New Bar Night: Mid-Market Edition

Mid-Market is a long-bedraggled area of San Francisco that has apparently been on the skids since they tore up Market Street to build BART back in the 1850's.  Last night we were trying to figure out exactly what the boundaries are.  I guessed 5th to roughly Guerrero but wow was I off; according to Wikipedia it's 5th to Van Ness.

Twitter was supposed to save Mid-Market by moving into the huge old Furniture Mart at 1355 Market, so it seemed fitting to begin there, at Dirty Water, which I think is actually a restaurant more than a bar but whatever.  They have the usual $14-16 cocktails but a nice happy hour special - either a Moscow Mule or a very good Old Fashioned made with Buffalo Trace for $8.  Obviously I got the Old Fashioned because how else would I know it was good.  It was good.

[Oddly, Dirty Water's URL - dirtywatersf.com - redirects to the OpenTable page linked above. In fact, Dirty Water doesn't seem to have its own website at all, which is strange in 2016 for a big expensive restaurant. The significance of this, if any, is left to you.]

The place was pretty empty at 5:30 on a Tuesday and happy hour ends at 6 anyway so we split and went across the hall to the food court/bar thing called The Market they also have in the Twitter building so we could watch the Giants pathetically get shut out by the Red Sox and also have a few slices from Tony's Slice House, which were excellent, and a couple of Firestone Pilsners, which were also excellent.

We were actually sitting at the bar of the Tapas Bar but it's pretty much all interchangeable and you can eat the food from one station at another station.  We were surrounded by a couple of open laptops on the bar and lots of Attractive Young White People.  The only disconcerting thing was that every 30-45 seconds there was a huge muffled BOOM like someone was dropping something extraordinarily heavy on the floor directly above us.  We asked the bartender.  She speculated that it was maybe the bass.  It was not the music.  Obviously there is something fucking going on and the employees have been instructed to keep silent.

Next we went to the Hot Spot, a longtime Market Street dive that closed for a while when next door neighbor Alta CA was getting built and then reopened, after some difficulty.  I hadn't been in since the remodel.  It looks nice and now there are electrical outlets every 5 feet so you know that shit was done to code.

I have no idea what Hot Spot is like on a normal Tuesday because last night it was fucking PACKED with kids because Phish was playing virtually next door at the Bill Graham.  They were yelling and drinking craft beers so Olu and I retreated to the upstairs loft where the pool table is.

Taken from Hot Spot's Yelp page. I have no idea what this dog has to do with Hot Spot. I assume thew picture was taken there? Anyway, this dog sadly contemplating the world looks like we did surrounded by 20-something SCREAMING at Hot Spot before the Phish show.

Anyway, $8 for 2 PBRs.  Would return on a non-Phish-show night.

Final stop: Mr. Tipple's Recording Studio.  God, enough with the cutesy names already.  Ugh.  Ugh.  Mr. Tipple's looks like a fairly nice hotel bar and there was live jazz playing.  It's the usual fancy cocktails, with a twist - they're all a couple of dollars more than the price on the menu because the bar automatically adds 20% for tip!  Ha, what an unusual surprise to order a $12 cocktail and only get $5 and some quarters back!  I was going to ask the bartender why I was getting shorted and then saw this on the back of the drink list:

Please know right up front that we're applying 20% to each check to be distributed to all hourly employees who work tonight. This eliminates your need to tip, it will have already been included.

Well, Mr. Tipple's, if you want people to know "right up front," put it on the front page of the damn menu because we were surprised as hell. I guess if you're in the Exciting Mid-Market area and you want to grab a $15 drink that contains kirschwasser, whatever the fuck that is and don't have to say the name out loud to anyone, Mr. Tipple's is your place.

New Bar Night: Patriot House, Hopwater

I love Bar Rescue, and I had heard that they were in town a while back trolling for a Bar to Rescue.  (Hilariously, they tried to hit up Shotwell's, which is doing just fine, TYVM.)  So when I learned courtesy of Inside Scoop that they had worked their magic on the Holding Company, you knew I would assemble a team to take a look.

If you worked anywhere around the Embarcadero Center from the 80's on, you probably had been to the Holding Company at some point, a featureless, fairly dark bar whose best days always seemed in the past and had such a ridiculous Gordon Gekko-type name that it just oozed Business Douche.

Anyway, Jon Taffer et al. presumably arrived and transformed the space into something much more current, much more San Francisco-centric, like....

Patriot House.  What the fuck.

That's right, the colonial Founding Fathers-themed bar you didn't know you wanted.  I can't figure out what the fuck motivated the Bar Rescue team to go all Paul Revere on Embarcadero 2, but I guess we'll find out in April when the episode airs.  Stephen has his theories:

@40goingon28 @periqueblend "We planned on using this menu in exurban Boston, but never got around to it."
— Stephen (@EamesEra) January 22, 2015

Makes as much sense as anything else, I guess.

We got there around 5:45 on a Friday and it was SLAMMED, although I would venture a guess that even bad old Holding Company would be slammed at 5:45 on a Friday.  It's still dark and hotel-bar-looking, but with more patriotic geegaws and portraits of Madison and crap.  It took forever to get a drink, but we finally did.

I had the "Taft's Crowd Pleaser" with gin, lemon juice, orgeat, orange flower water, and grated nutmeg.  I think the lemon and the orange flower water didn't like each other because it tasted like an undifferentiated glass of sweet.  Olu had the "Blue Whiskey Van" with Dickel white corn whiskey, lemon juice, and blue curacao.  It looked like it would be the perfect drink for a Continental Congress Sping Break Ba$h but Olu said he liked it.  It tasted like a Sweet Tart to me.  We switched to beer.

The menu's here; we got the sliders and the nachos, which both had calories.  Olu pointed out that they missed a big opportunity by not trying to tie ALL the food descriptions to historical figures.  Not sure what Franklin Pierce had to do with smashed potatoes, but they really missed the boat by not going with the "General Antonio López de Santa Anna Nachos."

The crowd was off-the-shelf Fleece N Checked Shirt.  At one point there was a group of 6 guys waiting  for a table all wearing black North Face and with the same haircut and how do you guys even tell each other apart?  We finally flagged someone down for the check and booked.

Then we took a cab up to Nob Hill and went to Hopwater Distribution, one of two beer bars in the Union Square area that recently opened and appear to be so close in concept and name there is no way not to get them confused.  (The other is apparently called Hogwash and is 2 blocks away and its Facebook page is full of grinning blondes and dudes holding up big beers WHOOOOO.)  Anyway, Hopwater was also jam-packed (again, Friday, duh) with another crowd of young thinkfluencers.  Seriously, the M-F ratio must have been like 10:1.  There was nowhere to stand and everyone was braying about apps.  "The one good thing about this bar is that it smells like french fries," Alissa said.  We had one beer and went across the the street to The Summer Place, which was ALSO unaccountably packed. Maybe I'm getting too old for this shit.  The end.

