Here's something you might be interested in.
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed
Big Screen — Movie commentary
Blurt — Music's inside track
Booze News — San Diego spirits
Classical Music — Immortal beauty
Classifieds — Free and easy
Cover Stories — Front-page features
Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes
Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts
Feast! — Food & drink reviews
Feature Stories — Local news & stories
Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore
From the Archives — Spotlight on the past
Golden Dreams — Talk of the town
The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it
Letters — Our inbox
Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites
Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans
Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists
Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news
News Ticker — News & politics
Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated
Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna
Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated
Poetry — The old and the new
Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers
Reading — The hunt for intellectuals
Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails
San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds
SD on the QT — Almost factual news
Sheep and Goats — Places of worship
Special Issues — The best of
Street Style — San Diego streets have style
Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves
Theater — On stage in San Diego this week
Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work
Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego
Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads
Your Week — Daily event picks
Toasting Cap’n Keno’s
The smell of a place like this lowers my pulse
Cash only, with prices out of the past.
When I worked in North County some years ago, I would regularly drive by Cap’n Keno’s on the 101 and admire it, in the same way I would admire Leucadia’s Log Cabin Apartments or the old yellow railway station that houses the Pannikin. Like all of these, Keno’s is a survivor of a cozier, more innocent, more wonderful time in the midst of mostly boring new development. I would wonder what the place was like — with its friendly maritime sign with a pipe-smoking captain and parrot below a homey shake roof, with its $2.99 meal specials advertised outside — but I never went inside until last week, when I had some extra time before going to the Fairgrounds to see the Beyond Van Gogh exhibit.
The smell of a place like this lowers my pulse.
Around 6:45, I open the door with its “Cash Only” sign and step inside from the chilly coastal night onto the well-trodden burgundy carpet, breathing in the reassuring alcohol-infused aroma of the place. I’ve never been here before, but the smell of a place like this lowers my pulse. It feels instantly familiar. The Christmas lights and ornaments are still up. The FM radio plays mellow hits from the ‘80s and ‘90s. College basketball plays on a TV over the bar next to signs — two of them — requesting no profanity. Silverware clinks on plates filled with ribs, steaks, burgers, baked potatos, and fried fish. When I ask for a menu myself, the giant of a bartender kindly says, “We’re old school here; you can order right over there at the counter,” and points me through a dining room in the direction of a cafeteria-style register in front of a window to the kitchen. All the food, which they will bring to my seat at the bar, has the strange, time-travel-like low prices alluded to earlier. There is a claw machine near some arcade games. An old snack machine has been cleared out and repurposed as a display case for the kind of cute miniature buildings that people bring out around the holidays. From my seat at the bar, I can appreciate the plush red booths and the log wall along the back of the building. I listen to a guy tell his friend that he looks old (“Im tired, man”), and to another guy telling the bartender that he just had a promising interview for work. A lady pays for her White Russian and adds an extra tip for the big bartender — a little bag of jellybeans.
Keno’s has been written about before — in this paper and in numerous others — and is acknowledged fondly by many locals and regulars. The story of its origins many decades ago, its previous incarnations as two other restaurants, and its 1970 purchase by current owner Gerry Sova has also been told. But I want to raise one more glass to this place, especially because it may not be here for many more years to come after its recent purchase, along with the property of its neighbor, the defunct Portofino Inn, by RAF Pacifica Group. The Group says it will incorporate this space as part of a mixed-use project. This project is said to include a bar that will pay tribute to Captain Keno’s, but it is of course not clear what this will look like. Could it ever be this warm and good?
Here's something you might be interested in.
Toasting Cap’n Keno’s
The smell of a place like this lowers my pulse
Toasting Cap’n Keno’s
The smell of a place like this lowers my pulse
Cash only, with prices out of the past.
When I worked in North County some years ago, I would regularly drive by Cap’n Keno’s on the 101 and admire it, in the same way I would admire Leucadia’s Log Cabin Apartments or the old yellow railway station that houses the Pannikin. Like all of these, Keno’s is a survivor of a cozier, more innocent, more wonderful time in the midst of mostly boring new development. I would wonder what the place was like — with its friendly maritime sign with a pipe-smoking captain and parrot below a homey shake roof, with its $2.99 meal specials advertised outside — but I never went inside until last week, when I had some extra time before going to the Fairgrounds to see the Beyond Van Gogh exhibit.
The smell of a place like this lowers my pulse.
Around 6:45, I open the door with its “Cash Only” sign and step inside from the chilly coastal night onto the well-trodden burgundy carpet, breathing in the reassuring alcohol-infused aroma of the place. I’ve never been here before, but the smell of a place like this lowers my pulse. It feels instantly familiar. The Christmas lights and ornaments are still up. The FM radio plays mellow hits from the ‘80s and ‘90s. College basketball plays on a TV over the bar next to signs — two of them — requesting no profanity. Silverware clinks on plates filled with ribs, steaks, burgers, baked potatos, and fried fish. When I ask for a menu myself, the giant of a bartender kindly says, “We’re old school here; you can order right over there at the counter,” and points me through a dining room in the direction of a cafeteria-style register in front of a window to the kitchen. All the food, which they will bring to my seat at the bar, has the strange, time-travel-like low prices alluded to earlier. There is a claw machine near some arcade games. An old snack machine has been cleared out and repurposed as a display case for the kind of cute miniature buildings that people bring out around the holidays. From my seat at the bar, I can appreciate the plush red booths and the log wall along the back of the building. I listen to a guy tell his friend that he looks old (“Im tired, man”), and to another guy telling the bartender that he just had a promising interview for work. A lady pays for her White Russian and adds an extra tip for the big bartender — a little bag of jellybeans.
Keno’s has been written about before — in this paper and in numerous others — and is acknowledged fondly by many locals and regulars. The story of its origins many decades ago, its previous incarnations as two other restaurants, and its 1970 purchase by current owner Gerry Sova has also been told. But I want to raise one more glass to this place, especially because it may not be here for many more years to come after its recent purchase, along with the property of its neighbor, the defunct Portofino Inn, by RAF Pacifica Group. The Group says it will incorporate this space as part of a mixed-use project. This project is said to include a bar that will pay tribute to Captain Keno’s, but it is of course not clear what this will look like. Could it ever be this warm and good?
Comments