The Pour House: Insert second pun here

Sporting wood, lots of wood.

Opened just weeks ago at the old digs of Whiskey Wild (20th and Q), The Pour House is doing a few things right.

The interior of this place is really pretty amazing. It feels like a converted barn, a secret hideout, a rural county watering hole rehabbed by some visionary soul with deep pockets. Dark, rough wood rings the primary bar, lighting is genius, palette ranges from rich cocoa to calfskin. I absolutely love the feel of the place.

Seems a shame that I’ll rarely go back. And it’s not for lack of service, which is more than adequate (and comely to boot), nor is it for the lack of selection, which verges on copious for beers and solid for spirits, nor for the food which is satisfactory if not memorable, nor for the prices which are highish but fair. No, it’s the crowd.

The party crowd, always looking for the next thing seems to have found a new perch. From the overly loud dudes broadcasting their sexual conquests to the ladies of the evening who think Wednesday night is an appropriate evening for their skimpiest clubbing uniforms, not to mention the general deafening din that fills the place once more than a handful of Axe body spray walks into the place.

If I return it’ll be for a Sunday afternoon nip, or a Thursday happy hour, but you’ll probably not find me there anywhere near the witching hour.

The Pour House- 1910 Q St, Midtown. www.pourhousesacramento.com

 

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5 thoughts on “The Pour House: Insert second pun here”

  1. There are a few places in town ruined by the kids today. It’s just a matter of knowing when they are still in their cribs. Happy Hour is usually a safe bet to avoid the bro-tastic crowd.

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  2. I was there last Friday around 5, which was still early enough to snag a table, but not early enough to miss the beginning of the scene you described. The place filled up very quickly and became too loud for normal conversation. I’ll go back for the great beer selection (and the veggie sliders), but I’ll try to avoid peak hours until the “look at me” kids have moved on to the next new thing.

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