This restaurant deal is great and you should get on it before they take it away; also, a New Bar Night

Yesterday was our anniversary!  Me and the wife.  4 years.  So we ditched the baby with my sister and did what we used to do before she came along - went out drinkin' & eatin'.

We met up at Local Edition, a vaguely newspaper-themed fancy cocktail bar in a vast subterranean basement on Market.  You can reserve a table for cocktails, which I really like, because it was already getting crowded at 5:30 when we got there.  It's a big dark room, as you can sort of see when I accidentally took a picture with the flash on:

Whoops!  Sorry about that.  Then I took another picture with the flash off.

I guess I didn't need to show you both of those. Anyway, if you've been to a bar in SF in the last year, you know what it's like, drink-wise - lots of fancy liquors and absinthe and weird bitters and whatnot.  But the drinks were great.  I got a gimlet, which was superb as gimlets go, and something called a Yellow Kid, that had gin, lemon, something called Velvet Falernum that appears to be some kind of liqueur, dill syrup, some kind of vermouth, and ginger beer.  It was fantastic.  By the time we left, it was really, really crowded and there was some Business Douche in the front room at a table of other Business Douches and Douchettes who was yelling "WOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!" like he was at Senor Frog's on Spring Break so hopefully that's not a major feature.  It was nice and quiet and grownup where we were sitting, so maybe it's locational.  Anyway, worth a shot if you're around Market and 3rd.

The main event was dinner at Cupola, the fancy pizza joint in the Westfield Centre.  Now, of course, when you hear "mall restaurant" you think crayons on the table and laminated menus, but this is like a legit restaurant.  Michael Bauer reviewed it not long ago and said "if it were in a freestanding storefront, the lines would probably be around the block."  In that review, he talked about this insane deal - a 10-course meal for $30 - so we decided we had to try it.

Holy shit, you guys.  It was fucking great.

You don't really know what you're going to get - I gather it's up to the chef, and varies from night to night.  We got started with some perfectly grilled asparagus with capers and egg, along with some marinated, sliced hen of the woods mushrooms with English peas.  And then shit just kept coming.  Lamb meatballs in a spicy sauce.  House-made hand torn handkerchief pasta in tomato basil sauce.  Butter lettuce with gorgonzola, pear, and walnuts.  A slab of fresh, gooey mozzarella with morels and toast.  Artichoke lasagna with an arugula salad.  And then an amazing pizza Margherita.  And then a chocolate ganache with some kind of ice cream and a hazelnut brittle and then some strawberry sorbet.

That wasn't even all of it.  It was a shitload of food, no lie.  All that for $30 a head.

Anyway, thanks to Big Mouth Bauer, the secret is out.  The waitress - a tiny, pixieish creature who was as nice and helpful as she could be - told us about three or four other table were currently having the same thing.  Get yourself over there and do this before it's gone.  And then you can proudly say "Yeah, I ate at a mall restaurant.  It got two and a half stars from Bauer.  And it fucking ruled."

TK's Year in Review

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Song obsessions, lately, plus bonus New Bar Night material

Hey, shout out to my fellow borderline Aspergies, do you get the same thing I do when you get fixated on a song and then have to listen to it over and over and over again? Almost everyone I know gets this, but most everyone I know has some type of diagnosable mental issue, so it's not a good sample.

Perfect example: My sister just discovered "Call Me Maybe." She reports that she's been having to sneak away from the people she's been vacationing with to listen to it in private so they don't make fun of her for listening to it too much. That's right, she's sneaking around to hear a song. Like she's a bulimic or something. A song-limic.

I gotta admit, CMM is pretty fucking catchy.

Anyway, I had two recently. The first one was "Leaders of the Free World," by Elbow. I'm not sure why. I kind of like the way it builds and especially the vocal melody and where he lands the notes in relation to the music.



Last week it was "A-Punk" by Vampire Weekend. I really liked VW's debut album when it came out (and, to a slightly lesser extent, their second album), so it's not like I just discovered this song, but what happened was I came across the lyrics somewhere and I had never really focused on the lyrics which is too bad because they're INCREDIBLE. Here's a video with the lyrics superimposed by some joker out there.



"She took it from his lily-white hand/She had no fear she'd seen the thing/In the Young Men's Wing at Sloan-Kettering."

Wow, that's pretty intense. You can easily build a backstory from that, but the song doesn't just come out and explain itself. I like that.

ANYWAY, I'm over both of these now and will be moving on to a new song obsession soon.

Oh and so Friday night I happened to visit the new Hi-Lo Club on Polk. I don't understand why Yelp has it classified as a "dive bar." It's not a "dive bar" in any sense of the term. It's more like a cocktail lounge but not a pretentious "cocktail lounge." Hardwood floors, cool pressed tin ceiling, nice long bar and some booths. Having recently been stung by a $13 gimlet at Alembic, I was pleased to see that the drinks - even the fancy cocktail menu drinks - were like $7 or $8. I had another gimlet to make a fair comparison and it was just as good as the $13 one at Alembic.

I also liked the vibe of the place a lot. It was like 10 pm on a Friday and it wasn't that crowded. I mean, it was busy, but not wall-to-wall people. It just has a good feel. I guess go now before it gets overrun with douchebags, which should be within a couple of weeks once word gets out. Oh, shit, I'm not helping.

[ADDENDUM: I know talking about the weather is hopelessly trite and cliched, but I just have to say that the last 12-16 hours in San Francisco have been fucking MISERABLE, even by San Francisco's terrible standards for July. I know that there's a terrible heat wave on in the rest of the country and they'd love to trade places with us blah blah blah, I could really go for one night when I'm not huddled by my heater. Outside here last night it was like the Scottish Moors on a bad day, what with the 50 degrees and howling winds and fog. Took the dog out for a walk last night around 10 (wearing 4 layers, of course) and immediately smelled the familiar scent of burning firewood. San Francisco, California: Where Summer Smells Like Duraflame.]

New Bar Night: Undisclosed Location

I've been going out to bars in San Francisco for more than 20 years. I used to keep a list of every bar I went to. There were around 150 places on it when I quit keeping it. Of course, back in those days, I was going out 3 or 4 times a week, which I don't even come close to any more, but whatever. The point is, I think I have a pretty good handle on The Bars of San Francisco. If you name a place, I've probably either been there or at least have heard of it.

So I'm always surprised when I come across a place I've never even heard of. Especially in the Inner Richmond. I mean, I'm sure there are places in Portola or Ingleside or whatever that I've never heard of. But the IR is well-traveled ground, and it would be hard to hide a bar there, or so I thought.

I first passed this place on one of my perambulations around the new neighborhood and was immediately struck by the exterior because it looked like it was either time-traveled from 1955 or was built by set designers to look like one of those South Boston bars from "The Departed" or "Gone Baby Gone." Old, apparently hand-painted sign. Only small windows set well above eye level. Beer signs and Irish geegaws in the window. I had walked by it on a Wednesday night and it was definitely closed. I looked through the window and saw a pool table and that was about all I could see.

