Is There Such a Thing as A Free Lunch In San Francisco?

by David Farley on

It turns out, yes, there is such as thing as a free lunch in San Francisco. Well, sort of. Welcome to the Comstock Saloon, opened in May 2010, a throwback to the old Barbary Coast saloons, when drunken men would fall through trap doors and wake up shanghaied on a ship in the Pacific Ocean.

This cocktail-centric restaurant, an homage to 19th-century San Francisco debauchery, is about as spot on as you can get without turning the place into a gimmicky Disney-fied version of a theme restaurant.

The owners, both mixologists who came over from Absinthe, are Jonny Raglin and Jeff Hollinger. During my walk along the Barbary Coast Trail, I stopped by Comstock to chat with Raglin about the place and the Barbary Coast, and hoped I wouldn’t fall through its trap door and wake up in Shanghai.

“We wanted to open a pre-Prohibition cocktail saloon,” said Raglin, who figured the 1920s speakeasy-style cocktail bar has been done too much to add yet another to the scene. “And I’m fascinated with the Barbary Coast history.”

And it’s not just him. “There’s definitely a buzz about the Barbary Coast these days,” said Raglin. “Think about it: in the 19th century, it was the only place on the West Coast to really party.” He added that when they first opened they had been putting out the phrase ‘Barbary Coast’ in their publicity and then a few months later the Wayfare Tavern opened up and they, too, were boasting a Barbary Coast theme. “Ah ha! I thought,” said Raglin. “This is catching on.”

True, but it seems Comstock is doing the best job of keeping the Barbary Coast spirit alive, from the teak high-ceilinged interior and 19th-century-esque sartorial choices of the staff to the Victorian-era cocktails. Oh yeah, there’s that free lunch too. Buy any two “adult beverages,” as they’re called on the menu, and you get a free lunch.

“It’s an old San Francisco tradition,” said Raglin, who couldn’t think of any other place in town that still maintained the practice. The Comstock Saloon offers the lunch deal Monday to Friday and it’s always one pre-decided menu item per day.

And just as I ordered a second cocktail–a cherry bounce (watch Raglin make it in the video above)–Raglin said, “Get that man a free lunch.” Ten minutes later a delicious BLT was sitting in front of me.

Tyler Florence’s Wayfare Tavern: An Ode to San Francisco’s Barbary Coast?

by David Farley on
A decade and a half on the Food Network and several cookbooks with his name onthe cover, chef Tyler Florence’s first restaurant, the Wayfare Tavern, has been a hit since it opened in 2010. Reviewers (and even the press material) boast that the handsome teak interior and the menu are an homage to the Barbary Coast. I deviated a couple blocks from the Barbary Coast trail that I’ve been following all month to go find out.

Chef Florence didn’t respond to my requests for an interview, so I couldn’t ask him what makes his restaurant in the former Rubicon space a particular nod to the legendary lost neighborhood and why he did it. The Wayfare Tavern is part of a growing Barbary Coast trend I’ve noticed in the last couple years (more in this in later posts). The dark wood and taxidermy do give it a particularly 19th-century Victorian feel. The food is hearty and rustic and hugely portioned and, from my knowledge, is impossible to know exactly what hungry minors and the newly rich were scarfing down in the mid and late 19th century. The burger, though, was one of the best I’ve had in San Francisco and my dining companion’s pork ribs were fall-off-the-bone tender.

This would have been the place where the newly rich would have come to throw around a few gold nuggets. Today, though, the crowd is mostly bankers dressed in blue polo shirts and khakis. Which, if you think about it, is about as close as you can come to being a Barbary Coast-era nouveau riche.

It’s not likely, though, they’ll let you pay for your dinner in gold nuggets.

Portsmouth Square: San Francisco’s Great Hidden Public Space

by David Farley on
When I lived in San Francisco, I walked down Kearny Street past Portsmouth Square hundreds of times, trudging between Market Street and North Beach. I’m chagrined to admit I hardly noticed the square. Elevated in 1960 to make room for a subterranean parking garage, the square has an enclosed feeling to it. Almost uninviting. Which is bad (because you can walk right by without noticing it) and good in that it creates an intimate atmosphere, one of San Francisco’s great public living rooms. Portsmouth Square is really San Francisco’s great hidden public space.

Or so I learned on a recent visit. Since one cannot seek out the Barbary Coast without going to this historic public space, I finally climbed the dozen or so stone steps from Kearny Street and plopped myself onto the square. And what a surprise. The place was crammed with Chinese locals–it borders on Chinatown and the Financial District–many of whom were in tightly clenched circles, energy bursting from each one. Some were squatting in that intriguing Chinese manner, playing a board game called Go or cards. A couple non-Chinese were anchored on the periphery of the square in full lotus position, deep in meditation. Locals strolled by flashing curious looks at them.

