I went to Muddy's last week for a coffee with my minister. Muddy's is next to our all-time favorite Chinese place: Kim Lin. Anyways, I was interested to taste their draw and compare. I was pleasantly surprised. My new heirarchy of KC coffee goes like this:
1. Broadway Coffee
2. Muddy's
3. Roasterie
4. Buckaroo's (you know, the green labeled chain. . .)
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Brookside Standards: Sharp's, Roasterie
Sharp's: We have probably eaten at Sharp's over 10 times this year. Mostly for brunch but at other times as well. The bar far is above average but also above average price. We get the egg-wich or a single pancake with an egg on the side. The coffe is okay, the service is always great, and it's kid-friendly. Not much to say about Sharp's that hasn't been said. Get there early, don't get bogged down in the overly big menu. A nice alternative to a chain like Denny's or something.
Roasterie: Ian is a huge Broadway Coffee fan so I had never actually been to the locally-owned company's cafe in Brookside. Charlie and I went there for a walk recently after a Sharp's breakfast to get a latte (Sharp's drip coffee didn't do it for me) I was surprised to learn that my own palette for espresso draws has developed to where I CAN taste a difference. Unfortunately, the Roasterie's latte did not measure up to Broadway's. The foam was not as fluffy or creamy (even though both were Skim lattes), and the flavor was more bitter and aggressive, whereas Broadway's is nutty and smooth. The clear winner: Broadway Coffee. Sorry, Roasterie:)
Roasterie: Ian is a huge Broadway Coffee fan so I had never actually been to the locally-owned company's cafe in Brookside. Charlie and I went there for a walk recently after a Sharp's breakfast to get a latte (Sharp's drip coffee didn't do it for me) I was surprised to learn that my own palette for espresso draws has developed to where I CAN taste a difference. Unfortunately, the Roasterie's latte did not measure up to Broadway's. The foam was not as fluffy or creamy (even though both were Skim lattes), and the flavor was more bitter and aggressive, whereas Broadway's is nutty and smooth. The clear winner: Broadway Coffee. Sorry, Roasterie:)
George Brett's on the Plaza
Short post here: Erin and I had lunch at George Brett's on Sunday. I have been there two times before and overall, feel it's above-average bar food experience.
The upsides: good service, little wait (we were early and everyone else was in line at The Classic Cup), low price, nice decor/atmosphere, good iced tea, nice window view of Plaza street life.
The downsides: blah menu, too much cheese on my pizza, and they leave their windows open leaching valuable AC into the outdoors and hurting the environment.
What I ordered: margharita pizza (waaaaaay too much cheese) on cracker bread (crust was perfect for thinnner-is-better pizza crust fans, iced tea. Check was just over $15.
The upsides: good service, little wait (we were early and everyone else was in line at The Classic Cup), low price, nice decor/atmosphere, good iced tea, nice window view of Plaza street life.
The downsides: blah menu, too much cheese on my pizza, and they leave their windows open leaching valuable AC into the outdoors and hurting the environment.
What I ordered: margharita pizza (waaaaaay too much cheese) on cracker bread (crust was perfect for thinnner-is-better pizza crust fans, iced tea. Check was just over $15.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Saturday Night Delight: Peachtree and Blue Room, Benton's
We have friends from out-of-town in for the holiday weekend so we met them Saturday night. We tagged along on their parent-planned excursion to the historic 18th & Vine Jazz District for dinner at the Peachtree and music at the Blue Room.
I used to work for the American Jazz Museum, so I was dearly looking forward to an artery-clogging experience at the Peachtree. However, our babysitters showed up late, and so did we. Our friends were paying their check as we walked in, but I was still hungry, so they headed over to the Blue Room while Ian and I ordered a fried chicken dinner with collard greens and candied yams.
