San Francisco can claim greatness across many food-related metrics. It’s home to top-notch bakeries, some of the best burritos in the country, and mountains of juicy, medium-rare prime rib enjoyed with an ice-cold martini.

But it’s a different story when the clock strikes 10 p.m. Blame the under-21 entrepreneurs who’d rather stay home building the next big thing in AI or the 30-somethings who need to wake up early for their run club meetup. Regardless, the result is the same: Late-night dining in the city — detractors like to gripe — has long gone to sleep.

But there are a handful of restaurants still keeping the grills hot and the soju flowing into the wee hours. So on a chilly, windy recent Friday, The Standard set out to find the hungry night owls keeping the lights on at San Francisco restaurants. We braved meet-cute first dates, stumbling out-of-towners, and drunk tech bros slamming shots in front of increasingly irritated waitstaff. And at the end of a four-hour marathon, we finally found a fountain of booze-spiked youth.         

During a mini rush at North Beach burger joint Sam’s (618 Broadway, North Beach), geriatric Gen-Z-ers fuel up for their crawl down Columbus Avenue. As Natasha Bedingfield wails about the rain on her skin, two spots are open at the low-slung, eight-seat bar, behind which owner Emad El Shawa scribbles orders on a green-and-white notepad. The steady stream of diners ebbs and flows, and by the time the kickdrums drop in Cascada’s “Everytime We Touch,” there are just two customers left. 

The stragglers are Alex Phyl and Jordan Tischner, and even though they’re twinning in black Carhartt work jackets, this is their first date. It’s Tischner’s first time in San Francisco. A resident of Utah, she’s here to help open the city’s first outpost of the viral cookie shop Crumbl, an intense scramble that drew long lines and merited a visit from the mayor. Phyl was the quiet guy with a sweet smile working security. 

Tischner says she was nervous to explore after her shift, given the city’s reputation, but Phyl coaxed her out with the promise of burgers and a classic cocktail at Vesuvio. The bustling North Beach streets are a pleasant surprise to the out-of-towner. “It’s been a wild week,” she says, eyes wide behind black-rimmed glasses. 

At 10:31, a group of local guys stumble in for burgers before heading to their next stop, Moongate Lounge. Wearing a camo hat and striped cardigan, Joshua Lizardo sips what he says is Coke out of a red plastic cup while waiting for his food. He’s well aware of the perception that the city underperforms when it comes to late-night dining — and he’s not contesting it. “SF is the city that sleeps,” he says. New York, it is not. 

About a mile south of Sam’s, a block from Union Square, the Pinecrest Diner (401 Geary St., Union Square) sign gleams brightly in green and white. The smell of a griddle crowded with frying bacon and gallons of slightly burned coffee fill the air, along with the sound of clattering plates and a cacophony of conversations. As the clock ticks toward midnight, diners occupy almost every table. In the front corner is a motley collection of skater kids in hoodies and baggy jeans. By the window, a family dinner includes a small girl who has abandoned her pancakes in favor of a stretched-out nap in the booth.

Jennifer Saghera, on the other hand, shows no signs of fatigue. She and her partner are frequent visitors from San Diego, and a flight delay led to their arrival after most San Francisco restaurants had closed. Luckily, they’re experienced at navigating the city’s after-hours dining scene. Saghera has pulled up a list on her phone. After 9:30 or 10 p.m., they sometimes hit Hinodeya Ramen, which stays open until at least 1:30 a.m., or Il Cilentano, which serves lobster ravioli and cannoli until midnight. “But Pinecrest is our go-to,” she says. 

In one hand, blinged out with fire-engine-red nails, she lofts a flute of Champagne, cutting an elegant figure in the greasy spoon. Before her sits a half-eaten plate of high-low luxury. “If you’re gonna do late-night, you gotta do steak and eggs and Champagne,” she says. 

Just around the corner, on a nondescript block of Taylor Street, another great late-night dining option hides in plain sight. Cocobang (550 Taylor St., Union Square) serves fried chicken sticky with spicy-sweet sauce and heaps of kimchi fried rice until 2 a.m. Inside, a handful of slightly swaying customers linger by the door waiting for the packed dining room to free up, while outside, an overly friendly tourist from the U.K. attempts to make slurred conversation over a cigarette. 

At this early morning hour, the disposition of the dining public has noticeably shifted. Unlike at Pinecrest, almost every table at Cocobang is occupied by small groups of friends who wear the bleary smiles of folks who’ve had a few. At the table nearest the door, five visitors from Portland are grabbing at food, including a heavy, black platter of bubbling corn cheese and a torn-to-pieces seafood pancake. In their cups is strawberry soju. They have come to San Francisco for a quick weekend trip because they found cheap flights on Alaska Airlines and are happily lubricated from more than a few lemon drops at the Lost Cat around the corner. 

Though the recent college grads are no experts, none have complaints about the quality of the food. “If it doesn’t taste good, then you’re not drunk enough,” one says. 

It’s just about 40 minutes until last call when we pull up in front of Toyose (3814 Noriega St., Outer Sunset), a beloved late-night spot in the quiet avenues of the Outer Sunset. Housed in a former garage, it has a kitschy, vaguely nautical theme. Some nights, it’s a bustling scene, but on this Friday, there’s just one occupied table in the front dining room. The foursome, all Outer Richmond residents, have been hitting the bars for a few hours and are all sarcastic comments, toxic masculinity (“I really wanna have sex with my coworker”), and barely controlled chaos. “Did we pay?” one slurs, pulling on his Patagonia as the group heads out into the cold.  

In the meantime, the staff has been providing an unsolicited countdown to closing time, warning us as we sit that they’re shutting the kitchen in 10 minutes and offering a less-than-gentle reminder of the 2 a.m. closing time while we order a carafe of yogurt-flavored soju and a couple of plates of food. When four new customers push through the front door at 1:40 a.m., the staffers inform them they’re already closed. 

Seeing the sadness in the newcomers’ eyes, we offer to share our fried chicken. After a few polite attempts to decline (while edging closer), Mitchell Tang, Keilene Sinlo, Melanie Ngai, and Emily Ngai dive into the remnants of our meal, graciously accepting glasses of soju to wash it all down.

They’ve been on a cross-town bar crawl, starting some five hours before at Key Klub, then hitting Sool Bar and Emporium for arcade games. Toyose was their last-ditch hope of filling their stomachs with something solid prior to crashing. They’ve arrived at the point of a long night out when you’re close to home but still have energy for one last nightcap, and maybe a few bites of something greasy.  

On the way out, they pause for a photo next to the restaurant’s sign, which stars a winking chicken mascot. Melanie Ngai flourishes a half-eaten chicken wing, and Tang cheeses it up for the camera. They’re youth and frivolousness embodied. They’re the San Franciscans keeping late-night dining alive.