12 Restaurants To Make You Fall In Love With SF Again - San Francisco - The Infatuation (2024)

photo credit: Erin Ng

Living in SF is hard sometimes. The cost of an iced latte is steadily creeping toward double digits, and consecutive “60 degrees and foggy” forecasts (in June) can be, in a word, demoralizing. But these restaurants are here to lift you out of your windchill-induced funk, and temporarily make you forget that you still owe the SFMTA $108 in street sweeping fees. They make the city by the Bay, in all its Karl-filled glory, easy to love—and they couldn’t exist anywhere else.

THE SPOTS

House of Prime Rib has been around since 1949, but age isn’t the only reason this Nob Hill meat palace is considered an institution. A night in the space, which looks like a Renaissance Faire had a baby with a pub in Bristol, is an “at least once” rite of passage for any San Franciscan. Staff in crisp white button-downs pour salad dressing from as high as they can reach, carve prime rib out of a roving metal cart, and slice and top baked potatoes so fast their hands blur. It’s the ideal old-timey escape route when you want to forget that ChatGPT exists and eat a meal that’s the antithesis of the two to three small plates movement.

Getting hands-deep in a pile of roast crab at Thanh Long is a great distraction from the fact that today you rode MUNI next to a venture capitalist unironically wearing a VR headset. It’s a Vietnamese institution in the Sunset where everyone’s fingers are too covered in butter to pick up any device. Throw on your required plastic bib, and focus on the task at hand: clearing a mound of seafood and buttery garlic noodles. Which, by the way, this place invented.

Coming to Bix is like going back to the days way before Salesforce Tower was sticking out of the skyline. This two-story Jackson Square spot leans heavily into old-school charm—look at the mound of ice that chills all the martini glasses, the jazz duo swaying in the corner, and free bread rolls. Is the food amazing? No. But does being here make you feel like you’re a part of some 1930s supper club that required an invite sent via telegram? Yes. So pull out the silky top that’s collecting dust in your closet (give the embroidered puffer a night off) and soak it in.

So you just got into a screaming match with your neighbor over what constitutes a curb cut. Shake it off at Mandalay. The Burmese spot in the Richmond—and the first Burmese restaurant to open in the entire city—is a literal bright spot. Once you slide into your seat among the cheery yellow walls and umbrellas hanging overhead and say hi to the ridiculously kind staff, the punchy dishes will erase any memory of driveway blockage. Order the tea leaf salad, which is nuttier and funkier than other versions in town, and the chicken with juicy hunks of mango.

Prubechu is the only Guamanian restaurant in the entire city, and we’re lucky to have it in the Mission. Eating here feels like a backyard party where everyone’s phone is on silent and the natural wine flows for hours—they’ve converted their parking lot into a big outdoor seating area, and it’s packed most nights with groups gnawing on ko’ko’ wings and dates splitting plates of Chamorro barbecue. They also do the occasional Pig Roast Feast out on the patio, so keep an eye on their Instagram for dates.

This Mission izakaya excels at fancy Japanese dishes that highlight seasonal California bounties (Half Moon Bay wasabi, anyone?). Just follow the scent of sizzling yakitori down a quiet block of 14th St., and you’ll be met with a serene patio lit up by glowing lights and the sound of Japanese rock bumping over the speakers. Everything on the menu, from Monterey squid in a mustardy miso dressing to the tsukune zhuzhed up with egg yolk and tare, will erase all thoughts of moving to New York.

When you’ve been staring at a screen for hours, reconnect with nature by plopping down in Alamo Square, letting the grass squish under your feet, and staring at the Painted Ladies just to feel something. After you’ve appropriately appreciated the Victorian architecture, swing by Nopa. The American restaurant on the bustling corner of Divisadero and Hayes has sexy lighting and a mural paying tribute to the neighborhood's legacy businesses and jazz roots. Drink a negroni. Order the pork chop. It doesn’t get much better than this.

Kokkari Estiatorio is a Jackson Square restaurant that oozes white tablecloth charisma—the kind where a server pulls out your chair and refills your free bread endlessly. The Greek spot has been around since the 1990s, and we’re pretty sure the upholstered armchairs and blazing fireplace haven’t changed since this restaurant opened. Crumbs are swept off your table with laser focus while the scent of roasting lamb and chicken wafts through the air, and you’re more likely to overhear conversations about what the grandkids are up to than Y Combinator. Come at dinner, when the low lights make this place feel like a sexy ski lodge.

In case you forgot, SF is a city surrounded (mostly) by water. Remind yourself that you have the privilege of easy access to oysters at Anchor Oyster Bar. The Castro seafood counter is home to free bread and a ton of ocean-themed paraphernalia on the walls—just slide up to a seat at the bar, order a dozen of whatever fresh bivalves are on deck that day. It’s a great way to reignite your California superiority complex.

Anyone who’s spent a night at Foreign Cinema’s back patio will tell you it’s a quintessential SF experience. The Mission spot becomes a romantic glowy orange thanks to a sh*t ton of string lights overhead, and they project old-timey movies on the wall, so you can half-watch Pretty Poison or The Goonies while throwing back oysters and sparkling wine. It’s an idyllic setting for extra special date nights—or any time you’re trying to convince a visiting friend to finally move to the city.

Between skyrocketing rents, PG&E hikes, and the hundreds of dollars you just forked over for Outside Lands tickets, you might be questioning why you decided to live in a city with $6.50 hourly meters. But there are still places where $10 can get you a full meal—like El Farolito. The classic Mission taqueria has been grilling well-seasoned meats and feeding late-night crowds for decades. Their $10-ish super burritos are the best in the city, and one can easily feed you for two and a half days. The order: carne asada with everything.

R&G Lounge is a Cantonese seafood spot where you, your uncle, and favorite hot yoga instructor have probably celebrated a birthday or graduation. The multi-level Chinatown restaurant has been a large group destination since opening in 1985, so you’re likely to see entire extended families spinning lazy susans on any given night. It feels like controlled chaos, and is filled with big banquet tables loaded with roast crab, huge hunks of baked sea bass, and steamed clams. Come here after swiping left on one too many “Founder At Startups” to remind yourself that this city is more than its techiest transplants.