For the past few years, San Francisco has seen a surge of places serving French favorites, from butter-soaked escargot on the Embarcadero to saffron-infused seafood stew by the beach. But with the chilly weather comes a restaurant on the outskirts of Hayes Valley that offers something different: British classics.

Dingles Public House, set to open the day after Thanksgiving, draws inspiration from both well-worn British pubs and old-school San Francisco favorites. The owners, George and Anissa Dingle, bring Michelin-level experience to the project, having met while working at Corey Lee’s now-closed Monsieur Benjamin.

If they could describe their debut project as a couple in a single phrase, it’d be “the love child of NoPa and Bix.” And given the success that Bix and other decades-old restaurants, such as Brazen Head, have been having, it feels like exactly the type of new-but-familiar restaurant San Franciscans are craving. 

“Over the years, we’ve really grown to appreciate the classics,” Anissa says. “There are so many places in SF that are rewriting the script. We just want to keep it simple.” 

To that end, they’re offering a menu of unfussy but deftly executed classics. British cuisine “got such a bad rap,” acknowledges George, who was raised in Gloucestershire. Nevertheless, he’s resisting the urge to serve versions of the staples that are so fancified as to be nearly unrecognizable. (“I’m actually really bad at the cheffy bit,” George laughs.) Instead, he’s betting that American diners will fall in love with a well-prepared side of mushy peas, done the old-school way. 

Appetizers include buttery sausage rolls with homemade brown sauce, a tangy-savory condiment that gets a touch of sweetness from fresh dates and apples, and Welsh rarebit, which sees rich cheddar cheese sauce draped over a thick slice of toast, then broiled. The Scotch egg is a showstopper: Split it open, and a golden runny yolk spills out of a deep-fried sausage-wrapped egg. Fish and chips are done the traditional way, meaning a single filet of flaky white cod wrapped in a crispy, beer-spiked batter over a bed of thick-cut fries, with tartar and curry sauces and a ramekin of those mushy peas. 

On the heavier end of the spectrum, there are beef and Guinness pies, which come with bone split lengthwise to expose the unctuous roasted marrow within — one of the more obvious concessions to the Dingles’ shared fine-dining pedigree — and a 12-ounce New York steak that gets drowned in peppercorn sauce tableside. To finish, there is pudding. Specifically, a decadent sticky toffee pudding served with a scoop of house-made brown-butter ice cream. 

On the beverage side, Anissa is keeping things simple with relatively straightforward cocktails like the Sticky Bobby, a Scotch-based drink with Benedictine and toffee, and the 007, a blend of gin, vodka, and Lillet Blanc. Wines, meanwhile, reflect the couple’s roots. Anissa, who grew up in Salinas, peppers a Love & Terroir chenin blanc and Tatomer pinot noir from the Central Coast into a list that also showcases half a dozen wines from across Great Britain. 

When it came to designing the space, which is nestled at the back of the Inn at the Opera, the couple filled the walls with vintage art, wrapped the room in rich emerald green, and adorned the back bar with a collection of antique duck figurines. The tables and chairs are handsomely weathered, having been brought over from Monsieur Benjamin, with tufted, oxblood banquettes pushed up against the walls. The result feels comfortably worn-in. 

“Sometimes restaurants feel very cold,” George says. “You get the vibe that they’re doing you a favor by letting you be there. We just wanted it to feel warm and timeless.” 

Located just steps from the War Memorial Opera House, Symphony Hall, and Herbst Theater, Dingles Public House aims to be a neighborhood staple as well as an option for a pre-ballet dinner or post-show drink. The couple hope to draw a crowd with Sunday roasts, which will feature a rotating selection of meats and family-style sides served from afternoon to early evening. San Francisco is, after all, an early-to-bed town, the couple knows.  

“It’s like Thanksgiving every week,” Anissa says of the hearty Sunday meal. Just without the pressure of having to roast your own turkey.