Bar Fly Highlights of the Week: November 25
Shays Pub and Wine Bar
58 JFK St
Cambridge, MA 02138
Harvard Square
Shays atmosphere resembles the remodeled basement of a friend who just won a bunch of money and decided to convert it into a bar. Fortunately, the friend knows a little bit about wine and beer so that options are not limited to Zinfandel and PBR ($3.75 just in case you want it anyway).
The World Famous Shays (it says so on their menu) also offers a hot mulled cider with port. I had to try it. To my surprise, the drink had multiple personalities: the beginning tasted like port with a glob of cinnamon, the second part tasted like cinnamon with a dash of port, and the final part tasted, you guessed it, just right. By the time I got to the bottom, the drink was more warm than hot yet tasted like a spicy cinnamon port. I doubt I’d order it again. Still, the affordable prices and basement character encourages the financially struggling rebel part of us to escape and drink. A drink with different personalities just seems to fit.
Franklin Cafe
278 Shawmut Ave.
Boston, MA 02118
South End
I love the herbal-y goodness that is Green Chartreuse. As a result, when a drink menu advertises any drink with Green Chartreuse, I order it regardless of what else is on the menu. It’s a twitch. I can’t help it. At Franklin Cafe, I ordered such a drink – Angel’s Wings (Hendrick’s Gin, Green Chartreuse, Grapefruit Juice, Angelica Honey). Strangely, I had to repeat my order three times. Now, I do have an accent, but this miscommunication was not a result of my accent. After the third time yelling my order over the shoulders of the people sitting at the bar, the bartender said no one ever orders that and mumbled that he had never made it. “You’ve never made it?” I responded with deep concern. He quickly recanted his statement and said, “Oh no, it’s delicious.” Fortunately, it was delicious.
Picco
513 Tremont St.
Boston, MA 02116
South End
One of my favorite reasons to drink is to celebrate the birthday of a friend. Nothing can beat gathering around a table, singing off-key embarrassing versions of ‘Happy Birthday’ with a glass of wine, beer or cocktail in hand. My beverage of choice to celebrate this occasion was an 07 Errazuris Carmenère ($7). A woman at my table used to live in Chile and was familiar with the winery. This added validity to my choice – someone confirmed that this was going to be good. That’s me, a typical American, needing confirmation. All that was missing was her rating on a 100 point scale. Yet, even though I knew very few people at the table, this spicy drink sparked conversation about Chile and traveling as we celebrated by eating pizza and ice cream. And I enjoyed the black berry flavors with a slight coffee bite that loosened me up just enough to sing a horrible version of ‘Happy Birthday.’
Social Lubricant of the Week: The Mad Hatter`
The Mad Hatter (absinthe, peach bitters, Lillet Blanc, sweet vermouth)
Found at The Savant Project in Mission Hill
Don’t worry, it won’t make you mad, it will just make you happy. The bartender made sure that I liked the taste of licorice before beginning to make the drink. I guess people have taken a sip and turned it away. Who are these people? Talk about crazy . . . . .
First, the absinthe is poured over sugar; then the other ingredients are added. The anise flavor is pronounced but not overwhelming. The bartender said they used to garnish it with wormwood. Even without a garnish, this is a cocktail I will order again.
If you are looking for an interesting, balanced cocktail with absinthe, give this one a try.
Bar Fly Highlights of the Week
A weekly round-up of where I’ve been aggressively pursuing social lubricants:
Razzy’s
585 Somerville Ave
Somerville, MA 02143
From the outside, Razzy’s led me to expect a dark, dreary hole in the wall but instead, I was greeted to an elongated front room and lots of light and neon signs. With the long bar on the right side and the rest of the room very narrow, I had flashbacks to when I played basketball in high school and ran through a tunnel to get to the court. Razzy’s “court” is the larger back room filled with booths, chairs and sound system for karaoke – that’s where the real show begins.
Razzy’s designates Thursday nights for karaoke. Apparently, this is the place and night to take your co-worker on their last day of work, buy him a ton of drinks, choose songs for him (including a bunch of Whitney Houston songs), and then leave him there to join in duets with kids performing alt punk versions of Shania Twain songs. I’ll keep this in mind the next time a co-worker quits.
Flann O’Brien’s Pub
1619 Tremont Street
Roxbury Crossing, MA 02120
Flann’s website touts that “There are no strangers here, just friends who haven’t met yet.” It should also add “but if someone you don’t want to be friends with bugs you, the bartenders will take care of it.” When I went there on Friday, there was a very drunk 23-year-old sitting at the bar (I think he just got dumped). This young guy was more than a little rambunctious, pouring mounds of condiments all over his fish and chips for fun and singing Kings of Leon songs suddenly in the middle of a sentence. After some time sitting next to this guy, the bartender moved me and my friend to a seat across the room from the loud guy and gave us whiskey shots to apologize for the annoying customer. That’s what I call service.
