Come and Knock on Our Door

On my way out to California, I told Z that one thing I want to do is find the place in the sand where Jack Tripper falls off his bike looking at girls. But the longer I live in SD, I'm starting to believe that that scene was filmed in LA. Depressing. Yes, I know I've talked a lot about Three's Company, but it was really all I knew about San Diego before I moved here.

I told myself a few weeks ago that I wouldn't drink beer until my birthday. Why, you ask? I don't know. I guess I sometimes play little games to challenge myself, to see who will win--me or me.

So, here's the background: I was a passenger in my car on the I-5 North. I was looking to my right wondering what neighborhood that was to my right. Was it Banker's Hill? Who knows? Not I. But a sign catches my eye "BEER HERE!" Ok, I'm sold. Next to the greatest sign ever made was the name of the bar: The Regal Beagle. And now you've got it.

Jack, Janet, Chrissy, Terri, and there was that one dumb girl who was only on it for a little while (I think she was Chrissy's cousin), lived in an apartment building. Whenever they'd go out, they would say, "I'm going down to the Regal Beagle..." I instantly told Z we had to go there THIS weekend. He was less than thrilled.

On Saturday, I got ready to go out and waited for Z to come home from work. When he arrived, he was even less thrilled about going out. It was really disappointing. Not only had I asked him on Tuesday, but I asked him Saturday morning before he went if he was SURE that he would go (and yes, he asSURED me he would go). Then when we talked on the phone at 2 p.m., I asked again. He agreed again. But here we were, at a stand-off about what was going to happen.

Grrr...This is onomatopoeia for how I felt.

In the end, after moving stuff to the garage and getting some things accomplished, I won. But not only did I win, I was right. This place was also great.

I tried to use Google to get the address of the place. I knew it was India Street, but I wasn't exactly sure how to get there. Google had nothing. There were a couple of results, but not an actual Google Maps result. I had to scroll halfway down the page to find a FB page.

We pulled up and instantly got a parking space. The area was pretty dead, but it's really like a block down the street from Shakespeare's Pub which seems pretty busy. When we walked in, the jukebox as playing and the place looked really new, but there was no one there! There was one table of people, and a couple of people sitting at the bar (which later I heard that they were the parents of one of the women that worked there). The place itself was nothing special, but I could tell that they had put a lot of thought into it, which in turn made it special.

I'm going to start to my right and go counter clockwise: There were about 8 tables just in front of the kitchen. Next to the kitchen was the awesomely delicious Mustard Bar stocked full of all different kinds of mustard. Mustard? Why mustard? you ask. You'll see.

The bar was along the back wall with 24 micro brewed beers on draft. And on the left wall was the door to the bathroom and the dartboard. I real dartboard with real darts. In Korea, we always played with plastic darts and a holey dartboard. Craptaculous. The dartboard's home next to the door to the restroom in a bar that serves 24 delicious beers--well, let's just say--doesn't seem like a good idea to me.

And on the wall to the left, in front of the dartboard was a great jukebox. A jukebox that played Vampire Weekend, Ben Folds, Bob Dylan, and although I hate them, Dave Matthews.

I opted for the Dead Guy Ale: Mai bock. It was delicious and light, flavorful, but not so much so. The self-proclaimed co-owner/beer drinker handed us a menu, and we saw the list of some of the most delicious sounding sausage (Ah-ha! The mustard bar all makes sense now). Now, here is where my life gets in the way of my blog: I don't eat SAUSAGE! Pork products are not my thing.

However, there was a Turkey Apricot sausage. Each sausage comes with homemade potato chips--yes, I said homemade--and two toppings for the sausage. I ordered cheddar cheese and sauerkraut on the side.

The sausage is made by T & H Meats in San Marcos. The guy is a "sausage meister." Hmm...I don't know if that's a title that I'd necessarily want to have, but he is also known as a "Meat Engineer." Sounds a little cleaner, a little more kid-friendly. (For more info, here's his website: http://www.tandhsausage.com/)

All in all, I feel like I stumbled upon a place that I would like to walk into again. It's all about falling into San Diego. It's nice to have a soft place to land.

3659 India Street, 92103

http://www.facebook.com/RegalBeagleSD?v=wall