Dinner with Friends
“Just Thinking”
I’ve written several times about growing up in San Francisco—what a great place it was, and at such a great time. I’ve often lamented how much “The City” has changed over the years. Sure, some of that is looking back with rose-colored glasses, but the crime, homelessness, and exodus of the tax base cannot be overlooked. Last night, however, I was reminded how fortunate I am to have my roots in San Francisco.
I had dinner at Harris' The San Francisco Steakhouse, whose head chef and owner is a grammar school mate. I was joined by seven classmates from high school. Fifty years later, and the ties from our youth are still strong, built on a bond of shared experiences.
I really need to give a shout-out to Chef Mike and the whole Buhagiar family. If you haven’t had the opportunity to dine at Harris’ Restaurant, you truly owe it to yourself to try it out. The restaurant was founded in 1984 by Ann Harris, after her husband, Jack Harris, the founder of Harris Ranch, passed away in 1981, Ann moved to San Francisco and opened the steakhouse. Chef Mike, who had risen through the ranks from morning cook to head chef, became part owner after Ann passed away in 2003. In 2018, he assumed full ownership of Harris'. Over the years, it has become a staple for the classic American steakhouse fare, featuring a full bar and a timeless ambiance with leather booths, brass chandeliers, and live jazz music.
Sitting at our large table, working our way through appetizers, entrées, dessert and even a birthday candle for 2-Sheds (BTW, not the best spot for a vegetarian) our conversations bounced all over the place as we tried to avoid the old axiom: young people talk about dreams, middle-aged people talk about accomplishments, and old people talk about their ailments. Determined not to let the old men in, we talked about our families, kids and grandkids, planned vacations, and other old buddies who weren’t with us that night. We spent most of the evening reminiscing about shared experiences, our parents who spent countless hours watching our sporting events and what we’re all doing for fun now. Inevitably, the conversation turned to how blessed we all are to have grown up where and when we did, in a time and place that helped forge such strong and lasting bonds.
In many ways, growing up in San Francisco was like growing up in a small town. When you meet someone from “The City,” within a short conversation you’ll discover many mutual connections. Districts, neighborhoods, and parishes all contributed to creating a tight-knit community, families knew each other, the corner store owner, the mailman, or the regulars at the local pub. There’s a shared pride in being from San Francisco. The Giants, the Niners, and the Warriors are our teams. The Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, Fisherman’s Wharf, the Cable Cars, North Beach, and the Fog are all pridefully ours.
One conversation that really struck a chord with me highlighted the thread that runs through generations and ties us all together. As we approach our 50th high school reunion, we reflected on the bygone tradition of receiving your Golden Diploma at the graduation of the current senior class. That means the class of 1927 received their Golden Diplomas when we graduated, and the class of 2027 will be graduating when we receive ours... Dang.
I believe the mark of a good friend is that no matter how long it’s been since you’ve seen or talked to them, when you do hook up again, you pick up right where you left off. I’ve also heard it said that a friend will help you move, but a good friend will help you move a body.
I’m truly grateful for the amazing friends in my life.
Let me know what you think.
harrisrestaurant.com
@ChuckBarberini - #ChuckBarberiniRealEstate - @ChuckBarberiniRealEstate
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