The Savant Project
1625 Tremont St
(between Calumet St & Francis St)
Boston, MA 02120
Don’t be scared. The Savant Project is not just for the learned, although that doesn’t hurt. This is a place for people who like to talk, gossip, investigate and ramble. The bronze tiled walls and cozy atmosphere complements yummy tapas like the Truffled Parmesan Polenta Logs, providing fodder for the hedonist. And an interesting drink menu offers provocations for gossips. With cocktails like “A Screw in the Alley: Sex on the beach but in Boston . . . and in an Alley”, “Cocoa Cochon: Bacon Vodka and Chocolate. Seriously it’s good”, and “The Mistress: Classy, bubbly and a little bitter, just like any mistress should be” these folks are begging to be talked about and have others talk to each other in their establishment. I was asked to solve a riddle by a stranger at the bar, a group played Taboo in a large booth and the bartender and server added to the congenial atmosphere. This is definitely a place that should be talked about.
Grandma
On Thursday, I attended a tasting/lesson on Grandma. For those of you unfamiliar with ‘Grandma’, I am not talking about my Grandma who watches soap operas in the afternoon and specializes in red velvet cake. I am talking about Grand Marnier.
The sit-down tasting took place at Hotel Commonwealth and included plates with three cheeses and chocolate for each taster. As soon as I sat down, I was greeted with a margarita made with Grand Marnier, of course.
Once the informative portion began, Steve Olson, aka wine geek, passionately inundated the audience for 1 1/2 hours. Olson’s presentation paralleled the content – there was nothing petite about it. His intense story telling abilities made me feel like I was listening to a story about how he had been abducted by aliens. He was able to weave the Grand Marnier narrative with bits of cocktail history sprinkled in. He talked about the exodus of U.S. bartending stars during prohibition. Once prohibition ended, the industry had to begin again. Starting over meant training and education and time. In the interim, bartenders needed shortcuts. This led to the creation of pre-made mixes still used in cocktails which taste like sucking on sour patch kids and provide hangovers from hell.
We even had barrel samples to compare with the finished products: Grand Marnier, Grand Marnier 100, and Grand Marnier 150. The goal was to bring the experience of the distillery to the people, not the other way around. The 100 smelled of orange and spice the way I wish Christmas candles would smell. The 150 was my favorite – it tasted like the cognac was spiked with a warm fleece jacket for a cool fall day. As Olson pointed out, that means I am not a bartender since bartenders generally choose the 100 for its balance and use in cocktails. I am just a sucker for long, complex finishes and expensive, really good stuff.
Olson kept emphasizing that it’s all about the distillation and he imagined a reality in which Grand Marnier is a base spirit in cocktails, not just an additive, and can be offered with cheese and chocolate on its own. Pair wine with chocolate? Oh no, it’s Grand Marnier all the way!
Grand Marnier’s potential correlates with the current reality in the cocktail world. He told lots of stories about opening up restaurants in the 80s, frequently giving shout outs to his friends in the crowd who also witnessed the tough times, before people proclaimed ‘bartender’ as a desired profession and everyone had heard of Jerry Thomas. I felt like I was in the presence of former revolutionaries who won the battle and now are energized to be in charge.
They are drinking Grandma to celebrate the victory.
The Cellar
The Garden at the Cellar is known for culinary achievement. The Cellar is laid back, cash only and the sink is situated outside of the bathrooms. It’s cleaner than the typical dive bar and has phenomenal tater tots. The cocktail menu resides exclusively in the bartender’s brain ( I had a good Manhattan). The beers are decent, but pretty basic.
If Garden at the Cellar is an overachiever, the Cellar is its lesser known sibling who shies from the spotlight because it would rather spend its time stoned. And what do stoners want more than cheap, easy entertainment that otherwise would not be classified as entertainment at all? The Cellar provides just that.
Customers must walk down a staircase with glass windows allowing light from street lamps and car headlights to stream in. As I waited at the bar for my friends, I found the build-up suspenseful: first, I saw feet, next, I noticed legs, finally, a real live person stood in the doorway. It was the perfect joint to be at on Halloween.
