Casey U.
Yelp
The couple walking in front of me clasped each other's asses as I walked alone to Shotwell's; the art-deco double doors beckoning, a sign radiating the soothing word "beer" in a vestibule above the entrance. It was one of those evenings where I hoped it would stay dark forever, and (unlike The Mountain Goats in their wonderfully bitter song "No Children") I KNEW the worst wasn't over. My only hope of escape was to get completely anesthetized , totally self-indulgently polluted, entirely locked out of my own mind, in hopes that sometime after my fourth or fifth drink, I might be able to forget about the end of a relationship painful enough to drive me me towards the watering-holes of the Mission District instead of relaxing in the comfortable sleaze of my favorite Richmond district dive.
It was one of those nights where as I sidled up to the bar, I had to do a double take. The man reflected in the antique back-bar COULDN'T have been me (sometimes I lie to myself, especially when I'm looking more disheveled than usual), but when he (as I did in that exact same moment) ordered himself an Almanac "Birre de Chocalat", I had to come to terms with the fact. I chatted with the owner (David, an incredibly friendly dude), who allowed me to sample Almanac's "Sour Chocolate Porter" (a fantastic note of bittersweet chocolate, a faint hit of hazelnut, and an aftertaste like a tart cherry pie) amidst the beautiful chandeliers, engravings, and authentic moldings from Shotwell's time as a gin joint in the early 20th Century.
After a second beer (Magnolia Proving Ground IPA), a third (Anchor Steam), and a fourth (a Drake's Dennoginizer [Dennoginize me David!]), I began to realize that Shotwell's was a pretty fascinating cross-section of what San Francisco had become: North-Face wearing techies living for the weekend, service industry folks with tattoos, old punks, and writers carrying me away, the internet jukebox blasting punk and hip-hop, everyone drinking away the tension of the week. In so many ways, Shotwell's may be one of the most perfect bars in San Francisco: the people are friendly, the beer is good, the bartenders aren't assholes, and the music is just loud enough for everyone to get carried away in the atmosphere of a place which doesn't need to try to be trendy but succeeds through its timeless authenticity. That night (and maybe every night) it was just what I needed.
I finished my beer, stumbled out into the night, and began the long trek back home to my district. Suddenly, everything seemed alright...until the hangover hit me the next day.
Overall: Five Stars. A strong candidate for what I would make my local bar if I lived in the Mission.
Extras:
Accessible by all Mission Corridor Bus Lines (20th St. stop), the 9, 9l, and BART (if you don't mind a bit of a walk).
Cash Only.
Mulled wine and Sangria available.