The economics are blunt: real barbecue is a slow-yield operation. A brisket takes 12 to 16 hours. You need the space for the smoker, the ventilation to run it legally, and a lease rate that doesn't require you to turn every table twice a night. In most SF neighborhoods, at least two of those three are out of reach.

The operators who have made it work — and there are a handful — have generally done so by anchoring in neighborhoods where square footage is cheaper, taking on the permitting fight early, or running hybrid models that lean on catering and pop-ups to carry the fixed costs. It is not a scalable template.

What this says about SF's food scene is specific, not general: the city's cost structure actively selects against certain cuisines. Not because diners don't want them — the demand is there, and the lines at every decent Bay Area barbecue spot prove it — but because the business model doesn't pencil out under current lease and labor conditions. The gap isn't cultural. It's financial.

Until a landlord takes a below-market bet on the right operator, or a barbecue team finds the right outer-neighborhood footprint, the city will keep exporting that appetite to the East Bay, where the smoke has room to breathe.