Eddie Rickenbacker's

You know that place near where you live? You walk (or drive) past it every day, but you've never gone in? It looks kinda cool, but you just assume someone died there or something and that's why no one ever goes there?

Well, for me that place is Eddie Rickenbacker's in SOMA, San Francisco. I know it's called Eddie Rickenbacker's only because I googled it. The sign outside says "40 Cycles of Yesteryear", which is not only a little misleading for a bar/restaurant, it's also quite accurate. There are tons (literally, I'm sure) of antique motorcycles dangling from the ceiling in this place. 

But I thought it was just a biker bar, and my fear of San Francisco bikers is part of the reason I didn't go in there until a couple weeks ago. I saw a brunch menu on the door. And although that didn't cure my fear of assless chaps, it did convince me there wouldn't be any hardcore bikers inside. 'I mean, when's the last time you saw the Hell's Angels sipping bellinis?' I whispered to myself as I summoned the courage to push open the door. 

So I went in, and from what I saw, it isn't a biker bar at all. It's a bar/restaurant that's stuck in history somewhere between the old west and 1978. There are tiffany lamps scattered about, ridiculously ornate and oversized chandeliers among the motorbikes hanging precariously (given the area's penchant for sudden and violent shaking), a cat on the bar, and a piano at the front door. And believe it or not, the piano was the most striking and interesting of the features. The waitresses/bartenders there played old jazz, swing and show tunes and sang along (beautifully) the entire time. Definitely gave the place an old San Francisco feel.

Oh, and the crab sandwich on buttered sourdough toast was to die (of a burst ventricle) for.

Here's Eddie Rickenbacker's info. Can't wait to go back.