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Stuck in Placerville

Driving from our camp in northern Nevada to the San Francisco Bay Area should have been a 8-9 hour drive. After 10 hours in the car we had barely escaped South Lake Tahoe, and knew we had to give up. We scanned the map, and didn’t see any standout destinations before Sacramento, so decided to bail out of the Labor Day traffic jam in Placerville.  What we found was a mixed bag, but we expected a lot worse.


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Not that we’d ever heard anything bad about Placerville. It’s just that we’d been driving through one kitschy Gold Country resort town after another, and we weren’t in the mood for tacky touristy overload after our week in the desert. We really didn’t want to waste even part of a day of our limited time in the States in a trap designed for mid-western grandparents. And then, as we approached the town on I-50 from the north, we just saw a depressing collection of run down services, including a gas station and a frumpy independent motel.

Being hopeful, we drove down around and through the center of town, but saw not one other lodging option and turned back. We decided we were lucky they had a room available, and forked over the $89 knowing it wasn’t buying any sort of luxury. We got a room that might not have changed since 1987,  and set about cleaning our camping-filthy bodies before seeking dinner.

We’d asked the clerk what restaurants might be open on the holiday and she figured most things in town would be. We scanned the room guide joking that every town in California must have a brewery, and in fact found the Placerville Brewing Company listed on the dining map.

Described as a 5 minutes drive south of the historic downtown, we imagined it must be in a modern strip mall shopping district and probably with all the chain motels we’d been seeking. This district did house the modern shops, but not enough to even fill a strip mall, and still no motels. We found the brewery tucked into a hillside next to the bail bondsman, promising outdoor dining amid non-descript architecture. We made our way through a thoroughly unmemorable interior to the patio to choose a seat. Our young waitress was casual and flirty but efficient on a not too busy Monday night.  She described the beers from personal knowledge and offered tastes which we carelessly declined.

We were intrigued by the tangerine wheat, but to go with our meal we ordered a pale ale and a copper. After a few weeks of being blown away by big American pales, with high hop and malt levels, this pale seemed slightly underwhelming, but it had no flaws and went well with food. We couldn’t say the same, unfortunately, for the copper. With burnt phenolic aroma and flavor and an unpleasant aftertaste, this beer didn’t present any of the smooth copper traits beyond its color. It disproved our developing theory that the American microbrew scene had gotten completely beyond bad beer.

The menu had several appealing options among the fairly standard pub fare. We selected a pulled pork sandwich, substituting onion rings for the fries, and a Greek pasta salad.  The extremely tender and flavorful pork was drowned in a very smoky and rather sweet but overall tasty BBQ sauce and served on a boring white bun. The rings had very mild onions (parboiled before frying?) in a thick crisp batter that was perfectly fried. The salad was very attractive, with generous quality ingredients including olives and feta, slightly underdressed in a standard vinigarette. The prices were quite reasonable for dinner portions. Overall, the food was well enough made and hit the spot, but wouldn’t win any awards.

After the meal, we craved dark beer for dessert. We had two cans of Guiness in the room fridge, but decided to give the brewery one more shot and requested a few tastes. We were pleasantly surprised, and decided to stay and share a stout and a vanilla bourbon stout.  The stout was full but dry in style, making an excellent base for the vanilla bourbon which was the highlight of the evening. Fortunately, the vanilla was subtle enough that it could have simply been part of the oak from the bourbon barrel it was aged in. This beer was refreshingly dry but explosively flavorful. A perfect finishing course. Though we would be wary of weak spots in the menu, for beer and food, we came away willing to try it again in the future.

The next morning we packed up while downing our packaged pastries and bland coffee that served as the “continental breakfast” and headed into the exceptionally historic town for a camera stroll. We lucked into a parking spot in front of a local bagelry, and decided to conclude our walk there with a proper breakfast.

We expected to be nauseated by ‘authentic’ ‘historic’ ‘restored’ touristy shops piled one on another along the main street, but actually found a real town of quality businesses dominating the selection.  After driving past hundreds of miles of endless chain store outlets and megamalls along the interstates, these genuinely passionate retailers making a go with their galleries, cafes and clothing shops were quite refreshing. We were surprised to find that the shops were mostly “high end ski town”, with rather classy decor tucked into the old gold country false-front buildings.  It turns out that instead of motels, Placerville has a goodly number of B&Bs to cater to its apparently wealthy tourist base.  But unlike an actual ski town, interspersed were shops like the original Rexall drugstore and a Goth fashion gallery that represented a living breathing town. We took a few photos of the cool old buildings then went in for our bagel, where we heard the owner explaining that no, the Starbucks had gone out a year ago, she’d been running for nine months and yes her coffee was actually better.  What a nice change to enjoy a local shop that replaced a Starbucks!

As little tourist towns go, this one was a surprise. It was more about B&Bs and gourmet cheese shops than expected, but it had enough variety to prevent that Aspen feeling of being underdressed to walk the streets. In the end, their Thomas Kinkade Gallery stuck out more than the lack of a Starbucks and somehow our sad motel and average brewery were still better than the chain motels and restaurants we’d have gotten down the road. Just like with the brewery, if you watch out for pitfalls, you can make a nice visit in Placerville.

This article was written on Saturday, October 3rd, 2009 and is filed under Dispatches. For more articles about: Beer (7), Travel (8)

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