La Ciccia

291 30th St, San Francisco, CA

There’s no pretense here. The walls are close, the tables a little too near each other, the kind of intimacy that makes you a participant instead of a spectator. You’re in their house now, and they’re going to feed you until you loosen your belt and give up.

The food? It’s Sardinia in exile, and it doesn’t compromise for anyone. Bottarga, shaved and briny, smacking you with the taste of the sea. Pastas with that hand-built roughness, clinging to sauces like they’ve got unfinished business. Meats that taste like they were pulled from a hillside instead of shrink-wrapped in some sterile warehouse. Everything here is soulful, intentional, a reminder that simplicity, when it’s backed by honesty, will always beat whatever soulless small-plate circus is trending downtown.

The wine list is pure Sardinia too, a deep dive into bottles you’ve never seen before, and that’s the point. You’re not here to cling to the familiar. You’re here to trust. To hand yourself over.