Liquor in the front, and the back, and on the sides.

A long overdue post about liquor
It is time for another post about a subject dear to my heart, yes, that special solvent, that fruit of the grain, the distilled essence of good times and Saturday nights, liquor!

Sailor Jerrys Naval Strength Spiced Rum:
I like rum, especially the sweet dark rums that leave your gums feeling slightly numb and a tingling in your finger tips. For many years rum was sort of the red headed step child of liquors. There were three kinds from the company with the bat in the logo, there was a sweet dark rum from Jamaica and of course the ubiquitous Captain. Recently I have noticed an explosion of new rum brands appearing on the shelves of my favorite liquor store. There are "single barrel" rums, specialty flavored rums, very high proof rum, and rums from "estates".

I usually stick to Bacardi Select when I decide to drink rum in quantity, it is a high quality spirit, palatable straight but delightful mixed with coke or orange juice. Nothing beats the flavor of a Cuba Libre made with Bacardi Select and a fresh lime. When it comes to spiced rums, I have always went with Captain Morgan, but the problem with the Captain (besides a bombardment of clever advertising) is the fact it is only 70 proof, relegating it to the realm of girl drinks. A real man doesn't order Captain Morgan in public, despite what the commercials depict. Recently I spotted a bottle of Sailor Jerrys Spice Rum on the shelf, I bought the jumbo bottle (I mean really, a 5th is just the sample size) and took it home for a tasting.

First off I noticed the distinctive logo, a very WW2 era depiction of a hula dancer with a Ukulele in the style of a tattoo. As I settled in with my first glass, over ice, I looked up the brands website. Turns out that there was a real life Sailor Jerry. The man was a soldier and then a famous tattoo artist. He lent his reputation to this brand and it creates instant mystique. This rum is spiced rum for men. It says on the label that it is Navy Rum and 92 proof.

92 proof is pretty stout, and there is the risk of it tasting like lighter fluid. Not the case with this spirit, it is smooth, sweet and delicious. While it says it is Navy Rum, Her Majesties Navy never had it this good. Naval strength rum is a reference to the days of sail, when every man got a ration of rum mixed with water called grog. The rum had to be strong enough to survive the sea voyages and there had to be enough alcohol in it to kill the cooties found in the barrels of water consumed at sea. Frankly the rum was safer to drink than the water.

All of this combines to create a fun and memorable brand for this liquor. The taste is bold and flavorful without being noxious, and the high proof means it works sooner rather than later. The price is right too, about $25.00 for the 1.74 litre bottle. I highly recommend this rum for a night of Cuba Libres and your favorite cigar. It is also appropriate for swilling, as the price is very good.

My new bar
Over the years I have usually maintained a home bar, for my own enjoyment as well as entertaining. In the old days, my bar was as well stocked as any of the commercial bars in the small town I lived in. My friends would come over regularly as you can imagine. I kept a "tip" jar on the bar but it never paid for the consumption. It was ok with me, I enjoyed the company and when dealing with these friends it all came out in the wash somewhere down the line. I seldom paid when we went out, as compensation for all the booze I supplied at home.

I moved around some, re-established a couple of home bars, some of them were pretty spectacular. As I settle down in my new digs with Daisy, I am once again starting up a liquor cabinet, with the goal of finishing off the basement this spring with a real bar. I have done well with this one, I haven't counted the bottles, but I know I am now very well stocked.
While I still love to polish a bar stool at a local dive, it is getting more difficult to spend money at a bar. I am spoiled rotten as the fine liquors I have at home, already bought and paid for are very expensive in a public bar. I am still working on some items but I have all of my favorites, a good selection of bourbon, Irish whiskey, a stunning selection of all of my favorite vodkas. I even have a scotch and some high end specialty liquors, like Chambord and Frangellico. Daisy likes to use the Frangellico in coffee drinks.

I love to party, and entertain and drink, but I am down to one night a week now. I am too old to carry on like I used to and I have a good job to hold down. I still like to have my bar though, I find it odd that I get almost as much pleasure out of buying and having the bottles as I do drinking them. Perhaps it is the fact that I *could* drink them any time I wanted. I get a great deal of pleasure out of coming home and just looking at my amazing bar. I have big plans for my basement bar when it happens. I want neon and padded bar stools, I want a small refrigerator and a stunning back bar with shelves and mirrors. I may only have two or three parties a year down there, but what fun in any case.

