Churchill Division

Sidetrack vs. Twisted Spoke

A biker bar versus a gay bar.

I’ll leave the South Park references to you.

Due to beverages consumed during this Bar Bracket matchup this post may no make sense. Brain is still recovering, if there is coming back from this.

Let’s start with the Twisted Spoke. Z-bot hooked us up with some sort of an Uber Taxi to get to the bar. I’m confused. First, an Uber Taxi is not Lyft, which puzzles me. Also, Uber Taxi is both a Taxi and an Uber. Mind, blown.

Also, since we went out the weekend of Halloween, Z-Bot went as a pirate (not that he isn’t anyways), Grapes went as a cat, and I went as “Weekend at Bernie’s” so it would not look weird if my friends carried me home from the bar. We met Hans Gruber at the bar, but he did not have a costume, and Mimzie and Mostaccioli eventually joined us, also uncostumed.

After passing Twisted Spoke many times after games at the United Center, the opportunity to finally go excited me. Unfortunately, the weather did not allow us to go up to the rooftop patio, but the main bar suited our purposes well. Or at least it suited my purpose. My purpose was drinking.

If you have trouble locating the Twisted Spoke, just look for the skeleton riding a motorcycle on Ogden. And no, not Nic Cage, he sticks to Broadway. Sometimes he’ll venture onto Division on his happy days.

As for inside the bar, the bar itself is a single, long curved bar with a curved wall, well stocked with many, many (presumably) tasty whiskies.

As for which of those whiskies to drink, earlier in the week I emailed Twisted Spoke to warn that we might have a large group coming in late in the afternoon. (Apparently large group = 6.) I also asked for drink recommendations and Cliff informed me that he didn’t have any recommendations, but that Twisted Spoke has Chicago’s largest whiskey selection.

I mentioned the factoid about Twisted Spoke’s whiskey selection and Kelly (Kelly, Kellie, Kelley?) the bartender told me that the title actually goes to Delilah’s and Twisted Spoke is second. Thanks for embarrassing me, Cliff.

Besides debunking my whiskey trivia, Kelly also proved a good bartender. With Cliff leaving me recommendation-less I decided to ask Kelly for one. Kelly proceeded to ask me a series of binary questions about preferences and eventually we settled on sweet, sweet bourbon.

Luckily at this time of day I had enough sobriety left in my to make it through the questioning.

Somethingorother, premium brand.

Somethingorother, premium brand.

Kelly’s recommendation, and favorite bourbon is Willet Pot Somethingorother. I asked several times and kept forgetting the actual name. Eventually I become too embarrassed to keep asking, but luckily Kelly recommended I take a picture.

It lasts longer.

Fortunately, my tastebuds work better than my memory. Willet Somethingorother is one fine whiskey. Not very sweet for a bourbon, but incredibly smooth and something I enjoyed sipping with a side of ice water. If I understood the finer things in life, I would spend some time dissecting the goodness of the bourbon, or something or other.

At this point it's more garnish than man.

At this point it’s more garnish than man Mary.

In addition to having an army of whiskey bottles behind the bar, Twisted Spoke has a reputation for making some of the best Bloody Mary’s in the city. For my second drink I asked Kelly for a Bloody Mary and also took a moment to explain the Bar Bracket. The “Road Rash” Bloody Mary was better than my explanation.

Personally I enjoy a spicy BM (hehehe), but this one didn’t have much spice. It did have some serious flavors which led me to polish it off rather quickly and seriously consider having a second (or third or fourth or whatever the biggest number I know is. 6?)

Kelly also said that she would do an extra special job with my garnishes, and those garnishes made me smile. Also, for this first time ever, I had a whole, non-diced up, cherry pepper. It confused and delighted me. I thought I ate a pickled jalapeño. (Note to self: find pickled jalapenos, put in Bloody Mary.)

While enjoying my Bloody Mary I reflected on Twisted Spoke’s city-wide whiskey status. At Delilah’s, the one bar to out-whiskey Twisted Spoke, Eric the bartender made the best Old Fashioned I ever had. I figured that maybe Twisted Spoke could rival Delilah’s Old Fashioned, and after a positive consultation with Kelly about her Old Fashioned making abilities I ordered one, leaving the choice of whiskey up to her.

