The Prescott
San Francisco, CA

The first time I stayed at the Prescott, it was to weasel my way into Wolfgang Puck’s San Francisco outpost, Postrio. The Prescott shares a building with the restaurant and their concierge has priority seating. A good plan, but I bungled it by getting sick. Taken to my Prescott bed, I was forced to have Postrio deliver cinnamon banana pancakes for a late breakfast and later on some soft scrambled eggs with lobster and mascarpone cheese. Then, a tad of Postrio’s intensely-flavored blackberry sorbet sent me off to dreamland. No one felt sorry for me.

The longer I spent in my Prescott room, the fonder I became of it. The bed was most comfortable. When bored, the bedside table held a Gideon’s for inspiration and a Tales of San Francisco for amusement— San Francisco stories from the likes of Jack Kerouac, Amy Tan and Tom Wolfe.

The classic décor—empire style cherry furniture, a paisley print bedspread and striped wall paper—was in forest greens, deep reds and gold. An orchid sat on my table, an umbrella in the closet and a robe in the bathroom. An armoire held the TV with many movies and the minibar with umpteen temptations in this comfortable, but not large room. The pictures were goofs on antique flower prints. One, an antiquely drawn lily sprouted tiger heads among the leaves: Lillium Tigerum, of course.

The Prescott’s Club Level caught my eye and that’s where I stayed the second time, figuring a few bites morning and evening from Postrio’s could nicely frame a day. It did. Club Level guests rendezvous in their private living room-like space with a bar and all manner of agreeable gathering spots. Busy times of the day bring a concierge to a desk to assist with the scheduling. The décor is refined and masculine, but the red and green striped silk chairs add gaiety and a black leopard, whose tail and paw are gracefully slung over a gilded mirror reigns over the proceedings.

Mornings clubbers breakfast to the ever-present CNN on the substantial continental breakfast spread. Some make toast from Postrio’s bread and nibble raspberries. Others select from the five juices and six cereals pilling them with banana and yogurt. The harried grab a bagel and coffee in the take-out cups. During the day, clubbers come here to work quietly or hold small meetings, secretly waiting for the fresh-baked cookies to arrive.

Each evening, a Prescott concierge holds a cocktail party with drinks, wine and tidbits from Postrio’s. I still crave the Wild Mushroom, Argula and Roasted Garlic Pizza. Should wine and delectables fail to revive, neck and shoulder massages are available. Sungsoo Park’s neck massage was so helpful, I scheduled a full massage in my room for the next day. It left me two inches taller (or so it felt) and a good deal less grumpy (or so my mother claimed.)

I found myself in this state of disrepair after a rather hectic day of shopping as my mother, from parts remote, had come to San Francisco specifically to shop. Prescott’s concierge hooked us up with yet another wonder, Ken Stucky, a personal shopper at Nordstrom’s. This was my first experience with personal shopping, but it won’t be my last. We left with purchases that will bring Mother compliments for years and Ken had made what is normally a trial into a party. On a tip from the concierge, we were shuttled back to the Prescott by Nordstrom’s free bus to find she had located my mother’s only foible, double crostic puzzles—if you don’t know, you don’t want to—but it was a notable achievement.

Shuttles aren’t necessary to get to San Francisco’s ground zero for shopping; Union Square is just a short walk from the Prescott’s front door. The biggies, Macy’s, Neiman-Marcus, Bloomingdale’s and Saks are here along with Gumps, Tiffany’s and Gucci. There are even some not so-high end stores like the Virgin Mega Store, Disney Store and The Gap. Union Square, named for the pro-Union rallies held here during the civil war, now hosts palm trees, shoppers and in keeping with its historical use, a daily round of demonstrators.

We did, finally, dine at Postrio’s for dinner. Past the bar and upstairs dining area, a wide stairway of the grand entrance variety leads to Postrio’s main dining room. Bouquets as big as bushes, splashy modern art and a bustling open kitchen define this ritzy room. So lively in fact, we preferred the upstairs where we could converse.

Postrio has taken some heavy hits in the San Francisco press lately. So, O.K. the wee portions are over-priced and the staff a bit standoffish, but the setting is Hollywood-gorgeous and we had no complaints about the food. Three different presentations of superb lamb including a spicy Asian concoction and several choplettes were included in one dinner and the Ahi Ahi tuna, delicately pink, inside carried its spicy bean sauce splendidly. The breads were excellent and I still love the dessert platter so I can taste it all.

After dinner, we idled in front of the fire in The Prescott’s lobby, comfortable in their chic Charles Eames chairs. We admired the high-polish mahogany paneling, the Hawaiian tropical flowers and the retro rug with its swathes of curlicues. Retiring to our room, we nibbled the Ghiardelli chocolate from the turndown fairy and agreed we’d return to the Prescott no matter what anybody says about Postrio’s.

By Kate Crawford          February 2002

LINKS WITH ATTITUDE

The Prescott's web site.

This site promotes San Francisco City Guides free walking tours and lots of other information and links to San Francisco touring, history and such.

Check for sales in San Francisco by looking up this week's ads on the San Francisco Chronicle site.  It's also a good place to check for San Francisco events, or even just read the news.