As the birthplace of California’s farm-to-table food movement, San Francisco has long had an embarrassment of riches when it comes to good food. Yes, incredible produce continues to serve as the backbone of Californian cuisine, and, yes, iconic restaurants like Chez Panisse and Zuni Café are still around. But the restaurant scene isn’t static; it’s constantly evolving, with new chefs and new restaurants making names for themselves and garnering praise from Bay Area diners and visitors alike.

To learn more about the city’s best dining options, we spoke with four of the city’s top chefs to find out their go-to spots. They gave us their picks for late-night burritos, Sunday brunch, splurge-worthy meals, and more. Preeti Mistry, chef–owner of Juhu Beach Club; Charles Phan, chef–owner of The Slanted Door Group; Matt Accarrino, chef–owner of SPQR; and Dominique Crenn, chef–owner of Atelier Crenn and Bar Crenn, all weighed in with their favorites to help us plot out this eaters’ roadmap.

Best Late-Night Eats
Our chefs’ late-night favorites include wok-fried scrambled eggs, tender tripe, and a veggie burrito worth waiting in line for in the wee hours of the morning.

Nopa is always bustling. It was a pioneer on Divisadero Street back in 2006, which has since become a busy area for restaurants. There’s one big, open room—the kitchen’s in the same room as the diners—with a mezzanine and one large communal bar. It’s a pretty lively vibe for sure, and you see a lot of industry people there.

I’m not a huge late-night person because I’m a big cyclist; I try to ride home early most nights. But if I end up at Nopa, I’ll eat the burger. It’s always really consistently good: wood-grilled, with pickled onions and a heap of crispy fries on the side. Even better, you know everything on the plate is locally sourced. I’m a habitual Rye Manhattan drinker, so I’ll wash it down with that.

The combination of reverence for the classics, and excitement around what’s new—think exceptional beer bars, boutique hotels with Thai small plates and zero-proof cocktails, and Michelin star-worthy bar bites—means a trip to San Francisco will keep you busy, whether you’re checking in on enduring favorites, sampling the best of the new, or hoping to do a little bit of both. Yuet Lee in Chinatown is for everyone: partygoers, cops—everybody eats there. It also looks a bit like an operating room. It’s got really bright lights and it’s painted fluorescent green. Yuet Lee is famous for its salt and pepper squid, but I always order the tripe; they boil it until it’s really tender and serve it with a sesame-and-soy sauce on top, and a really flavorful scallion dipping sauce on the side. I also get their wok stir-fried scrambled eggs, which are really soft and tender, and come garnished with scallions.

I lived in The Mission when I was in my early 20s and I didn’t have a lot of money. I was going out to bars a lot, and I’d always end up at Taqueria Cancun, which was usually packed, with a line out the door. It’s a rustic old taqueria with wooden picnic benches, so there’s a lot of dining communally. There’s also a long steam table where you watch the burritos and tacos being made as you wait in line. The best thing about a place like Taqueria Cancun is that you will see every type of person in there.

I love the veggie burrito. The cheese gets gooey and melty, and they put in fresh avocado chunks—literally scooping chunks out of half an avocado, and putting it in the burrito—so nothing gets soggy. [Ed’s note: the burrito also comes with rice, beans, onions, cilantro, salsa, and sour cream.]

When I was younger, I’d wait in line for the burrito on late nights out, but I could only ever eat two-thirds of it. The last third I would unearth the next morning from the refrigerator, and scramble all of the interior with eggs for breakfast.

Despite one chef joking that they’re “allergic to brunch,” their favorites—from classic dim sum with water views to Tunisian shakshuka in an ivy-covered courtyard—were each enthusiastically branded as can’t-miss, uniquely San Franciscan meals.

I love dim sum, especially for brunch, and I could eat at Hong Kong East Ocean all day. It’s out on the pier of Emeryville, Berkeley, past tiki bar mainstay Trader Vic’s, so you have that feeling of being on the water. It’s like you’re at a big hotel banquet hall, but with a gorgeous view of the Bay and Bay Bridge. There are big tanks of lobsters and crabs to stare at while you wait for a table. You tell them how many people you have in your party, then they give you a number and you wait for your number to be called, but they are so efficient and quick.

The servers come around with some items in carts, and they also give you a paper menu with photos, and you just go through and tick boxes of everything that you want. There’s instant gratification—you don’t sit there waiting for someone to take your drink order, then your food order. Before the server even comes around, someone’s like, “Do you want this?” And it’s like, “Yes, here we go.”