Crown Royal Special Reserve:
I was in a local bar not long ago, it was happy hour and all drinks were half price. At half price it is fun to go ahead and get the special, expensive liquors that you wouldn't normally order. I asked for a shot of Crown Royal Special Reserve on the rocks. What a splendid example of blended whiskey. Think of the signature smoothness and flavor of a fine Canadian blend like Crown Royal then multiply that by 10. Special Reserve is Crown Royal in a mellow, mature and flavorful prime. I love this stuff, and as you can see from the photo, I bought my own bottle. The bottle pictured was one of my rewards for getting a near perfect evaluation at work and a hefty raise. It would be a shame to mix this one with anything, and there is no need, delicious and smooth right out of the bottle. I highly recommend this Canadian whiskey as a great libation for savoring anytime.

This is day two of my quest to blog each and everyday for 30 days. Enjoy.

A night of Knights near Columbus

It is time for a new post about bars. Since the last one I have been to a few, but nothing really blog-worthy came up. Sometimes the experience is only more of the same in a bar. Occasionally, there just isn't anything interesting going on. This past Friday night, Daisy and I went bowling with a group of co-workers from her office. They are a good bunch of folks and fun to have drinks with. I bowled poorly, in fact I bowled about as shitty as is possible, but what fun in any case. The bowling alley had been remodeled in recent years and looked modern and clean. This is a shame, because bowling alleys were the among the last bastions of mid century cheesiness. Bowling alleys that had survived from the 50's and 60's retained a soiled schmaltz that fairly screamed years gone by. A bowling alley should smell like old beer, cigarettes, and fried mushrooms. The lounge should have a theme of some sort, like a Tiki bar or have a row of stools along a bar with a formica top, so the effect is a bit like a diner only a lot darker. This particular bowling establishment is actually called the "Tiki Lanes" and I can only imagine what it once looked like. Now however, it is completely re-done and retains little of the classic decor.

The lounge area was clean and modern with ambient lighting and decorative art on the walls. It looked like the cafeteria in a large corporation. I expected to see men in suits and ties, chatting intensely about some deal while wolfing down what nourishment could be obtained by the fare offered. The bartenders were two women, who were pleasant and while a bit slow, efficient enough, but when it came to personality, these two may as well been robots. They didn't laugh or flirt and even though I was tipping well for the first few rounds, they refused to hook me up.

The formula is to go into a new bar, politely chat up the barmaid / bartender maybe introduce yourself, and leave a nice tip. Nothing too extravagant, but make sure to point out they can have a tip if the service is good. These girls kept going to the till to get my change, as if it were some sacred duty to make sure I got all of my change. After the second round, crack a joke or two and smile big, maybe ask the bartender a question about work, like, is this place usually busy on weekends? Then put yourself on their side by commenting on how their job is important, and how you couldnt do it on a busy night. If all goes well you can order your third drink and say "Sell me a rum and coke, mostly rum." or my favorite, "Ill have a seven and seven, mostly seven and you know which one". If you did your job, you are now getting hooked up on the drink. In some cases I have had the bartender trying to kill me with the liquor to mixer ratio.
These girls were measuring the liquor and when I used my "mostly rum" line, I was asked if I wanted a double. No, no thanks, I am trying to get you to hook me up damnit!

The drinks were cheap enough in any case and I started to feel good. After two games it was time to bail and move on. Several of the participants wanted to continue and go to a club to drink some more. I was all for this but deferred to Daisy as she was driving and I was ultimately there to be with her, not carousing in a bar all night. I wouldn't have been as much fun without her anyway. But she was game and when it came time to decide where to go, one suggestion was to drive to the Knights of Columbus lodge. One of our friends had a father that was working the bar at the local K of C that night. She assured us he would "hook us up" and the liquor was cheap in any case.

I learned that the K of C is a fraternal organization for Catholic men. While women were there, they were part of the "ladies auxiliary" (I wonder if they have a band?) but apparently not full on members. This drives Daisy nuts and rightly so, but I get the male fraternal organization thing, it is a hold over from a different time. The K of C was an older building but well maintained and had an aire of recent use. We were shepherded into the bar area, but on the way I could see hallways and passages to other parts of the building, maybe to secret rooms where mysterious rites were performed, perhaps high religious and holy mysticism, maybe artifacts, like famous swords and scepters. But I digress, I did see an open door to a large reception hall with a stage in the front. Acceptable for large Catholic wedding receptions.

