You should be getting ready for Palmer’s Tavern, a new time warp of a neighborhood bar conjuring up mid-century San Francisco via Pimm’s Cups, cornmeal-crusted hen and enough taxidermy to make you all “This place has a bunch of taxidermy,” now open on Fillmore.
Dark. Moody. Charming. American. Leathery.
Those are words. Moreover, those are words that, in a pinch, could adequately describe this place. But you’re not in a pinch. No. You’ve got all the time in the world.
So, tonight. Stroll in there like you own the place. Notice how everything has a throwback ’50s way about it. The long red leather banquettes. The chandeliers with little lampshades over them. The framed pictures of what San Francisco used to look like.
It’s a backdrop made for sipping Gibsons and Bohemian cocktails with rye and coffee liqueur. And there’s a strong chance you’ll end up doing just that at the long mahogany bar lorded over by a taxidermied bull’s head.
If you brought company, the railroad-car-looking dining room is what you seek. You can get steak tartare and fried oysters and pork trotters in there.
Hopefully you didn’t have trotters for lunch.