San Francisco Ad Hoc

I arrive into San Francisco after a 2 year hiatus without time for advance planning or intel gathering; there are no decisions, only whims subject to change by sudden inspiration or captivation. It doesn't take long to rediscover why I love this city.

A higher bar. The New York Times best described The Interval as a 'techno-utopian bar for those who like to think while they drink.' My gaze is pulled first to a large chalk drawing machine by Jurg Lehni. Described as a Chalkboard Robot, it is a post-industrial device to support lectures and performances from visiting filmmakers, artists and economists. Just below sits the Chime Generator Table, a glass-topped communal table where patrons can eat and drink while admiring the machine's inner workings. The bar is a curio cabinet of the unusual and the provocative.

Established as part of the Long Now Foundation whose ambition is to foster long term thinking and responsibility for the next 10,000 years, the bar and its surroundings delight and captivate not just the palate, but mind and spirit. It is a small space, with concrete floors and expansive glass windows across one wall, and nooks of varying size occupying a separate corner. Another wall is dominated by a floor-to-ceiling bookcase with upper levels accessible via a spiral, metal staircase. The bar, which serves both tea, coffee, and spirits, sits below rows of round glass flasks, some of which are filled with liquids of varying color. The vibe is part science museum, part bookstore, part drinking hole. While enjoying my Green Flash IPA, my eyes wander to a stuffed Passenger Pigeon and photo of a Woolly Mammoth, two species the foundation hopes to restore at some point through genetic engineering. And these are just a few of the foundation's  ambitions one may ponder over an expertly prepared drink.

The space is an exceptional example of a bar concept disrupting the typical formula through intensity of cause and depth of experience. Threading meaning and The Long Now Foundation's science and philosophy so thoughtfully and thoroughly through the design makes The Interval one of the most fascinating, original bars ever.

Low-fi cool. Just a few steps from The Interval, I stumble upon a string of brightly colored food trucks with names like 'The Boneyard', 'Bacon' and 'Curry Up Now,' which I learn are part of a weekly Friday night event called 'Off The Grid Fort Mason Center.' A simple parking lot has been transformed into a strangely intimate food court complete with live DJ, wine, beer and cocktail stations, and dessert. My batch-made Manhattan comes in a plastic cup with an orange twist - perfectly smooth and buttery. Oddly it pairs fine with the wild organic fennel and pork dumplings from 'Happy Dumpling', as well as the Korean barbecue chicken rice bowl (a heaping portion) from 'Bombzies BBQ.'

I’m reminded of similar pop-up dining spaces in London and NYC that seem to speak to an emerging trend towards low-fi, but high character, exceptionally authentic dining, a millennial trend gaining gravity the world over. The branding and messaging scream personality and attitude, accentuating for me the reality that, today, restaurant brands cannot afford to occupy neutral ground. As in other arenas, catering to everyone means pleasing no one. To compete, these operators need to be specific, commit to their concept and stand for something. Given the numerous food trucks tempting the eyes and stomach, it's tough to leave but libations elsewhere await.

Timeless craft. I wander in search of Bourbon and Branch, staring intently at a cell phone screen then at the surrounding buildings. No signage, and unfortunately no giant colored pin appears above the actual building, so I ask directions of a man loitering near an unmarked door. As it happens I am on the right corner and my fears that Bourbon and Branch no longer exists dissipate, but with no reservations I am denied entry and instead redirected to a connected space around the corner called The Library. Leaving daylight, I am literally blinded by darkness. It is disorienting, and much like a night moth, I am drawn to the tiny glow of tea lights scattered across several casks. Over a Hemingway daiquiri, I take in the low key vibe, animated only by two bartenders, one suspendered, the other vested, expertly shaking cocktails in this classic speakeasy. Gradually my eyes adjust to the shadows and I pick up on the volumes of old books and faded red fabric lining the walls, pressed tin ceiling and other details. Some of the bar rules posted inside the door include no cellphone usage and no ordering of “cosmos.” It’s a relaxing cocoon of darkness, perhaps no longer an original formula, but one that works. Craft and quality still count.

My visit to San Francisco underscores that innovation is not about change for change's sake, but homing in and delivering what consumers want; originality, relevance and quality. The handful of places mentioned above understand that better than most, delivering uniquely relevant drinking and dining experiences hard to find elsewhere, making San Francisco my favorite restaurant city yet again.