The oddest bar in SF serves amazing fettuccine alfredo near the jail

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Question Mark Bar is not a cop bar, owner Jeremy Paz wants you to know.

Well, cops do come in sometimes. As do attorneys, law clerks, and other professionals who work in the DA’s office — and, given the location by the Hall of Justice, so do jurors on the hunt for something to eat or drink during a break. 

“I like that there’s some suits in here,” Paz said of the SoMa bar. “There’s some rainbow in here. There’s the guys from the construction site around the corner.” Sometimes, he gets walloped from odd directions, like when the crew of public librarians who run the Bookmobile parked down the block dropped in and cleaned him out of chicken wings.

In any event, this cross-section of San Francisco comes to Question Mark Bar for a beer or glass of wine at the spectacular, starburst-adorned main bar with its Lucite, Art Deco columns. They order off a pun-filled menu with justice-themed items like the Atticus Finch (a pulled pork sandwich on brioche for $11.95), Penne-tentiary (aka fettucine alfredo, $18.95), and Legal Tenders (chicken tenders with dipping sauces, $9.95). At happy hour, beers are $5, and wings cost just $1 each. Those aren’t prices you often find in San Francisco these days, and they’re not the result of middling quality: Penne-tentiary is among the creamiest, most peppery pasta dishes anywhere. Paz plans to add chilaquiles, a milanesa, and a two-for-one burger special to the menu soon.

While not a cop bar like its predecessor, Ted’s, Question Mark is certainly a curious one. The vibe is “sports bar with big kitchen,” but it’s also a pet-friendly karaoke spot with dozens of headsets for a silent disco and a “buddy system” that encourages Fireball shots in the biggest possible group. Taking in the brisk late-lunch business, with workers squeezed into booths talking shit about colleagues, you’d never know there’d been a fetish party a few nights before.

Spend 15 minutes inside, and you’ll see that Paz is, if nothing else, a character. He has 35 years of experience in the bar and nightclub world and a penchant for jovially referring to himself as a “moron.” Look closely at a blown-up legal document mounted to one wall, and you’ll notice it’s a petition for an annulment — Paz’s, naturally — with a passage emphasized in yellow highlighter about how both parties were too intoxicated to consent to be wed. Other decorative elements include classic rock album covers, an ode to the East Bay’s Hotsy Totsy Club, and a photo of actress Raquel Welch in the restroom. One booth is bedecked with a tasteful erotic painting by Berkeley artist George Mead. (“Nobody ever notices it,” Paz says.)

Question Mark was known as “That Fuckin’ Bar” before a friend told Paz that no human resources department on Earth would approve a team outing there. “I come from a questionable background. I was raised by a gay man and a crazy mom,” he said. “I come from nightclubs where the more you pay, (the more) you’re VIP, and everybody thought I was going to do that for my bar. And I want the opposite of that, right?” 

There’s one guaranteed way to judge a bar’s commitment to a good meal: the condiment caddies. At Question Mark, each contains a cornucopia, from the requisite salt, pepper, ketchup, and mustard to A1 steak sauce, Tabasco, and even malt vinegar. It’s proof that Paz wants everyone to be happy — less of a question mark, more of an exclamation point.