polk sheet

Near or far, edgy or conservative, American or foreign, a city is always a living, breathing thing. But despite the bustling streets, the forward-thinking citizens, and the need to push, push, push, you’ll find pockets that remain static — in face of change. Since I carved out a little life for myself around Russian Hill, Hyde Street has always seemed like one of those inert niches, free of the revolving doors and foot traffic of its sister street, Polk. With its twinkling lights and quaint streetcar drone, heading up to Hyde is a little like a trip back to your parent’s house . . . the pantry remains stocked with 15-year-old cans of pinto beans and desk drawers brim with ’90s Christmas cards of kids in white turtlenecks. On the outside, it looks a little staid, but it feels like home.

When I learned that 1550 Hyde would be closing Aug. 15, to be replaced by Alexander Alioto’s Seven Hills come October, it shook me a little. I liked that place! Change may be inevitable but that doesn’t make it any more palatable.

So I headed there Saturday night for one last hoorah. A salad of Marin Roots Farm little gem lettuce, cherry tomatoes, cucumber, and avocado green goddess dressing ushered in grilled red wattle pork chops with beans and snap peas — and a glass or two of wine. It’s an end of an era.

Turns out my mother sold my childhood home this week too, so I’ll just go cry now.