I was intrigued! What the hell! The place had a few Yelp reviews (mostly positive), but way less than other IR places. I was starting to think it had closed down.

So last Friday, The Wife and I went by there. The door was closed but the sign was lit up so we tried the door and what do you know, it was open. It was pretty much exactly what you'd expect. Smallish, lots of Irish stuff on the walls, that particular Old Bar Smell. The bartender was a matriarchal type from Ireland and as soon as she found out The Wife was from Ireland too we didn't pay for any drinks. I ended up leaving like $15 on the bar. I think she charged us for the first round and that was it.

All regulars, of course, except for a couple of people who straggled in to play pool. Pretty much your classic San Francisco Irish Dive.

If the place has been under the radar this long, far be for me to blow it up. I'm sure we'll be back there.

Have a good weekend, everybody! Look for me at the Cesar Chavez Day Parade tomorrow!

New Bar Night: Mission Edition

A couple of days ago, my friend Stephen made a good point. "All these bars keep opening," he said, "but the existing ones never get any less crowded." Then he said "Do you think people from the Philippines get confused about Tagalong Girl Scout cookies and think they're really Tagalog cookies?" He didn't really say the second part. I'm taking some artistic license there. But he did say the first part, or words to that effect. If all these places keep opening (specifically in the Mission) where are all the people coming from who keep filling them? Why aren't the existing bars any less crowded?


SPEAKING OF MORE BARS, there are some new-ish bars in the Mission District of San Francisco, so I assembled my crack New Bar Night Team - ok, I assembled Olu - and we went out to evaluate.

The first place we went was Mosto, the little bar that's attached to Tacolicious, the famed Marina quasi-Mexi-food purveyor that recently opened an outpost on Valencia, to the consternation and wailing of the Missionites, who saw it as an invasion of their turf by the Marinaites and whatnot. Anyway, FEAR NOT, MISSIONITES. It's not that bad. I mean, it's not dirtbaggy like Pop's, everyone looks like they've taken a shower in the last few days/isn't strung out/is wearing clothing that doesn't look like it came out of a dumpster, but it's not like Fraternity Night at Blue Light either. It's basically a long narrow dark room with good cocktails and some interesting bar snacks. I had this thing with tequila and lime and ginger beer and something that made it red and I don't even like tequila and it was really good. Probably wouldn't make a special trip here, and it really does seem more like a waiting room for Tacolicious next door than anything else, but if I were walking by and it wasn't crowded I might come back.

We then embarked to Southern Pacific Brewing, the vast new brewpub/restaurant that opened recently on Treat near 19th. It's kind of tricky to find but if you keep going south on 19th past Homestead and then turn on Treat you'll find it. We followed a drunk girl who was yelling to her male companions "I WILL NEVER GO DOWN ON A CHICK" just as we arrived at the place, so I hope they weren't holding out for some of that. Anyway. SPB is in a HUGE steel former warehouse or factory or airplane hangar or something and it's all very new and clean and looks like the kind of place you'd see on a Travel Channel special about Hot New Places to Go in San Francisco. There are a bunch of communal tables inside and a medium-ish patio outside that will be fucking MOBBED on nice afternoons, let me guarantee you. Pretty clean-cut crowd. Olu met an actual Marina Girl when he was outside smoking, so there's that. I liked it. We tried pretty much all the beers, and the Pale Ale was my fave. It's THREE BUCKS. Three dollars for the pale ale! Can you imagine?

Photo by Clara S. from Yelp. Hope you don't mind, Clara S.

Onward. Our third and final stop was Dear Mom, on 16th and Harrison. We walked in and immediately we were like WHOA THE INTERNET IS HERE. Not surprising, I guess, since this place has gotten lots of blog love. That's the most links I've ever shoved into two sentences. Anyway, yeah, I can see it. Plenty of room. Convivial surroundings. Not too long to wait for drinks. Definitely the youngest bar of the night. In fact, as Olu pointed out, you could do the entire Cycle of Life in these three places - Dear Mom to Southern Pacific to Mosto.

Thus concludes New Bar Night.

Bars of the Inner Richmond: A Limited Survey

Here's some news: We're moving to the Inner Richmond. Long story, but there it is. As it happens, we will be occupying the top floor of a 2-unit building and The Sister is on the bottom floor. This is not the setup for a sitcom, although now that I think about it, it has certain sitcom-ish potential.

ANYWAY on Saturday The Sister and I checked out some of our new neighborhood bars. I've been to all these places, so technically it wasn't a New Bar Night, but it's been years so it sort of was. We were out between roughly 7 and 9 pm, so we probably didn't get the Full Saturday Effect, but that's enough disclaimers now. Here's where we went:

We walked into Buckshot, took one look around, and walked out. It looked like a bunch of kids at a county fair where they happened to serve booze, what with all the skee ball and shuffleboard and picnic tables. I hope someone's checking IDs. (Also, their website says "Be excellent to each other. And... PARTY ON, DUDES! - - - - - - - - poop on a stick!" That probably tells you everything you need to know about Buckshot.)

Next we went to Ireland's 32. I actually kinda like Ireland's 32, as far as Irish bars go, but Saturday night it was in full sports bar mode, with the Saints-Lions playoff game blaring from all 15 or whatever TVs. I'm not opposed to sports bars per se, but it just wasn't what we were looking for. I've been there other nights and had a good time though.

Maintaining the Irish theme, the next stop was the Plough & Stars on Clement. Nice enough place, but The Sister's drink was super-weak which made her more surly than normal. Perhaps sticking with beer here would be advisable. Also, apparently not everyone's drinks were weak, because there was a group of super shitfaced guys careening around the bar. Ah, youth. Maybe it'll be more of a weeknight bar.

Moving down Clement, we came to the Bitter End, which might be a semi-Irish bar. At this point, there is very little to distinguish one place from another. They're all that kind of exposed-wood-pool-table-TV-screen-wooden-booth kind of places. Another way young crowd.

Last stop: the 540 Club. Not an Irish bar, thank God. We actually liked this place a lot. Divey but cool. The bartenders were totally friendly. Also fairly young crowd, but not as college-y as the other places. I guess the Yelp says it gets crowded on weekends? Not when we were there (but, again, this was at like 9 or 9:30 pm). I could see hanging out here.

Then we took a cab to the Tenderloin and some other stuff happened. The end.

Meanwhile, in Vallejo....

(via the Times-Herald)

Woman brandishes gun during Vallejo bar melee

A man got beaten up and a woman brandished a shotgun during a melee in the Blue Rock Inn bar parking lot early Thursday, police said.

A 22-year-old Vallejo resident told officers he was outside the bar, in the 200 block of Springs Road, smoking a cigarette when a suspect punched him in the nose and grabbed his necklace, Sgt. Herman Robinson said.

