The room is long, narrow, and smells like the sea. Customers are crowded along a marble bar, behind which gruffly charming men sling fish and dish out sauce. This is Swan's oyster bar, a San Francisco institution that still is unknown to many. But though most of my friends look blank when I rave about my latest meal at Swan's, the line is still out the door at lunchtime. My dad and I have been coming here since I was a kid, and I'm always delighted to go back. Here is fresh, no-nonsense seafood, salads and chowder. The same family--several brothers, and now their kids--have been running it for decades, and it has a whiff of an older, bluer-collar San Francisco to it. I can't wait to go back.