The big pork buns at Hong Kong East Ocean are amazing—I can’t have just one. They’re light and soft, and have that shiny glazed outside. I want to eat so many things there. Pro tip: don’t do deep-fried there because you’ll just get in the calamari, and then you’re like, “Oh my God, I’m so full, I can’t eat anything else.” There’s the Hong Kong-style rice noodles with a sweet sauce, really great smashed cucumbers with bright ginger, savory roast pork, and then a bunch of different dumplings. I started going to Foreign Cinema in the Mission years ago for brunch. It’s a wonderful place that features fresh California food. Right now, they have a Tunisian shakshuka with eggs, zucchini, and feta—it’s delicious. And you can get a version of Pop-Tarts made with organic strawberries or nectarines. Chef Gayle Pirie and John Clark, who both used to work at Zuni Café, have been doing this for a long time. I love that it’s such a cool spot with beautiful outdoor seating in the courtyard—and, of course, you should come back for dinner when there are movies playing and lights strung everywhere.

One unique place in San Francisco is this place called Andytown, just a few blocks from Golden Gate Park. They now have a couple of locations, but I love the original spot—a tiny postage stamp of a space. They used every inch in this first location, and you virtually order at the espresso machine. There is ample outdoor seating and bike racks right in front. It’s clearly a vibrant part of the neighborhood and a popular meeting place on the weekend, when lines are longer. Mid-morning, mid-week is usually the most chill time to drop in.

Besides the great coffee (which they roast themselves), they are known for a drink called the “Snowy Plover,” which is like a whipped cream coffee–soda kind of thing. Maybe more importantly, they have a whole in-house bakery program. They make jam-stuffed muffins, and these little things that look like Pop-Tarts. But the best things they have are the Irish scones they cook on a griddle. You can get the scones a couple of different ways, but my favorite is to have them split one—it’s kind of like a cross between an English scone and a biscuit, but not as flaky—and griddle it with butter, then put a triangle of raw-milk Cheddar and a strip of warm bacon on each side.

From places with thoughtful mocktails to one that puts out a perfectly executed Old Fashioned, the chefs had strong opinions about where to get a drink.
There’s a place called Nari that just opened in Japantown from chef Pim Techamuanvivit. It’s a brand new space in Hotel Kabuki. The bar upstairs is separate from the restaurant and it’s a really cool, well-designed space. There’s a mix of wood and concrete, and lots of plants throughout, and upstairs it feels really cozy and intimate, with a window that looks down into the kitchen. It’s a place that I feel comfortable in because the whole bar is separate from the restaurant, and you’re not taking up a dining seat. In San Francisco, you don’t see that very often.

In addition to making amazing alcoholic drinks, Nari has a non-alcoholic beverage program. I thought it was really interesting that they’re going through all these steps to make zero-proof drinking feel special. They use cool glassware, and pour tableside, and they have a drink similar to a gin and tonic.

In addition to making amazing alcoholic drinks, Nari has a non-alcoholic beverage program. I thought it was really interesting that they’re going through all these steps to make zero-proof drinking feel special. They use cool glassware, and pour tableside, and they have a drink similar to a gin and tonic.

Bar Agricole in the South of Market (SoMa) neighborhood is my favorite place for drinks. It’s sleek and pretty hip: a super-modern loft with a contemporary dining room and two bars. There’s a patio with an organic vegetable garden out front, and it’s very tranquil.

They make a great Old Fashioned, using cognac—even though I usually just do it with bourbon. It’s so hard to make an Old Fashioned. It seems easy, but there are many ways for you to screw it up—every part of it! Too much syrup, or the wrong spirit, too much bitters, or the wrong kind of ice. If you don’t use a big ice block, it’ll melt too fast, and you’ll have a watery drink. (And I’m a fast drinker, by the way. Imagine if you’re a slow drinker!) In any case, you just can’t go wrong with Bar Agricole.

Roses’ Taproom is relatively new. It just opened a couple of years ago in Temescal, a neighborhood in Oakland, and it’s just a really cute space. A lot of the beer places in the city tend to be kind of gross—sort of macho and smelly—and Roses’ is just like a nice, clean, well-lit place for fancy beers.

They brew their own beer right there, and then they have some beers from other local breweries. They also have a nice selection of almonds, olives, and charcuterie, and stuff like that. I was super into the hazy IPA for awhile, but now I’m really loving their tropical IPAs—a little bit more refreshing, but still very hoppy.

When I go out to drink cocktails, it’s at Trick Dog, a really cool place in the Mission with fun people. The decor is dark and minimal, almost like an old saloon, and it’s very tiny. If you want to sit and have a long conversation over a drink, then you better get there as soon as it opens, because the later it becomes, the more fans come pouring through the doors.

