It's difficult to imagine that anything could be cursed by being situated inside one of San Francisco's most elegant hotels, but that's what The Ritz Carlton on Nob Hill does to Parallel 37.
The setting, the food, the service are all top class. The vibe is non-existent.
It may be that we both travel too often for business that a restaurant in a hotel reminds us too much of work, stealing whatever atmosphere might be there just like opening the hatch on a spacecraft.
Last night's Veal Tortelloni and Kampachi Sashimi appetizers, and slow-cooked Pork and baby Chicken entrees were but brief alternatives to the ... to the .. nothing. The restaurant had no life, no dynamism, no spirit.
Compare that with Bar Agricole, Salt House, or RN74 - places with a surfeit of stuff going on, as well as a knack for preparing great food.
There's little that Parallel 37 can do about it. It's doubly cursed, as not only is it just off the lobby of a hotel, but that hotel - unlike the ones that are home to Michael Mina or Prospect - is atop San Francisco's steepest hill.
Bummer.
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