Two other suspects struck the victim from behind, and the victim's female cousin tried to help him, Robinson said. A witness said the three suspects fled in a silver Hyundai Access and drove south on Oakwood Avenue.

Witnesses said a woman, described as a 50-year-old with long blond hair, brandished a gun at the victim while standing next to a small car, Robinson said. No arrests were made.

Not sure why, but I was fascinated by this story. Here we have a guy just trying to enjoy a smoke outside the Blue Rock Inn when he gets punched in the nose! And somebody tries to steal his necklace! Actually, judging from the looks of the Blue Rock Inn, I can't say I'm 100% surprised by this battery/attempted larceny incident.


I have to say, I don't see the Blue Rock Inn as a destination for New Bar Night any time soon. Despite its 2 cheerful Yelp reviews! Ricardo A. opines thusly:

this was my last bar on my 21st b-day and it was really nice and calm no beer from the tap but overall really comfortable and they also let you smoke in here the bartender was really nice. i had spilled my beer ( lol i as kinda drunk by the time i got here) and she was very kind and cleaned it up i did tip her ok lol they only have one pool table and there is a much older crowd in here but overall good spot to hang out if u wanna smoke.

Wait a minute. If they let you smoke in there, what was 22-year-old Vallejo resident doing in the parking lot? Hmmm, maybe there's more to this story.

ANYWAY. We're getting off-track. This necklace must be made out of pure diamonds or something because it took a concerted effort by three people to get it. And one of them, who we'll call "Wanda" because she seems like a Wanda, was a 50-year-old woman with long blonde hair toting a MOTHERFUCKING SHOTGUN. Damn, Wanda!

Google Image Search result for "50-year-old woman." Is this our suspect? PERHAPS!

I'm picturing Wanda with a Benson & Hedges 120 dangling from her lips, telling her younger crime partners to "kiss her ass" if they disagree with her. And yet Wanda can be sweet as hell. She calls you "darlin'" and totally fed that homeless Mom and her kids for free one night at the diner where she waits tables four nights a week.

The story doesn't say whether Wanda et al. got away with the necklace. Anyway, next time you're in Vallejo, keep your eyes peeled for a 50-year-old woman with long blonde hair driving a Hyundai Access. Your necklace: she wants it.

Be safe out there this weekend, kids.

New Bar Night: Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem

I finally got an iPhone on Friday. I didn't get one for a long time because they were only on AT&T and I don't get any AT&T signal in my house. Came to find out that nobody gets any AT&T signal anywhere in San Francisco, so that turned out to be a good move. I got a G1 instead and went with T-Mobile. I liked the G1 pretty well. Having an actual keyboard was helpful but damn that thing was slow. So anyway my contract was up and what it really came down to is that I can carry one box around instead of 2 (i.e., phone and iPod). So I upped with Verizon and got the iPhone.

So far, I pretty much love it except there's a definite learning curve with the keyboard. Also, why is there no notification light? On the G1 (and every other phone in the world, I think), there's like a little green light that blinks on the front of the phone if you have a new text or email. How hard would it have been to put that on there? Seems ridic. But no, I'm just bitching. I pretty much love it.

OK, so Saturday I happened to be at the Phoenix to catch the end of the Giants game (Romo FTS! [That's "for the save," I just made that up]) and we were trying to decide where to go next and I was all "Let's go to that new place on Mission that was on Mission Mission and Uptown Almanac!!!!" and people usually let me get my way when I've been drinking so off we went.

It's called Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem and they don't appear to have a website. In case you didn't know, that was the name of the Muppets band. (OF COURSE there's a Muppets wiki.) My initial reaction is that it's a retarded name for a bar. But whatever, what's inside?

Initial reaction is that it's pretty much just your basic bar. There's a cocktail list but it's not online and I didn't take a picture of it or anything. Not crazy about the beer selection so the chicks got some specialty cocktails and we got a couple of Bud tall cans. Bud is gross but I wanted something not so heavy and not Trumer.


I stole this picture from Grubstreet. Thanks, Grubstreet! They have a good slideshow of the whole place.

OK here's the background: this place was opened by the same people who own Tonic, on Russian Hill, apparently, and you might say that Tonic appeals to a different demographic than you typically find in the Mission (except for Blondie's, but that's another story). Now, of course I'm generalizing to some extent, and a full discussion of the Tribes of San Francisco is beyond the scope of this piece, but I think we can agree that there's a general "type" that's associated with the Mission and a general "type" that's associated with Russian Hill and they're not exactly the same type. Like there was a guy at the bar unironically wearing a peach Polo (and I mean an actual Polo, with the little Polo guy stitched on it) who smelled like cologne and had no visible tattoos. More power to this guy and all, but it was just a surprise is all I'm saying.

Then more stuff started to stand out. Like, there's a second bar in the back of the room that, don't get me wrong, is certainly convenient but it's just odd because you don't see that second bar thing much. Oh, and when I came back from the bathroom there was a chick at the table next to us climbing up onto her chair for reasons unknown and and I thought she was going to start table dancing but she didn't thank God.

ANYWAY this is probably more than you wanted to hear and it turned into like this fucking Sociology thesis and whatever it's a bar not a Social Experiment. It was crazy crowded by the time we left so keep that in mind. It's fine I guess. If you happened to be walking by on a Wednesday and wanted to stop in and get a drink there are worse places, I suppose, but I wouldn't make a point of coming here.

POSTSCRIPT: Over on Yelp (only 4 reviews as of this morning), reviewer Tom R. gives it two stars and says:

"Hipster irony is eating it's own tail"

and links to a Youtube video of the Muppet band.

Maybe I'm just dense, but I cannot figure out for the life of me what Tom R.'s point is. What does he mean, hipster irony eating its own tail? That's it's so ironic that it's not ironic any more? Because I don't think that has anything to do with this bar. Like the owners went "Wow, it would be so ironic to name this bar Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem"? That doesn't make any sense. Oh well. Maybe Tom R. is just more savvy of a cultural critic than I am.

Brief reviews of things from this weekend

Churchill: The newish bar on Church and 14th. Friday happy hour was like the 3rd or 4th time I've been there and it is always packed. At least during the times I go there. They are going to make SO MUCH MONEY. Anyway, I like the place OK, I guess. I'd like to go sometime when it's not crazy busy to get a better idea. I had a Pimm's Cup (give me a break - it was like 75 degrees out, that's like Crazy Surface of the Sun Hot in SF) that tasted a little weird, not sure why. The Sister's Moscow Mule was pretty badass, though. 7.5/10

Uber car service: We go outside, The Sister pushes a button on her iPhone, and we're getting into a black town car driven by "Mischa" 3 minutes later. I did not pay for this service, so it was a fucking awesome way to get across town. How can you not like riding in the back of a town car driven by a guy who may or may not be in the Russian mob and never takes off his sunglasses? 10/10

The Royal Cuckoo: Newish bar on Mission and Valencia. I don't know, it's probably better when it's dark out. We got there at 7:30 and it was still bright out and it didn't seem exactly right. I like the feel of the place, and there are the usual artisanal cocktails and hand-muddled herbs and whatever and also a guy showed up and started playing a Wurlitzer organ and we all got a little Twin Peaks-ed out and went across the street to Knockout for beers. I'll try it again, though. 6.8/10

Nickie's: I always forget how much I like Nickie's. Everyone there is super nice and it's got a great convivial vibe, which you want from a pub-feeling kind of place, and I always manage to get into a conversation with a stranger here, usually someone interesting. I gotta start going there more often. 8/10 [Oh look, I wrote about Nickie's in 2008 and said about the same things. Well, good to know it's still good.] [Also, Nickie's, your website auto-plays music! BAD!!! BAD!!!!]

