Walking into Alfred’s Steakhouse on Merchant Street is like entering a time capsule. Only instead of worthless baseball cards, you’re transported back to a time when San Francisco was an industry town full of toughs who came to places like Alfred’s to make handshake deals with politicians.
At Alfred’s you are greeted by two things:
One is Marco, the Maître D’ and part-owner, who relays upon you the lost fine art of hosting. He doesn’t simply arrange for your reservation or hand you a menu, he takes time to get to know his customers regardless of how frequently they visit.
The second is the scent of meat that fills the air, as a freezer full of aging beef cuts sits just at the front of the restaurant. There is no question about what you are doing in this restaurant: You are here to eat meat.