Walking homewards through the Tenderloin one night I happened to spot one of the hotels my ma would put us up in when we'd come to town on our nearly annual all-female sojourns (generally my mum, my sister and I accompanied by my aunt and one of my middle school best-friends-not-exactly-forever). They would always be sort of English Bed and Breakfast-y with names like The Cartwright and Bedford Arms and we'd always end up walking back from dinner in North Beach through the Stockton Tunnel just a little too late for comfort, but what the hell we were in the city. Somewhere in there I picked up on Dashiell Hammett and knew I'd have to move here and always figured it'd be somewhere near those hotels. So naturally nostalgia made me stop and admire the building and a small fluttering of happiness started up upon remembering that there was a restaurant downstairs. Lo and behold, The White Horse Tavern just as I'd remembered it with a tiny Old-English style pub and faux fireplace. In we went and I'm happy to say it was a small slice of child-remembered heaven, only this time I was able to drink. Its cozy and warm with peanuts and pretzels and may well be the perfect place to wait out a rainstorm.
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Wandering around Sutter and Mason? Go see for yourself, just don't all go at once as there are only a few tables and a 6 person bar. Around the fireplace are a few more tables and then there's the restaurant as well. I've no idea if its currently any good, but I'm sure we'll find out soon enough.