Prepare to be confused. Plew’s Brews is one of those unsettling enterprises whose organizing principle cannot be pinned down and grows more elusive the longer you stay. I think you’re probably supposed to be stoned. A former surplus-grocery outlet, the place is now vividly psychedelic in hue, with movie posters and autographed star photos everywhere, cushioned beer kegs as bar stools, thrift-store couches, a few tables and (ornamental?) bicycle-type things haphazardly strewn about the huge room. Bob Marley dominates the stereo and guards the entrance to the restroom, whose blacklight paint job makes for a baffling journey. Can’t argue with the beer list or prices. BECKY OHLSEN.
What to drink: Lost Coast Tangerine Wheat beer.
Happy hour: Constantly: pints $3, growlers $7.
Entertainment: Darts, live music, trippy glowing art, shimmery murals.