Turf Supper Club, Golden Hills

This is cheating, a bit. I went to Turf Supper Club before I actually decided to start this blog. But it was also the catalyst for me to open up my life and my eating habits to the world.

On my quick driving tour of SD with my friend, V, we drove past here and she was like, "This place is awesome. You can cook your own meat." Although I didn't say anything at the time, I thought, "Why would I want to pay to cook my own meat? I have a barbecue at home."

I was wrong.

We met here about a week after the driving tour for dinner and drinks. It was so awesome. I took her advice and ordered the sirloin, vegetable kabobs, and I also decided to have a cosmopolitan. Girly, yes. Filling, no.

The interior of the place looks like it's been stuck in a time capsule since the 70s. When you first walk in there is a bar that takes up the whole length of the wall. The bartender checked our ids and was very friendly. The eating area is around the corner. There is a cowboy theme on the walls: men riding on bucking broncos, lasso flinging around in the air. Maybe this is all a figment of my imagination because the lighting was so dark, it truly could have been Bert and Ernie, Barney, or just the theme from Toy Story.

There are several rounded booths which are typically reserved for larger parties, smaller crescent booths for two, and tables for two or four. And in the center of it all is the cooking station. A large fire barbecue which could easily hold ten large steaks and some veggie kabobs. I wondered if they had to pay higher insurance since they were allowing idiots like me to barbecue on an open flame. I was sure to burn myself.

We chose our booth and started our drinks. And, you guessed it, the drinks were delicious. V ordered a dirty martini--cause that's the way, uh-huh, uh-huh, she likes it. After a few minutes, our steaks were ready for grilling.

I walked up to the grill, ready for the challenge. I place the sirloin on the flaming hot grill when V adds, "Hey, there's plastic wrap on that." Great. I made the ultimate rookie mistake, and everyone in the room knew that I was the new girl. To comfort me, several people after me seemed to want their steak with a plastic glaze as well.

Near the grill, there is a "flavor station" equipped with Worcestershire, A1, ketchup, season salt, soy sauce, salt, pepper...almost anything that one would want to put on his steak. My biggest complaint is that there was no where nearby to wash your hands. I had to walk to the bathroom, leaving my steak, my veggie kabobs, my cosmopolitan, and my bag at the hands of strangers. But it wasn't crowded.

I'm sure you're interested in the food which was delicious, but this is about me finding San Diego. I have become so comfortable in my little neighborhood, I rarely leave it. I sometimes confuse San Diego with hippies, hemp, and homeless. The Turf Supper Club was nice because I was able to have good conversation, good food, good drinks outside of my comfort zone and for under $25.

V even said, "You should bring Z here." To which I quickly replied, "He is not gonna go for this. He'll say, 'We have a barbecue at home.'" I saved a couple of bites of my steak and some vegetables. After one taste he said, "Hey! We should go here." When flavor overcomes the wallet, you know you've got a good place.


Turf Supper Club
1116 25th Street
92102



P.S. Apparently, I'm not funny enough. I'll try harder.
P.P.S. I didn't burn myself.