You will never have better fried chicken than at the Peachtree. I stand by that statement. The collard greens are a revelation for white girls like me who have never figured out how to cook this complex and nutrient-rich food without ruining it or making it too bitter to stomach. I think there must be some sort of secret involving pork--I don't want to know. The candied yams are, well, candied. I know some people like Peachtree's signature Peach Cobbler but I'm not much of a cobbler person, rejecting the dough for the sugary sweet filling. Candied yams satisfies this impulse, and the yams at the Peachtree are thick to the point of "soft ball" on your candy thermometor. I do love the spices they use in the yams--pepper, cinnamon and other more elusive spices make them jump in your mouth a bit against all that sweet.
Ian, however, wants me to post about our service. Let me say that I have always received courteous and professional service at the Peachtree, it is their signature. However, Saturday night we came in and joined a party that was leaving, thus bypassing the usual check-in process. Because of that, or perhaps not, we were slow getting menus, drinks, food, silverware. . .everything but the check was late or in the wrong order. No matter, with beer and wine, and a split dinner, we left $25 lighter with greasy fingers and a container of chicken guaranteed to make the interior of the Honda smell like the South.
We walked over to the Blue Room where the Jazz Disciples were headlining along with Pam Watson (vocalist) and Karita Carter (trombonist). Gerald Dunn was on saxaphone, Tyrone Clark on bass, Mike Warren on drums and Everett Freeman on piano. I love jazz and the atmosphere in the Blue Room on a Saturday night is for serious listeners only. . .our friends did not know that, and wanted to socialize. Due to this misunderstanding, we were shot many dirty looks for talking during the performance. One man even came over and asked us to keep it down so he could enjoy the show. The club is non-smoking for the health of the musicians so you know they take it seriously.
This is a common disconnect between people about jazz. Some see it as cocktail music--background music for their enjoyment while they go about their entertainment. Others see it as THE entertainment. I should explain to those people out there who are casual listeners that when you see a pianist, small combo or trio at places like the Peachtree, Cafe Trio, Benton's, etc. these musicians are pretty much hired to provide this background kind of music. They appreciate closer listening, they work just as hard at the spontaneous, improvisational aspects of jazz, but bottom line they are hired for "atmosphere."
A lot of people who don't know any better think the Blue Room is a night club with jazz. It is not (except maybe Friday night happy hour, where they feature more contemporary jazz as background for traditional happy hour type socializing). It is a serious jazz club--some would say the premier performance spot for KC's top musicians. Going to the Blue Room is great if you want to show your out-of-town friends what KC Jazz is all about. Talking through the performance would be like carrying on a conversation during a KC Rep or Lyric Opera performance. You can visit quietly with your neighbor about something or order a drink, but it is not the place for full-on conversations. So, pick a different place if you want to talk.
We paid a cover of $10 a head (high for that night because of the quality of musicians playing) and heard the last part of the first set. The Jazz Disciples are a tight group in the strictest improvisational style. In the interest of full disclosure, two of the musicians playing that night played at our wedding, one is a former co-worker, and one did work with me on educational programs at the museum. These musicians are at the top of their game. Pam Watson, as a vocalist, is not my favorite style--she is a soprano and I prefer lower voiced women to play off the instruments if at all, I tend to lean toward no vocals unless it's a big band setting or a soloist. Karita Carter is an amazing jazz trombonist. I play trombone, and I have seen her perform with the KC JAzz Orchestra at Unity temple. She is a real inspiration to me as she blows a bass trombone, with amazing support and really can nail the fast Parker-inspired runs which I can NOT do! Mike Warren is a master drummer, he is really sensitive to what the other musicians were doing, and knowing that he is a dedicated teacher really makes me appreciate him more. Tyrone Clark on bass is the heartbeat of the group. Basses rarely get any notice by casual jazz listeners, unless they take a solo or something, but their job is really difficult and you tend to notice it more when they DON'T do their job. It would be easy to settle into auto-pilot, but Mr. Clark plays each note with conscious conviction. Gerald Dunn was the voice of the melody when Ms. Watson wasn't singing, and he plays effortlessly off almost everyone. He was trained in Texas, but he has a style all his own with its KC-inspired flavor, but shots of older and newer influences as well. I don't know enough about the great jazz saxaphonists to hear all of his influences but my untrained ear heard shout-outs to Parker and Lester Young, and maybe a little of Louis Armstrong (what jazz musician taking a solo doesn't reference his straightforward but exciting exploration of single-note rhythms and melody?) I know Everett Freeman the least, but was impressed with his style. Pianists have to switch back and forth between rhythm and harmonic support of the song and soloists, and being a melody or solo artist themselves.
