Brady J. Frey

San Francisco, like most major cities, is a town built on a melting pot of cuisine. No where else can you find fresh sushi next door to a bistro serving the in season best of the Sonoma valley- but they can’t make a pizza, and breakfast tastes like a salad. When I first landed in this town, I made it a personal vendetta that if I had to let my Chicagoan obsession with pizza hibernate, breakfast needed to take on more of a staring role- but San Francisco holds breakfast with polarizing extremes: you either eat a $10 meal heavily microwaved ala-McDonald’s, or a $40 meal in a one egg omelet forked with seafood.

I persevered. I refused to be saddled by Lori’s Diner, and knew there had to be a real Breakfast joint in this town… someone had to understand what a decent square meal needed to be blessed with, and someone had to know how to make a decent man’s omelet or a pancake that wasn’t swedish! It’s Tops, tucked in the heart of San Francisco, hit the spot.

Of all the relics of San Francisco’s history, only It’s Tops holds the title for required pilgrimage. When my Mom comes to visit, my Sister, my Niece, my Father and his wife, my friends, Sheryl’s Parents, Sheryl’s Brother and Wife, co-workers, social events- all find their way to It’s Tops at least once in our travels.

On the Outside

Nestled on the South corner of Octavia and Market, near the recently developed highway entrance, the throwback diner sits itself between the famous Al’s Comics and the always colorful Grooves. The intriguing exterior placement, coupled with the opulent 1950′s signage and a classic color scheme, are a unique take on a diner scene soured by the hollywood and corporate visions of push-button eats. Not only do you find a family owned restaurant passed down through the generations at It’s Tops, but one ran by those very same owners and catered with the same sincerity.

On the Inside

The interior boasts vinyl red seats draped by dark wood walls, armored with retro-propaganda and numerous articles and awards from the restaurants vintage opening all the way to the present day. If you’re riding solo or just don’t see an open booth, the counter has a stool with your name on it; muck it up with local fanfare, talk with co-owner Sheila about the morning, or marvel at the great food… and it is great. You’re teased with everything from the best waffles and pancakes in the Bay Area (I’d argue, in my travels, most of Northern California), packed with blueberries or walnuts, or smothered with peanut butter or bananas, to french toast and cooked-just-right-hashbrowns, maybe omelets stuff fat with the local fixings, burgers by exquisite locally ranched meats; even beer battered mushrooms with an Elvis special.

Catch yourself in a dinner mood? Maybe you’ll be lucky and stop by on a Friday night before the crowd hits: you’ll run into one of the owners, Bruce, and he can tell you about the original cast iron he cooked that massive burger on, flavored for generations, over house tap. You can order breakfast if you want, sure, but sift through four pages of menu filled with hot off the grill Lamb Chops or perfectly marinated Steaks. Follow up with a traditionally home-made milk shake, maybe a banana split or Bruce’s very own mud pie.

Whatever you’ve come for, come prepared it eat a great meal around people that are happy to make that great meal. You’ll find real people who love San Francisco and want to keep making this town the beacon of the west. You may just find out you come so often you don’t have to even ask for the best- Sheila knows you’re going to order that perfect Carmel Mocha without whip cream while you stare at the menu for 15 minutes debating which combination you’ll gamble this go-around. San Francisco may never figure out how to make a Pizza, but It’s Tops shows San Francisco what a real diner is all about.