Line a rimmed baking sheet with aluminum foil and set a wire rack inside. Carefully dry chicken wings with paper towels. In a large bowl, combine wings with baking powder and salt and toss until thoroughly and evenly coated. Place on rack, leaving a slight space between each wing. Repeat with remaining 2 batches of wings.

Place baking sheet with wings in refrigerator and allow to rest, uncovered, at least 8 hours and up to 24 hours.

Adjust oven rack to upper-middle position and preheat oven to 450°F (230°C). Add chicken wings and cook for 20 minutes. Flip wings and continue to cook until crisp and golden brown, 15 to 30 minutes longer, flipping a few more times towards the end.

Meanwhile, combine butter and hot sauce in a small saucepan and cook over medium heat, whisking until combined. Transfer wings to a large bowl, add sauce, and toss to thoroughly coat. Serve wings immediately with blue cheese dressing and celery sticks, conspicuously shunning anyone who says that real Buffalo wings must be fried.

Raising the pH does indeed improve browning, and it also creates an environment that weakens the peptide bonds naturally present in proteins. In theory, this means the proteins can break down more easily into shorter pieces, creating a texture that is less leathery or papery and more crispy. Is it true in reality? Well, my teeth tell me “yes,” but my lack of an electron microscope tells me “maybe.”

One final advantage from the baking powder: During its overnight rest on the chicken, it soaks up some of the protein-laden chicken juices from within. As it heats, it forms carbon dioxide gas in the same way that it would in a cookie dough or cake batter, inflating these juices into bubbles, which are then naturally hardened by the heat of the oven. And, as we all know, extra bubbles mean extra surface area, which means extra crunch!
1 to 4 pounds (450g to 1.7kg) chicken wings, cut into drumettes and flats
1 teaspoon (5g) baking powder per pound of chicken wings
1 teaspoon (5g) kosher salt per pound of chicken wings
2 tablespoons (1 ounce; 25g) unsalted butter per pound of chicken wings
2 tablespoons (1 ounce; 30ml) Frank’s RedHot Sauce per pound of chicken wings
Blue cheese dressing, for serving
Celery sticks, for serving

I set three new batches of wings on a rack set in a baking sheet and placed them, uncovered, in the refrigerator overnight. One was tossed with baking soda (a smaller amount than what had previously given me a bitter aftertaste), one was tossed with baking powder, and one was plain.

The next day, I removed the desiccated wings and baked them in a 425°F (218°C) oven, on the same rack that I’d dried them on. The results were even better than I’d expected:
Check out the hole structure on that, baby!

Although the baking soda–laden wings still had an off flavor, both the baking powder– and baking soda-treated wings showed markedly more bubbling and blistering than their untreated counterpart—just as much as a regular fried wing, in fact!

Could such a dramatic difference be attributed merely to improved browning because of the Maillard reaction? That’s part of the answer, but some research revealed that, most likely, it’s a combination of factors.

While Alton’s methods are always interesting, and often spot-on, my guess is that none of the supporters of the steam-and-bake technique actually performed a side-by-side test. When push came to shove, the three batches were virtually indistinguishable from each other.

Give The Wings a Rest
It was time to call in the big guns. Sure, it’d be nice if I could pick up a package of wings on game day and have them ready for dipping in blue cheese a few hours later. But wishing it ain’t gonna make it happen. As I discovered yet again, good results require careful thought, a bit of work, and plenty of time.

I decided to use a method that works wonders on whole birds and red-meat roasts alike: air-drying. Hopefully allowing the wings to dry on a rack overnight would dehydrate them enough that rapid browning could happen in the oven.

Special equipment
Rimmed baking sheet, wire cooling rack

Using a flexible rubber spatula, fold in almond flour, walnuts, cinnamon, and nutmeg until combined. Fold in grated apple. Pour batter into prepared pan and gently tap on the counter to evenly distribute. Bake until golden brown and top of cake bounces back to the touch, about 50 minutes.

While cake is still warm, loosen exposed short sides of cake from pan using an offset spatula or butter knife. Using parchment paper as a handle, lift cake out of pan and onto a cutting board. Cut cake into diamond shapes by making a series of diagonal slices in one direction across the cake, then making another series of diagonal slices in the opposite direction. Lift sliced cake, again using parchment, and return to pan. Strain syrup over warm cake using a fine-mesh strainer, then let sit at least 1 hour to allow cake to fully absorb syrup. Serve.

Special equipment
9-by-13-inch anodized aluminum baking pan, medium nonreactive saucepan or saucier, stand mixer, instant-read thermometer, fine-mesh strainer.

