I’ve thought about this for a while, really noodled on it pretty hard, and I think I can very honestly say there isn’t a restaurant profession in San Francisco that brings the city more joy than the meat carver at House of Prime Rib. It’s just hard not to love a bushy mustachioed man donning a chef’s coat, white toque and a red scarf who arrives at your table pushing a rolling meat cart that costs more than your car, then carves – tableside – a slab of beef so thick diners burst into unprompted applause.