I really liked the place, it looked just like any other small bar, neon signs and a big screen TV. There were notices on the walls about activities and fund raisers, all good community minded stuff. There were two trophy cases and inside were mementos of gratitude for some odd community or church achievement. There was also gambling. Yes, gambling. One of our party made no secret about the gambling part and she couldnt wait to participate. Sitting on the back bar were two large fishbowl shaped containers filled with odd little booklets, long and skinny but like a tiny matchbooks with pages. They were "Tear offs" or, more aptly named "Rip Offs". For a buck, you get one of these weird little books to rip off at the perforation to reveal if you are a winner. To be a winner you need a "dog bone" which was just that, an image of a dog bone. It was worth $25.00. One of our party friends won 175.00 just like that and it was on, he kept buying drinks and "rip offs" and winning and I only paid for one drink. That one drink was a mere $1.60, a generous tumbler full of Vodka and mixer, a good drink. For a buck sixty, I could have stayed there all night.

I have several impressions of the Knights of Columbus Lodge. The folks were great, friendly and fun, lots of laughing and smiling. The other patrons were mixed ages but older than us. One couple looked to be well advanced in years. I hope I can still rage when I am 80. It is the sense of community that was evident while I was in there. I was welcome, but an outsider, I wasn't Catholic and I wasn't a Knight. I found myself yearning for some of that community, and the cheap liquor of course. Our bartender was amiable and fun, he was obviously amused at this group of heathens in his bar, and expressed it with his generous drink making. No person, not connected with the K of C was going to come through that door. We were with the daughter of the bartender, and we had a key card, the modern equivalent of a secret password. For regulars, that means everyone is a friend or an acquaintance that might be swilling beer next to you.

I will never be a Knight of Columbus (named for Christopher Columbus by the way, not Columbus, Ohio.). I am not Catholic, and never will be, not that I have anything against Catholics, it is just hard to re-think what you grew up with when it comes to religion. I am a Baptist. We do not have clubs where we can fellowship with other Christians while simultaneously gambling and drinking to our hearts content. Baptists would condemn this behavior as sinful, worldly and enough to keep you out of heaven. This place had a photo of the Parish priest and the top Knight, some Bishop hanging in the entry way! Religion and vice, way to go! God probably doesn't care that much if we have a drink or two. That wasn't grape juice at the famed "water into wine" incident in the New Testament, it was wine and I bet it was good wine too. Nothing short of a divine beer run.

Maybe I can become a Moose or an Elk, perhaps and Eagle. All of which have famously cheap drinks in secret bar rooms with key holes for that all important password. Perhaps I could be an Odd Fellow, and go to that building that has the I.O.O.F emblazoned across the eaves.

I just can't help but admire the K of C and the good solid folks that do good things for the community in the name of Christ, but also allow the worldly part of our human experience to exist, if not outright encouraged, in all of us.

Dive Bars

Someday, I wish to write a book or journal about bars, bar culture and bar history. I love bars, and I have given some thought as to why. It is so much more than just the drinking, one can drink very effectively and economically at home. No, to be in a bar be it sipping on a relaxing cocktail or madly power drinking the draft beer special, there are stories, and people and atmosphere surrounding the activities that happen within the confines of a bar. Of course all bars differ in their intent, some are classy places with an eye to the upscale cocktail connoisseur, you know, the black tie piano bar sort of place. Then there are the sports bars, where working men and women go to throw back a few drinks after work or watch the big game on Sunday surrounded by big screen TV's and sports Jerseys hanging on the walls. Some bars are called clubs, where one goes to "hook up" , get and eyeful of each other and if there is enough alcohol, dance. I have always called this sort of bar a "meat market". Sometimes a bar is really a restaurant that sells alcohol. Other times the place is a bar that serves food. In my quest to chronicle bars and bar culture, I realized I need a working definition of what an individual bar is in reality. I have decided to focus my attention on the dive bar, that little place on the corner that has been there for decades. A place your grandfather may have talked about, a place with stories to tell, and cold beer to serve.