I hope everyone will get a chance to enjoy the Jazz Disciples or another group at the Blue Room--just remember, you are there to see the music, not talk. Since this was a conflict for us (our friend's hadn't picked the place) we decided to go somewhere we COULD talk. For Ian and I, that place has become Benton's. At the top of Crown Center's Westin hotel, this out-of-the-way restaraunt boasts a lovely quiet lounge. The crowd is tourists, old people, and us:) We like going up there because there is always parking, no smoking, and it's quiet and intimate. A jazz combo plays every Friday and Saturday nights. The musicians change but the atmosphere is more for visiting, enjoying their custom martinis and whatnot. We ordered a $32 bottle of champagne. Our pregnant friend got a couple of virgin cocktails complementary from the sympathetic bartender. I didn't catch his name, but we had him before and he is a great bartender. I guarantee you will have a good time if you want a sophisticated, intimate setting for not a lot of dough.
I used to work for the American Jazz Museum, so I was dearly looking forward to an artery-clogging experience at the Peachtree. However, our babysitters showed up late, and so did we. Our friends were paying their check as we walked in, but I was still hungry, so they headed over to the Blue Room while Ian and I ordered a fried chicken dinner with collard greens and candied yams.
You will never have better fried chicken than at the Peachtree. I stand by that statement. The collard greens are a revelation for white girls like me who have never figured out how to cook this complex and nutrient-rich food without ruining it or making it too bitter to stomach. I think there must be some sort of secret involving pork--I don't want to know. The candied yams are, well, candied. I know some people like Peachtree's signature Peach Cobbler but I'm not much of a cobbler person, rejecting the dough for the sugary sweet filling. Candied yams satisfies this impulse, and the yams at the Peachtree are thick to the point of "soft ball" on your candy thermometor. I do love the spices they use in the yams--pepper, cinnamon and other more elusive spices make them jump in your mouth a bit against all that sweet.
Ian, however, wants me to post about our service. Let me say that I have always received courteous and professional service at the Peachtree, it is their signature. However, Saturday night we came in and joined a party that was leaving, thus bypassing the usual check-in process. Because of that, or perhaps not, we were slow getting menus, drinks, food, silverware. . .everything but the check was late or in the wrong order. No matter, with beer and wine, and a split dinner, we left $25 lighter with greasy fingers and a container of chicken guaranteed to make the interior of the Honda smell like the South.
We walked over to the Blue Room where the Jazz Disciples were headlining along with Pam Watson (vocalist) and Karita Carter (trombonist). Gerald Dunn was on saxaphone, Tyrone Clark on bass, Mike Warren on drums and Everett Freeman on piano. I love jazz and the atmosphere in the Blue Room on a Saturday night is for serious listeners only. . .our friends did not know that, and wanted to socialize. Due to this misunderstanding, we were shot many dirty looks for talking during the performance. One man even came over and asked us to keep it down so he could enjoy the show. The club is non-smoking for the health of the musicians so you know they take it seriously.
This is a common disconnect between people about jazz. Some see it as cocktail music--background music for their enjoyment while they go about their entertainment. Others see it as THE entertainment. I should explain to those people out there who are casual listeners that when you see a pianist, small combo or trio at places like the Peachtree, Cafe Trio, Benton's, etc. these musicians are pretty much hired to provide this background kind of music. They appreciate closer listening, they work just as hard at the spontaneous, improvisational aspects of jazz, but bottom line they are hired for "atmosphere."
