In the world of San Francisco martinis, there are minimalists/purists (such as Lone Palm and Bix), exoticists (Buoy and Left Door), and maximalists (Bar Sprezzatura and Empress by Boon). Somehow, the new bar Frankie’s (opens in new tab) in the Marina manages to straddle all three categories.
The down-the-block spinoff of the pork-and-pasta restaurant Norcina (opens in new tab) is chef Kait Bauman and general manager Angelo De Lorenzi’s attempt to give martini fans everything they could want, in a convivial atmosphere where you can drink with one hand and pet a dog with the other. Whereas Norcina is cozy and compact, Frankie’s — named for Bauman’s friendly English Labrador, Franklin — spills onto the sidewalk and into two parklets. Think of it as Norcina after a two-martini lunch.
Frankie’s rendition of the classic cocktail is about as labor-intensive as it gets. Made with Hendrick’s gin, it’s served in a proper cone-shaped glass — not the smaller Nick and Nora that can leave patrons feeling cheated. There’s a choice of garnish, including pickled onions, lemon twists, and olives stuffed with feta, anchovies, and even caviar. (You can also go “animal-style” and get one of each.) Whatever the selection, the skewer isn’t dunked in the drink but laid across the brim of the glass, like a pintxo at a tapas bar.
Rita’s Moka Pot is made from rye, espresso, and demerara sugar.
A section of the menu is devoted to sandwiches.
Frankie’s attention to the little details of hospitality may be its strongest trait.
That’s not all. The glass, which rests on a paper doily, is only half-full — because this martini comes with a “sidecar,” a small decanter that, for its part, rests in another, ice-filled glass to keep it cold. It’s on a doily, too. This entire assemblage arrives on a metal tray. Got all that?
“You eat and drink first with your eyes,” Bauman says, noting that all the accouterments mean a lot of extra work. “Maybe we’re a little crazy.”
De Lorenzi confesses to perpetually tinkering with the presentation. “It’s not, ‘Let’s just see how this goes,’” he says. “It’s something we thought about — and we want that to show.”
Frankie’s food and drink menus are evenly matched, with lobster rolls and sirloin-guanciale skewers balancing the Negronis and carrot-heavy Spicy Bunny cocktails.
Frankie is Bauman’s 6-year-old English Labrador and a very good boy.
The rest of the cocktail menu isn’t fooling around, either. An entire page is devoted to Negronis, and another displays eight house cocktails, including the vodka-based, carrot-and-poblano Spicy Bunny, which comes with a tiny carrot clothespinned to the rim, green top intact. There’s also the Tableside Caesar, made with Parmesan vodka and anchovy vermouth — a cousin of the surprisingly balanced spaghetti Negroni at Emmy’s Spaghetti Shack in the Mission. It’s almost impossible to go wrong.
The bar bites are excellent, too; in particular, a lobster roll on brioche with brown butter and a hint of goat cheese and sirloin-and-guanciale skewers, their contrasting textures united with a pop of horseradish. The ribbons of mortadella on the “mortie sandie” could use less stracciatella and more zippy cornichons, but the tangy sauce and anchovies that accompany the pan con tomate make up for it.
De Lorenzi and Bauman with the “Prince of Pierce Street.”
Martinis, like this Tableside Caesar, come with a sidecar.
Bauman and De Lorenzi’s commitment to hospitality goes beyond ingredients and flavors. Frankie’s is pouring wine by the glass from 1.5-liter magnums and not ordinary, 750-milliliter bottles, to minimize oxygen exposure. (“Not just for drama, though we do love that,” the menu says.)
But in terms of visibility, these little touches can’t compete with the figure on the wall: Franklin the labrador himself. He came into Bauman’s life in the spring of 2020 and is now immortalized in oils, wearing a dapper jacket and neckerchief. A Norcina regular-turned-friend named Dan Hampe painted him, and the canvas almost didn’t fit into De Lorenzi’s car. “We had to lower it out of the third-story studio by rope,” he says.
“Everyone in the neighborhood loves him,” Bauman adds of her working mascot. “They don’t know who I am, but they know him.”
Bauman’s lobster roll is made with brown butter and a bit of goat cheese. 
Frankie’s doesn’t just have a Negroni; it has an entire Negroni flight.
A beacon of calm amid occasional restaurant chaos, Frankie just likes to hang out.
Frankie’s opened quietly in mid-February — Friday the 13th, to be specific. The duo had hoped to be up and running in time for Valentine’s Day and endured all the mishaps that go with debuting on such an inauspicious day, from malfunctioning dishwashers to freezers that went kaput. Everything was chaotic, Bauman says, except Franklin. The “Prince of Pierce Street” maintained calm, accepting rubs from friends and strangers alike.
So what is the relationship between Frankie’s and Norcina? From the guest’s perspective, it’s less about going from A to B as ping-ponging between them all night. Start at Frankie’s for a cocktail and some baked oysters, then go to Norcina for dinner and a glass of wine, De Lorenzi says, then back to Frankie’s for a cheeky. For the latter, Bauman suggests a Ferrari, a small pour that’s half Fernet, half Campari. “The best kind of night starts at one and ends at the other,” she says.