Mike S.
Yelp
Recently, my brother in law discovered a new Korean dish, called "Boon-dae jigae," which according to my mother means something like "Barrack casserole," so-called because it was invented by some Korean soldiers desperate to make their rations more palatable. Apparently, in Korea, the soldier's typical rations include: instant noodles (no, duh), Spam (well, of course), hot dogs (wow, fancy), and some kind of beans (I wouldn't have guessed that). The casserole is essentially adding water, then boiling it with all these ingredients, with some kind of spicy red stuff (who knows what). (Notice the utter lack of vegetables.)
Well, anyway, my brother in law took me out to SF over the holidays, where we met up with a couple of his buddies. First we went to some surf bar (I think it was called "Beach Chalet" or something), where we ginned up with the following combination: 2 Makers, 1 Glenlivet and 1 beer. The cost was $28, with tip, came to $33 or so. I mention this for context. I take it this is about average price for drinks in SF, and compatible to LA (where I live), and a bit cheaper than NYC. You still with me?
Anyway, after a couple of drinks, we motor over to this Korean drinking place for the Boon-dae jiggae, which my brother in law found on line. The place was pretty busy and there was a 30 minute wait. (Incidentally, if you are non-Korean cum non-Asian, you should not feel in anyway intimidated by this place--the name of which I forget--because although almost everyone in there is Asian, almost none--save the wait staff--is Korean. So you shouldn't feel any more foreign than any of the other patrons. It's not like we Koreans like other Asians more than non-Asians. You are either Korean or not, there is no yellow spectrum in between.)
During the wait, one of my brother in law's buddies, R., went outside looking for a bar to hang in while we waited. He went across the street to the liquor store, where he asked if there was a bar nearby. Apparently, the guy looked at him with a quizzical expression on his face, and replied: "Next door?" R peered out, then came back in to ask: "Where?" The liquor store guy replied, "Right next door. Flanahan's." Then, apparently, the guys added grimly: "Don't get sucked in."
So we go over to Flanahan's. Now, I notice on Yelp that just about every bar is described as a "dive bar," even though most bars thus described are not. Most of them are just hipster bars specializing in the illusion of diver bars.
In contrast, Flanahan's is a dive bar. It's cramped, sort of dirty, and you can tell that all the patrons are (a) all regulars, and (b) all alcoholics.
And do you know why you get "sucked in"? For exactly the same order as at the surf bar above, we were charged $12. If I lived in the area, I too would live in this bar.
The decor is minimal. It might have once been an apartment, or a garage. There is absolutely no frill, not even the vaguest attempt at decoration. There was New Year's confetti on the floor, four days after New Year's. Since all they had on tap was PBR and Stella, I have no idea why anyone thinks this place is Irish. They should call this place simply "Happy Hours 24/7" or "Grad Student Lounge."
In any case, we went and ate our Boon-dae jiggae, which was just all right, then came back to Flanahan's for more drinks. I got into a conversation with a carpenter in his sixties with whom I had a cigarette outside. When I asked him, "Do you live around here?" He replied, "Yeah. Right there"--pointing at a pick-up truck parked in front of the bar. "Where?" I asked, dumbfounded. And he replied, "In my truck."
Like I said already, I can see that.