That thing you did this week, the thing with the stuff—that was exemplary.
So here. Have our sincere best wishes: happy Friday. Really.
Okay, okay. Have a massive 45-tap beer hall, too...
It’s called Taps Social House and Kitchen, it’s soft-open now if you catch it in a good mood, and it’s fully open Monday.
You’ll find this where Pasha was—so big, it could have its own zip code. (It doesn’t.) If you just made friends with every single person at a Russian Hill house party, tell ’em all to meet you in the towering main room, just inside the Broadway-facing windows.
First, you’ll ponder your beer options—21st Amendment Back in Black, maybe, or a Pine Street Atom Splitter—and what’s to eat. You could just do some pretzel braids and lean on the wooden slab of a communal counter, but grab a table if you’re getting a plate heavy with meat.
And if you’re looking at those taps and checking our math, you’re not wrong—there’s only 30 up here. In a few weeks, you’ll find a second bar with another 15, in a sidecar room that’s crying out for a private little beer bash.
Actually, it’s asking pretty politely.