The brunch I made at home on Sunday: Scrambled eggs with andouille sausage, green onion, and cheddar. Hash browns. Fresh fruit. Mimosas. Fucking heavenly. 10/10

Le Colonial: Sunday was like the perfect night to sit on the veranda (and I do not use that term lightly) and have what turned out to be some really, really good Vietnamese/French food. Again with the weird cocktails, though! I got a mojito and it had orange juice in it. Yuck. But the food was outstanding and it's a great atmosphere out there on a warm night. Fucking expensive as hell, but sometimes you just gotta go for it. 8.2/10

Guy Getting Shot by BART Police at Civic Center Station on Sunday Night: They got a report of a guy with an open container of alcohol acting drunk at Civic Center Station? Dude, that is EVERY DAY AT CIVIC CENTER STATION. Fuck, I'VE been that guy at Civic Center Station. Good thing I didn't get shot. Anyway, I'm sure that it will be determined that the cops acted reasonably and whatever. That's how these things always turn out. 3.5/10

Cedar Rapids: I guess I would describe it as "cute." It's a cute movie. There are a few laughs, and John C. Reilly should get nominated for an Oscar for his supporting role as the Huge Douchebag. He was really fucking phenomenal. Worth Netflixing, I guess.

Illegal Fireworks in the Mission Last Night: Jesus Christ, people, WHAT THE FUCK. It sounded like a fucking war out there. I chugged a bottle of wine around 10 to take the edge off so I could go to bed without having flashbacks triggered and then I realized I didn't have any flashbacks to trigger but it was still pretty intense and the wine helped anyway. 1/10

The Sort-of New Bar Night edition

Ladies and gentlemen, on the off-chance you haven't seen him, let me introduce you to Celebration Guy, who will now be my go-to guy whenever anything really great happens:



Like I mentioned, I feel somewhat conflicted about celebrating someone's death, so let's forget that's what's going on here for a second and instead focus on the batshit insane, crazy Yosemite Sam-level nuttery on display. How can you not love a guy riding an ATV with an American flag, whooping and firing a pistol into the air? GENIUS. I love you, Celebration Guy.

Hey, I know I haven't had an official New Bar Night in a while, but I have been to a couple of new places that I should catch you up on.

(This actually leads to kind of an existential question - what differentiates "going to a bar I've never been to before" from "New Bar Night"? I think it's a question of intent and quality. I'm already bored by this parenthetical, though, so email me if you want more detail on this.)

(Can you imagine if I did PRIVATE BLOG POSTS for people? Like you could write me and tell me what you wanted to hear about and I'd send you back a blog post about it? I would have to charge for that. If you want a Private Blog Post, email me and we'll work something out. I'm totally kidding. I don't want to do this.)

So I met The Wife at Buck Tavern for happy hour and to watch the end of the Giants game last Friday. A little backstory, if you're not familiar: BT used to be Just Another Bar (apparently - I'd never been there) and the it was bought by former SF Supervisor/Professional Annoyer Chris Daly to, I guess, give him something to do now that he's not pissing people off in SF politics any more. Sure enough, there he was, behind the bar.

Two things about Chris Daly: (1) he is a perfectly friendly, if somewhat slow, bartender, and (2) he is VERY LOUD. This is probably not a surprise. He was conducting various conversations with people around the bar by YELLING AT THEM. This is somewhat disconcerting if you're me and you dislike yelling because it reminds you of your broken childhood home.

Also, and this is also probably not a surprise, the conversations largely concerned San Francisco politics, which makes sense, I guess, but is also so amusing and predictable it's like the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney World except it's the Pirates of District Six ride and it's really, really boring and instead of ARRRR MATEY it's all WHO'S RUNNING DAVID CHIU'S CAMPAIGN like I give a shit.

He clearly loves it. More power to the guy! I don't begrudge him his thing at all. It's just not for me.

Where else did I go? Oh yeah, the EXACT POLAR OPPOSITE of Buck Tavern, 620 Jones, an elaborate nightclubby kind of place. I usually avoid this kind of scene like it's a leper colony full of fundamentalists, but we have a friend who works there and we went there for happy hour and it was just fine. They have a HUGE fucking porch too that I'm sure is great when it's warm out, like today. But you can close your eyes and just hear the thumpa thumpa music and picture the Affliction and Drakkar Noir around you. Shudder.

(I don't know, maybe it's not that bad. I probably will never find out, though.)

(Definitely check it out for HH, though. And the food looked good. That patio!)

P.S. If you have suggestions for places I should go on New Bar Nights in the future, please leave them in the comments or email them to me or just visualize them REALLY HARD and maybe I'll pick up your vibe with my chakras or something.

New Bar Night: Union Square edition

(I've gotten like a shitload of new readers over the past few days mostly because of the "50 Reasons to Love/30 Reasons to Hate SF" posts which is great except that some people took the Hate list completely at face value and now think I'm some kind of jackass who belongs in Tulsa because I require plentiful free parking and hate puppies. Oh well. What are you gonna do. Not take everything so seriously, I guess.)

(Also, I'm wicked hungover and we're out of Advil. I found 2 Advil P.M. but I don't really want to go to sleep again.)

What's it been, since March that we had a New Bar Night? I'm sorry, I slacked. That's like when "Lost" would air like 4 episodes in a row and you'd be all "OK NOW! I'm down with the narrative. I see where we're going here!" And then it would POOF disappear off the air for 6 months and instead you'd be watching reruns of The First 48 and going "DUH IT'S THE GUY WITH THE BLOODSTAINS ON HIS SHIRT I'M NOT EVEN A DETECTIVE AND I CAN SEE THAT."

Do you ever go to Union Square? No, you don't. There's no reason. You're not from Out of Town. But what if you were on a date, for some reason, and you ended up near Union Square and you wanted to shock and awe your date with some sweet cocktails? There was no answer before. Now there is. It's Burritt Room, and it's on Stockton, just above Sutter, near the oddly graffiti-free Stockton Tunnel.

