Satisfying Moment #1394

Satisfaction doesn’t have to be a big fat I TOLD YOU SO. The kind that’s in-your-face-obnoxious and annoying as fuck. We’ve all said it. I told you so. I friggin told you so. It’s so satisfying that we sometimes hate to say it, but I told you so. And though it definitely feels fantastic in the moment, each time someone calls you out for saying it, no matter how cute you think your delivery is, you get one step closer to becoming a full-fledged douchebag.

I propose an alternative. Instead, one can exercise some patience and restraint for the most satisfying moment to come.

Like when you’re walking the dog late at night with your boyfriend after an episode of ATK’s Cook’s Country and he drops a cell phone to the cement sidewalk and yells “SHIT!” causing you to temporarily freak out and ask “WAS THAT MY PHONE?!?!” to which he screams a retort full of defiant certainty that it would be ridiculous for you to think it was your phone that he dropped because “your phone is on the fucking couch at home!” Clearly your boyfriend is upset that he may have damaged his own phone and that’s the only acceptable reason for him to speak to you in this manner, or you wouldn’t be with him at all—but I digress.

To his look of furious disgust and accusation you take a deep breath, and to his finger jousting back toward your apartment you calmly reply, “Two minutes ago I asked you to read an email on my phone from the woman whose child I’m possibly fathering.”

And then it registers. The phone he dropped could have very well been your phone. Frantic to prove he’d not just forgotten he was holding your phone (something ridiculous he’d accuse you of doing any other day of the week) he searches the many pockets of his hipster tech-schwag hoodie and faded pajama jersey culottes to find your cell phone, in all its glory, with the email he said he would read still open on the screen.

Yeah, satisfaction is not served best with an “I told you so.” No! Silently rolling your eyes 360° into the back of your head and giving someone you love the stare of death because they were wrong about something they’ve been so sure they were right about—well that’s pure joy.

House of Prime Rib San Francisco

Featuring our meal at House of Prime Rib San Francisco is only appropriate for the I-Told-You-So post because that’s exactly what our friends Dan and Tim said after taking us there. They, and pretty much any carnivore in SF, have been talking about the House of Prime Rib experience for decades. Seriously, the place has been around since 1949…and so have some of our friends (oh snap!).

I knew it was a San Francisco institution but more than that I’m a sucker for anything old school and kitsch. On those House of Prime Rib delivers in spades. Dark carved wood and dim warm lighting sets a mood that’s both romantic and reminiscent of Coppola’s Godfather. Red leather trimmed half moon booths and white linen tablecloths throughout bronze gilded dining rooms. Magnums of Silver Oak cabernet, Frogs Leap reserve, and vintage Duck Horn are just some of California’s best on display greeting you upon entry.

Don’t worry if the hostess tells you your table isn’t quite ready, because you can always enjoy a drink in their library lounge. The martinis are fantastic. Strong, chilled and brought to your table with what’s left in the shaker, which is essentially a free refill.

The wait staff is at the top of their game, some have been doing this for decades and I’m sure make more than most first year coders. In maroon pressed vests, white long sleeves, an apron and a tie they not only look the part, but command your attention.

Known for their roast beef served in the traditional English style, the House of Prime Rib is not for those in search of a “light meal.” They do have a fish dish for any non-beef eaters, but it’s the House of Prime Rib people!

You pick the style and cut of prime rib, which is essentially your choice of small, medium, or I’m-a-fatty cut. Everything else is included and you just have to choose between whole baked potato or mashed, creamed spinach or corn. The Yorkshire pudding, selection of horseradish sauces, and the salad (if you can call it that) are included.

I’m glad I finally had a chance to enjoy House of Prime Rib San Francisco. Not only does it strike a nostalgic chord, but it’s remorseless and unapologetic about the kind of experience they offer at a time when everything in the food world seems contradictory. It’s that honesty and truthfulness to itself that I appreciate, and I hope I can get back soon. I wish ‘I told you so’ could always be this delicious.

Here’s what we ate:

Crusty sourdough loaf on the table with butter. This is a very yeasty San Francisco sourdough, but be careful you don’t fill up on bread, because there’s so much more to come.

After ordering they brought the salad. This is made tableside with the many ingredients placed in the metal bowl over ice.

Then they add the house salad dressing, which is sort of like a Russian or Thousan Island dressing. In a single motion upward, a waterfall of dressing hits the salad as they spin the bowl and then serve.

Once the salads are gone, a giant metal zeppelin twice the size of Rosemary’s Baby’s bassonet is wheeled over to your table.

The butcher lifts the front side to reveal the meal and cuts everyone’s portion to order.

He adds mashed potatoes and creamed spinach to the plate if you ordered that and offers you some jus, which everyone sort of just nods yes to.

The whole baked potatoes made to order with your choice of fixings are brought next. I chose one with “the works” and that was sour cream, butter, chives and bacon.

I happen to love creamed corn so I ordered some of that as well. It was rich, creamy, and sweet—yum!

On top of our meat portions come a serving of Yorkshire pudding. Think of it as popover only baked in a skillet. More butter, protein (egg) and flour added to the plate. This is definitely the kind of food that sticks to your bones and makes you feel like a king.

For dessert we ordered a single piece of their tiramisu because that’s one of Jonathan’s favorite desserts. It was, as expected, amazing, and though it was hard to find room in our bellies for it, we suffered through the task.

Tell us about your favorite “I told you so” moment, or if you’ve been to the infamous House of Prime Rib in San Francisco, tell us what you thought about the experience in the comments below.