While I can’t find anything wrong with Kelly’s creation, it just isn’t Eric’s Old Fashioned. *Sigh* Also, with things like the Bloody Mary on the menu, I’d say if you visit the Twisted Spoke you should take a Ricardian Comparative Advantage approach to your drinking and invest whatever liver cells you have left in Twisted Spoke’s specialities.

I did not do very diligent research on the history of Twisted Spoke during my visit, but I did run into a regular who said she’s frequented the Twisted Spoke since before my birth. While butchering Sheila’s names several times (Sheila, Shelia, Shelilah, She-Dawg?) in much the same fashion that I could not remember the Willet Somethingorother, I did get to hear the story of Twisted Spoke’s evolution.

Ye’ Olde Spokee as they call it (by they, I mean “I”), has resided at 501 Ogden for quite some time. This confuses me as I have a baby’s grasp on object permanence.

Originally Ye’ Olde Spokee had a very small bar and consisted mostly of a restaurant, which occupied the curved room now serving as our watering hole. Sheila informed me that approximately 11 years ago the Spoke underwent a renovation, making the curved room into a bar and turning the former bar area into a small section of restaurant seating. At least I think she said 11 years ago. I may have forgot as we have already established that I cannot count past 6.

After the renovation and now equipped with much more shelf space, Twisted Spoke slowly evolved into a whiskey bar. Sheila did not sound too pleased by this, but the Spoke still seemed very much her bar, so I guess it’s a bearable change. Also, judging by the food platters I saw coming out, and the tempura bacon that Hans Gruber ordered, I would say that Twisted Spoke has not lost its edge as a restaurant.

Tempura Bacon. Let me repeat. Tempura Bacon.

Tempura Bacon.
Let me repeat.
Tempura Bacon.

 

Something that the Spoke did not keep in tact, at least officially, is Ye’ Olde Margarita Menu. (The Chicago Bar Bracket, bracket of record. Bringing you all the true-ist stories and realest words since 1914.)

According to Sheila, Twisted Spoke used to have three “levels” of Margarita goodness, with the middle level, “Street Walker,”  Sheila’s poison of choice. The other two levels also had names referencing ladies of the night, but those names have gone off to the part of my brain that knows how to do long division and likewise will never see the light of day again. Let’s just say they’re “Scissor Me Xerxes” and “Scissor Me Xerxes II.” (The creative part of my brain has also taken a sabbatical.)

Even though these drinks are off the menu, the bartenders still know how to make them. Now, me, as the typical American Fast Food Secret Menu Aficionado/Fanboy that I am, could hardly resist this forgotten fruit.

Wait, Americans don’t eat fruit. Hold on.

Even though these drinks are off the menu, the bartenders still know how to make them. Now, me, as the typical American Fast Food Secret Menu Aficionado/Fanboy that I am, could hardly resist this forgotten fry.

That’s better.

To accurately sum up the “Street Walker,” I would say it is a margarita. No more or less grand of an explanation is needed for this drink, and I once again redirect you to the Bloody Mary’s.

After paying for a Street Walker to mildly satisfy me, Kelly closed out our tabs and a new set of bartenders came in. I took this as an opportunity to relocate to the other end of our line of 6 bracketers and struck up some conversation with Mimzi and Mostaccioli.

Mostaccioli is upset about her nickname, but I have come across nothing better, so Mostaccioli it remains.

While hanging on the other end of the bar, Mimzi pointed out that Twisted Spoke has Makers Mark Cask Strength amongst their whiskies. My understanding is that Makers only released this to select bars, so naturally I became determined to tangle with this tipple.

But first, water.

As the night wore on I saw a random plate of chicken wings catch fire at a customer’s table. (I assume they ordered Mocking Jay wings.) I believe Twisted Spoke did this intentionally and will give them the benefit of the doubt. Also, I want these flaming wings.

After some recovery waters and watching Mocking Jay catching fire, I decided the time had come to try the Makers Cask Strength. Mimzi decided he had enough of the Spoke, so him and Mostaccioli declined the Makers Cask Strength and left to stop at home before heading over to Sidetrack. Probably a wise move. I assume the whiskey selection overwhelmed Mimzi. For his first drink he stalled out before giving up and ordering “any bourbon and coke,” and then moved onto Old Weller 107, neat, for his second drink. You may remember Old Weller as the rye in our Old Fashioneds at Delilah’s. *sigh*

With Mimzi gone, Z-Bot and I each ordered a Maker’s Cask Strength, neat.

