Chick N Coop

Time Dilation, Hof Brau, & Boomer Salad

Chamaca is staring at my wife, motioning with her spoon towards the jello in the small plastic cup on the table. My wife reaches for the jello and from the corner of my eye I see Chamaca quickly lean forward and start to undo the shoulder straps in the stroller, she’s itching to get out. My wife and I survey the dining room and then look at each other and shrug, thinking, “meh, why not let her out to roam?” Chamaca takes one last bite of jello as we put her shoes on. As soon as the harness buckle snaps loose she slithers her way out of the stroller and stands up, takes a beat, and then poof, she’s off to the races. I guzzle my beer and my wife motions for me to stay seated, she’s on chase duty for now. I lean back and return to the conversation with my in-laws. The owner of the restaurant comes out of the kitchen with a large tray of salad and brings it over to the serving line. On his way back, he stops to chat with my in-laws, who have been patrons of his family's restaurants since the Bush administration (Senior, not Junior). My wife walks over and joins the conversation as they talk about people they know. This is a very San Francisco thing because although it’s a densely populated city, everyone somehow still knows each other or has a friend or relative who they mutually know. I watch Chamaca eat an old cracker she found in the seat of her stroller and smile at her. I’m having a good time just sitting back and watching all of this unfold before me. It’s a chilly Sunday Night at the Chick n Coop in Daly City. These Sunday night dinners remind me of being back home in Los Angeles with my family. As I reminisce, a news clip comes on the TV about the fires in Los Angeles and I feel grateful that my friends and family still have their homes. Chamaca puts her chin on my knee and looks up at me, she wants more jello. I oblige. 

The word January comes from the Roman God Janus, who is said to have had 2 faces, one looking forward and one looking back. A duality of sorts, depending on how 2024 was for you, the potential for this year can be amazing, or amazingly bitter. Los Angeles is burning, the political landscape is changing, our future can seem bleak or bright, depending on your views. Regardless of what’s happening outside, I feel that duality as Chamaca is approaching her 2nd birthday. A transition from a babbling baby, to a walking, talking, personality filled toddler. Every morning, when I pick her up, she feels slightly heavier and longer, and it’s easy to feel the passing of time slipping through my fingers quickly. But what is time, other than a social construct created by humans to better organize our lives? Two years for Chamaca can seem like an eternity, as her understanding of time is limited based on her experiences. But two years for a grouchy, approaching middle aged man can feel like cars speeding around you on a freeway: everything passing you by as you struggle to keep pace. The older you get, the more you perceive time as moving faster. But how can you slow it all down? My friend Dana once told me that if you fail to mark your life with events, then at the end of the year you’ll look back and wonder where the hell the year went. Dana told me this after he showed me a list of every Slayer show he ever went to dating back to 1984. Almost 35 years of shows and he had a story for every one of them. I didn’t know it then, but he was giving me the formula for time dilation relative to a mosh pit or (time = distance / speed + elbows to the face)

The Chick N Coop is the kind of a place where Charles Bukowski would suck down a beer while picking horses for the day's race. The racing form dotted with BBQ sauce and transparent with light grease from the succulent ribs. Or the kind of place Anthony Bourdain would edit his memoirs while enjoying a turkey leg with extra jus, cigarette dangling from his lips. As you enter through a door that is always propped open, to the left you’ll see a buffet line reminiscent of your childhood cafeteria. But don’t let your memories guide your judgement as you approach the glass and grab a tray. Because waiting for you behind the glass sits large cuts of pastrami, roast beef, corned beef, whole succulent chickens, spare ribs and turkey legs. A cornucopia of monumental meats so majestic, tears would run down Salt Bae’s glistening cheeks.  

After the gentleman behind the glass has cut your protein, you can choose a starch like mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, corn or beans. Follow in line and you’ll be taken to the cold items like salad with red onions, tomatoes and cucumber tossed in a tangy but balanced vinaigrette. Or opt for potato salad, mac salad, or to be honest, any salad behind the glass is going to taste like a deli from the 1950’s or your boomer grandma’s Sunday night dinner. Delicious. 

The Chick N Coop is stuck in time in the best way possible. Stepping through the door takes you back to a time when sitting around the table and talking to each other was the highlight of your day. In a place like this time almost becomes tangible, like something I can reach out and pluck or hold. The tables are not sticky, the booths are worn but still look clean and new and nothing has dust on it. And yet, there’s a tinge in the air that this is the kind of place that holds a special magic. It’s the same magic that Chamaca has in these early years. Bright eyed, hopeful, energetic and in tune with the world. I pray that all of us as humans can someday remove these blinders that we have placed on ourselves and look at each other with awe instead of dread or disgust in the coming years. Look at each other through a child’s eyes with wonderment and excitement for the future. The same way Chamaca puts her chin on my knee asking for more jello. With hope.

Chick N Coop

7370 Mission St, Daly City, CA 94014