You go in through the Kubrickianly-clean lobby of the Crescent Hotel and go up some stairs and then all of a sudden you're in a really nice exposed brick/distressed wood kind of room where they make Artisanal Cocktails with Black Tea Infused Rum and shit like that. I'm not gonna lie, the drinks were off the heezy. When we first got there, there was a huge crowd of Squares with Nametags because, you know, it's a hotel bar, but they cleared out once we stationed ourselves at the bar and started yelling.

OK, business time. The cocktails were fucking excellent. I should have written down what was in them because they were fiendishly complicated and every drink had like 5-7 ingredients and different kinds of bitters and unpronounceable liqueurs and shit like that. Plus they're only $10 each which is a pretty good deal for that sort of thing. I think we liked the place a lot, and that was even before the chick next to us who looked like a taller thinner Lily Allen started flirting with Olu to the consternation of her boyfriend who then had to loom over her as if to cast a protective shield and we were all "He's not going to steal your girlfriend dude, we're here for New Bar Night, not New Chick Night."


Lily Allen wearing some kind of panda costume. Picture for reference only.

The bartender was super friendly too. You should go to this place.

Not so much with the next place, though: Cantina, up the hill a bit on Sutter. Sometimes you just don't know where a bar goes wrong. It's hard to pinpoint. Cantina's like that. It's not specifically a Mexican place (although Jason did get a $16 shot of tequila, like WTF Jason), but there's a nod to that. It feels kind of hotel bar-y. Like sterile or something. I will say that the Carmen Amaya (Rittenhouse straight rye, Cointreau, fresh lemon & muddled basil, amontillado sherry, thank you online menu for Cantina) was tasty, but I can't see hanging out there. The Australian guy at the bar seemed to be having a good time, though. We split.

Had a brief delay up the street on Sutter because Olu stopped to buy a 1.75 liter bottle of Skyy vodka with the security thing still on it from a Guy on the Street for $10. That's a good deal! Guy on the Street assured us that he came by the 1.75 liter bottle of Skyy vodka legitimately, so what's the big deal?

I've been to Ambassador before, but they hadn't, so it counts. The door guy let Olu check his $10 1.75 liter bottle of Skyy vodka so we could go in! That's nice. You know what? They have $3 beers and well drinks on Wednesday. That's cheap as fuck right there! It was also fucking EMPTY at 9:30 p.m. It was weird because there was more staff in the place than customers. It was like us and 3 Russian guys who looked like extras from the Russian Mob episode of Law and Order. So we stationed ourselves in one of the booths and drank some $3 drinks. Our waitress, bless her heart, was ADORABLE but maybe not the Brightest Star on the Horizon but she did a great job and we love her very much.

(Incidentally, is there a law or something that says all Door Guys have to have Scraggly Goatees? That seems to be a rule.)

Had a few rounds there until the DJ turned up the music SO LOUD that it was impossible to talk and you KNOW we are all Algonquin Round Table when we go out and if I can't hear Jason's fucking witty bon mots I'm just not into it. Plus, the music was terrible but I guess "California Gurls" is de rigueur now and you might as well get it out of the way at 10:30 before actual people show up.

They were making eyes at Osha Thai Noodle across the street but I ate dinner before I went out because I'm a FUCKING PROFESSIONAL so I just took a cab home.

To summarize:

Burritt Room: Yes. Four $10 bottles of Skyy vodka.

Cantina: No. One and a half $10 bottles of Skyy vodka.

Ambassador: Eh, maybe. Two $10 bottles of Skyy vodka.

Unexpected New Bar Night: Bollyhood Cafe

So Stephen and I were drinking at Homestead last night and I was bemoaning the fact that here it was April 29 and I hadn't gone to a new bar this month and I was basically violating the sanctity of New Bar Night and I was consequently in a state of despair.

(SIDE NOTE 1: I like Homestead and all, but is there ever a time when it's not TOTALLY FUCKING PACKED? We were there at 7:30, still light out, wall to wall people. Seriously, when do I have to go there to not get bumped into a million times by some chick taking her (admittedly cute) chi-terrier mix back and forth for some unknown reason? Maddening.)

(SIDE NOTE 2: Yes, I know that on my extended East Coast Tour I probably went to like 20 New Bars. But the Rules of New bar Night are plain and they are clear: The New Bar must be within the limits of the City and County of San Francisco. So no matter how great the Silver Peso might be or how many prototype Apple products are available for stealing at the Gourmet Haus Staudt, those bars are simply not available for New Bar Night.)

So Stephen says, "Fear not! For I can help," or something like that. Down 19th Street we walked to the Bollyhood Cafe.

Pic stolen from "Furilo" on Flickr. Thanks, Furilo.

Despite the name, this does not seem to be an even vaguely Indian-themed bar. I don't know, maybe since it's next door to Little Baobab they thought there was some kind of National Theming Requirement on this block or something. Anyway, nice bar! Apparently started by some guys who used to work at Gestalt before that place had what I gather was a somewhat fractious change in ownership. Nice big room, interesting beer selection, friendly bartender.

Here's how friendly: When we were there, one of those Old Drunk Guys you see in bars (and no, I don't mean me, har har har) had reached his limit and it was time for him to go. Now, at most bars, the bartender would go "GET THE FUCK OUT" or something like that, but the bartender at Bollyhood is so nice it was more like Bollyhood was breaking up with the Old Drunk Guy. "Listen," he said, "I think it's probably time for you to go." "Mmmrphrrble," said the Old Drunk Guy. "No, really, it's been great, but this isn't really working out for us, and there are a lot of other bars out there, and I'm sure you'll be happy again with some other bar," the bartender said, or something like that.

Then this guy started playing music on his acoustic guitar and singing and we had to go. Apparently live music is one of the features as well.

ANYWAY, yeah, I like it. Not really a Destination Bar but a comfortable hang. Three and a half stars.

IN OTHER NEWS, have you guys noticed this? You know the new Safeway ads with the logo that looks like this?



Does that, um, remind you of anything?



Now, I'm not saying that Safeway is aiming for the Former Punker demographic or anything, but kids who were into Black Flag would be just about at the kids & minivan age now. I'M JUST SAYING IT'S SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT. I'm not trying to start a "Flagger" movement or anything but JUST LOOK AT THE EVIDENCE AND COME TO YOUR OWN CONCLUSIONS.

Oh, speaking of Black Flag, how awesome is this?


OK, this is like a fucking novel now. That'll do it for today.

Boring travelogue, Part 8: Douchebags and the Women who Love Them

Every city has one. An area like the RiverStroll or the Old Porte or The Landing - that old warehouse-y kind of district that they cleaned up and redeveloped and now it has a bunch of ootsy restaurants and loft-y bars and maybe a Buffalo Billiards and definitely a generic Irish bar where the only Irish thing is an Irish flag and Guinness on tap. Like in Nashville, TN, it's Lower Broad and in San Diego it's the Gaslamp District and in Richmond where we are now it's Shockoe Slip. This area may have been warehouses and railroad tracks at one point but now it's a repository of douchebags and girls in tiny dresses and shaved-head bouncers. When I lived in Richmond years ago I never once went down there and now I see why.

