San Francisco’s King Kobbler is soooooo swoonerific. And I can’t believe it’s taken nine years of me living here before I noticed him in all his gold lame glory!
After spotting him in the street today (and begging Dan to drop me off immediately), I rushed to buy one of his peach cobblers and was instantly dubbed “an official Kobblertron of Kobblertroplis” from the King himself.
This dude is committed to his brand! If gold lame weren’t enough, he’s added extra oomph with a yellow-gold shirt and tie, high-tops with metallic accents, neon orange shades (from the future), an overcoat with gold-gilded cape, a velvet crown, a red carpet and his very own meter-maid truck carting his handmade cobblers.
Cobblers? Because they remind him of his grandmother.
And although he was voted this year by SF Weekly as “best in probably delicious desserts,” he says, “I don’t sell desserts. I sell memories.”
Can’t beat that.