A lot of people who don't know any better think the Blue Room is a night club with jazz. It is not (except maybe Friday night happy hour, where they feature more contemporary jazz as background for traditional happy hour type socializing). It is a serious jazz club--some would say the premier performance spot for KC's top musicians. Going to the Blue Room is great if you want to show your out-of-town friends what KC Jazz is all about. Talking through the performance would be like carrying on a conversation during a KC Rep or Lyric Opera performance. You can visit quietly with your neighbor about something or order a drink, but it is not the place for full-on conversations. So, pick a different place if you want to talk.
We paid a cover of $10 a head (high for that night because of the quality of musicians playing) and heard the last part of the first set. The Jazz Disciples are a tight group in the strictest improvisational style. In the interest of full disclosure, two of the musicians playing that night played at our wedding, one is a former co-worker, and one did work with me on educational programs at the museum. These musicians are at the top of their game. Pam Watson, as a vocalist, is not my favorite style--she is a soprano and I prefer lower voiced women to play off the instruments if at all, I tend to lean toward no vocals unless it's a big band setting or a soloist. Karita Carter is an amazing jazz trombonist. I play trombone, and I have seen her perform with the KC JAzz Orchestra at Unity temple. She is a real inspiration to me as she blows a bass trombone, with amazing support and really can nail the fast Parker-inspired runs which I can NOT do! Mike Warren is a master drummer, he is really sensitive to what the other musicians were doing, and knowing that he is a dedicated teacher really makes me appreciate him more. Tyrone Clark on bass is the heartbeat of the group. Basses rarely get any notice by casual jazz listeners, unless they take a solo or something, but their job is really difficult and you tend to notice it more when they DON'T do their job. It would be easy to settle into auto-pilot, but Mr. Clark plays each note with conscious conviction. Gerald Dunn was the voice of the melody when Ms. Watson wasn't singing, and he plays effortlessly off almost everyone. He was trained in Texas, but he has a style all his own with its KC-inspired flavor, but shots of older and newer influences as well. I don't know enough about the great jazz saxaphonists to hear all of his influences but my untrained ear heard shout-outs to Parker and Lester Young, and maybe a little of Louis Armstrong (what jazz musician taking a solo doesn't reference his straightforward but exciting exploration of single-note rhythms and melody?) I know Everett Freeman the least, but was impressed with his style. Pianists have to switch back and forth between rhythm and harmonic support of the song and soloists, and being a melody or solo artist themselves.
I hope everyone will get a chance to enjoy the Jazz Disciples or another group at the Blue Room--just remember, you are there to see the music, not talk. Since this was a conflict for us (our friend's hadn't picked the place) we decided to go somewhere we COULD talk. For Ian and I, that place has become Benton's. At the top of Crown Center's Westin hotel, this out-of-the-way restaraunt boasts a lovely quiet lounge. The crowd is tourists, old people, and us:) We like going up there because there is always parking, no smoking, and it's quiet and intimate. A jazz combo plays every Friday and Saturday nights. The musicians change but the atmosphere is more for visiting, enjoying their custom martinis and whatnot. We ordered a $32 bottle of champagne. Our pregnant friend got a couple of virgin cocktails complementary from the sympathetic bartender. I didn't catch his name, but we had him before and he is a great bartender. I guarantee you will have a good time if you want a sophisticated, intimate setting for not a lot of dough.
Lawrence Treats
I go to grad school at KU so I get the chance to occasionally sample Lawrence fare. This weekend, we camped at Clinton Lake with friends and got to enjoy one of my favorites: Wheatfields.
