait, it's been done: Kara age ramen, remember?

I do.

But let me tell you about the bunny rabbit ravioli, and then I'm out of here. These were big, ricotta stuffed ravs (you can get meat ones, if you prefer) in a meaty, stewed rabbit tomato sauce. And if you've never had shredded rabbit in tomato sauce, over ricotta ravioli ... served with a basket of focaccia strips. At Caffe Puccini. Then, well, you certainly aren't me, are you?

Sal?

Caffe Puccini. 411 Columbus (at Vallejo), S.F. (415) 989-7033. Daily 6 a.m.-midnight. Takeout available. Beer and wine. Credit cards not accepted. Wheelchair accessible.