Drinking Traditions of San Francisco: 7 Local Beverages That Define a City

San Francisco’s drinks reflect a port city shaped by fog, cold currents, and constant arrivals. The marine layer chills even in summer, favoring warming cups and aromatic spirits. Meanwhile, California’s citrus, grains, and dairy nearby keep bright flavors and quality ingredients within easy reach.

From the Gold Rush onward, sailors, immigrants, and cooks packed the Barbary Coast and Market Street saloons. Recipes traveled with them, were adapted to local tastes, and became neighborhood rituals—from wharf-side cafés to Union Square hotel bars—creating a citywide palate that values both bracing bitters and balanced, citrusy cocktails.

If one drink captures San Francisco’s Pacific trade era, it’s Pisco Punch. Built on Peruvian pisco (a grape brandy typically 38–42% ABV), pineapple gomme syrup, and fresh citrus, it delivers tropical aroma, silky texture from gum arabic, and a bright, floral grape core. Shaken and served chilled, the cocktail in-glass lands roughly around 18–24% ABV, depending on dilution. The recipe was famously guarded at the Bank Exchange & Billiard Saloon, where bartender Duncan Nicol popularized it in the late 19th century.

The drink’s rise was no accident: pisco arrived by ship, pineapple by canning lines, and citrus by rail—ingredients meeting in a bustling port. Today, you’ll find historically minded versions at cocktail bars that study pre-Prohibition recipes; spots like Comstock Saloon and Smuggler’s Cove often feature pisco classics. Locals treat it as an early-evening sipper or festive weekend order, especially when the fog lifts and a punch’s brightness feels tailor-made for the city’s brief bursts of sun.

The city’s most comforting ritual may be Irish Coffee, perfected at the Buena Vista in 1952. The template is straightforward but exacting: strong hot coffee, a measure of Irish whiskey, sugar to balance, and lightly whipped cream floated on top—never stirred in. The result is a layered, aromatic cup around 9–12% ABV, with bittersweet coffee, vanilla-caramel whiskey notes, and cool dairy sweetness that lands on the lip before the first sip.

The Buena Vista’s contribution was technique—dialing in cream density so it would float cleanly in San Francisco’s chilly, damp air. That sensory contrast suits the climate: cold wind outside, warm glass in hand. On foggy mornings or after a late seafood lunch along Fisherman’s Wharf, visitors and locals order it as a restorative. Many hotel bars citywide serve credible renditions, but the original café remains a touchstone, its long bar lined with heat-tempered glasses and a steady rhythm of cream being softly whisked.

Steam beer is San Francisco’s indigenous beer style, born before refrigeration. Using lager yeast fermented warm in shallow, often open fermenters, it develops a toasty-caramel malt spine and a firm, woody-minty hop character—traditionally from Northern Brewer hops. Anchor Steam, at 4.9% ABV, became the canonical example: copper-colored, bready on the nose, crisp-dry on the finish. One origin story for the name notes the “steam” that billowed as warm beer cooled on brewery rooftops in the night air.

The style fit the city’s working rhythm—longshoremen, printers, and cooks grabbing a pint that felt sturdy yet refreshing. Anchor Brewing carried that torch from the 1890s through the craft revival; although the brewery ceased production in 2023, California common lives on at Bay Area taprooms and beyond. In San Francisco, it’s a go-to with sourdough, sausages, or cioppino. Order it in the afternoon or with casual dinners when you want malt depth without heaviness.

Few debates are as enduring as the Martini’s birthplace. One claim traces it to San Francisco’s Occidental Hotel, mixed for a traveler bound for the nearby city of Martinez; another credits Martinez directly. Either way, the evolution is clear: a sweeter, early Martinez (Old Tom gin, sweet vermouth, maraschino, bitters) gradually gave way to the drier West Coast palate—London dry gin, dry vermouth, and citrus or orange bitters—stirred, strained, and served up with a lemon twist or olive. In-glass strength commonly sits near 28–32% ABV.

San Francisco’s seafood-forward menus and love of aperitifs cemented the dry style. You’ll see classic service at historic rooms like Tadich Grill or Sam’s Grill, where bartenders mind dilution and temperature as carefully as ratio. Locals order Martinis before dinner or during lingering business lunches—occasions where clarity, texture, and subtle botanicals matter more than sugar. The city’s bar culture preserves both branches: the softer Martinez for history buffs and the bone-dry Martini for purists.

San Francisco drinks more Fernet-Branca than almost anywhere in the United States, a habit rooted in North Beach’s Italian heritage and amplified by the cocktail renaissance. This amaro (about 39% ABV) is macerated with botanicals such as myrrh, rhubarb, gentian, chamomile, cardamom, and saffron, yielding an intensely bitter, mentholated profile. Aromas run medicinal and minty; the palate is bracing, resinous, and dries out quickly, making it a natural digestif or sharp accent in cocktails.

In service-industry circles, a neat Fernet shot is a “bartender’s handshake”—a quick, respectful exchange at the end of a shift. Around San Francisco, it’s also taken with a ginger ale back, or folded into classics like the Toronto (rye, Fernet, simple syrup, bitters). You’ll find it poured in North Beach institutions, SoMa dives, and Mission District neighborhood bars. It’s typically an after-dinner order, a bracer on cold nights, or a quiet nod between regulars and bartenders who share the city’s taste for bold bitters.

Created in 1996 by bartender Tony Abou-Ganim at Harry Denton’s Starlight Room above Union Square, the Cable Car is a modern San Francisco classic. Built from spiced rum, orange curaçao, fresh lemon juice, and simple syrup, it’s shaken hard and served in a coupe with a cinnamon-sugar rim. Expect zesty citrus aroma, plush baking-spice notes from the rum, and a bright, dessert-like finish; depending on pour size and dilution, it registers roughly 18–20% ABV in the glass.

The drink’s name nods to the cable cars cresting Powell Street, and its balance speaks to the city’s penchant for citrus-forward, clean-lined cocktails. You’ll see it on hotel bar menus and rooftop lounges where skyline views make it a natural aperitif at sunset. It suits celebrations, date nights, and out-of-town visitors seeking something distinctly local yet approachable—proof that San Francisco continues to produce canon-worthy recipes well beyond its pre-Prohibition legends.

Anchor’s Liberty Ale, released on April 18, 1975, helped define the modern American IPA. Single-hopped with Cascade and dry-hopped for vivid aroma, it pours around 5.9% ABV with grapefruit, pine, and orange-marmalade notes over a lean pale-malt base. Fermented with ale yeast and conditioned to showcase hops, it revived dry-hopping as an American technique and pointed the way toward West Coast IPA’s crisp bitterness and aromatics.

In San Francisco, Liberty Ale marked a pivot from mass lager toward flavor-rich craft beer. While Anchor’s closure in 2023 ended local production, the ale’s blueprint lives on in countless IPAs citywide. Order it (or its many descendants) at craft-focused taprooms with burgers, fried seafood, or spicy noodles, where citrusy hops cut through richness. It’s a late-afternoon or evening pint—lively enough for conversation, restrained enough to pair with food—echoing the city’s long-standing preference for balance over excess.