Though it’s commonly served at Passover, when flour and leavening action are forbidden, I like it any time I need a gluten-free dessert. This is my Americanized version: a heady mix of spices and citrus, with grated apple added to the traditional nut-based cake. Rather than rose blossom syrup, I opt for a ginger-infused syrup that’s boozy with Applejack, America’s own apple brandy.
For the Syrup:
1 cup sugar (7 ounces; 200g)
1 1/2 cups unsweetened apple juice (12 ounces; 340g)
2-inch piece ginger (2 ounces; 60g), unpeeled, cut in half lengthwise and smashed
Zest from 1 medium lemon
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice (1/2 ounce; 14g), from about 1 lemon
4 tablespoons Applejack brandy (2 ounces; 60g)
For the Cake:
4 large eggs (6.8 ounces; 190g)
3/4 cup sugar (5 3/4 ounces; 160g)
1 teaspoon (4g) Diamond Crystal kosher salt; for table salt, use about half as much by volume or the same by weight
1 cup vegetable oil (8 ounces; 220g), or any other neutral oil
2 tablespoons freshly grated ginger (1 ounce; 30g)
2 1/2 cups almond flour (8 ounces; 230g)
1 1/2 cups finely chopped walnuts (6.2 ounces; 175g)
2 teaspoons (6g) ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
2 cups grated unpeeled Fuji apple (12 ounces; 340g), from about 2 medium apples

Grated apple tenderizes what might otherwise be a heavy cake.
The cool syrup plumps the hot cake and infuses it with additional flavor and sweetness.
This Sephardic cake is an ideal Passover dessert, as it contains no flour or leavening.
Tishpishti is a traditional Sephardic cake, in the spirit of nutty, sweet, syrupy North African and Middle Eastern desserts like baklava.

Tomato paste, garlic, chicken stock, and a single lamb shank makes for a rich, bold-flavored broth for the manti, and using a pressure cooker means it’s ready in less than an hour.
Butter and egg yolk yields a crisp-tender, easy-to-roll out manti dough.
Using a pasta machine makes quick work of rolling the manti dough into a uniform thickness and dimensions, though the recipe has been formulated to work when hand-rolled as well.
Manti-making is a labor-intensive process, but there’s lots of make-ahead potential here. The dumplings and the broth both freeze well for weeks, and the broth, dough, and filling can be made and held for a day in the fridge before use.

To Serve: Form the za’atar mixture by combining oregano, thyme, savory, sesame seeds, sumac, and salt in a small bowl and stirring with fingers until homogenous. Brush finished flatbreads with olive oil and sprinkle generously with the za’atar mixture. Place labne in a serving dish, drizzle with olive oil, and sprinkle with za’atar. Serve bread with labne immediately.

Special equipment
grill, stand mixer or food processor

Notes
For a much quicker, easier version, use store-bought flatbreads reheated on the grill until crisp and blistered on both sides, about 1 minute per side. Brush with olive oil and za’atar as directed. Labne is a Middle Eastern strained yogurt that can be found in most high-end grocery stores, such as Whole Foods, or in specialty markets. If unavailable, use strained Greek yogurt instead. Store-bought pre-mixed za’atar can be used in place of the homemade version. Use 1/2 cup total. If using commercial za’atar, salt content will vary; adjust according to taste. If you cannot find sumac, add 1 teaspoon grated lemon zest to the mixture in its place.

Transfer baking sheet to wire rack and let gata cool for at least 20 minutes. Slice into wedges, and serve.

Walnuts are traditional here, though other nuts such as pecans, pistachios, or almonds would make excellent substitutes.

The dough will likely crack along the edges when being rolled and pressed out; just pinch the dough as needed to smooth it out.

When decorating the top of gata, dip the tines of your fork regularly in flour to prevent dragging.

The edge pleats and top decorations will soften and smooth out as the gata bakes, so be sure to make them as distinct and sharp as possible.

Make-Ahead and Storage
The gata filling can be refrigerated for up to 3 days, if desired. Allow to come to room temperature before using, about 30 minutes. Gata is best served on the day it’s baked, though it can be covered and stored at room temperature for up to 24 hours. Reheat in a 250°F (120°C) oven for 15 minutes before serving.