Wheatfields has fresh bakery fare to go or to eat in. They use fresh ingredients and it is a vegetarian haven. Ian ordered the bread baker's plate, a large pile of assorted breads with goat cheese, roasted red peppers, cornishons, olives, tapenade. . .fabulous. I got my standard, the vegetarian rueben. The sweet and sour flavors of the tempe and the dressing and saurkraut are perfectly balanced. We washed it all down with microbrew root beers and finished with the vegan ginger almond cookie. There is nothing bad to say about this great treasure, and we got out of there for under $30 and half an hour. . .and we splurged on the root beers.
Another favorite of mine in Lawrence is the Free State Brewing Company. Our friends tell us they enjoyed dinner there after we left. They got an appetizer, two entrees and two beers for about $20. For standard bar fare, Free State offers their own unique spin on things, and is a quality food experience. Just beware, on game days like Saturday was, waits are long at everything downtown.
Wheatfields has fresh bakery fare to go or to eat in. They use fresh ingredients and it is a vegetarian haven. Ian ordered the bread baker's plate, a large pile of assorted breads with goat cheese, roasted red peppers, cornishons, olives, tapenade. . .fabulous. I got my standard, the vegetarian rueben. The sweet and sour flavors of the tempe and the dressing and saurkraut are perfectly balanced. We washed it all down with microbrew root beers and finished with the vegan ginger almond cookie. There is nothing bad to say about this great treasure, and we got out of there for under $30 and half an hour. . .and we splurged on the root beers.
Another favorite of mine in Lawrence is the Free State Brewing Company. Our friends tell us they enjoyed dinner there after we left. They got an appetizer, two entrees and two beers for about $20. For standard bar fare, Free State offers their own unique spin on things, and is a quality food experience. Just beware, on game days like Saturday was, waits are long at everything downtown.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Mongolian Nighmare, Miami Dream
On nights I have class, it's Ian's responsibility to cook dinner. So we went out to eat. Finding a coveted 2-hr parking spot in the busy 39th Street business and entertainment district, we set our sights on sushi. As we walked toward the restaraunt, I expressed my excitement to Ian, who voiced his concern: the last time he ate sushi was in Portland and it was the best of his life. I immediately vetoed sushi on the grounds that he would find any sushi inadequate and disappointing after his last experience, and that I didn't want to handle his bitching about perfectly decent but not life-changing sushi.
Ian demurred, and we found ourselves revisiting the Genghis Khan Mongolian Grill. We had visited once before, when I was pregnant, and found the experience pleasant enough. Despite a bad experience with a sort of green tea milkshake, we recall rather nice decor and service, and serviceable stir-fry. You see, Mongolian Grill really means you pick out meat, veggies, rice or noodles and spices and sauces and then the grillmeister fries it all up for you on a big grill. If you are the kind of person that finds your food being cooked in front of you while you stand makes the food taste better, you will love this place. If you find, like Ian and I do, that a chef's job is to create inventive and fresh flavor compositions for the restaraunt visitor, then you will find the job of creating and making your own food to be cooked, assembly-style, while you wait, to be tedious and contrary to the whole notion of eating out. If I wanted stir-fry I'd cook at home, except for the tedious chopping bit.
This time, we opted for the specials, which lured us with their sired chalk-board song on the street. Ian got the Siracha shrimp while I ordered the clay-pot simmered basil seafood curry, and we both tried a glass of reisling while we waited. The reisling was cloyingly sweet, resembling kool-aid with an adult edge. The Siracha shrimp, which Ian ordered in hopes of enjoying a smaller plate, came out as 7 lonely shrimp presented in a bowl of chopped green lettuce, all drowned in a disgustingly sweet and yet fatty mayonnaise pepper sauce that tasted somewhat like leftover General Tso's chicken sauce mixed with Hellman's. A side of white rice rounded out his meal.
When I ordered the seafood curry, I envisioned Lulu's curries--beautiful, balanced, unexpected flavors mixed with fresh, fresh, fresh veggies or meat. I was hoping for a red curry balanced with coconut milk as it was described as a Thai-style curry. In reality, the Chinese ceramic pot was the most attractive feature of this concoction. It was a seafood stew with mussels, tiny shrimps and wee scallops, unidentifiable white fish, rubbery calamari and mushy, slimy eggplant. All these ingredients, plus god knows what else, was presented in a thin gray gravy that tasted not at all of basil but overwhelmingly of fish.
