Olfactory Brewing

Walking two miles through San Francisco after dark is a test of faith—faith in humanity, faith in your immune system, and faith that the legions of Patagonia-clad tech bros won’t descend upon you like a pack of entitled wolves. September’s chill creeps through the city’s hills, a bone-rattling cold carried on the wind, as designer dogs do their business on the sidewalk and their owners smugly saunter on. Welcome to the gentrified dystopia, where the shit on the ground costs more than your rent.

I arrived at Olfactory Brewing with the kind of anticipation usually reserved for a miracle or a well-placed bribe. Whispers of lagers poured from side-pull Lukr faucets had danced in my head, visions of frothy perfection and old-world beer dreams. But like a child ripping open a beautifully wrapped present only to find socks inside, my excitement quickly curdled into disappointment.

The tap list was a graveyard. Half the faucets sat dormant, like boarded-up storefronts along Market Street, while the other half offered a sad mix of the mundane: a couple of IPAs, a lone sour, and a wheat beer that seemed lost and confused. What remained felt like the leftovers—the beer equivalent of a clearance rack after the looters left.

The bartender, a man whose deadpan demeanor suggested he had seen more than his fair share of lunatics in this city, took my order without flinching. “One IPA and three bags of your finest Hot Cheetos,” I demanded, like a crazed monarch summoning a feast. Moments later, the orange glow of Cheeto dust and the unmistakable aroma of Citra hops filled the air—a pairing fit for a madman.

By the time I stumbled out into the night, I was a few degrees less upright than when I came in, and that, perhaps, is all one can ask for in a city like this. Would I brave the streets of San Francisco again for Olfactory Brewing? Barely. But then again, survival is relative, and sometimes, so is satisfaction.

Located in the space formerly occupied by Triple Voodoo Brewing this upstart nano brewery is turning out some splendid fare, particularly in the German styles. Their full array is served on tap here as well as some cans to go.

The psychedelic logo might have shifted my perception only slightly. Came in on a slow afternoon and enjoyed the scenery. Close to transit, friendly beertender, and signs of some cool things to come—Lukr side-pull taps and a hand pump.