It’s been said that the finer the view, the worse the restaurant: too touristy and too expensive.

But my immigrant Chinese parents were indifferent to trendy hot spots or food fads. For special occasions, they preferred the classics, served up at theCarnelian Room(RIP, 2009) in the Bank of America building; my husband once arrived without a suit jacket and had to borrow an oversize one from the host. Another night, we thought the blinds were down until the fog lifted and suddenly the glittering view of the city spread out below us.

I’d also go for a spin with my parents at the Hyatt Regency’s rotating restaurant, theEquinox(RIP, 2007). A meal and a merry-go-round, all in one. As a kid, I remember trying a French dip sandwich and feeling very fancy.

After blustery walks on Lands End, my family adored warming up inside the elegant Cliff House, watching the seagulls swoop over the white caps. Though I can’t remember anything about the food, I harbored a fondness for the venerable institution, which has attracted visitors since 1863.

The pandemicshuttered the doors of the Cliff Housein 2020, another loss in a time of many. With the omicron surgesubsiding, and a long weekend ahead, you might consider signing up for a chance to roam its airy former dining hall overlooking Seal Rock and the Pacific beyond.

At For-Site Foundation’s环境艺术装置, I could almost hear the ghostly clink of silverware against porcelain, the murmur of conversation of the long-departed diners, celebrating lifetimes of special occasions. Could almost glimpse my father descending the stairs ahead of us.

We also had a chance to peek into spaces previously behind the scenes: storerooms, the kitchen and an eerily lit staircase leading to the basement.

Sound artist Jana Winderen’s haunting recordings echo and bounce off the concrete walls. Another visitor crept down and sat on the stairs for a closer listen, but I’ve seen enough horror movies to know not to venture in first — or at all!

The thought-provoking installations by 27 artists and collectives center on climate change, the terrifying pervasiveness of plastics, rising sea levels and the nature of time.

In what might have been a closet, I discovered the delightful “Forest,” cloth trees, sculpted bySuzanne Huskyout of used clothes and found textiles.

Because of the timed entries, the exhibition never felt crowded inside. For several long moments, I found myself alone, blessed with a grace and silence often in short supply over the past two years.

Museums have offered our family much respite, inspiring us to take an expansive view of the world, our place in it and time itself.

My son, Gege, gravitated toward Carsten Höller’s squishy polyurethane octopus, because it’s a cousin of sorts to the giant squid, a creature that fascinates him. According to the curator’s notes, “it elicits a childlike urge to prod and pull — actions in direct opposition to the protocols of an exhibition: look, don’t touch” and “invites us to consider our behavior in the larger ecosystem.”

His twin, Didi, enjoyed wandering the kitchen, whichdisplayed plastics— colors faded to white, collected by the Point Reyes husband-and-wife team of Richard Lang and Judith Selby Lang — arrayed on white ceramic plates. It was a reminder that what we discard returns in our food.

“It has an old-timey feeling,” Didi said. “The kitchen was here a long time ago and is still here.”

The National Park Service, whichkicked offthe leasing process for the restaurant space, aims to select an operator by this summer.

Though our family grieved the closure of the restaurant, the break made it possible to stage the exhibit and explore the space in a revelatory way.

Just as the Cliff House weathered ups and downs over the decades, so might we.

“站点的土地”:11 a.m.-5 p.m. Thursday-Sunday. Through March 27. Free. 1090 Point Lobos Ave., S.F.for-site.org