Exploring San Francisco’s Sunset District

Late on a Wednesday morning, I’m sitting on a gym towel on Ocean Beach, out on San Francisco’s windswept western edge, enjoying a brownie. In its raw beauty and stillness, Ocean Beach calls to mind the years before humans lived here. It’s quiet except for the soft roar of the Pacific. 

Under the sand, not too far away, there’s a buried shipwreck: the King Philip, a clipper that ran aground here in 1878. Its timbers emerge once a decade or so, after a storm or when the tide flows out just right. 

Just across the street, the Sunset District stretches away to the east. It’s not the flashiest neighborhood in the city, but it’s one of my favorites. In the early- to mid-20th century, developers transformed what had been a desolate expanse of dunes into a small kingdom of single-family homes occupying a good third of San Francisco’s western half. Tucked away along its commercial corridors are some of my favorite hidden gems—a bakery here, a record store there, a great dumpling place over that way. 

The Sunset is miles from Fisherman’s Wharf, Pier 39, and Union Square, far from the go-go-go of SoMa or the hip hot spots of the Mission. But it’s more than worth a visit for anyone who wants to experience a bit of San Francisco as it once was and as it is now for San Franciscans.

Back to the Beach: Sunset Dunes

Ocean Beach is not your stereotypical sunny California beach; it’s often too foggy and cold for that. It’s more of a walk-your-dog, fly-a-kite, or sit-on-a-towel-and-eat-a-brownie beach. It’s also a well-known hangout for experienced surfers: Strong winds and even stronger currents can create some exhilarating waves. 

That surf culture gives the entire area a salty beach-town feel. Even when you’re blocks from the beach, it’s not unusual to see someone plodding down the street in a wetsuit or with a bodyboard tucked under one arm. Long-standing surf shops like Aqua and Mollusk are within blocks of the beach’s entrances. 

Ocean Beach is also home to the city’s newest coastal park. In 2025, what started as a pandemic-era “slow street” became Sunset Dunes park. The two-mile stretch of the Great Highway was so popular that it was transformed into a pedestrian-only pathway, enhanced by lounge areas (with chairs and hammocks), play areas for kids, and public art. (That conversion has been controversial, leading to lawsuits, ballot measures, and the recall of one city supervisor.)

From Sand Dunes to Suburb

The Sunset’s distinct neighborhood aesthetic starts to take shape across the street. For the first few decades of San Francisco’s existence, the area was populated only by hardy homesteaders who ran ranches and rough-and-tumble saloons. (It was also the preferred location for the city’s dynamite factories, since it was well away from the rest of the population.)

Even before the 1906 earthquake, housing developers saw riches in the largely untouched acreage. In the 1920s and '30s, they built single-family homes cheek by jowl—many the same shape, size, and style, and many now painted in cheerful sherbet hues—along the roadways that now cut through the sand. (Streets in the Sunset run east-west and are organized alphabetically, from Anza north of Golden Gate Park to Yorba at the Sunset’s southern edge; the numerical avenues run north to south.)

This new neighborhood, with its affordable and spacious housing options, was especially appealing to immigrant families. First came the Irish. (There’s still a cultural center and several pubs in the area.) Later, Chinese immigrants established businesses, schools, and places of worship, eventually making it one of San Francisco’s largest Chinese American enclaves outside of Chinatown.

Eating in the Sunset

Thanks to that robust Chinese American population, you’re especially spoiled for choice when it comes to Chinese food, including regional cuisines that are less common in the wider United States. Among them: Old Mandarin Islamic Restaurant’s all-halal menu, Terra Cotta Warrior’s northwestern Chinese dishes, and San Tung and its dry-fried chicken wings. 

Taraval Street is the Sunset’s dumpling corridor: Along its 30-plus blocks, you’ll find Dumpling Kitchen, Kingdom of Dumpling, Dumpling Specialist, and many more, offering innumerable variations on the theme of delicate dough encasing tender beef, pork, or seafood; vegetables; and sometimes a splash of savory broth.

Top off your meal with a trip to Mr. Bread, a Chinese bakery known for its egg tarts—small pie shells filled with light egg custard. Mr. Bread stocks two types: dan tat, with smooth, shiny tops; and the slightly scorched Portuguese style. Both are popular, so get there early while everything is fully stocked and you’re more likely to get one just out of the oven, still soft and jiggly, the way locals like them best.

In addition to Chinese-style baked goods, the Sunset has become one of San Francisco’s sweet-treat destinations: Over the past decade or two, a new wave of bakeries has started moving in. 

Devil’s Teeth Baking Company—where I got my beach brownie—is one of the better-known ones, opening in 2011 at the western end of Noriega Street. It’s a small space, so from the street you can see a case at the front that’s full of classic American sweets. The place is also known for breakfast sandwiches on house-made biscuits, which you can enjoy on the benches out front. 

Equally famous is Outerlands, about four blocks north. Perfectly reflecting its beachside surroundings, the driftwood interior with candlelit tables feels like you’re dining in a ship’s hull. It’s known for brunch, but also for the fresh bread it sells by the boule. 

For would-be influencers, Daydream Cake Shop, with its millennial pink interior, offers elaborate desserts and drinks that are as eye-popping as they are delicious—colorful slushes, sparkling water layered with lovingly placed fruit slices, cakes sculpted to resemble Christmas trees in season. 

Shopping in the Sunset

Thanks to its long history as a residential area, the Sunset has all the everyday retail options you’d want in a neighborhood—banking, groceries, haircuts, and such. But in the past decade or so, more just-for-fun ventures have started showing up, too.

For example, at the end of Taraval is Tunnel Records, a small shop quietly tucked between a cocktail bar and a private residence. Record shops are still common in San Francisco, but Tunnel Records feels different in both its location (it calls itself the “westernmost record store on the Planet Earth”) and its vibe. It’s a bright, sleek space that celebrates the Bay Area’s thriving music community. Not only does it stock new and rare records, but there’s also a section dedicated to music from local artists and the store’s own label. 

Out on the farthest reaches of Irving Street, you’ll find Black Bird Bookstore and Cafe, a light-filled space with high ceilings and a minimalist interior. Shelves are stocked with books on a wide variety of unusual topics, many in niche formats. The themes are very Bay Area: social justice, environment, cycling, and so on. The store also hosts art shows and events spotlighting Bay Area writers and creatives. At the front, there’s a counter serving coffee drinks with Four Barrel espresso, and they’re famed for their ever-changing roster of seasonal iced matcha drinks.

Barely more than a block south is Case for Making, which stocks a well-curated selection of art supplies from small companies—the array of pens alone will thrill anyone—and they make their own watercolors in-house. CfM also offers painting and craft workshops online and in person at their neighboring storefront studio. 

Open Space in the Sunset

After my beach time, I had one more bit of open space I wanted to visit.

It’s not unusual to see green spaces pop up among the houses out here. Most famous is Stern Grove, a rustic woodland at the southern end of the district known for summer concerts in its amphitheater. But smaller city parks dot the neighborhood, and this one stood out to me. 

I’d driven past the grassy hill at the corner of 28th and Ortega many times, without ever stopping. It was surrounded by houses on all sides. “I’ll bet there’s a great view up there,” I said to myself. After walking up a trail that switchbacked up the hill to the top, I found that I was right. 

The sweeping vista encompassed Sutro Tower, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Marin Headlands, and the Pacific itself. To one side stretched a field of solar panels surrounded by a chain-link fence. Turns out I was standing atop the local water reservoir. 

It was an unexpected example of what I love about the Sunset: It’s a place that people don’t give much attention to. But it has so many delights for those who do.