With the recent arrival of Minnie Bell’s to San Francisco and the selection of Oakland’s Burdell as Food and Wine’s 2024 restaurant of the year, soul food is once again surging in the Bay Area.

But Prelude, the new addition to The Jay Hotel in the Financial District, is the first to elevate the cuisine into a fine dining event.

Rooted in the Alabama homeland of executive chef Celtin Hendrickson-Jones’ maternal grandmother, Prelude is not the first nod to the South made by the restaurant’s benevolent overlords, Omakase Restaurant Group. Although best known for Eastern-influenced concepts like the Michelin-starred Omakase, Dumpling Time, and Niku Steakhouse, the hospitality collective dipped a toe into Southern cuisine when Rosemary & Pine opened in 2022.

A regional foundation, though, is about the only thing the casual all-day spot and the new upscale restaurant share. Whereas Rosemary & Pine is light and breezy, Prelude, which draws its style from the beauty of the Presidio, is moody and romantic.

Designers AvroKO, who also crafted the interiors at The Jay, wrapped Prelude’s jewel-box dining room in warm eucalyptus wood. Custom leather and mohair banquets in sage green tones rest against stained glass patterned like the structure of the tree’s leaves, while lighting evokes the groves’ unusual acorn-shaped seed pods.

Prelude takes an elegant approach rarely seen on this coast to comforting, deeply satisfying dishes and flavors. That doesn’t mean, however, that Hendrickson-Jones and team have drained the joy and tenderness from the cuisine. There are a smattering of playful nods throughout the menu—a house martini made with fried chicken spices, vintage grandma core dishes, sporks instead of forks at the main event—and large plates come with a family-style side of creamy, butter-drenched hominy grits and fixin’s like pickled okra, shrimp, and dried ham.

The a la carte menu begins with bites so, after a cornbread amuse bouche frosted in apricot jam, my meal begins with the deviled eggs I’d been dreaming about since perusing the menu that morning. Impossibly creamy with a hot sauce kick and sprinkles of crispy chicken skin, my only complaint is that I didn’t order more than one.

With his pimento cheese dip, Hendrickson-Jones gets creative. The Southern snack-food staple is Californified with Cowgirl Creamery’s Mt. Tam and pearls of salmon roe, which do a damn fine job as a stand-in for actual pimentos in both taste and color. Crispy, gnarled strips of salmon fish skin are the cheese’s delivery mechanism, lending a subtle brininess to the mix.

My favorite dish of the night, smoked catfish dumplings, isn’t what I expect; it’s better. Like a cross between a gnocchi and a seafood sausage, the pinball-sized melt-in-your-mouth dumplings come drizzled in a velvety crayfish étouffée gravy and are served with soft, toasted bread for mopping up every last drop. Cocktails by Niku Steakhouse’s Franco Bilbaeno like the smooth, key lime pie–referencing Hotel Largo and the effervescent banana-and-citrus Magnolia Fizz are tangy, palate-popping compliments to the dumplings’ richness and heat.

The large plates revolve around classic cuts like dry aged pork chops, Niman Ranch ribeye, Liberty Farms duck breast paired with Southern-swaying sides including fermented stone fruit barbecue and green tomato chow chow. The smoked creamed corn served alongside the tender, juicy Mt. Lassen trout is exceptional, as is the vegetarian main, a densely layered and grilled stuffing with chanterelle mushrooms, roasted cabbage, and mushroom gravy.

For a restaurant only a few weeks into its residency, it’s worth noting that it’s not just the food that’s consistently delightful. Every member of the small front-of-house staff is warm, friendly, and knows their stuff inside and out. In the theatrically lit open kitchen, the chefs are already working like a well-oiled machine.

Dessert is, of course, a romp through soul food’s sweeter side, with nostalgia-inflected treats like sorghum waffles with chocolate malt ice cream and stewed prunes. The pretzel and banana cream pie, an upside-down tart dusted in chocolate, is a surprisingly light end to a heavy meal—except that it’s not. Because, before you’ve had a chance to get up from your seat, there’s a Nutter Butter–like peanut butter cookie sandwich with a dunkable cup of lightly sweetened cereal milk with your name on it. I don’t care how full you are: Eat. The. Cookie.

Prelude isn’t Burdell or Minnie Bell’s, nor is it trying to be. Instead, what Hendrickson-Jones has created is a reimagining of Southern flavors through a California lens of impeccable local ingredients and high-end technique and presentation.

Fine dining may seem an unexpected way to encounter soul food, but Prelude is proof that it shouldn’t be.

// Prelude is open for dinner Tuesday through Saturday; 333 Battery St. (FiDi), preludesf.com.