The Maker’s Cask Strength disappointed me. It tasted like a regular Maker’s Mark, just stronger. Now, I’m not against strong liquors, but this did not add anything to the flavor profile and tasted like a waste of money. After a couple sips I poured the rest of mine into Z-Bot’s glass, partially to make more time for recovery waters. Definitely a case of “Smerga dersh dersh Caska money Makers Mark” here with the MM Cask Strength, both in terms of inebriation and finances.

And now, for the highlight of the night: Sean, the Lyft driver. Man, I wish I wrote this post immediately after the Lyft ryde so I could capture the full essence of Sean. After the ride we asked Sean to party with us, but no, he decided to work instead. I guess if you bring as much party as Sean then it’s a pretty big commitment to come party.

Anyways, Sean: very knowledgeable about beer, likes to party, enjoys the vino, recommended party trolleys (I put him on the search for the mysterious Chicago Irish Pub themed trolley I spotted a year ago, but have failed to find on the interwebs), and enjoyed me spouting nonsense about things like the Bar Bracket, our various Beerlympics, and the 2013 Beer Year. (Some day I’ll do posts summing up Beerlympics and Beer Year. Someday…)

Basically, if you’re ever taking a Lyft in Chicago, keep canceling your drivers until you see that someone named Sean is on his way to pick you up.

Now, Sidetrack.

We arrived with no line, but I managed to make myself wait anyways as I struggled to remember how the Lyft app works. Apparently the app must involve long division given the difficulty I had recalling all of its two features.

I entered Sidetrack after my delay, but my friends had disappeared. Luckily, Sidetrack had not opened most of the bars, rooms & lounges, so I only aimlessly wandered around the front bar until my friends returned from the bathroom.

Earlier in the week I tweeted at Twisted Spoke and Sidetrack asking for drink recommendations. Twisted Spoke did not reply (maybe because I accidentally tweeted the wrong Twisted Spoke at first), but Sidetrack did reply and recommended the “Purple Slushie,” aka Ketel One Krush, a currant flavored frozen. As the Twitter gods of Sidetrack recommended this, I naturally ordered a round for the group. Also, as I typed this, I just realized that I ate K.O.K. at a gay bar.

For those who have not experienced it, K.O.K. tastes like purple and sugar. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy me my purple and sugar, and I enjoyed this drink along with the rest of the group. Sadly I have some weird condition where if I drink too much overly sugared alcoholic drinks, then my back hurts. I dunno, science. Also, brain freeze, but that’s probably a result of me enjoying it too quickly.

Anyways, after the group polished off four K.O.K.’s I went to ask Calvin the bartender for another drink recommendation. Calvin seemed busy dealing with other guests and flashed me his hand with 5 fingers spread out. I figured this meant “hold on” or “give me 5 seconds,” so I just nodded “sure” and spaced out.

Apparently, Calvin had asked if I wanted 5 more Purple Slushies. Thank god he didn’t ask if I wanted more than 6 or my brain would have exploded.

After Calvin brought out the 5 Purple Slushies we figured out the miscommunication. I offered to pay for them, and felt pretty bad about the ordeal, but Calvin insisted that I just take them. Good choice for my wallet, bad choice for my liver, and once again, oddly for my back.

King Jim, L-Dawg, Mimzi and Mostaccioli showed up while the rest of us worked on the Purple Slushies. Also, some of the other bars and rooms started opening up. Z-Bot offered to buy me a drink after the bar just South of the main bar opened, so King Jim, Z-Bot and I adjourned to investigate the new area.

At this bar I continued my tradition of hassling bartenders for recommendations, and Ryan, the bartender, seemed confused after I turned down more Purple Slushie. Eventually Ryan poured out some delicious Rumchata-Fireball shots and joined us for the round.

Not remembering where the idea for shots came from, I once again started hassling Ryan for a drink recommendation and eventually received a beer of some sort. Hooray Beer!

Satisfied with my drink selection, we returned to the main bar where Daddy-Brother and D-Name soon joined us. Sorry about the lame names L-Dawg and D-Name, we need to have a consultation. Goes for Daddy-Brother too.

With my gay entourage for the night fully assembled, I asked King Jim, D-Name and Daddy-Brother to give me a proper tour of Sidetrack.

Sidetrack is huge.

As we explored the multiple floors and wandered from room to room, from bar to lounge, and went indoors and outdoors, the tour made me feel like I had ventured into the cavern of continuing surprises. Also, if I was gay, I would totally call my butt “The Cavern of Continuing Surprises.” Dibs.

