Quick Bite: Mutual Friend

A friendly name for a friendly place.

It's always fun when I just stumble on a place I've researched and I get to go, "Ohhh, so that's where that is." Today I was stopping off for gas when across the street I noticed Mutual Friend, a newly-opened ice cream shop in Golden Hill, beckoning me with promises of sweet treats. I got the gas pumping and made my way over.

I sampled the Grandpa Badger's Citrus—in part because of the hilariously old-timey name. It's a zesty mix of lemon, lime and orange with a pleasant brightness. For me, though, it leaned a bit too far into orange territory, particularly in the aftertaste. Texturally, at least, all the ice cream I tried was rich and creamy—just the way it's meant to be.

I settled on two other flavors. The Roasted Banana Peanut Butter Cup was very much what it sounded like: It had a very sweet, fruity flavor almost like a one-ingredient frozen banana "ice cream". The peanut butter cup mix-in was a bit on the stingy side, authentically nutty without much in the way of chocolate.

The Happy Camper was definitely the best of the three I tried (and it's seasonal, so get it while it lasts). Essentially, it's "bourbon and s'mores" flavor. They mixed a nice milk chocolate ice cream with a generous helping of bourbon, and the result is sweet, boozy and tremendously good. The only issue, again, is that the mix-in was lacking; I only got a couple of cinnamony graham cracker bits.

For both of these flavors, in fact, a bit more mix-in would have really added some crunch and cut through the sameness of taste and texture. As it is, though, I appreciate Mutual Friend's willingness to experiment with some slightly unusual flavors without trying to completely reinvent the form. It seems they're going for a classic, friendly small-town vibe updated with a touch of modern style, and overall I'd say they've hit the mark.

Score: 7 out of 10 (Very Good)

Quick Bite: Garlic Shack

[Insert vampire joke here]

The restaurant business is tough—and arguably the toughest part to nail is consistency. To maintain a fully stocked inventory, professional customer service and top-notch food quality is an incredible feat of logistics, one that most diners seldom stop to think about.

That's because when a restaurant is run well, they shouldn't have to. Unfortunately Garlic Shack, unfortunately, broke that cardinal rule on the two occasions I tried it.

I walk though the door of the Shack for the first time. It has a funky, grungy aesthetic that matches its name: Wooden picnic-table style seating, corrugated metal sheeting as an accent wall. The words "GARLIC SHACK" are stenciled everywhere. I can kinda dig it.

When I go to order the spicy belly banh mi (#sorrynotsorry), the friendly teen behind the counter informs me they just ran out—like, the minute before I came in. Oops. I reluctantly scan the menu and order the chimichurri steak fries.

They're delicious. The fries themselves are crunchy, greasy and wonderful, topped with a great chimichurri packed full of herbs and vinegar tang. The cheese has that satisfyingly gooey, stretchy consistency. Oh, and of course, there are eleven metric tons of garlic—almost enough to counteract the negative health effects I'm sustaining by consuming a pile of cheese, meat and fried potato. The steak is well-seasoned—even the thyme comes through—but it's cooked nearly well done rather than medium as I asked for. Still, I depart from the Shack contented, with garlic on my breath and optimism in my heart.

I return the next week for another banh mi attempt. Incredibly, it's the same story: They're still out of the pork belly. I ask if there's a specific time this item is available, but the chef apologetically explains through the ticket window that no, this is "just the way it goes," because "everything is made to order." Since this is true of any decent restaurant, I find this rationale... confusing. And anyway, shouldn't you be sure to have enough of any ingredient that's key to three of your menu items?

It's not as good as it looks. Curse my photography skills.

Halfheartedly, I ask for Korean beef noodle bowl. It's... well, it's not great. The tiny spoon I'm given is comically insufficient for the enormous bowl of soup. The noodles are clumped together. The broth is okay, meaty and spicy but quite salty. The bowl feels like it's missing something, and looking back over the menu I realize why: The enoki mushrooms, bamboo shoots and garlic chips are all mysteriously absent.

I don't bother asking about them. I know what the answer will be.

Believe or not, I wouldn't be surprised if I had a good time at Garlic Shack if I ever returned—it's just that the experience is just too hit and miss to know for sure. Their problem isn't that they're incapable of making good food. It's that they haven't learned how to be a restaurant.

Score: 4 out of 10 (Mediocre)