Stop One: Sine, with a little accent over the "e". It's an Irish bar in the sense that it has an Irish name and they have Guinness on tap. Full of douchebags with polo shirts tucked into their khaki shorts and wearing penny loafers or mandals. Girls with too much makeup and those little dresses that look like skirts worn up around their chests.

(Side Note: It was 91 degrees in Richmond today and like 80 when we went out so I'm describing warm weather wear.)

We had a couple of pints at Sine and left when the cover band started playing Tom Petty songs too loud.

Stop Two: We walked down Cary Street past a huge collection of Douchebags Wearing Affliction and the Women Who Like Them and went to Stool Pigeons, which is, unbelievably, a CHAIN OF SPORTS BARS with the worst name ever and which turned out to be great despite the fact that they didn't have the Giants-Dodgers game on because it wasn't too crowded and we had a nice booth.

Stop Three: Some jackass place called Europa that had techno downstairs that was bleeding through upstairs enough to make it almost unbearable.

Then we went back to the unbelievably opulent and Way Out of Our League Jefferson Hotel. $7 cab ride. GOODNIGHT EVERYBODY!

New Bar Night: St. Mary's Pub

At first I was all, "Maybe I'll keep this one a secret so it doesn't get overrun" but then I was all "(A)," (yeah I actually said "A" in my head) "that's a douche move and (B) overrun by who? My tens of readers? I think I'll still be able to get a seat."

The usual Intrepid Crew assembled - on time, no fucking way! - last night at the 3300 Club on Mission. I've been there before so it doesn't count. It was the first time for other Intrepid Crewmembers and they were pretty much "whatever" but I like it because I'm almost always the youngest person in there and that's tough at my advanced age. Coupla drinks there and then we moved on to the selected destination.

[SIDE NOTE: Just in case you're wondering (and, wow, if you are, you are way more interested in this than anyone else), the NBN policy is to meet somewhere else familiar and then all hit the New Bar together as a unit, in case the New Bar is dangerous or too lame to be at alone. Check back with me if you want to know the other rules of NBN and I'll send you the brochure and DVD.]

Destination: St. Mary's Pub, 3845 Mission, at College Ave. There's a College Ave. in San Francisco? Who knew!? I guess this is in Bernal Heights, but it feels like a different city. We were like, "Hello, fine bartendress! We come from a strange and distant land called San Francisco! We do not know of your primitive ways! Please serve us a flagon of ale!"

Short version: We liked SMP a lot.

Longer version: Pretty standard no-pretense, no-scene bar. Giants and 49ers stuff on the walls. Internet jukebox. Extremely friendly and cute bartender named Meghan with an "h." Small crowd (like 4-5 people) of what appeared to be regulars. Like, regulars since the 70's. Separate back room with a pool table.

It's hard to say what's so appealing about this place. Certainly Meghan helped (thx for the shots, incidentally, M), but it's more that undefinable "Hmmm, I could hang out here" feeling. I mean, there's nothing really special or extraordinary about this place. It's just a nice, mellow bar. Sometimes you just want a bar and not a Scene. (You know where I'm talking about. It starts with P and ends with "op's".) Like Olu said, it'd be a good place to hang out and watch a Giants game. Three stars. We'll be back.

New Bar Night: Smuggler's Cove, The Residence

You know, given the drinkers who form the backbone of the New Bar Night cadre, it is somewhat difficult to find bars that none of us have ever been to. Before too long, we're going to be down to Irish bars in the deep Outer Sunset that are manned by 4 regulars at all times and the jukebox hasn't been updated since 1974. Actually that sounds pretty good.

Anyway, that's why it's nice when a new bar opens in the same place where an old bar used to be. You save on travel time and already know how to get there.

The SF bar scene collectively shat itself when Smuggler's Cove opened in the old Jade Bar space on Gough a few months back. I'm not sure why. I mean, it's cool, I guess. What they did there was take the sleek loungey vibe of Jade and hang so much nautical crap everywhere that it feels like you're walking into the Pirates of the Carribean ride at Disney World.

And the menu! Jesus! It's about 10 pages and takes about a half-hour to read. Here's a picture I took of one page:


I know, looks like a magazine article about drinking in Hawaii, right? The drinks all have incredibly complicated descriptions and about 12 ingredients, like this:

BOOM SHAKKA SHAKKA

Sir Charles Barkley once remarked upon a particularly tragic sunset that "God must forbear us each our chance to cast the lots of life." His barrel-aged rhums were the toast of St. Tiffani-Amber. For our libation, we strain his finest product through a whiskey-soaked piece of lugsail. Lemon, orange, marmalade, cucumber bitters, spiced strained rhum, exploding souls, Dutch paprika, Squirt.

I bet you when it's busy (and it's apparently often busy) it's hell on Earth trying to get a drink, since every one takes about 15 minutes to make, but it wasn't so bad last night. Still, we could only have two before we had to take our leave. Worth a visit, but I couldn't see making it a regular destination. You wouldn't hang out at Disney World every day either. Or maybe you would. If so, you probably have a parole officer.

A few months ago, Amber went to sleep and when it woke up it was The Residence. You've changed. No more smoking, which is maybe good or bad, depending on your perspective. All cleaned up and new furniture. That's definitely good. And bar menus! Who would have thought? At Amber, the bar menu was a piece of construction paper taped to the wall behind the bar that said "Sierra Nevada $5."

So it's nicer. My associate, who spent far more time in Amber than I, reports that many of the same regulars are there. Along with some of the activities that gave Amber a certain reputation, if you know what I mean. I'm winking right now but you can't see that.

I couldn't tell you what kind of drinks were on the new drink menu because we were just drinking beers. I guess it would be a cool place to hang out and have a few. There's fancy couches and wood paneling and a fake fireplace and a mantel with a portrait from the Renaissance or something above it. There was also what appeared to be a mother-daughter duo having drinks when we were there. You sure wouldn't see that in the old Amber.

PROGRAMMING NOTE: Going to Mendocino tomorrow BRB.

New Bar Night: Carlo's, Dirty Thieves

Once again, your three intrepid adventurers drunks set out into that Good Night to go to a couple of places where at least two, and maybe all three, of us had never been. You call it New Bar Night. We call it maize.

Hey, I bet you anything you've seen the exterior of Carlo's Bar more than the inside of your own stove or maybe even your mother's face. That's because it's perched next to 24th Street BART and everybody takes 24th Street BART all the time. Or maybe just me. And the other people who take 24th Street BART all the time. ANYWAY.

It's interesting sociologically and anthropologically that there are these mostly- or totally-Latino bars sprinkled around the Mission, which makes sense because, of course, the Mission is (still) a largely Hispanic neighborhood, but which most of the white people who live in and around there never go into. (PLEASE don't leave an angry comment if you're a white person who hangs out in a Latino bar. Good for you, I believe you, etc. Just making a generalization.)