What is a dive bar?
Generally speaking it is a small, older bar, it seems that a bar has to decline before it becomes a dive. The bathrooms are small and smelly, the bar is old and scuffed up, the clientèle is working class and the juke box features country music, and beer drinking rock and roll that is 15 years out of date. You know the music I am talking about, AC/DC, Van Halen, Def Lepard. A dive bar can never be a restaurant, but may occasionally sell food. If a true dive bar sells food, it is deep fried and made in a converted mop closet. A good dive needn't be dangerous but sometimes they are. A dive bar typically has a good looking bartender at night, and a not so good looking one during the day. These bars are open in the morning, and stay open till the legal closing time. None of these wimpy midnight or one A.M. closing times for a good dive bar, this puppy will be closed for a whopping 4 hours in our state. Closed at 2 open at 6.
I must admit I have never been in a dive bar at 6 A.M. but I wish to try it sometime. Just go in and order a beer, and the "breakfast sandwich" that is prepared in a micro wave in the mop closet. It would be pretentious to order a bloody mary at a dive bar in the morning. The dives in my town are typical of the genre, they are mere watering holes, places to get a drink, cheap and quick most of the time but come the weekend, or after 5 P.M. they liven up and become almost clubs, in that there are folks trying to party, people trying to forget, men and women trying to hook up. Some of the best times I have ever had on a Saturday night where had at a small dive bar.

Dive bars often smell like Pine Sol, they always smell like old beer, and stale cigarette smoke. Add a few dozen drinkers with all their perfumes and colognes and it becomes a pungent scent indeed, and will instantly bring back memories of dive bars past the moment you get a whiff. Biker types go to dive bars, some dive bars even cater to the biker crowd. I have drank side by side with biker clubs out for the afternoon and they are fine, I usually get a free drink. In a dive bar the selection is usually not very good, as far as the beer and liquor available for consumption. However, this is not always the case and cannot be used as the sole indicator of the dive rating of a bar. There will always be Jim Beam, and Jack Daniels, if you look real hard they may have some rot gut that the old timers drink. Dive bars stock what sells, so these days you will see many bottles of vodka on the shelf, but not so much gin. Wine is almost never found in a dive bar with the possible exception of the wine that comes in miniature bottles with a screw top.

Happy hour at a dive bar starts early and ends late, one of the best happy hours in my town starts at 3pm and goes till 7pm. Draft beers in the large 22 oz. glass are only $2.00. I can put away a lot of $2.00 beer in four hours. Some of the best happy hour prices are to be had at small dive bars so be sure to stop in and have a cold one with the boys one evening after work.

Dive bars always have a pool table, sometimes they have a dart board. You will seldom see anything fancier than that, but occasionally there will be a “Golden Tee” console near the door. Some bars bring in live music on the weekends. These are some of my favorite times, to see a live band and get wasted on cheap liquor. If a bar brings in a band you have actually heard of outside the bar circuit, it is not a dive bar.

One of the best features of this type of bar is the family atmosphere, I don’t mean it is ok to bring the kids and prop the baby up at the waitress station, what I am talking about is the kind of esprit d corps that develops over time. The same folks come in night after night or week after week and friendships are made. Many times the bartender is also the bar owner, and this adds to the family feel of the place. Not all dive bars share this special attribute, some are downright unfriendly and mean. Still it is likely there is still a familial aspect to the place just a mean family.

Recently I took a whirlwind tour of three of Lancaster’s dive bars. I visited each one long enough to enjoy two beers. I tried to visit the restroom in each one as well. Here are my impressions.

Leo’s Bier Haus:

This place is fascinating, it dwells on a busy main street and has a porch around the outside walls. The building looks every bit of it’s century of life. Upon parking on the busy main street, I had to walk around to the side door where there was a ramp and the main entrance. The place was long and narrow and fairly dark, it didn’t smell like Pine Sol so much as just years of partying.

I was immediately struck by the bar and back bar. It was magnificent, long and stretching nearly the entire length of the main hall. While it was festooned with tacky beer signs, bumper stickers and other silly doo dads, I could still see how beautiful this antique was. There was an original mirror in the back and large pillars reaching all the way to the ceiling, at one time they were probably 14 feet tall but today the ceiling is lowered with cheesy acoustic tile. There was a good crowd at Leo’s Bier Haus, it was roughly 4pm on a Saturday afternoon. I noticed there weren’t any liquor bottles on the big, pretty back bar and soon realized they had a beer only license, also the beer selection was pretty lame, three domestic brands on tap and a dozen or so brands in bottles. I was hoping with a name like Leo’s Bier Haus, I could expect rich dark German beers flowing from pewter schooners and buxom beer maids to deliver it. Such is not the case. There was a very warm family atmosphere in this bar, clearly a neighborhood joint and everyone knew each other. I spoke with the bar tender briefly who also owns the joint. She bought it from her father who owned it for over 30 years. She said the building had always been a bar. Taking the long view of this place it was probably a hub for working class men, that would hit it after work in the mill or factory. Over time it became more of a neighborhood hang out.
I got a Budweiser draught, it was served in a frosted mug and was fresh and cold. The price for the 12 oz. mug was $1.75.