Ingredients
For the Dough:
10 ounces (2 cups plus 2 tablespoons; 285g) all-purpose flour
1 1/4 teaspoons (5g) instant yeast
1/8 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons (6g) Diamond Crystal kosher salt; for table salt use half as much by volume or same weight
5 ounces (10 tablespoons; 140g) unsalted butter, softened
2 ounces (about 1/4 cup; 60g) sugar
5 ounces (about 2/3 cup; 140g) plain Greek yogurt (whole or low-fat)
1 large egg (55g), lightly beaten
For the Filling:
3 ounces (85g) walnuts, lightly toasted and coarsely chopped
2 1/2 ounces (about 1/2 cup; 70g) all-purpose flour
2 ounces (about 1/4 cup; 60g) sugar
1/4 teaspoon Diamond Crystal kosher salt; for table salt use half as much by volume or same weight
2 ounces (4 tablespoons; 60g) unsalted butter, melted
2 teaspoons (10ml) vanilla extract
To Finish and Bake:
1 large egg, lightly beaten with a pinch of salt

Directions
For the Dough: In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, yeast, baking soda, and salt. In a large bowl, using a stiff rubber spatula, vigorously stir butter and sugar together to form a uniform paste. Add flour mixture to butter mixture; wipe out bowl that had flour mixture, lightly grease with cooking spray or butter, and set aside. Using spatula followed by hands, mix flour and butter mixtures together until even, cornmeal-like mixture forms, 1 to 2 minutes.

My favorite thing about this gata—aside from its good looks and deliciousness—may be the way it’s shaped, which is both straightforward and forgiving: Once you’ve pressed and rolled the dough out into a 12-inch-wide round, you place the filling in the center of it, fold and pleat the dough over the filling until it’s fully enclosed, and then you press and roll it into a disc again. It’s pretty easy to do, but the good news is—unlike other, similar preparations, like dumplings, which I’ve found are a challenge to shape prettily without lots of practice—the gata is very forgiving, because the dough is Play-Doh-malleable and the pleated part ends up on the underside, hiding any imperfections. As for the ornamentation, I opt for a simple crisscross pattern made with the tines of a fork on the top of the dough created, along with pleats around the outer rim. I mention this below, but it bears repeating: the dough puffs up as it bakes, softening the edges of the pleats and lines, so you should make them as sharp and dramatic as possible if you want traces of your art to remain.

A single egg helps give the crust structure and lends it a pale yellow color, while a touch of baking soda helps to further lighten the gata’s crumb. As for the fermentation itself, I leave the dough at room temperature for 30 minutes to get a jump-start on proofing before it goes into the refrigerator for at least four hours (or as long as overnight). Chilling the sticky, moist dough in the fridge while it proofs makes it easier to roll out and shape when the time comes.

A yeasted dough loaded with butter, sugar, Greek yogurt, and egg creates a tender, light bread-cake hybrid.
The filling, known as khoritz in Armenian, is a mixture of chopped walnuts, flour, butter, sugar, and vanilla that’s similar to a streusel.
The gata is filled with just a single layer, making it easy to assemble and shape.
At its most basic, a gata—also known as “kata”, “gatah”, or “katah”, depending upon who’s doing the transliteration—is a lightly sweetened, buttery Armenian cake, bread, or pastry meant to be served as part of a mezze (appetizer) spread, or with coffee or tea, or as a dessert.

When I set out to develop a gata recipe for Serious Eats, I was faced with the dilemma of deciding which style to choose from among so many. I didn’t grow up eating gata, and what I knew of the dish came from cookbooks and stories of friends and family who had eaten it on trips to Armenia. I knew I wanted something on the sweeter end of the spectrum—more coffee cake than savory bread—and I wanted to keep the preparation relatively simple. Which meant that the okhlavoo-rolled version was out; rolling out transparently-thin sheets of dough without tearing requires a lot of practice, not to mention miles of counter space. Since I am a bread person, and I knew I wanted some yeast in the picture, I chose to go with a walnut khoritz-filled cake made with a yeasted dough.

The dough I created is buttery and tender, thanks in great part to the fact that it is moistened almost entirely with Greek yogurt.

Some gata resemble croissants, made from an enriched bread dough rolled into paper-thin, table-wide sheets using an “okhlavoo” (a wooden dowel dedicated to dough work), smeared with butter, rolled up like a carpet and cut into spirals that bake up layered and crisp. Others are sweeter and decidedly more cake-like, whether they’re made with a yeast- or baking soda/acidic dairy-leavened dough (baking powder was, until very recently, unknown in Armenia, so most chemically-leavened baked goods are made using a combination of baking soda and an acidic dairy like yogurt or sour cream). This latter style is usually formed into a flattened disc and filled with a single layer of a butter, flour, sugar, vanilla, and (sometimes) chopped nut paste known as khoritz, a mixture that’s essentially the Armenian equivalent of streusel. These more simple gata are often dressed up with decorative strips of dough or by scoring patterns onto the top before baking.