Remember when a Happy Hour meant you were assured of a nice snack, offered free, on-the-house, complimentary to compliment the purchase of your preferred cocktail? Not just a bowl of peanuts or pretzels, but some substantial menu items? I present to you my humble opinion of the greatest happy hour spread ever.

The Happy Hour was a modern day version of yesteryear’s “Free Lunch”- an age-old tradition, offered up at turn-of-the-century saloons, to draw in patrons, and keep them drinking. Usually some salty fare, to keep the imbiber imbibing. According to Wikipedia, the free lunch was especially a big deal here in San Francisco.

An article in the Chronicle stated in San Francisco during the 1890s, of 4,500 saloons and bars, almost all of them provided free lunches that ranged from “bologna, cheese, bread, steamed clams and chowder” at joints along the waterfront to “clam chowder, clam fritters, frijoles, ham, tongue, chopped beef, pigs’ feet, shrimp salad, chicken salad, sandwiches of all kinds, roast beef, roast mutton, baked salmon trout, strawberry shortcake, lemon pie, green onions, radishes, olives, celery, ginger snaps, wine crackers, Saratoga chips and apple and banana fritters” at upscale establishments on Market Street.

Well, back in the 70’s, as a dating teen, and trying to impress my then girlfriend, future wife, I chose to take her to a few spots around town that I considered impressive. Alfred’s Steakhouse, at it’s original location on Broadway, just next to the tunnel and near the Powell-Mason Cable Car line. Julius’ Castle perched high above the Embarcadero on the East slope of Telegraph Hill. The Shadows, right up the block on Montgomery St. with it’s tasty schnitzel and spatzen and another view of The Bay to die for.

Money was, apparently, no object to Johnny GotRocks (18 year old me). Nothing but the best for my gal! (Notice my lack of mention of highbrow dining spots Ernie’s, The Blue Fox, The Mandarin, Fleur D’Lys…so I guess price did mean something…) But one weekend, I discovered this classy dark Italian/Continental spot hidden away on Commercial Street, an alley in the Financial District, and I made a reservation for dinner at Paoli’s.

The place was dark, with a long curved bar to the right of the entrance. The classic restaurant was originally at 347 Montgomery St at California since 1951. A little bit on that history:

Joe Paoli was a successful restaurateur, a beloved host, and a former light-heavyweight boxer for the Olympic Club, that had several opportunities to go pro, but he turned them down because, he said “he hadn’t the heart to hurt anyone.” Paoli’s was a destination for bankers and businessmen, politicians and celebrities, including famous boxers of the era when they visited San Francisco. On any given night you might find the likes of the great Jack Dempsey, Ring Magazine “Fighter of the Year” Carl “Bobo” Olsen, and undefeated World Heavyweight Champ Rocky Marciano.

In 1966, Paoli’s was evicted because the entire block was about to be demolished for construction of 555 California (the then Bank of America Tower). So the restaurant moved a few blocks over to reopen on New Year’s Eve on Commercial Street. And that’s the restaurant I visited on more than one occasion in the 70’s.

Back to date night: What a menu! Chock filled with Italian and Continental cuisine classics like Veal Scallopine with Fettuccine Alfredo, Petrale Sole Almondine, Steak Tartare and Abalone Steak (when you could still find it on a restaurant menu!) Check out this magnificent array of selections!

Fois Gras! Caviar by the Ounce! Escargots! Proscuitto and Melon! GTFO! Paoli’s was classier than diamond cufflinks. Something, of course, I never wore. And also four menu items that I wouldn’t think of ordering as a teen.

But while waiting at the bar for our table (yes, we got served actual adult booze-filled cocktails. It was San Francisco in the 1970’s, folks. Don’t judge. Although the ABC DID apparently do their jobs once in a while…)

“Sacrmaneto” always trying to spoil a young guy’s hot date night out. But I digress….

Sitting at that bar, sipping on a Bourbon Press, Jack and Coke, or some other mixed drink I had mentally locked and loaded to snap answer the bartender’s “whaddaya havin” query, I noticed a long groaning board set-up between the bar and dining areas. I ambled over to discover…THE GREATEST COMPLIMENTARY HAPPY HOUR BUFFET EVER!

To my memory, it seemed like that buffet had most of the items I would to order off Paoli’s menu. No caviar, smoked salmon, or oysters on the half shell (my 18 year old Neandarthal self said “thank you”). But platters and platters of delicious ravioli, chicken wings, pizza and foccacia, marinated calamari, deep fried zucchini, mini tacos, meatballs, deviled eggs, potato and three bean salads, marinated olives, artichokes, cold cuts, Liverwurst, multiple cheeses, different sliced breads and condiments to assemble sandwiches to your hearts content.

This article from 1979 backs up my claim:

After much intensive research, Chronicle Food Critic Ruthe Stein gives Paoli’s happy hour the highest accolade she can give it: the prized Four Pretzels.

Legendary, indeed. Unrivaled, agreed. And where in the hell does she get off quibbling about the calorie count at the free bar buffet? Hey Lady- try skipping the delicious (DID I MENTION ON-THE-HOUSE?) feast and go order a Limestone salad with a light vinaigrette off the goddamned menu. Jesus.

We sat and had a grand meal that night. But returned several times after just to enjoy Joe Paoli’s hospitality, the fine drinks being poured behind the bar, and of course, to grub on that great happy hour buffet.

Like many classic San Francisco institutions, Paoli’s finally closed their doors in 1982. Maybe one reason is that the Commercial Street location didn’t have the foot traffic that busy California and Montgomery Streets has. I’m not sure. But I know that I have fond memories of the newer restaurant.

It certainly was a different time in The City. Tell me where you can go these days, and for the price of a cocktail, eat like a king? I’ll leave you with a “recipe” (for life?) that Joe posted, maybe you can live “like a King- a la Paoli.”