I was implored to come to this little gem on Polk St. I was also warned that I'd have to get there early, that it would be crowded and that it was the only place to go in San Francisco for the real deal in seafood.
I arrive just before five pm (they close at 5:30) to find that my advisors were right on all counts: there is indeed, a lineup. I wait impatiently as inside, chalices of shrimp cocktail and crab float by, placed beside fresh oysters that look like gleaming pools of heaven. The servers/bartenders/oyster shuckers hurry between glasses of wine, bowls of steaming chowder and takeout orders from customers who linger behind the barstools eagerly awaiting their fresh fish or seafood. The old '50's style diner decor is punched up with nothing more than vases of fresh irises on the bar. Everything else remains true and untouched. This is perfection, not pretension. That's what I came here for.
The crowd is rowdy and I suspect that more than a few of them ave been drinking since well before noon. I find out that the woman two seats away is celebrating her birthday. She claims to be younger than forty (she's full of shit. I guess her at at least fifty) and she and her friend slur sexual innuendoes at the fresh- faced and innocent twenty three year old behind the counter. He promises to meet them for a drink after he goes to some thing for his aunt tonight (right, pal.)
Jealous of the attention this young buck is receiving, one of the older men behind the counter chimes in with a timely witticism. "Hey, in your thirites, you're a puma, in your forties, you're a cougar and in your fifties your a jaguar!"
I've heard this before, but it makes me smile to hear it recounted by this guy, his hands dripping with oyster liquor.
The two drunk cougars concur hour grateful they are to still be pumas and clink their glasses of Cabernet in celebratory inebriation.
My oysters arrive, and as promised, are fabulous. I'm also pleased to find that the horseradish is hot enough to bring tears to my eyes. One of the drunk cougars tries some, too and a chorus of painful wails ensues. I laugh silently as my clam chowder arrives. It is hot, salty and brimming with the flavour of fresh clam, laced with tender chunks of potato. So delicious. So classic.
I order a prawn cocktail as I finish my glass of chardonnay and the latest apron clad shucker asks me if I would like another. I'm driving, so I decline. He frowns, but then brightens, pulling an almost empty bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the ice- filled bus pan on the counter. "You can have the rest of this for free! " he beams.
"Okay."
My prawns are pink, plump and delicious. I dress them with cocktail sauce and some more of that kick ass horseradish. Drunky pants cougar bleats about wanting to take a bottle of the stuff home with her. Part of me wants to tell her to shut up, but really, she's sort of adding to the atmosphere.
I drain my glass and feel happy to have made it here in time. The place is closing and the waiters are stacking the stools on the bar and telling a few latecomers who just walked in that they are closed, but they can get them some take out. If you really want a true San Francisco seafood experience, do yourself a favour and visit Swan. It's uncompromised-old school -San Fran- seafood- bliss.
Value: Average
Price: $100 USD for good feed for 2 with wine.
Jenny Likes It: ****Utter Adoration (especially that cute, young oyster shucker!)
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