Nestled safely away from the shot-bar haze of Sixth Street, from the beery debauch of West Campus, from the distilled effrontery of the Warehouse District, lies the Draught House. Warm light from the windows reflects merrily on rows of steins hanging above the barkeep. Dark wood tables stretch to walls blanketed with antique memorabilia. Bike messengers rub elbows with nouveau riche, the house beers are superb, and delicious thin-crust pizza is free on Wednesdays. The Draught House is not a secret, but it feels like one.
