Stopped off at Tosca after work yesterday for an early evening whistle wetting and was reminded once again how lovely a spot it is. Something about the red patent booths and the long wooden bar give it that air of timelessness I crave in watering holes. The white-jacketed bartenders don't give a damn about talking to you and have yet to interrupt my reading for any reason, not even to ask if I want another drink. All in all, its one of those spots that makes you glad you live in San Francisco.

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Breathless? Next time you're in North Beach wondering where to cool your heels away from the throngs crowding Columbus, duck into Tosca. Its well worth the slightly inflated price of a drink (or two) and the jukebox carries only opera, jazz and sweet big band standards (and still takes quarters). There's a phone booth in the corner which actually contains a telephone, though it only takes incoming calls. Plus, the bar sits a mere footfall away from my most favored Specs, just in case you feel like pulling double duty.