I especially enjoyed observing different characters coming down the stairs – first, thigh high white boots, next, glimmering nude stockings, finally, a neon and silver dress – it’s someone transported from the 70s! But this game could also be a little disappointing – oh look, black leather boots, next, chubby legs in jeans, and finally, it’s Tom who looks like every other Tom in Cambridge going out for the evening. I wasn’t stoned so that part of the game wasn’t too much fun for me. Oh well.
The Cellar is affordable, offers great food options and opportunities to entertain yourself while sitting at the bar. Go there. Play some games in your mind. And don’t forget to tell me if you see any memorable legs walking down the stairs.
Entertainment at the DugOut
The DugOut is my regular Monday hangout. Every week I say I am staying for only one beer. But every week, one turns into two, two turns into three, three turns into, well, you get the picture. The main instigator of my late night Monday drinking habit is Dave, the bartender.
Knowing that I have a blog and always up for a chance to show off, Dave demanded that I interview him. After this declaration, I pulled out my notebook and prepared for the interview. At that moment, Dave tucked himself into a corner with the phone glued to his ear and talked to his wife for thirty minutes. Of course, this required that my friend and I drink another beer during the actual interview after he completed his phone conversation. So one drink turned into two. . . . . .
In addition to being an expert at increasing revenue, Dave can also spit out some challenging sports trivia. He will do whatever it takes to entertain and engage the customer (I’ve even seen him do push-ups just for the hell of it). But, this shouldn’t make you go to the DugOut on a Monday evening, because in Dave’s words, “If people need a reason to come to the DugOut, they shouldn’t come.” If you do come, expect a show.
The DugOut's Halloween Decorations. Yes, that is the current cash register. Dave wouldn't let me take a picture of him. His reasoning: something about Jack Nicholson and One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. I didn't really understand.
Observing all this energy and effort to connect with the customers, one might think he has a sweet gig and is working his ass off to keep the job. But, he’s not a full-time bartender and doesn’t make a lot of cash working at the DugOut. He earns enough to pay for coffee throughout the week, and that’s about it. But he keeps it up. He keeps working anyway.
Dave’s favorite customers are polite, sincere, have a sense of humor and are open to different points of view. He hates it when people treat him like a servant** and is annoyed by people who take themselves too seriously. What is interesting to me is that Dave is not like most attention-craving people I know, who demand to be the only one in the spotlight. Dave realizes that the customers contribute to the quality of time spent at the DugOut, essentially, to the quality of the show. This is best exemplified when I asked Dave, “What’s the one question you want me to ask you?” He answered, “What can the patron and bartender do to make the bar better?” Everyone contributes to the experience and to the entertainment. It is the customers’ responsibility to have a good time as much as it is the bartender’s responsibility to provide a quality experience.
For Dave, this is also what sets the DugOut apart. The DugOut encourages conversations between strangers, unlike the meat market festivals in Faneuil Hall. The DugOut bar is L-shaped and somewhat small. Customers at opposite ends of the bar engage in debates about the Red Sox and exchange stories from the day. The DugOut may not be the most sophisticated establishment but it is comfortable, primarily due to the atmosphere created by the people working there. And the leather couches in the back room don’t hurt.
But for all of these strengths plus the great location at the center of Boston University’s campus, the DugOut still suffers slow, sometimes really slow, nights. After working at the DugOut for several years, Dave still can’t predict whether the bar will be busy or vacant on any given Monday night. He doesn’t understand why it’s not packed every week. He asks, “What are the BU students doing on Monday nights?”
I guess they are seeking entertainment elsewhere. It’s their loss.
**Dave’s not the only one. Check out what this Bostonian is doing about it.
The Rewards of Masochism
The Audubon's Kiwi-Cucumber Gimlet (Hendrick's gin, kiwi, cucumber and lime)
Have you ever had a Reese’s Fastbreak? It has a chewy, stick to your gums consistency and tastes like the bastard son born to stale peanut butter and a Hershey’s milk chocolate bar. It isn’t that good. But for some reason, I want to keep eating them. When I spot the bright orange wrapper, my brain screams, ‘don’t do it!’ but I break down and give in to the force of this hypnotizing Halloween candy.
Basically, it’s like ordering wine or a cocktail at the DugOut. I just know it’s going to be a disaster, but sometimes the craving is louder than the voice in my head.
Another example: choosing to drink cocktails in the middle of a Saturday after working all morning. My brain says: bad idea. You are exhausted. This will not end good. But I do it anyway.
