The Warehouse Cafe has only a couple of taps, but its by-the-bottle beer list is rumored to top four hundred labels. Not that we’ve ever actually counted — we’ve been far too busy drinking. The last stop before you stumble into the Carquinez Strait, the Warehouse Cafe is a ramshackle, musty brick building that has withstood a century and a half of wear and tear, several earthquakes, and all attempts at gentrification. Crockett locals — and visitors with après-binge hotel rooms — pass by the stuffed polar bear to congregate at the back bar, the beer bottles collecting around them. It’s the frickin’ United Nations of brew out there, with beverages imported from every which country. No need to figure out how to pronounce the name of the beer you choose, because your bartender won’t be able to, either. Just point at your selection and she’ll disappear for several minutes to root around the refrigerated beer library. If she can’t find the one you requested, she’ll bring a couple of possible substitutes. At the prices the bar charges, you can afford to try all of them.