As much as I detested the taste of the stew, I am not a "send things back to the kitchen" person. Even more difficult in a small restaraunt than a chain, because I always worry about hurting the feelings of the owner, the cook, or hurting the waitresses' bottom line. So I sucked it up and took Ian's advice about eating Chinese food in Shantou, where he says it's best "to just eat and keep eating," so you can't tell what's in there. Of course, after that I was pretty sick.
These culinary delights set us back $41. Ian was really disappointed in the quality and value of his meal, which was more like a glorified appetizer. I was just worried about my spiking mercury content of my breastmilk.
We both felt pretty unclean after dinner, what with the fish breath and all. We decided that a visit to Miami Ice was in order. The locally-owned Miami Ice is resplendent in its unironic Art Deco glory. We ordered the mint/cashew/chocolate combo mashed up on the ice block and enjoyed it at an outdoor table. With tip, we paid $6. The music from the farmer's market and the eclectic street crowd did much to alleviate the evening's trauma. Not to mention the mint in the ice cream.
After numerous tooth brushings, the bottom line is: Mongolian Grill--make your own damn stir fry. Miami Ice is a nice treat on a summer evening.
Ian demurred, and we found ourselves revisiting the Genghis Khan Mongolian Grill. We had visited once before, when I was pregnant, and found the experience pleasant enough. Despite a bad experience with a sort of green tea milkshake, we recall rather nice decor and service, and serviceable stir-fry. You see, Mongolian Grill really means you pick out meat, veggies, rice or noodles and spices and sauces and then the grillmeister fries it all up for you on a big grill. If you are the kind of person that finds your food being cooked in front of you while you stand makes the food taste better, you will love this place. If you find, like Ian and I do, that a chef's job is to create inventive and fresh flavor compositions for the restaraunt visitor, then you will find the job of creating and making your own food to be cooked, assembly-style, while you wait, to be tedious and contrary to the whole notion of eating out. If I wanted stir-fry I'd cook at home, except for the tedious chopping bit.
This time, we opted for the specials, which lured us with their sired chalk-board song on the street. Ian got the Siracha shrimp while I ordered the clay-pot simmered basil seafood curry, and we both tried a glass of reisling while we waited. The reisling was cloyingly sweet, resembling kool-aid with an adult edge. The Siracha shrimp, which Ian ordered in hopes of enjoying a smaller plate, came out as 7 lonely shrimp presented in a bowl of chopped green lettuce, all drowned in a disgustingly sweet and yet fatty mayonnaise pepper sauce that tasted somewhat like leftover General Tso's chicken sauce mixed with Hellman's. A side of white rice rounded out his meal.
When I ordered the seafood curry, I envisioned Lulu's curries--beautiful, balanced, unexpected flavors mixed with fresh, fresh, fresh veggies or meat. I was hoping for a red curry balanced with coconut milk as it was described as a Thai-style curry. In reality, the Chinese ceramic pot was the most attractive feature of this concoction. It was a seafood stew with mussels, tiny shrimps and wee scallops, unidentifiable white fish, rubbery calamari and mushy, slimy eggplant. All these ingredients, plus god knows what else, was presented in a thin gray gravy that tasted not at all of basil but overwhelmingly of fish.
As much as I detested the taste of the stew, I am not a "send things back to the kitchen" person. Even more difficult in a small restaraunt than a chain, because I always worry about hurting the feelings of the owner, the cook, or hurting the waitresses' bottom line. So I sucked it up and took Ian's advice about eating Chinese food in Shantou, where he says it's best "to just eat and keep eating," so you can't tell what's in there. Of course, after that I was pretty sick.