I don’t know why Sidetrack reminded me of this, but the bar felt very much like every night club I went to in Australia back in 2007. I dunno, something with the Space-Time continuum connects 2007 Australia with a 2014 gay bar in Chicago. I must learn their secret and travel back in time to reclaim my youthful, non-cirrhosis riddled body.

Along the way we grabbed some drinks from a couple of different bars throughout Sidetrack, including one bar just North of the main bar. I believe the bartender at this bar was also named Ryan, but Ryan II was kinda mean. (the only non-delightful bartender in this gargantuan establishment, and honestly, if I had to deal with myself harassing myself about getting the best drink possible all night, I’d be mean too), Anyways, Ryan II’s drinks definitely made up for any fault in his service. Also, Ryan II was the only bartender in costume, so that was appreciated. I think he was a lion. Not a gay lion, not a slutty lion, just a lion.

After consulting my phone, it appears Ryan did not go as a Lion. He went as a Twins fan.

After consulting my phone, it appears Ryan did not go as a Lion. He went as a Twins fan.

 

If you have kept track, you can probably guess that my mental faculties had deteriorated greatly by this time of night. This is evidenced by the fact that I thought Scooby Doo was mean to me.

I went to the main bar for my last drink, and spent a good deal of time discussing the Bar Bracket with an older and very friendly bartender. I told this gentleman that I needed to have the best drink he could make so I could appropriately judge Sidetrack. He obliged, and I think I had something delicious, but I can’t remember what he served me. Probably water.

To sum up my state of mind, Hans Gruber informed me that by the end of the night I was still stringing real words together, but they made no sense. An example he gave is “Yeah, but Shane is bringing the paper towels.” I said this without any of my friends named Shane in attendance. Also, nobody needed or asked for paper towels. I figure maybe I was hoping for some paper towels thinking I needed all tools available to dry out my liver at this point.

Also, If you want to peek inside my state of mind, here is a screenshot of the texts I sent to myself to record things for this blog post.

That's right, say words.

That’s right, say words.

 

Now, for the voting.

I liked both bars, but I did not fall in love with either of them as I have with other bars in the Bracket.

Twisted Spoke has a good staff, huge whiskey selection, and a food menu that I will definitely return for. Also, the bar is very well put together, and they do Smut and Eggs at midnight on Saturdays. Hans Gruber and I wanted to return to Twisted Spoke after Sidetrack for this, but the plan went out the door given Tummies sambuca, Manhattan. Done with me.

Sidetrack is an extremely welcoming and huge bar, and was much less ‘and boots and pantsy’/club like than I expected. The lack of ‘boots-and-pantsness’ might be because of the time of night we attended, and I’m guessing the day after Halloween is usually a bit slower.

At Twisted Spoke I drank several types of drinks that I like, but none of them (except the Bloody Mary) really wowed me. At Sidetrack I drank many drinks that I usually don’t have, but they were all delicious.

At the end of the day I ended up voting for Twisted Spoke.

I think the main reason I voted for Twisted Spoke is because I just felt more comfortable there. I’m not saying this because of the environment or company, I’m saying I was literally more comfortable slumping on their bar with a backed stool instead of roaming the lounges and standing around tables at Sidetrack.

As for the people, I’d say Sidetrack definitely won. Twisted Spoke didn’t have bad bartenders by any stretch of the imagination – Kelly was entertaining and efficient, and really tried to cater to what we liked – but as I said before the entire staff of Sidetrack is delightful. Also, I think I saw at least one dude checking me out at Sidetrack, which is at least a small, albeit meaningless ego boost.

I really believe I may have voted differently if I had just tried to order things I like at Sidetrack and seen how well they could do them instead of relying on recommendations.

As for the rest of the group:

Hans Gruber voted for Twisted Spoke.

Mostaccioli and Grapes voted for Sidetrack, no reason given.

Z-Bot voted for Sidetrack. He said that Twisted Spoke just felt very generic and didn’t do anything too special. He also said it felt more like a restaurant.

Mimzi voted for Sidetrack, saying

“Sidetrack is more the type of bar I would go to if I was going out. Unless I’m with a gay Sherpa, it’s not a place I’m going to frequent though, since it’s like I’m crashing their party.

It’s more likely I would go back to Twisted Spoke but I would go there for day or dinner drinks, not where I would go at night.

So given all that, Sidetrack.”

