Looking for a hidden gem along the 5? Keep looking. This restaurant isn’t its Google ratings.
The Kitchen at The Mission is nestled in a somewhat odd place—an attractive Mission style building with a gorgeous courtyard, yet almost entirely devoid of other humans. As you enter, you might encounter a series of signs memorializing previous businesses that have graced the space. Tombstones, if you will.
When you reach The Kitchen, you’ll see two sets of outside tables separated by a walkway, clearly enough to seat dozens of guests. There are roughly five four-top black tables closest to the door. On a nice warm day, it would be pleasant to sit outside in the shade, wouldn’t it?
Our visit day was indeed pleasant, and we asked about sitting outside. At least one of the walkway tables was empty, one needed to be cleaned, and every table under the gazebo—just four steps away—was open. We were offered to wait 20-30 minutes for one of these outside tables or to sit inside under the very cold AC or in the Lounge (where, besides a couple having a beer, the bartender, and a whole bunch of TVs, not a single soul could be found).
Asking about the outside tables made us feel like an inconvenience to the host—more “AAAA New York Restaurant In The 90s of course you can’t sit at the nice table” than country hospitality.
We sat in The Lounge, which can probably best be described as a man cave. Dusky lighting, western art everywhere (which was nice!), couches, and a whole bunch of TVs along with a bar. We found a seat and were greeted quickly.
Our server/bartender’s shift apparently ended after taking our order, and we were greeted by another server who asked if we wanted to order (we just had). Despite this hiccup, both were attentive and kind.
The service was a bit odd as the Lounge bartender had to travel all the way down a hallway to the kitchen to retrieve orders, and again to correct mistakes or bring additional items. This made asking for the missing dip for the French Dip awkward because you know the server has to trek all the way to the kitchen to do it. Perhaps bussers weren’t available that day.
The menu is pretty big and on paper, all looks decent. Pricey, but the variety is there—sandwiches, salads, pizzas, soups, and appetizers for lunch.
The decor is definitely workable for the location. American West Kitsch, which can be totally cute, but it’s just not quite “there” in this restaurant. The main dining room feels sparse, the Lounge is dark with a 70s office drop ceiling, and the outside area consists of plain black tables and black chairs. The art is pleasant, though, and the bathrooms are great.
Now, the food itself. It’s pretty easy to forgive a lot about a mid-highway stopover restaurant really trying its best. It’s harder to turn a blind eye to this particular execution.
The pizzas are billed as “Neapolitan” but are about as far from that dish as you can imagine. This is the confusing part. You can easily Google, YouTube, or TikTok what this dish should look and feel like. You can also drive to the Bay Area and actually try it (albeit, for too much money).
It’s a poor regular pizza, just not at all a Neapolitan one. This is the kind of pizza where you get a huge layer of cheese and alfredo sauce, with the toppings just thrown on one side.
The French Dip? Funky tasting dry meat. The garlic fries might be the highlight of flavor for the entire experience but are afflicted by being ultra-greasy.
Deep-fried asparagus? Heavy, greasy batter with limited flavor or seasoning. Tempura or panko would have been a better choice.
People—wherever they live and wherever they travel from—deserve much better food at this price, even if there’s not much around to compare it to.
Just think about how much food you can order for the same $100 at In-N-Out before committing to your own version of...
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