These culinary delights set us back $41. Ian was really disappointed in the quality and value of his meal, which was more like a glorified appetizer. I was just worried about my spiking mercury content of my breastmilk.
We both felt pretty unclean after dinner, what with the fish breath and all. We decided that a visit to Miami Ice was in order. The locally-owned Miami Ice is resplendent in its unironic Art Deco glory. We ordered the mint/cashew/chocolate combo mashed up on the ice block and enjoyed it at an outdoor table. With tip, we paid $6. The music from the farmer's market and the eclectic street crowd did much to alleviate the evening's trauma. Not to mention the mint in the ice cream.
After numerous tooth brushings, the bottom line is: Mongolian Grill--make your own damn stir fry. Miami Ice is a nice treat on a summer evening.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Record Bar--Early Bird Special
Now that we have Charlie, we're not up to our usual late-night, weekend shenanigans. We do, however, have a standing Tuesday night babysitting exchange with another Westport couple, so Tuesday night we were left looking for good food and live music--all before about 8:30 pm (the time at which our son turns into a cranky, hungry pumpkin).
Luckily, a friend tipped us off to The Record Bar's Tuesday night early show--Rex Hobart and the Misery Boys and the Record Bar's "Honky Tonk Supper Club." Basically, you get there, drink some beers (from their extensive list), eat some food, and listen to some straight-up, old-school country music.
Ian and I ordered Boulevard Wheat and a British ale respectively. We tasted the cider and ordered a Pacifico. Pretty bland. The menu is fun but not good for indecisive types. Basically a twist on general bar/grill food with pizza, salads or pasta bowls all with your own choice of toppings. Fun and creative, yes, but the sheer number of options can be a bit overwhelming. The food, when arrived, was passable bar fare. If ordering the alfredo pasta sauce, ask for 1/2 the amount typically dished out. I had trouble locating the pasta in the creamy, fatty sauce and felt it in my arteries for days. We split an iceberg wedge salad, which was great, and Ian had a pizza, which was a perfect portion for him.
The music was fun, with an eclectic and mellow crowd enjoying the mix of crying-in-your-beer ballads with uptempto numbers that made me want to teach Ian to 2-step. We don't know if anyone ever started dancing, though. We had to leave to pick up the little guy about 45 minutes into their set.
Overall, a good evening for about $40 (we tipped our grumpy waitress well, according to Ian's new Theory of Tipping which states that mad servers need to be tipped well to offset their discontent with humanity.) Good tunes, good brew, good food and an early evening for the old folks (or those with little beans).
Luckily, a friend tipped us off to The Record Bar's Tuesday night early show--Rex Hobart and the Misery Boys and the Record Bar's "Honky Tonk Supper Club." Basically, you get there, drink some beers (from their extensive list), eat some food, and listen to some straight-up, old-school country music.
Ian and I ordered Boulevard Wheat and a British ale respectively. We tasted the cider and ordered a Pacifico. Pretty bland. The menu is fun but not good for indecisive types. Basically a twist on general bar/grill food with pizza, salads or pasta bowls all with your own choice of toppings. Fun and creative, yes, but the sheer number of options can be a bit overwhelming. The food, when arrived, was passable bar fare. If ordering the alfredo pasta sauce, ask for 1/2 the amount typically dished out. I had trouble locating the pasta in the creamy, fatty sauce and felt it in my arteries for days. We split an iceberg wedge salad, which was great, and Ian had a pizza, which was a perfect portion for him.
The music was fun, with an eclectic and mellow crowd enjoying the mix of crying-in-your-beer ballads with uptempto numbers that made me want to teach Ian to 2-step. We don't know if anyone ever started dancing, though. We had to leave to pick up the little guy about 45 minutes into their set.
Overall, a good evening for about $40 (we tipped our grumpy waitress well, according to Ian's new Theory of Tipping which states that mad servers need to be tipped well to offset their discontent with humanity.) Good tunes, good brew, good food and an early evening for the old folks (or those with little beans).
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