And Mimzi voting down a whiskey bar is saying something, at least in my opinion.

The gay entourage and L-Dawg did not get votes because they didn’t go to Twisted Spoke with me.

So, overall Sidetrack wins this 8 vs. 9 match up with a score of 4-2.

I think I will revisit Twisted Spoke at some point in the future, but unlike other fallen bars that I want to revisit, Twisted Spoke is not a bar that I wish could have stayed in the bracket. I don’t think anything is wrong with Twisted Spoke, I enjoyed it a lot and would have been fine with it advancing (I did vote for it after all), but I also don’t think it would have had much staying power in the bracket.

As for Sidetrack, I’m kinda glad it won despite my vote. The atmosphere and staff were great, and the overall environment and layout of the bar is definitely unique compared to other bars in the bracket. I think this uniqueness could do some damage and potentially get Sidetrack to at least the Sweet 16. Also, I’m excited to go again and see what their bartenders can do if I just stick to ordering my own drinks instead of relying on recommendations.

If you’d like to read individual reviews about these two great Chicago bars, feel free to check out their reviews on my Google+ Page.

If you want to stay up to date on my quest for the best bar in Chicago, then feel free to like or follow on Facebook and Twitter.

As for the immediate future of the bracket, I hope to have a review of “Imbibe!” up within the next week, and later this month I’ll venture out with Rebecca and others to see whether Au Cheval or The Happy Village is the best bar in Chicago.

Duke of Perth vs. Archie’s Iowa Rockwell Tavern

A divey, divey tied bar versus a Scottish pub.

Life Pro Tip: Always bring beer on the Metra.

Started this matchup out at The Wheach’s place in the burbs again and took the Metra to Union Station. We learned from our previous freshman follies and came equipped with a round or several of canned Coronas. The fanciest of Coronas.

After boarding the train we met up with Speakeasy who boarded at the previous station. Speakeasy had already started a sixer of Banquet Beer Light by the time we found him, a sign of a good Bar Bracketer. First piece of business: get Speakeasy an alias for the Chicago Bar Bracket. You may have guessed, but we ended up going with Speakeasy.

After some deep thought and stimulating conversation on the train we arrived at Union Station and hopped in a cab. No fun Lyft driver stories here.

However, as the cabbie attempted to “turn” onto Iowa we informed him that traffic happened to only go the other way on this street. The cabbie launched into a full scale, DEFCON level 1 rant, mostly about the terribleness of driving people to random parts of the city. Much like Olan, the Lyft driver who yelled at us about “slamming” doors, I feel like this cabbie may want to rethink his career choices.

Soon enough we “arrived” at Archie’s Iowa Rockwell Tavern. I use “arrive” with hesitation because we selected a drop off location about a block from the bar in an attempt escape the cabbie’s fury.

Not too often you find an old Hamm's tied house in the wild.

Not too often you find an old Hamm’s tied house in the wild.

The official arrival at Archie’s did not surpass the whimsy of our partial “arrival”. To compare arrivals to fireworks, the arrival at Archie’s was probably a black cat. And a dud black cat at that.

We entered a bar featuring a sole patron who I can only assume is a permanent fixture of the Northwest corner of the bar. I imagine his faded windbreaker as the modern equivalent of mummification.

After a couple minutes of waiting for Bradley, our bartender, to come back inside we ordered a Hamm’s & Jim Beam for $5. A deal I am definitely not opposed to and one which stuck out to The Wheach on the tavern’s surprisingly solid beer list. We each got a round of Hamm Beams and both refreshers went down with equal parts deliciousness and smoothness.

While settling into the bar I noticed several mementos tacked onto the frame above the mirror behind the bar. Seeing this as an excellent opportunity to find a new home for my newly acquired Chicago Bar Bracket business cards I approached Bradley with my proposal. Unfortunately the honor of immortalization at Archie’s is reserved for regulars who have moved away. One of our first signs that Archie’s is very much a bar for its regulars.

For my second round I asked Bradley if he had any recommendations. He recommended beer. I pressed on and asked him for his favorite beer and he suggested a Vandermill Cider, eventually steering me to his favorite: ginger & peach. It was not my cup of cider. The Wheach did not appreciate me telling Bradley this when asked for my opinion. The Wheach has a general objection to me giving honest reviews of food and booze to my servers and purveyors of alcohol.

