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It's Time to Be Romantic in North Beach

Garrett Schlichte is an award-winning columnist, writer, and chef living in San Francisco. Garrett's work has appeared online and in print in The Washington Post , The New York Times , THEM, Jezebel, Slate, and other outlets. Welcome to Fire the Menu, a column from chef and writer Garrett Schlichte about over-ordering, over-indulging, and almost overdoing it in their favorite city in the world, the place they call home, San Francisco. From pre-fixe to quick fix and everything in between, it's time to find your people, tuck in, and, well, fire the menu. I'd have thought that getting dumped by someone a little over halfway through their 20s, when I'm almost halfway through my 30s, would have been more embarrassing, but after you've willingly posted your first Instagram Reel, really, everything else feels rote in comparison. If I'm being totally honest, the only actually embarrassing part of that breakup, aside from the fact that I was still wearing my yellow kitchen clogs when it happened, is that it took getting swept off my feet by a 26-year-old for me to finally understand just how beautiful North Beach is. It's not that I'd never been to North Beach, of course. I'm not an idiot (mostly). When I first moved to the city, I made the customary pilgrimage to City Lights. I've spent several pie-eyed afternoons squirreled away in the ever-elusive second-floor booth at Vesuvio, gossiping with friends over too many martinis, making up stories about how strangers on the first floor might have met. I've eaten a slice from Golden Boy, and Tony's, and Golden Boy again. But all of those were special occasions that felt, to be totally honest, a little bit like work. Regardless of the fact that our sweet little city is famously 7x7, gorgeous, and uniquely walkable and bikeable, I have, at times, been uncharacteristically lazy when it comes to traveling so far that I'm required to carry the customary light jacket the microclimates necessitate. Until, of course, a hot guy invited me to a part of the city that required walking, a train, and a cable car. If any city transit officials are looking for ways to inspire people to use public transit more regularly, they might consider having more 6-foot-7 men in slutty little glasses invite people on dates — I have some empirical evidence pointing toward the success of this tactic. But I'm not here to save Muni (although, of course, save Muni), I'm here to talk about North Beach, and how one truly perfect date broke me out of my neighborhood vortex. It is considerably easier to get to North Beach by bus, bike, or on foot than it is to get there by cable car, but I now think riding a cable car, one of the last vestiges of an almost-but-not-quite-bygone era of San Francisco, into the heart of North Beach is one of the most perfect and romantic things you can do. I will admit that when my date and I hopped off BART at Powell and then had to walk and wait an additional 17 minutes for the cable car, I was suspicious. The bottle of wine he had tucked in his tote was helpful, but even then, I wasn't quite sure of the whole idea. Garrett Schlichte Garrett Schlichte I'd never ridden a cable car because I considered it to be nothing more than a tourist trap. What an idiot I am! When the trolley finally arrived and we boarded and sat down, I was instantly in love (with the trolley, not the man). Sure, I was a little tipsy. Yes, I was holding hands with a tall, cute man. Of course, the moon was out and full, but I'm still sure that even if none of those things were true, I would have found it magical. Riding into North Beach down Powell in the open air is a reminder that our city, which can feel wonderfully like a town at times, is very much a city. The flickering marques and neon signs and the grind of the electric motor of the trolley was a pulsing heartbeat saying I'm here, I'm back, I never left. I don't remember where we finally hopped off except that it was in the middle of an intersection, which, of course, I found particularly endearing. As we wandered away from the track, I did a few twirls on the sidewalk. Red, green, and white lights strung across the streets were stars in my eyes, and I smelled a new kind of pizza every couple of blocks. Heaven! In 1940, the columnist Herb Caen wrote that North Beach was '1,001 neon-splattered joints alive with the Italian air of garlic and the jukebox wail of American folk songs.' That night, and now, I find myself delighted by how true that description still is. The rest of the date was fine, but gilded to better-than-fine by the thick ambrosial air that wafts through every inch of North Beach. I don't remember what restaurant we ate at, which is good because the food wasn't, although that didn't stop me from loving it. Bad food can be compensated for when a restaurant's heart is in the right place, and wherever we were, it definitely was. The owner sat a few tables away from us and came over to pour us wine when our glasses got low. An extra little treat was gifted to us for dessert. Sure, the chicken was dry, but our waiter hugged us on the way out — ugh! Back out on the street, we held hands and walked past increasingly busier and louder bar fronts, and my date wondered aloud if stopping to kiss on a street corner might get us hate-crimed. I looked around. For maybe the first time in my life in San Francisco, I couldn't spot another gay person around me, aside from the one whose hand I was holding. Despite North Beach's history as San Francisco's first gayborhood, long gone were the Paper Doll, the Beige Room, Mona's, and a dozen other bars and restaurants that made it so. Petite Lil's keeps the romantic energy alive and well. Garrett Schlichte Although we didn't let the stifling heterosexuality stop us from expressing our god-given right to lock lips on a street corner (North Beach or not, it's still San Francisco, after all), I did wonder mid-make-out if the lack of a gay outpost was part of what had kept me from frequenting one of the most romantic parts of the city for so long. In the Castro and Soma, and even the Tenderloin and Bernal, you're never too far from a queer watering hole, but I wouldn't necessarily call those places inherently romantic, or at least not in the same way North Beach is. Even though my relationship with that tall man didn't last much longer after that date, it was just the beginning of my love affair with North Beach. A couple of weeks after that night, I found myself back under the neon lights for a friend's book reading, and then miraculously snatching up the last two bar seats at Tony's for a beer, pizza, and a perfect Italian chopped salad. A week later, I was back on the trolley and tucking into the window seat at Petit Lil's for a cold martini and even colder oysters. Then, it was Tosca, and a late-night burger at Sam's. Then, upstairs at Trattoria Contadina. A cannoli on the street here and there, a cigarette outside of Vesuvio. Europe in the Bay! I've been broken up with in other cities I've lived in, and I always found ways to avoid the parts of town where I spent time with that person. But when relationships have ended in San Francisco, I find myself returning to those spots again and again, regardless of the little heart pangs a street corner or a bar might elicit. Perhaps that's the magic of San Francisco — it's just too good to keep yourself from enjoying all of it. Paper covers rock, and San Francisco covers heartbreak. So, I believe it is time to go be romantic in North Beach. With yourself, with a lover, or with friends — and it doesn't matter what counter you do it at, because every spot is perfect, even if it's not exactly good. North Beach is not a neighborhood of hidden gems. No, in North Beach, all the gems are visible. It wears those 1,001 neon signs Caen was talking about like a crown, each one inviting you in and daring you not to fall in love, either with a person or with the city itself. Nights in North Beach end with Sam's. That's the rule. Garrett Schlichte Eater SF All your essential food and restaurant intel delivered to you Email (required) Sign Up By submitting your email, you agree to our Terms and Privacy Notice . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.