Ending On a Sweet Note
It’s time to wrap up these San Francisco posts and it’s fitting that I end with Hooker’s Sweet Treats, as it was the last shop I visited on the afternoon I flew home.
Located in the Tenderloin district, Hooker’s is a tiny gem of a spot. The Tenderloin is repeatedly described as the worst neighbourhood in San Francisco, due to the ever present addicts, prostitutes, mentally unstable people, etc. It’s intimidating for sure, however, if you pay attention, and act like you live there, it’s really not that bad. (I’m not saying that you should swing down after dark and mingle with the street crowd, but use your head and you’ll find some really great places, as well as, some excellent people in the area.)
I’d sampled Hooker’s salted caramels earlier in my stay and knew I had to check it out for myself. Their handmade dark chocolate covered caramels are exactly the right chewiness, kissed with a mouth watering smoked sea salt. They are worth a trip into the ‘Loin’.
When my sister and I walked through the door, we were met with a warm hello from two fine fellows in the midst of dipping caramels. There was a local girl hanging out drinking freshly brewed espresso and while the guys wrapped up our treats we all got to chatting. I asked if they minded me taking a few photos and snapped away while they suggested a number of their favourite places to eat and hang out in the city. The people of San Francisco are gems themselves and if you’re open to it, will meet some really lovely folks.
Hanging out at Hooker’s made me appreciate and enjoy their salted caramels even more than I did before I’d been to the shop. You know when you fall in love with a new song, then hear or see an interview with the musician and they’re intelligent, humble and whatever other qualities you admire? You love that song even more because it was born out of the mind of a person you can conclude is someone you would like to spend time with. I’ll go back to Hooker’s Sweet Treats again one day.
I left my sister in San Francisco, along with that other cliché thing people leave there.
Photos by Maggie Murphy