This SF neighborhood restaurant is begging you to keep it alive

At the top of 24th Street on a blustery corner in San Francisco’s Noe Valley sits a quintessential neighborhood restaurant. The deep blue facade has a maroon trim that blends into the early winter night; Firefly’s warmly lit, cozy interior makes you feel like you’re going to a friend’s house for dinner — except the food is way better. And somehow, in this current state of restaurants closing left and right, this gem has survived 30 years. But will it hang on for 30 more?

“We see the writing on the wall, but we’re going to cling to anything we can and hope we can keep figuring out ways to make it work and slide by,” Haley Sausner, who owns Firefly with Brad Levy and uses the pronouns she/they, told SFGATE. “It really just speaks to whatever psychosis that Brad and I have. If this was taken away from us, we don’t know what we would do with ourselves.”

Firefly, at 4288 24th St., is the brainchild of Levy, an industry veteran. He opened the restaurant in 1993 with former business partner Veva Edelson, who left the business in 2005 and now makes ceramics on the Sonoma coast. It has survived ups and downs over those three decades, from 9/11 to the financial downturn of 2008, and most recently the COVID-19 pandemic. It still stands though, serving up elegant plates of fried heritage chicken with mashed potatoes, and bacon-wrapped meatloaf drenched in red wine jus. The menu not only boasts refined Americana dishes, but also globally influenced plates, such as Brazilian fish stew or stir-fried daikon radish cakes with three types of mushrooms and scallions in a soy sauce gastrique.

“It’s just a reflection of the food we cook for the people we love,” Levy said. “We don’t think about fitting into any particular category.”

Firefly opened when San Francisco was arguably more affordable. Before Noe Valley was awash with techies, who saw the potential to grow their families in the neighborhood, as well as easy access to Silicon Valley via Interstate 280, it was rich with aspirational artists, living a bohemian lifestyle.

Levy and former co-owner Edelson were of the same ilk. They wanted a whimsical, no-fuss restaurant where friends and family were hired to give it a homey, loving feeling. On a run-through night, before opening to the public, napkins and menus caught fire from the candles on the tables, there was no real privacy from the dining room when entering the bathroom, and they ran out of food by 8 p.m. Levy and Edelson quickly realized they needed to hire professional waitstaff, but they would do so with intention — hiring people they wanted to become lifelong friends with. That mantra is still how Levy and Sausner hire todayt, and it’s one of the reasons Firefly maintains its neighborhood feel.

On a recent Wednesday night, the place was mostly full by 6 p.m. Nestled in an alcove near a window, there was a curved bench furnished with mismatched throw pillows and a cloth window shade, giving it a quirky, cottage-in-the-woods vibe. The menu was completely gluten-free (except for the “damn fine biscuit”), and this fact is not shoved in your face — Levy has kids who are gluten-intolerant, and so is Sausner — yet, they are able to create a menu that makes you forget gluten is even a thing.

Sam, our server, smiled and asked us if there were any allergens that needed to be noted for the kitchen before giving recommendations on what to order. After a diner commented on how delicious the food was, Sam told us that even if she didn’t work at the Firefly, it would still be one of her favorite restaurants.

The courses, including a seed loaf with rosemary-garlic spread, arrived well-timed. Naturally, the gluten-free seed bread was nutty and crunchy; the garlic-rosemary spread lent a soft, complementary richness to each bite. A Caesar-like salad called the Mayfair was a nod to Levy’s childhood. It hails from the nearly 100-year-old Mayfair Hotel in Levy’s native St. Louis. After the recipe was printed in the local paper, Levy’s mom started making it for him — the dressing chock-full of garlic and anchovies, but mixed with canola oil instead of olive oil. Since Firefly is a highly personal restaurant, he felt compelled to put it on the menu. The salad’s cubed beets, chopped hard-boiled egg and blue cheese added an earthy, funky element that was delectable.

There’s a reason Firefly’s fried chicken is famous. Upon first bite, it was crunchy and still juicy inside. The mashed potatoes were supple and had some chunky bits, and the smooth gravy was nestled in the center like bubbling lava in a volcano.

Sausner’s meatloaf, however, was a revelation. The beef and pork mixture was ground superfine, creating a velvety-textured loaf; add in the salty thin slab of bacon and it was likely superior to any meatloaf I’ve ever had. Delicate white allium bulbs and mushrooms dotted the plate like rubies and pearls. It was a showstopper.

Surprisingly, Sausner didn’t originally know she wanted to be a chef, let alone own a restaurant. After graduating from Johnson & Wales University’s culinary school in Providence, Rhode Island, in the early aughts, she moved to San Francisco for an internship at Greens, the famed vegetarian restaurant in the Marina, where she found a mentor, John Paul “JP” Ueber, whom she admired. When Ueber died in a car crash, Sausner felt lost and unsure of her future in cooking. However, needing a job, she followed former Greens cooks to Firefly, “to heal.” She not only found a future business partner in Levy, but also a great friend — keeping in tradition with the restaurant’s main tenet.

The camaraderie between Sausner and Levy is palpable, even in a phone interview. They laugh at each other’s jokes, they talk over one another, they contend with each other on certain topics. They sometimes even finish each other’s sentences. When patrons dine at the restaurant and witness their bond, people often think they are perhaps married, or, more likely, that Sausner is Levy’s daughter, which makes them laugh. They are determined to weather this storm — caused mostly by inflation and diners still hesitant to eat inside. This unlikely alliance is perhaps just what this 30-year-old restaurant needs to remain open at a time when restaurants, including Firefly, are facing challenges and being forced to raise prices.

For example, Levy and Sausner don’t want to charge $20 for a soup at a time when San Franciscans are struggling with inflation and layoffs. But they feel it’s necessary to survive.

“The public perception has always been a little behind as far as what restaurants are doing,” Levy said. “Many of our ingredients are twice as expensive as they were, even a few years before the pandemic. To be able to reflect that on a menu is just inconceivable. People are going to consider us greedy, but none of the old math works.”

They can get as creative as they want, like shopping for ingredients at Rainbow Grocery and thereby cutting out the middleman, or adding a parklet, which was essential for survival during the pandemic, but is in need of a revival to make it accessible for all, which is part of their entire ethos. They’re just not sure the “neighborhood restaurant” model is sustainable anymore.

“We see all these restaurants closing and we know exactly why: because they’re smarter than we are,” Levy said. Still, he’s pleading with you to visit. “Support your local restaurants, don’t take them for granted.”