Mediterranean Russian served by a Spaniard anyone?

Under normal circumstances the Mr. would get in some hot water for suggesting we meet mid day at a place called 7 Pleasures but I had actually heard about the cafe from a Ukrainian gym friend of mine. There is a huge advertisement out side for Piroshki and coffee but mostly they seem to have things like falafel or lamb kofte wraps on the menu. The Mr. and our son had one of each and I had the house salad with grilled chicken - it was all pretty good and we had a nice spot outside (the cafe is on Commercial Street where traffic is blocked during the day ). This is not however why we went there and I don't think the organic salad greens are the reason for some other people's visits either.

There were a couple of eyebrow raising - head cocked-with-eyes squinting moments there that still have us wondering.

For years my friend had encouraged me to call 7 Pleasures ahead of time in order to order golabki, pierogies, piroshki, or any other Russian or Polish soul food my family might be craving. Her friend purportedly cooks so well and so conscientiously (even using organic flour in her dough) that once you taste her food you wouldn't even think of boiling your own potatoes again. Ok then, Falafel and borscht it is we say.

Although they really didn't seem all that busy, they were completely out of regular menus having just seated "a really large party" inside some where not visible to the naked eye. The first waitress (the one the Mr. suggests is probably my cousin because you know we all look alike to him) gave us little folded paper menus - the ones they would put in an outgoing to-go order or annoyingly hang on all the door knobs in the neighborhood. No Polish Potato Products on it. Hmm. Then this gold Nissan (my son recalls it was a late 90s early 2000 model) came driving up the cross street (wait can they do that? people are sitting here!) and out popped a really hairy, burly, bearded guy who left the car running with the driver door open in the center of the intersection while he ran inside 7 Pleasures. "???" I squinted at the Mr. "???" he eyebrow raised right back at me. The guy then hustles back out zipping up a fanny pack he has around his waist hops into the get away car and takes off. Wow, those must be some really good piroshki! A moment later a Homeland Security vehicle drives down the same cross street, and the Mr. and I squint at one another some more. Didn't even know we had any Homeland Security Vehicles in SF.

We inquire of the second waiter (a very tall, fair young man with very blue eyes who sure looked Polish to me) why we don't see and Eastern European delights on the menu? "Oh yes, yes, every body in the Kitchen is Russian or something, I don't know anything though, I don't even speak Russian, I am just here from Spain!" Sure. Sure you are Ivan.

So I guess we will never know the culinary pleasures (are there 7 of them? is that it?I don't get it) of this mysterious Russian cook . The Mr. and I are just not going to Dukes of Hazard it down a pedestrian only street nor risk imprisonment or deportation for a good lunch.