Until the 1906 earthquake, this was the center of San Francisco. Instead of being lined by Chinese and Vietnamese restaurants, produce stands, and a Buddhist supply store (I’ll take a large dose of enlightenment and a side of wisdom, please), the square’s periphery was occupied by brothels and saloons. Where the tall, homely Hilton now stands was the first city hall. Minors, liquored-up on bad booze, would loiter in the square, where today Chinese residents are playing cards for money, thus carrying on the tradition of vice (depending, of course, on your definition of it) by making it the city’s only ad hoc casino.

Starting in the 1850s, Chinese immigrants came in waves after waves to get in on the Gold Rush. At first they were welcomed, but when more and more began turning up at the same time the unemployment rate was going up, laws were put into place to restrict and tax them. They persevered and today Chinatown and its particular Chinese-style architecture was a symbol that they intended to stick around a while. And thank goodness for that. After I left the square, I popped into a bakery and bought a barbequed pork-stuffed bun (for just one dollar) that tasted, at least for that moment, like the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life.

America’s 25 most expensive restaurants

by Laurel Miller on

What recession? Bundle just released a list of the 25 most expensive restaurants in America, and you’d never know the economy was still faltering. Your average diner would definitely require a stimulus package to pay the check.

Topping the list is The French Laundry, located in Yountville, in the Napa Valley. Chef/owner Thomas Keller’s three-star Michelin restaurant is ranked among the world’s best (as is Per Se, his New York outpost). An average check is $957 per visit, while Per Se bats $883. Also in the top five: Michael Mina (San Francisco), at $844; Alinea (Chicago), at $736, and Charlie Trotter’s (Chicago), at $666 (ironic, given Trotter’s reputation as…difficult).

To determine the list, Bundle examined spending data, then looked at average check sizes based upon millions of transactions in restaurants nationwide. Interestingly, the most expensive restaurants fell into two categories: French, and Contemporary American. But Robert’s Steakhouse in the Executive Penthouse Club (New York) and Mario Batali-co-owned Del Posto (Italian) also made the list.

So what does a $957 dollar meal taste like? Well, it damn well better be flawless–service included–but there’s a reason these chef/restaurateurs are at the top of their game. Prix fixe menus are a big reason tabs are so high. At Per Se, you’ll pay up to $295 a pop, while at Le Bernadin (New York, ranked 14th) it’s $330 with a wine pairing.

As a food writer, I admire the hell out of these guys for their talent as both chefs and businessmen. That said, I don’t think any meal on earth is worth nearly a grand, especially when said chefs generally aren’t the ones doing the cooking. It’s their hard-working, usually underpaid staff who do the heavy lifting, which is one of the great inequities of the restaurant business. I take issue when the people doing the cooking, serving, bussing, dishwashing, and cleaning don’t have the luxury of eating at their place of employment.

[Editor’s note: Bundle’s data take only take the average price per check per restaurant in their calculations, meaning some abnormalities may result from particularly large or small restaurants. They also don’t appear to include every possible, most expensive restaurant in the country. Please bear the limits of this data in mind — and try to have a good dinner]

Barbary Coast Sex: Satisfaction Guaranteed

by David Farley on
It’s not very often when a madam guarantees you’ll have the best sex of your life. Or at least so satisfying you’ll walk out of there thinking your twenty-five cents was very well spent. Such was the case in Barbary Coast-era San Francisco. Having walked from the Old Mint, the beginnings of the Barbary Coast trail, across wide Market Street (the city’s answer to the Champs Elysées), past the tourists queuing for a cable car on Powell Street, and, finally, across Union Square, I found myself standing on Maiden Lane. In the 1870s this narrow street, stretching from Union Square to Kearney Street, was the home of 1,000 prostitutes. Their houses of ill repute were called cribs.

I stood there trying to imagine the topless women hanging out of first-floor windows, yelling “Touch one breast for ten cents, two breasts for fifteen cents, or come on in for twenty-five cents.”

The men were encouraged to hang up their clothes in a closet. And once the they were, uh, preoccupied with their lady, a colleague from another room would remove the back panel of the closet and take the rest of the John’s cash.

I joined up with a walking tour on Maiden Lane. Sponsored in part by the San Francisco Public Library, San Francisco City Guides gives free tours throughout the city. This particular one, called “Bawdy & Naughty” focused on Barbary Coast-era prostitutes. Specifically, though, on Maiden Lane, today a posh pedestrianized street flanked by Chanel, Prada, Paul Smith, and Hermes shops.

The guide, John Ferriera, walked the group (of which there was a guy who bore a striking resemblance to everyone’s favorite news pontificator and Mexican immigration lover, Lou Dobbs) down the two-block street, regaling us with salacious stories of 19th-century San Francisco. As we stood in front of the Frank Lloyd Wright-designed building at #140, Ferriera told us about Bertha Kahn, a famous Maiden Lane madam who coined the term “Satisfaction guaranteed.” If you weren’t satisfied with your amorous encounter, she’d give you a token to come back and try again.


Today, randy San Franciscans can go to the Tenderloin to pretend they’re in Barbary Coast-era Maiden Lane. It’s highly doubtful, however, that anyone there is putting a guarantee on satisfaction. And it certainly will cost you more than twenty-five cents.