SO in the interest of seeing what the deal is, we headed into Carlo's Bar. Being a Wednesday night at 8:00, it was pretty empty. As expected, we were the only non-Hispanic people in there. Everyone stared at us. Not in a mean way. Or maybe in a mean way; I don't know. There was very loud Mexican music playing. I'm sure there's a term for the specific kind of music but I don't know what it is. There were three female bartenders, which seemed odd because there were about 8 customers. They all rushed over to us and started speaking very rapid Spanish. We said "Tecate" and got some Tecates. They switched to English, sort of.

Like I said, about 8 people. Couple of guys playing pool. One M/F couple dancing energetically to the music. At this point, we're just soaking it all in when the guy next to me strikes up a conversation, sort of. Jesús, as it turns out, is from Mexico and is EXTREMELY FRIENDLY. Also a little drunk. I could understand about two out of every 20 words so I nodded and smiled a lot. He introduced himself to all of us and proceeded to say, I think, that he likes San Francisco a lot. I might have accidentally told him I was from Mexico. I'm not sure. Jesús works at a very well-known Indian restaurant, so if you've had Tandoori chicken in the Mission in the last two years, chances are Jesús has cooked for you.

We would have stayed for another beer but here's the thing. Everyone was incredibly friendly and it was fun and everything but I was cornered and, frankly, Jesús would not shut up and it's kind of awkward to try and have a conversation with someone when you can't really understand a word they're saying. Also, his breath was deadly, I'm not joking. So we had to take our leave.

I know what you thought when you saw Dirty Thieves in the title of this post: How could TK have never been to Dirty Thieves? Either that or "Ugh, I'm not reading this bullshit," one of the two. Anyway, I went there a few times when it was Treat Street, but I haven't been since it became Dirty Thieves. Anyway, perfectly fine bar. I bet it gets seriously hipstered up on weekends. Just saying. Interestingly, there was a M/F couple dancing here, too! Is there a new Dance Dance Revolution I don't know about? So it's got booths and a pool table and bathrooms and an Internet jukebox and blah blah blah it's fine.

New Bar Night: Tempest, Showdown, Rickhouse

Any pussy can go to one bar. It takes a fucking VILLAGE to go to three. By "village" I mean me, Olu and Jason. If your village was an AA meeting.

First stop: Tempest, on Natoma between 5th and 6th, behind the flailing Chronicle. Nice bar! A little brightly lit, but better to see the jackoffs taking up three tables. Oh, sorry, I don't mean to be salty. We had a good time. PBR and shot of Jim Beam, $5 all the time. What could be wrong with that? Nothing, that's what. Jason came and put an old Mark Twain folio on the bar and everybody gave us mad props after that. Maybe it was the Spongebob action figure he got from Burger King that he also put on the bar, I'm not sure. You can smoke in the Tempest, but only BEHIND THE RED LINE, like a painted line on the floor confers immunity from lung cancer. Pool table. Japanese chick w/ passport. Good bar.

Second stop: Showdown, 6th Street near Mission, in the old Arrow Bar space. No immediately apparent website, which makes sense, because it's only a notch up from Arrow Bar, like malaria is a notch up from H1N1. Here's what you need to know about Showdown: Jason saw a guy there who he has personally 86'd for life from the Gold Cane. 86'D FOR LIFE FROM THE GOLD CANE. That basically means you built a meth lab on the bar at the Gold Cane and then refused to sell any meth to the bartender. Not Jason. He doesn't do that. Anyway, Guy 86'd From Gold Cane was basically fucking this wasted methy blonde chick at the bar. Gross. When they realized they couldn't consummate their affair for the ages right there, they ducked over to the men's room. Romantic. Next to the men's room door, there was some refrigerator box or something. I don't know why. They shimmy in between the door and the box and BOOM I see the chick's tennis shoe with a foot still in it flop up on top of the box. Olu had to go to the bathroom. I said "Not right now." Shoe comes down, bathroom door opens and closes. Horrifying. No stars.

Third stop: Rickhouse, everybody's new hotness with your artisanal cocktails and blah blah blah. We begrudgingly liked it. Begrudging because there were a lot of striped shirts and FiDi types crowding up the place and making it harder for me to get my drink, which was bourbon, Punt E Mes, infused pixie dust, and tears, with ice cubes carved out of a glacier in Norway. It was OK. I love the interior, but it's all very carefully crafted to look Bar-y, like Pirates of the Carribean for drunks.

Then we took a cab to the 500 Club and had beers like normal people.

New Bar Night: Ace's

There are bars with regulars. In fact, every bar has regulars, as far as I can tell. And then there are Regulars Bars, where everybody there pretty much knows each other. Ace's, on Sutter and Hyde at the edge of the Tenderloin, is definitely a Regulars Bar.

[SIDE NOTE #1: I know from regulars because I used to be a regular at a bar. Not surprisingly, it was the bar where my ex-wife worked, so I pretty much drank for free. Drinking for free sounds good unless it involves a desperately unhappy marriage. So think about it before you get married for free drinks.]

The regulars, in this case, were a group of maybe 5-7 middle-aged white guys who clearly have been hanging out at the bar forever. In fact, just as we got there, two of them arrived by car, meaning that, at least for some people, Ace's is a destination bar.

There's nothing wrong with this bar. There's a vaguely sports bar feel, with lots of Yankees and other New York paraphernalia scattered about. I assume that it gets a strong NYC crowd for Yankees and NY football Giants games. That's great. If you're an expat, it's nice to have a place to go to that feels like home.

[SIDE NOTE #2: Since a lot of people who live here moved here from somewhere else, there's a whole subculture of these expat bars, mostly centered on sporting events. Like, there are bars where people from Boston watch Boston sporting events, and the same for Steelers fans and so on and so forth. Which makes me wonder if it's like that in other cities. Like, if I happen to be in Cincinnati, can I go to a SF Giants bar? Probably not.]

It was a surprisingly warm night last night, so we sat right by the open front windows. Got a Tecate, which came in a can with a bar-issued coozy. Nice touch. There couldn't have been more than 15 people in the fairly big room, which is either a selling point or a slow night for a Thursday at 8:30. Maybe it picks up later.

There's a bar dog, which you like to see, and a picture of a guy on the toilet in the bathroom, which you don't. Ace's certainly wouldn't be the worst place you could end up - I assume that's MatrixFillmore or something like that - but it's not a place you'd go out of your way to go to. Unless, I guess, you're from New York and you want to watch the Yankees with a bunch of other New Yorkers.

We split and walked down the hill to Whiskey Thieves. I hadn't been there in like 5 years, so I guess it's a New Bar again and this is a twofer. Fuck, when did everybody get so young? It was like Romper Room with booze. Is that a birthday party in the corner, or are you just shrieking for no reason? Jesus.

Then I took a cab home. The end.