Back when I was a kid, Blogs were called 'imaginary friends' and were only slightly more pathetic.

Sunday, December 05, 2004

SFist Reprint

A weekly display of blind optimism that Saturday morning's hangover won't be as bad as the week before. Courtesy of your loyal barrespondent, Drew.

Ah, nostalgia. Almost impossible to create on purpose (i.e. Johnny Rockets), true nostalgia just has to exist. People can smell a fake a mile away, and nothing is more irritating than slowly realizing that a place is trying to force a wistful feeling of timelessness upon you. That amongst many other reasons is why it's much better to live here than some place that specializes in fake nostalgia like Las Vegas or Branson, Missouri (with full apologies to Vegas-ist and Branson-ist when they're eventually created).

In San Francisco, from the bay to the ocean, there's enough real history here thank goodness to prevent there being a need to concoct any artificial history. Walk into many bars and restaurants in the city and there's a good chance that the place hasn't been cleaned for 20 years, much less changed much, and sometimes that's a good thing.

The Ritespot on 17th and Folsom is a crowded classic. From the neon outside to the bitter servers and bartenders inside, I'm pretty sure that the Spot was virtually identical when it opened back in 1951. The one thing you've never been able to find here and probably never will is pretention. It is what it is, and that's a trait that seems to get more and more rare every day.

The food at the Spot is nothing to go nuts about, the service is usually slow and don't get your hopes up thinking you're going to get the best cocktail you've ever tasted or an imported beer you haven't tried before. Nope, you won't get much that's great at the RiteSpot, but you also won't be terribly dissapointed either. Consistency is what it's all about, and that's what you can count on when you treat yourself to true nostalgia.

Liver...Out !!



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