Fresh off insulting Bradley’s taste in ciders and with the rejected business card proposal still very much a sour point, we decided it was appropriate to come up with a second proposition for Bradley. Speakeasy had a profound fondness for Archie’s old-timey cash register. Most likely because it looks like it belongs in an actual speakeasy. Unfortunately our efforts to purchase the cash register did not succeed.

Most likely full of wooden nickels.

Most likely full of wooden nickels.

 

As appropriate for this hour of the day (5:30pm), Speakeasy initiated the regular Bar Bracket inquisitions regarding an adventure into the land of Malort. Speakeasy and I each ordered a shot of Malort after setting our priorities straight and grabbing some more Hamm Beams. The Wheach sat out. I figure The Wheach still had his sobriety intact if he operates how I do in regards to offers of Malort.

Malort v BAC

Somehow I’m able to take Malort while in a coma but not quite dead.

 

After ‘Malortin it up’ we removed ourselves from the bar to a couple of tables in the center of the bar. While moving through the bar I also noticed a giant pine cone near the window. Naturally I asked Bradley if I could invite the pine cone to party with us. Bradley had no objections and soon enough the pine cone joined the Chicago Bar Bracket. The pine cone did not receive an alias.

Temporarily displacing Sir Osis as the Chicago Bar Bracket mascot.

Temporarily displacing Sir Osis as the CBB’s mascot.

For the rest of my time at Archie’s  I reserved part of my brain for debating the pros and cons of stealing this pine cone. Luckily I feel my years of klepto-inebriation have passed, for the better or worse, much like other things in life like my diet or respect for bartenders  feelings in regard to the reviews of the drinks they serve.

Our interests shifted to the bar’s many boardgames as we enjoyed our Hamm Beams and recovered from the Malort shots. We originally settled on Clue, but The Wheach exploded when I informed the group that I didn’t remember how to play Clue. Apparently it’s too complex to explain. Even the pine cone mocked me.

After several suggestions and vetoes of various games, Speakeasy proposed a dice game he knew of from his travels through life: 7-14-21. This is a game I vaguely remember from past experience, or maybe just hearing it mentioned, but I found it enjoyable enough to include here.

 

7-14-21

Take five dice. The first person rolls all five dice, setting aside any 1’s. If the player rolled any 1’s then they roll again, and keep re-rolling the remaining dice until they successfully roll no 1’s. If the player happens to set aside all five dice because he/she managed to roll five 1’s then they pick up all five dice and take another turn.

As you pass dice between turns the cumulative count of 1’s rolled is carried over to the next player. For example, if the first player rolled two 1’s, then the count would be 2 when the second player receives the dice. If the second player then rolls one 1, the count will be 3 when the third player receives the dice and so on.

The player who eventually brings the total to 7 gets to pick a shot. Any shot.

The player who brings the total to 14 has to pay for said shot.

And the player who brings the total to 21 has to take the shot.

Starting when the total hits 17 you start using 21 – (cumulative total) as the number of die to roll when starting a turn, instead of the regular five.

For the third round we added in an extra rule. Each player started with a shot of Jim Beam in front of them. If you rolled a six you were allowed to move your Beams to the left. If you rolled 2 sixes then you could move two Beams to your left (or 1 Beam two spaces), and so on.

The pine cone did not excel at this game. I have a feeling that the pine cone did not add much to our group besides cobwebs and dust.

We played three rounds of 7-14-21, dishing out a shot of tequila with a pickle back, a prairie fire (the three of us agreed that we like prairie fires), and a cement mixer (made with Kahlua due to a lack of Bailey’s).

On the third round Speakeasy suggested a cement mixer, had to buy it, and had to take it, in addition to ending with all three shots of Beam. The Wheach and I vetoed Speakeasy taking four shots and confiscated two of the Beams. Throughout the night Speakeasy made clear that he could still take two more shots if needed (or allowed).

After wrapping up our third round of 7-14-21 (and asking many people at Archie’s to play with us) we decided to head to Duke of Perth.

With the mental scars still fresh from our cabbie encounter we decided to summon a Lyft and after a short battle with the Verizon overlords KImmie arrived at Iowa & Western. Cool fact: Kimmie is her actual name, not short for Kimberly.

Judging by the piss-poor quality of my conversational efforts during this Lyft ride, I can officially say that the Metra and Archie’s got me drunk. In short Kimmie was probably one of if not the best Lyft drivers I’ve ever had. Meanwhile I acted like myself, which sounds atrocious.

