The best and worst Chinese restaurant in San Francisco

The yin and yang, the good and bad, the exceptional dining experience and the rudest waiters from hell... actually, they can all be found in the same place; 813 Washington Street in San Francisco's old Chinatown. If you've ever been there, the name "Sam Wo" immediately comes to mind. If you haven't yet, you are in for a real treat (or the worst restaurant experience in your life, depending on your mindset).

The first time I went there was in 1971; I had asked a friend for a recommendation of a cool and authentic place for a date. He asked if I'd ever heard of Sam Wo. It was a prank on his part, but one I still get a smile out from. I think most folks who love it probably had a similar experience.

My first experience is still fresh in my mind; expecting a regular restaurant, I almost walked by the old and rough looking door; the place in only about ten feet wide. You enter through the kitchen, get a few dirty looks, and are pointed to some narrow stairs. There is a third floor, but a sharp voice instructs you stay where you are. If you are in a small group, you might get assigned to share a table with equally bewildered strangers. And they aren't really tables; they are about three by six feet, with high stools, and a formica top so worn it looks like somebody hit it with a sander.

I realized the stern voice was coming from a tall, imposing waiter with a crew cut and very sharp tongue; the late, legendary Edsel Ford Fong (probably the only waiter to have his own page in Wikipedia). It's stuffy in there, so a patron by the window tried to open it. Immediately, Edsel yelled at him from across the room, telling him to site down, and scaring him to death. Then Edsel walks over and gently opens the window. Hmmm, maybe he isn't what he seemed. But then he came to take our order; he first sits on the stool next to my companion, hands her some paper, and tells her to write down her phone number, while grabbing her ass. Then he stands, chuckles, tosses me the pad, and says to write down the order.

Edsel is long gone, but a framed proclamation from the Mayor about Edsel Fong Ford Day is proudly displayed. I can still remember him lording over his little kingdom, inimidating diners, coming up with rude and often coarse insults, and when all else failed, yelling something in Chinese down the dumbwaiter to the kitchen, usually followed by a buzzer and a tray of some steaming dishes.

The food was quite good; down home and a little greasy, but a cut above what often passes for Chinese food in other places. The BBQ pork noodle roll is a house specialty, but the locals know it for their jook, a thick rice porriage with meat or fish, and served with a kind of cruller (the Chinese did invent, among other things, what we know as the doughnut).

I lived in North Beach about ten years ago, and it was a short walk I took a few times a week to Sam Wo. And I usually try to squeeze a visit in when ever I'm in town. And they do continue to have rude, or at least indifferent, waiters. After a few years of regular visits, I did develop a cordial relationship with them, who like Edsel, were nice folks below the surface. As I expected, it was a kind of performance art they specialized in, that amazes the newcomer and amuses the regulars.

Don't expect fortune cookies (a good sign; real Chinese restaurants never have them, they were invented for the 1915 Pan Pacific Exhibition by the gardener from the Japanese Pavillion, who was later sent to an internment camp, but that's a whole nother story).

And there is no person named Sam Wo; its an Americanized version of a phrase meaning three harmonies, the convergence of heaven, earth, and humanity. Maybe that's why I still go there. At any rate, I'm not alone, search for Sam Wo on Youtube and you'll find many a tribute; including one from Conan O'Brien.