On Saturday my craving for a drink and some down time with a co-worker drowned out the voice and off we went to Audubon. Audubon Circle is contemporary. It’s sleek. It’s one of those places I like to visit every now and then but could never go to on a regular basis. The DugOut is my kind of regular hangout. The Audubon is the regular hangout for academic types wearing black rimmed glasses, expensive scarves, name brand jeans and permanent ‘I’m so great’ scowls.
I’ve been to the Audubon in the middle of the day before and it ended a little on the scary side (I had an encounter with a guy just released from jail with blood on his shirt). This past Saturday foreshadowed a similar ending. I walked in and there were five customers in the entire place. The wood and sleek lines were emphasized, creating a spooky feeling complimented by the rainy, gray day outside.
But I still sat down at the bar. I still ordered a cocktail. Perhaps I am just a masochist.
Hugh Johnson (in Vintage: The Story of Wine) calls madeira a “masochist.” This is because Madeira’s brutal tropical conditions (the island is located 400 miles off the coast of Morocco) still produced what used to be a popular wine. Additionally, after it was discovered by westerners in the 17th century shoddy transportation methods like leaving it out in hot temperatures and excessive exposure to oxygen only seemed to make it taste better. One would expect this wine to taste like shit, not become a favorite wine among people on the east coast of America.
I guess masochism has its rewards.
My final drink at the Audubon was the St. Germain cocktail (see above – St. Germain, cava, lemon). Fizzy, citrusy, yummy. As time went on, I discovered that the staff and other customers were friendly and more laid back than I expected, blunting the initial creepy impression. The drinks were tasty and no fugitives were involved on this day. It turns out that drinking in the middle of Saturday ended up being a good decision. If this is what I get for going against ‘my better judgment,’ well, I think I’ll keep it up.
Condensed Recap of 10/22
Last night I attended Blogtoberfest 2009 at 28 Degrees. To drink? The Elderflower Aviator. Come on now. That combination was calling my name considering my past experiences with elderflower and the Aviation.
As for the bloggers, I met a boomer, bonded with Peter about Trina’s Starlite Lounge, was tempted to buy Avon from Sarah, gushed about the David Bazan show with Brad, talked with Selena and Beth about Boston City Hall (Anulfo had some opinions to share on that topic), and reminisced about West Virginia with Georgy.
Then I met up with friends at People’s Republik. Oh, People’s Republik. You never fail to supply an arsenal of smart ass, acerbic bartenders. You never let me down.
To summarize, my birthday was fabulous – very balanced, just like a Libra birthday should be.
If you aren’t yet, follow me on Twitter: @barwarrior.
Thanks for reading! Let’s Drink!
Lessons from Bordeaux
Me - Tall, loud and excited at the David Bazan concert on 10/20.
In medieval times, Bordeaux and England were tight mostly because the English loved their claret, a pale rosé wine from Bordeaux. This close relationship assured the English they could keep drinking their favorite wine and continue getting sauced at their convenience. Eventually (lots of historical facts and stuff omitted here), the French got pissed off at these Bordeaux ‘traitors’ and inflicted devastation on Bordeaux’s vineyards in the mid-fifteenth century.
Finally, a truce happened when the French realized, “wait, Bordeaux is a valuable asset!” And voilà, the French completely focused on terrorizing the English, enfolding Bordeaux with the finesse of a corporate executive practicing his takeover skills.
Why am I telling you this?
For one, I am taking a History of Wine class and I’m reading this shit all the time.
More importantly, I want to address the woman at the David Bazan concert at TT the Bear’s on Tuesday night who said ‘there isn’t a second encore’ with the sass and snobbery of one of those Housewives on Bravo. She responded to my two friends and I yelling and clapping at the end of the show. Granted, there was no second encore. Basically we were just excited and felt like acting a little frisky.
Before you check out on me, yes, Bordeaux and Bazan are connected, at least in my warped brain. We all could learn a few things from what happened to Bordeaux. So here’s what I have learned: I am a valuable asset.
First, I am tall. I have the ability to stand in front of you and prevent you from seeing anything or anyone on stage. Or I can kindly move aside and let you stand in front of me. Second, I drink. While I tend to be a careful and conscientious drinker, there is still the possibility that I could ‘accidentally’ spill my entire drink down your nice, dry shirt. Third, my friends are very attractive and will steal your boyfriend, if they want to. You want me on your side. Trust me.
I want you on my side too. I want to join you in music solidarity. I want to buy tickets with you to support small venues, like TT the Bear’s, offering affordable shows. I want us to stand in the audience together and have a fucking good time. So, relax. Next time I see you at TT’s, I hope we can cheer for a ’second encore’ together. I’ll even buy you a drink. And if you piss me off again, I’ll bump into you real hard.
