Last week, House of Prime Rib owner Joe Betz passed away at 86 years old. Beloved among diners and industry peers alike, Betz helmed the Van Ness Ave. restaurant for over forty years and never retired. His adherence to old-world charm, meticulous attention to detail, and abundant hospitality is his legacy, and it helped to canonize the 178-seat restaurant as a San Francisco institution.
Betz, the embodiment of old school dining, also inspired some of the leaders of the new school who were effusive in their praise for him and his restaurant.
“It's the only restaurant in San Francisco that's constantly busy. It's busy every single day, all day long,” says Marc Zimmerman, chef-owner of The Wild on Spear St. and Superprime Steakhouse on Mission St. “For me as a restaurateur, it’s always been incredibly impressive to me how it maintains that magic. And I think Joe had a lot to do with that.”
Zimmerman says HOPR’s success is something of a bygone era; a similar concept that opened tomorrow would likely not be able to hold the attention of diners for decades like Betz has.
“It may not be something that's attainable now, which is the most impressive thing. And the most fleeting idea about it, particularly in the aggressive dining scene of San Francisco restaurants right now, is that it's very tough to stick to something for more than five years and still be busy,” said Zimmerman.
“Whatever the equation is at House of Prime Rib, it's definitely worked and I don't see that changing,” said Josh Saenz, chef at Osso Steakhouse. “I don't see them needing to change anything. They know what they're doing.”
Betz spent his entire life in restaurants. He was born in Bavaria and got his first restaurant job at age 14, waiting tables across Europe until eventually landing in San Francisco. He waited tables at the now-demolished Hoffman’s Grill on Market before purchasing it in 1968. At 28 years old, Betz was then the youngest restaurateur in the city. In the seventies, Betz ran a coffee shop called the Bank Exchange and, later, a “supper disco” called the Park Exchange in the Transamerica Pyramid.
In 1984, the building that housed Hoffman’s was set to be demolished and Betz received a payout of $3 million from his landlord. Then, in 1985, he purchased House of Prime Rib from its founder Lou Balaski, where he spent nearly every day of the next four decades.
Before Betz took over, HOPR was only serving some 75 plates a night. These days, a slow night hovers in the ballpark of several hundred, SF Gate reported. Inside, the five-room dining hall features dark wood, high-back leather chairs, and tables upon tables adorned with white linens. HOPR staff in toques push stainless steel carts through the rooms and carve select cuts of the dry-aged prime rib at the table.
When he took over HOPR, which had already been in business 36 years when he purchased it, Betz loosened its strict dress code and did away with some oppressive booths in the dining rooms. These tiny changes yielded more chatter and energy in HOPR, something that many claim to be a quintessential part of the experience. Since 1985, little has changed.
Its simplicity is also something to be admired, but difficult to replicate in this age. The menu — prime rib, plus some sides such as mashed potatoes and creamed spinach — is narrow and not necessarily accommodating for those with dietary preferences and restrictions. That doesn’t seem to bother anyone. All the chefs I spoke to echoed a similar sentiment: The always-busy, hospitable, and friendly atmosphere is just as much of, if not more, a selling point than HOPR’s food.
“I think that is probably the more relevant way [Betz] inspires us. As far as the food, I don't even think that it is as big… Not to say that I haven't tried 15 times to make their vinaigrette,” said Jason Halverson, the chef-owner of The Vault Steakhouse.
You might think a chef that spends dozens of hours a week in a steakhouse kitchen would want to eat something else for a change — not Halverson, who currently has 22 reservations already on the books at HOPR in the coming months.
“It's the place to go for an occasion and it's the place to go without an occasion,” said Halverson, who turns to HOPR for birthdays, friends’ birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, and just about anything else. “An occasion is created just by going.”
The friendliness, the atmosphere, and HOPR’s reputation as a pulsing time capsule keep people coming back for decades. In a city hell bent on innovation and in an industry at the whim of trends, Halverson said Betz’s commitment to permanence has paid off.
“There are so many people that can recall some of the greatest times that they've had there,” said Halverson. “It doesn't always have to be the most innovative food. You know, the ability for somebody to create an environment that so many people have enjoyed — that is inspiring.”
Betz is survived by his two sons, Michael and Steven Betz, and several grandchildren. His sons have assumed the restaurant’s operations.
“It's kind of a hard one to capture, but I think it's just that feeling of decadence and tradition and nostalgia,” said Zimmerman. “They got it right a long time ago and they didn't screw it up.”
