In the Old West, saloons were once the only refuge from the ravages of dysentery, river-fording, hot dust, and other harrowing experiences that totally derailed you all along The Oregon Trail. Resurrecting that necessarily besotted past, McTeague's Saloon, open tonight.
McT's an expansive homage to turn of the century NorCal, named for the 6'6" gold-mining charlatan/dentist from local novelist Frank Norris' classic, and executed in exacting detail on the ground floor of the first building constructed after the '06 quake. Boasting a 40-stool redwood bar and raised banquettes encircled by metal railings salvaged from Sacto's original state capital, the place overflows with early 1900s schwag: mineshaft lamps, wagon wheels, swinging doors, even a portrait of 1880s politico Washington Bartlett -- serving only 9 mos before dying in office, he was CA's 1st and only Jewvernator. Drink like water's still not potable with 30+ draught and bottled beers (e.g., Chimay Red, North Coast Prankster), or a bourbon/single-malt heavy liquor stock (Basil Hayden's/Stagg/Booker's/Oban...); sop up the swill with house-spiced, all-meat chili, or smoked turkey/cheese-stuffed mini-sandwiches called "toasties" -- as authentic as anything Roger Moore ate on the set of .
Soon, McT'll curtain off their glowing backroom pool parlor and play host to folk and bluegrass acts -- so get ready to shake a leg, so long as you're not crippled by syphillis or any of the other ravages of Old Lower Polk.