Great grub in Georgetown: Calamity Jane's

The bartenders and servers at Calamity Jane's can read minds. From the moment I first walk in the door of this Georgetown cafe and saloon, my server has got me pegged, correctly guessing where I'd like to sit (by the front door, facing the street and the brick façade of the old Rainier Brewery), what I'd like to drink (a tall, ice-cold glass of fresh lemonade) and what I'd like to sample from the menu (everything).

Do I want the Wild Bill burger, a half-pound of ground chuck topped with jalapeños and Pig Iron barbecue sauce? Or the cottage pie, with its French lentils, shiitake mushrooms, carrots and cauliflower baked with mashed potatoes and cheddar cheese? Or a simple spinach salad with strawberries, almonds and chevre, drizzled with poppy-seed dressing?

My server peers into my subconscious and finds a burning desire for the G-Town sandwich: shredded beef sautéed with onions and mushrooms and topped with provolone. It comes with a generous wedge of watermelon and some organic, Cheetos-style cheese puffs, and it's perfect. In fact, every damn thing that Calamity Jane's gives me to eat and drink is utter perfection.

Jane's is a first-rate addition to Georgetown's oasis of neighborhood bars and restaurants. To find a niche in a neighborhood that already boasts such quality joints as Stellar Pizza & Ale, Smarty Pants, the 9 Lb. Hammer and Jules Maes is no easy thing, but Jane's does so -- and in a way that complements its neighbors.

In case you find yourself in Georgetown for drinks and you decide not to hit Jane's for chow (why, God, why?), the bar offers up a great variety of specialty drinks, each with its own pithy backstory. The vodka, Southern Comfort and pomegranate concoction known as "Jane's Joy Juice" is described as being "sweet, but more of a tart," while "The Bitter Undertaker" -- Gosling's black-seal rum, aromatic bitters and lemon -- comes with a note of sympathy: "Do you work with the dead?" The beverage menu is rounded out by a solid selection of beers and wines, Caffé D'arte coffee and that wonderful lemonade.

The place tastes good to the eyes as well. It's an old-time saloon through and through, as authentic a piece of Americana as its namesake sharpshooter. It doesn't try to pretend that the vintage space it occupies is anything other than an early-1900s, frontier-style wood-slat building. The walls are painted in agreeable, earthy colors -- mustard, dark brown and berry red -- and the wood floors have been softened by thousands of boot heels. Brass chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and a vase of wildflowers sits on every table. Had Calamity Jane's opened a hundred years ago, it might have looked exactly the same.

On the off chance that you're not already in your car, I should tell you that I've been holding onto a pair of trump cards. One is that the kitchen serves a different dinner special every night (except Sunday); they range from baby-back ribs or Cincinnati chili to campanelle with clam sauce. The other thing you should know is that Jane's serves up the best bread pudding I've ever had in my young life. It's moist and rich, not too sweet, served with blueberries and strawberries and liberally covered in a whiskey-flavored custard sauce that you'll want to drink by the gallon.

If for no other reason, the pudding alone is worth a trip to Calamity Jane's. But there are other reasons, many other reasons, and believe me, every one of them is compelling.