I have decided to have The Wheach sum up the Kimmie Confessions as I feel I cannot do my readers justice when trying to recollect the lows of my attempted conversation. You you can find The Wheach’s account towards the bottom of this post.

Apparently the Duke of Perth is not a Hamms tied bar.

Apparently the Duke of Perth is not a Hamms tied bar.

Good Whiskey. Even better Bartender.

Good Whiskey. Even better Bartender.

As Kimmie most likely praised god for being done with me, we arrived at the Duke of Perth.

What Archie’s lacked for in terms of first impressions the Duke more than made up for, both in terms of ambiance and the service we immediately received from the hostess, Maggie, and the bartender, Mike.

I asked Mike about personal favorites and his favorite drink to serve. He replied beer. I eventually pried some beer recommendations out of him and had a Twisted Thistle IPA. The IPA pleased me. Not too hoppy, but with bold flavors.

I apologized to Mike for pestering him about drink recommendations and explained my desire to have a genuine Duke experience for the Bar Bracket.

I believe the mention of the Bar Bracket is what sparked the interest of Jamie W., a 25 year veteran patron of The Duke and overall good guy. We quickly spiralled into a conversation about what makes a good bar – a fairly valuable discussion for someone comparing bars – and a meta bar conversation about what makes good bar conversations. We agreed that good conversation is a sign of a good bar.

Jame W. who knows his Scotch and I suspect is the actual Duke of Perth.

Jame W. who knows his Scotch and I suspect is the actual Duke of Perth.

 

As I’m sure happens frequently in Scottish pubs we soon ran into the topic of Scotch. I used my standard line about “I’m not really a Scotch drinker because I feel you have to pay a lot of money before you get something worth drinking whereas you can get a good bourbon on the cheap.” Given my current state at the time I’m sure this came out as “Smerga dersh dersh Scotcha money Makers Mark.”

Scotchy Scotch Scotch Scotch. And Mike

Scotchy Scotch Scotch Scotch.
And Mike

Jamie would not stand for this. He said he would buy me a good Scotch. And holy shit did he buy me a good Scotch. I took a picture because I feared my feeble mind could not remember this elixir.

I’m not sure what this drink cost, so I’m not sure if Jamie’s offering really countered my “Smerga dersh dersh” proposition. Regardless, it definitely changed my mind about Scotch.

While working on our Scotches and beer, Jamie introduced to a couple more regulars and Nick, an off duty Duke bartender.

Eventually our hunger caught up with us and we moved over to a table to enjoy the first bar food of the Chicago Bar Bracket.

I had the fish and chips. I vaguely remember a lot of peas. Probably an amount inedible by any human.

The Wheach also had the fish and chips, which is surprising because it took him till about halfway through his meal to remember he does not like fish. The Wheach had a rather daring night, as he also drank most of a gin martini despite not being a fan of gin. And by not a fan I mean he would probably drink cinnamon and gasoline before gin.

Sadly, The Wheach has successfully done a cinnamon challenge, so the cinnamon and gasoline suggestion may not be too far off the mark.

After waking up for work at 5:30 am this particular Saturday I quickly approached “let’s go take a nap in the cab on the way to Union Station” mode. That may be what I did. Maybe not. But maybe.

Before doing a recap of the two bars and revealing the votes, I’m going to post the promised Wheach writeup. This is my segue.

Goober (Plunger) has asked me to fill in some of the spaces of our expedition to Archie’s Iowa Rockwell Bar and The Duke of Perth. I’m happy to oblige as his conversation with Kimmie the Lyft driver was really something to behold. After the very interesting (read: screamy) first cab ride, I must say, Kimmie was a delight. She was very nice and I didn’t get the “I’m going to get murdered if I gently shut her car door” vibe from her that I’ve received on a prior Lyft experience. Her car also smelled very nice and was overall quite comfortable. It’s no secret that I’ve generally been very leery of the ride-sharing movement in general, but people like Kimmie help to ease my mind a bit.

Anyway, we were all having a great conversation, making small talk, etc, until Goober veered us off the road. I’m pretty sure this is the point in the day that Goober turned from kinda normal buzzed-drunk and having a good time to taking the Blackout Choo Choo to his stop at Shitfaced Station. Now I fear I’m going to do a bit of a disservice to exactly how much Goober screwed the pooch with Kimmie because I can’t remember the exact phrasing but I can definitely provide the gist. I have been consulting with Speakeasy regarding the specific language but sadly he can’t remember either. Though I’ve heard that Kimmie now follows CBB on Twitter so Kimmie, if you’re reading this, feel free to correct me. Anyway, it went a little something like this:

Goober (in response to Kimmie): Well, you don’t have the best looking face in the world.