The Fairview Inn:

This place is a classic, almost not a dive bar, since it is steeped in tradition and history. Much of that history is retained and is visible at this old bar. This place is called the Fairview, not because the view out the window is “fair” but because it is directly across the street from the Fairfield county fair grounds. So there is indeed a view of the fair, and thus the Fairview inn. The first thing one notices is the antique neon sign hanging outside, the piece looks to be original to the building and has a wonderful patina that only comes from age and years of being in the weather. The sign works too, and is lit every night.

Once inside I was struck by how small the place is, there are several rooms in the back of the main bar room, I found a barstool and sat at the bar. There are also several small booths along the east wall. This bar didn’t smell like Pine Sol, but rather of Ozone, this O3 odor was coming from a medium sized “smokeeter” hanging on the wall. I found this to be a cruel twist of irony since this bar has chosen to enforce the recent state wide smoking ban. Perhaps it was churning away to freshen the hot air coming from the patrons.

At 3:30 in the afternoon, the bar was doing a fair business, the crowd was mixed with men at the bar and a group of women in a booth. The back bar here is quite remarkable with the main feature being the original walk in cooler, and the old wooden doors that allow access to the cooler. Many brands of domestic and imported beer are displayed on shelves just inside the doors, the backlighting accentuating the chill condensation around the glass. There was a great selection of liquor to be had with the usual emphasis on vodka. Top shelf drinks were $4.00, I enjoyed a Blue Moon on tap that was served in a 12 oz. frosted beer mug with the traditional orange slice. I paid $2.00 for this luxurious potable.

There is a sign over the front door proclaiming the Fairview has been serving guests since prohibition. I like this bit of history, in fact the place may have once been an actual “inn” since there are living accommodations above the bar, probably rented as apartments today. There was a wide screen TV, I did not notice a juke box but I assume there was one. The bathrooms were clean but small. I would like to spend a quiet weeknight with a friend drinking and talking the night away in this place. It is a great neighborhood hang out and only barely qualifies as a dive bar.

Sweeny’s:

Here is another bar that was once something greater. There is a grand bar and back bar that probably seats 40 drinkers and extends nearly from front door to rear. The main bar room has 18 foot ceilings that are clad in their original tin tiles. The floor is wooden and it just looks like a brawling 19^th century saloon. The back bar is incredible, overlook the odd garnishes taped hither and thither, and the grandeur of a time long forgotten becomes clear. A massive mirror serves as the back drop surrounded by solid, quarter sawn oak.

The liquor selection was average at best, and the beers were domestic. Sweeny’s doesn’t really know what it is, the bar owners are trying to pass it off as an Irish pub, but putting some shamrocks on the walls and a Guinness sign does not an Irish pub make. They do not even serve Guinness, or Harp. They did have a bottle of Jamisons but not Bushmills. There was a jukebox, it was wired to a dial up connection, so if the song you wanted wasn’t available on the machine, it would go out and search a database and retrieve it for you. The problem here is the dial up, one gentleman had been waiting on a song the entire time we were there. The music selection was average for the genre, the good old boys playing euchre at the end of the bar were complaining about the 80’s rock and roll coming out of the machine.

I ordered a draft beer, it was cold and delicious but was served in a clean but non frosted mug. The bartender was a young woman, who smoked like a chimney, but looked pregnant, perhaps she was just pot bellied and smoking. I questioned her about the history of the place, she didn’t know much but assured me it had been there for as long as she could remember, that accounts for 10 years anyway. The entire time we where there, a cadre of partiers at the west end of the bar were catching a nice buzz and having a good time. Half the group was suddenly in a hurry to leave and one of the gentlemen in the party had just ordered a beer, rather than gulp it down, he gave it to me explaining he hadn’t touched it. So even though it was Bud Light it was free and I drank it.

If Sweeny’s dropped the Irish pub attempt, or even embraced it, one or the other it would be a spectacular drinking establishment.

I have since visited two more bars, and this foray into the wilds of Lancaster’s drinking establishments has just begun, think of this essay as only a reconnoiter exercise. I hope after reading about my adventures, you will be inspired to grab a $20.00 bill and go leave it at the dive bar of your choice.