In California, smokers are practically second-class citizens, vilified
in the media, scorned in public, and outlawed almost anywhere with four
walls and a roof. The last vestige for the renegade smoker is your
friendly neighborhood tobacconist. The Pub takes that basic concept and
trumps it by offering draft beer, coffee, and espresso drinks and the
classy atmosphere of a British pub on a Sunday afternoon. The Pub is
the sort of place that Sherlock Holmes might retire to after a hard
day's sleuthing. Here he could engage in civilized conversation with
distinguished gentlemen. They would sit around the fireplace taking
pulls from their respective pipes, sipping ale or strong coffee. They
would twirl their moustaches and cough as they tried to interject into
the dialogue. The dogs (St. Bernards and Great Danes) would snooze on
the deck in the shade of a wooden picnic table. Wooden floors and worn
furniture, the smell of hops and fine tobaccos soaked into the wood.
Smoking out on the back patio or the front deck. This place smells like
your grandpa's study, and it's probably more fun, too.