Russian Hill, Nob Hill and Frog Legs

The first thing that I noticed about Russian Hill is that there is barely anything Russian there. The neighborhood gets its name from a graveyard north of Vallejo Street between Taylor and Jones containing the bodies of Russian sailors that supposedly died of Malaria. The graves are long gone, and, other than the name, there isn't anything Russian about the area.

What I did find in my travels down the bustling, tree-lined streets (other than ample shade) was a small French quarter around Polk and Green streets featuring a French bakery and a couple of high-end restaurants. I spoke to the manager of one of these restaurants, La Folie, which features exotic French cuisine such as frog legs or bone marrow at $105 a person. The manager, George Passot, was happy to speak with me despite the fact that the workers were furiously preparing for the dinnertime rush.

Passot told me of his experience when the restaurant opened in 1988 and how the neighborhood used to be, in many ways, similar to its neighbors to the south down lower Polk Street in the Tenderloin. This surprised me considering that this was a guy that owns a restaurant that doesn't even have the prices of the foods on its menus in what is one of the ritziest neighborhoods in town. It also surprised me that, for a restaurant with such high-end and what some may consider pretentious food, the manager was so genial and happy to talk to a student journalist that just wandered through the door. In fact, Passot was way more easy-going and easy to talk to than most of the others in the neighborhood with whom I had spoken that day. I halfway considered trying some of the unusual cookery (on credit, of course).

Further down Polk Street, I ventured to Nob Hill which consists of what many think of when they picture high society in the City (other than the Haight). The area features huge hotels furnished in such luxury that the mere thought of getting a room probably costs something. The apartment complexes have doormen. The majestic Grace Cathedral stretches towards the sky and presides over the streets with eminent authority and conviction.

This all was a lot to take in, and, despite the obvious disparity between the ridiculously wealthy Nob Hill its the notoriously poor southern neighbor, the Tenderloin, it was difficult not to be impressed by the splendor and sheer excess of the neighborhood. It is hard not to feel out of place in such surroundings. Still, at least now I know where to get a good dish of sauteed burgundy snails when the mood strikes.