Skip to main content
Food & Drink

A Spanish wine bar in the Mission has the most immaculate vibes in SF

Two people stand back to back, each holding a glass vessel and pouring yellow liquid into their mouths, with shelves of wine bottles in the background.
Rickenbacker and Saenz drink from porrónes filled with wine. | Source: Morgan Ellis/The Standard

Welcome to Swig City, where we point you toward don’t-miss cocktails at some of the best bars, restaurants and clubs in the city. Cheers!

The vibes at El Chato are, as they say, immaculate. The 2-year-old Spanish taberna in San Francisco’s Mission District has a pulsating energy that spills out onto the corner of Bryant and 21st streets — at least, until the decidedly un-Spanish closing time of 10 p.m.

Inside, patrons are greeted by a large-scale mural of a raven-haired woman. It’s not Amy Winehouse or Elvira. It’s the 61-year-old, Mexican-born pop star Alaska. Most Americans have never heard of her, but to many Spanish speakers, she’s practically the equivalent of Madonna.

“Spaniards recognize her,” said El Chato co-owner Erin Rickenbacker. Co-owner Rafa Saenz added he didn’t want the interior to look like any old tapas bar: “I like, you know, inspiration. Not the typical bullfighters and shit.”

The image shows a cozy, sunlit café with several people sitting at tables and chatting. The focus is on two patrons near a window who are engrossed in their conversation. The outside greenery is visible through large windows.
Co-owner Rafa Saenz wants El Chato to have a mixed crowd at all times. | Source: Morgan Ellis/The Standard
A musician in a blue shirt plays the guitar in a cozy cafe, while people seated at tables watch. Framed pictures decorate the pink walls, and a neon sign says "OLE."
As late-afternoon light streams in, bands often play beneath the hanging jamón ibérico light fixtures. | Source: Morgan Ellis/The Standard

Though El Chato has an extensive wine list, it also offers 3-ounce pours of “jerez” and “vermut” — sherry and vermouth — the latter over ice, with a skewered olive and orange slice for that Mediterranean feeling.

To pair with it, the kitchen cranks out salty bites like boquerones en vinagre, vinegar-cured anchovies slathered in garlic and olive oil, with skewered olives and potato chips ($18) or a Spanish tortilla, a slice of onion-and-potato frittata slathered in mayo and stacked on a piquillo pepper and grilled bread ($9). Anyone surfing the tinned fish trend, take note: This might be your spot. From sardines to baby scallops to razor clams from Galicia, eight or so options are available at any given time.

But truly, you’re here for the scene. Fashion-forward Europeans mingle with neighborhood foodies and the occasional DJ playing indie sleaze, while an affable Newfoundland naps beneath the decks. People drink out of the distinctive Spanish wine vessels known as porrónes. It might be somebody’s birthday, or it might be a regular weeknight — it’s hard to tell. 

Saenz, who hails from Madrid, met Rickenbacker, an East Bay native, when they were working at Bellota, the high-end Spanish restaurant at the base of Airbnb’s headquarters. They agreed on one thing: They wanted to create a chill environment for people to try new wines, irrespective of region.

El Chato opened in 2022, several years after the owners met at SoMa Spanish restaurant Bellota. | Source: Astrid Kane/The Standard
A small cafe corner has high stools and tables, a large painted mural of a pensive woman with bright red lips, and a neon "OLE" sign on the wall.
Alaska, a Mexican pop star who is famous in Spain, coyly watches over El Chato. (Most people think it's Amy Winehouse or Elvira.) | Source: Astrid Kane/The Standard

The most direct translation of “el chato” is “short,” but it also means “buddy” and refers to a short glass used to serve wine in Spain — a glass El Chato utilizes itself. “We’re very open people. We have wines from Croatia,” Saenz said. “You go to Spain, you don’t see wine from Croatia — not even from Portugal. You ask for vinho verde, and they go ‘Blech.’ ”

All of this transpires under Alaska’s seductive eye, along with another notable design element: striking ceiling lamps in the shape of the Spanish delicacy known as “jamón ibérico,” the legs of acorn-fed pigs that are cured and thinly sliced. Saenz had hoped to acquire realistic-looking jamon and illuminate them at the bar, but the producer in Spain sent white ones instead. “They actually look beautiful,” he says. “So I decided it was a good idea to hang them.”