Kimmie: What??

Goober: You know what I mean!

Kimmie, The Wheach and Speakeasy: What, that she’s ugly?

Goober: No, no, just….there’s like…well there’s like better faces in the world (starting to look concerned he’s digging himself deeper).

Now, you need to realize that everything Goober is saying is coming out of his mouth with a tone like he’s the most suave dude Kimmie has ever met followed by complete confusion as to why she’s not melting for him. Meanwhile, the rest of us are more or less flabbergasted and myself and Speakeasy are honestly getting more shocked by the moment that Kimmie hasn’t kicked us out yet.

The other memorable component of the conversation during the drive was Goober peppering in increasingly personal questions about Kimmie’s life and family members. Perhaps out of kindness, perhaps out of pity, or perhaps out of the assurance that there was no way Goober would remember any of this, Kimmie was surprisingly forthcoming. Goober managed to find out her child’s name, her school and the general area in which they live. I was waiting for his next line of questioning to involve her child’s class schedule or perhaps blood type, but sadly (or mercifully) the Lyft ended before reaching that level of privacy invasion. Of course by the end of the ride Goober’s sentences were not so much compromised of words so much as stuttering baby talk. In any event Kimmie was the best cabbie we’ve ever had and I can’t wait to go to her child’s flute recital next month.

In general I’d say the Bar Bracket is bringing even more of the Goober out of Goober, which 1.) I thought (hoped?) was impossible and 2.) Is only going to lead to more stories of this ilk.

Oh yeah, the vote:

Archie’s is a bar that I would be at almost every day if I lived within walking distance. The Hamm Beams are really hard to beat after a day at ol’ salt mines. That said, if you aren’t a regular, it might not be the best spot for you. Duke of Perth was a warm, welcoming pub where I felt like old friends with customers and employees alike.

 

Duke of Perth by a mile.

 

Wheach Out

Archie’s is overall a pretty standard corner dive bar based on what I used to see when I worked on the Miller Lite beer trucks. Although, to Archie’s credit, it definitely did not smell as bad as most of those dives. The comparable bar in the Bracket, at least physically, to Archie’s is probably Quencher’s, but that really doesn’t give Quencher’s the credit it deserves. Quenchers had multiple rooms, a patio, more dive bar nick-nacks, and one hell of a beer list. Plus Quencher’s had Uncle Rick, the bartender.

Still, based on first appearances Archie’s had a surprisingly good beer list. Also, Bradley dealt with us in a friendly manner, even if we didn’t dive into conversation.

The big downside to Archie’s is that it felt like a bar in existence almost exclusively for its regulars. Really, the Bar felt like the adult version of the kid’s parents’ house that has a pool table in the garage and the parents don’t care about drinking. That or the real life version of a Moe’s tavern. I assume the person planted in the Northwest corner to be Barney Gumble in this analogy. Either way it felt like the bar had a Cheers-esque connection between the common patrons and bartenders – a connection that left us on the outside looking in.

Meanwhile the Duke of Perth definitely fell on the other end of the bar spectrum. The Duke is not a high falutin’ fancy place, but they nailed everything about being a pub. The Duke had a great atmosphere with a sharp bar & bartender to go with it. The staff greeted you immediately and overall it felt like you always had service while the staff also kept their distance and gave you privacy.

Additionally, the Duke had it’s own militia of regulars (as The Wheach said, there were more regulars out this night than in the Revolutionary War) and the Duke’s regulars came across as approachable and willing to bring us into their conversation. They also came across as very proud of their bar (and interested in the Duke’s success in the Bar Bracket).

At the end of the day, in my quest to find the best bar in Chicago this was probably the easiest decision so far. Speakeasy, The Wheach and I all agreed that the Duke of Perth is the better bar. Also, and don’t take this as any disrespect to Archie’s, but Archie’s feels like the first bar that I don’t feel any disappointment about having to vote down. The Duke is simply better.

If you still feel like reading more individualized reviews of each bar, feel free to check out the reviews on the Chicago Bar Bracket Google+ Page.

If not, cheers until the next time I go hunting for Chicago’s best bar.