Matteucci's — Restaurant in San Anselmo

Matteucci’s is not a bar. It's a time machine powered by booze, regret, and the last dying gasps of American civility.

You don’t enter Matteucci’s — you cross over. The door creaks open and suddenly you’re not in whatever sterile, algorithmic city is rotting outside — you’re in a wood-paneled hallucination where the jukebox might still be whispering Sinatra, and the ghosts of old mobsters eye you from the corners.

The place hums low and steady, like a diesel engine. Leather booths so worn they're practically sentient. A bar that’s seen more deals, disasters, and declarations of love than any court of law. It smells of Campari, vermouth, and the faint tang of existential despair — an intoxicating blend if you know what you’re looking for.

The bartenders are mercenaries of the old school — no irony, no flair, no “craft cocktail” pretensions. Just good, solid service. A Negroni that tastes like it was mixed by a disillusioned Venetian priest. A martini that hits the bloodstream like a silent riot. They slide the drinks across the bar with the quiet efficiency of men who have seen too much and expect worse.

The crowd is a beautiful cross-section of the doom: aging hipsters still clinging to the last shreds of style, retired wise guys muttering into their scotch, lovers plotting bad decisions. And all the while Matteucci’s stands, not caring, not pandering — just existing. Solid. Unflinching. Indifferent to the trends outside like an old bull elephant ignoring the rain.

Matteucci’s isn’t trying to be anything. It just is — a rare and beautiful thing in a world of try-hards and plastic smiles.

Go. Order something stiff. Sit down. Shut up. And feel something real...

I have never once left a bad review. This one, however, deserves to be mentioned. I walked into this bar with my service dog and my friend, excited to try one of the only bars around that actually serves alcohol. I was immediately told that "pets are not allowed." I explained that it was a service animal, not a pet, and I showed my dog's identification to the bartender and the random man confronting me. As I went to take a seat, another man, apparently the owner, said something which I at first didn't hear (I have a hearing disability-hence, the service animal ). When asked to repeat, he said, "Seriously, you can't be in here. Get out." I again explained that my dog was a service animal. He said, "I don't care, get out." I explained that what he was doing was illegal, and a violation of the ADA. I shared with him that I have a hearing disability (information I am not required to share). His response was "you can hear me now, can't you? Get out." I decided to leave, rather than give my money to such a despicable and disgusting person. I have never been treated differently because of my disability until this experience. I am reporting his business to the ADA, the BBB, and the Attorney General. I sincerely request that you avoid this establishment, and take your money elsewhere. Millions of people in this country worked hard for disabled individuals to have a few basic rights pertaining to their needs. This man thinks he is above the law and above common decency, and his decision to humiliate and disrespect a customer should...

Matteucci's is a legendary Marin institution and one of the last of it's kind. This is an old-fashioned neighborhood bar with long-time regulars, good drink prices, impeccable service and relaxed atmosphere.

Matteucci's harken's back to a near lost time when we all went to local bars afterwork where "everybody knows your name, and they're always glad you came".

I come as often as I can, usually with friends to kick back, have a good drink, talk and laugh. I love it, I'm sure you will too.

(Matteucci's doesn't server food. I gave it 4 stars because they allow and encourage deliver food...