Royal treatment at the Palace

We pulled up to the valet stand in the parking lot across the street from the hotel. One must remember that San Francisco’s “New” Montgomery Street is not the same as Montgomery Street, or else one rides around the block several times, GPS notwithstanding.

But one might expect problems like that, since technically we were staying at the so-called “new” Palace Hotel, a distinction that has faded with time, since that “new” Palace Hotel opened in 1909. But we were there to experience old San Francisco for our new Valentine’s Day. And we were five days early.

When you work in the restaurant business, you learn to buck the trends. Since many of us work weekends and nights, when it comes to our days off, we often don’t have to make reservations — and don’t get stuck in traffic. There’s some small joy in watching the tide of humanity inch along on the other side of the freeway, while you whiz along at freeway speeds.

We sat there in front of the valet stand for several minutes. A light honk of the horn got the heads of two valets to bob up from behind the desk.

“How’s the game going?” I asked, knowing full well that the Super Bowl was on, and that they were watching it.

It had been a theme all afternoon. Missing the Super Bowl was well worth the great rate on a room, easy reservations and zero traffic. In fact, when we drove through Union Square, there were a total of 10 people there!

The San Francisco restaurant and bar business has been suffering lately, as clearly evidenced by the flood of hipster mixologist-types applying for work in Marin County recently.

But nothing beats old-school San Francisco, and the Palace is still a spectacular hotel. And the fact that it isn’t crowded these days makes it so much better. The Garden Court is still grand. It was there that former President Woodrow Wilson gave his famous 1919 speech in support of the League of Nations and the Treaty of Versailles, which the United States never signed. The hotel is also where former President Warren G. Harding died suddenly in his bed in room 8064 on Aug. 2, 1923, officially ending his presidential tenure.

The Palace is also the home of the Pied Piper Bar, featuring the eponymous original mural by Maxfield Parrish. The bar still has wood panels, the staff still wear white waist coats and the bar itself is fabulous. It was there that we ate dinner.

But much like the theme of the day, we avoided the bar during the game. Instead, we swam in the empty fourth-floor pool, which feels much like a hotel copy of Hearst’s famous art deco pool at Hearst Castle, minus the blue. When we finally did walk into the bar, 20 minutes after everyone else had left, we had the room virtually to ourselves. I did laugh at the historical display out front featuring William “Cocktail” Boothby’s “American Bartender” book. I laughed partly because my review of the 2009 reissue by Anchor Distilling is still the first review on Amazon, and because Boothby wrote that book while in San Rafael at the Rafael Hotel, not during his tenure at the Palace. History is so often what we make of it.

We had skipped high tea at the Palace, partly because it’s still $125 a person, and because without really great service, high tea is just a couple of crustless sandwiches and some pastries — and, of course, the tea. That’s $250 plus tax, the health care mandate, anonymous service charges and the tip. Meaning that tea for two there was significantly more expensive than our king suite room was. And we weren’t going to risk it.

Turns out that once the game ended, great — or at least very acceptable — service resumed. Light fare at the Pied Piper was followed by a Boothby Cocktail at the bar — rye whiskey, sweet vermouth, two bitters and champagne — which, ironically, I had to tell the bartender how to make.

When we checked out in the morning, a valet sporting a long gray-white beard and wearing a bowler hat and a double-breasted trench coat chatted us up while his helper retrieved our car.

He was cheerful, friendly, helpful and efficient. And he literally made our stay move from the very good category to the fabulous one.

Leaving me with these thoughts:

• It pays to be drinking cognac and eating New York steaks when everybody else is eating rib-eyes and drinking whiskey.

• Not signing the Treaty of Versailles is why some California wine producers can call their sparkling wine “champagne.” (It was a provision therein.)

• Sometimes all it takes is one true service professional to change the whole trajectory of an experience.

• Old-school San Francisco is still there. And this moment might just be the perfect time to experience it.

• Being “trendy” isn’t being better. But often it is much more expensive. Just ask the people who have eggs for breakfast.