Beer

Au Cheval vs. The Happy Village

A Restaurant and a Wreck

Plus a brew pub and the final countdown.

For the uninitiated, welcome to ChicagoBarBracket.com.

Over the next several years I am doing an NCAA style competition between 68 bars in Chicago. I hope to survive and find the best bar in Chicago.

For anyone who actually reads this blog, my apologies for not posting. Holidays, my brothers passing and my now former job all impeded my imbibing.

Now, enough tsk-tsk and more gulp-gulp.

Back in November I did a matchup between Au Cheval and The Happy Village.

I started writing this post the day after the matchup, but kept getting side tracked (and no, not the Sidetrack). I struggled to describe the Au-Village experience partially because I wanted to change my writing style, partially because Au Cheval isn’t a bar (more of a diner), and mostly because The Happy Village really sucked.

I’m sorry I’m not a good enough writer to think of a more clever way to say it, but The Happy Village sucked and it is a brutal endeavor to find not unpleasant things to say about it.

I tried writing the post sober, I tried writing the post drunk, and even tried the hopefully solid method of writing while on the throne, but nothing worked.

Now, just for the sake of getting The Happy Village out of my mind and onto paper, I’m going to start with the review of The Happy Village before going onto the rest of the night’s happenings.

The Happy Village

“The place sucks. The staff couldn’t have cared less about us, the place was a dump (and i’ve been to divey bars, but this one …sucked). The crowd playing ping pong was pretty friendly, but the overwhelming apathy of the staff killed our buzz whenever we made contact with them. Maybe it’s a strategy to make people hate their lives and want to drink more. Maybe it’s a ploy to be so miserable so that everyone else coming to the bar is happy in comparison.

The beer garden seemed nice. Unfortunately it was too cold to enjoy and I guess that’s not The Happy Village’s fault, but I feel like they would probably take credit for that inconvenience if they could.

After finally getting one of the bartenders to talk a bit, I learned that the bar has operated since or before prohibition. Personally I think they should have abolished it along with prohibition.

Other than that, everything in the bar felt like it was on a slant, especially the bathroom. Because of this I wouldn’t recommend going here unless you want to know what it’s like to be an Irishman on the Titanic”

Now, as for the rest of the night, we started off pretty early, which isn’t saying much given my history with the Bar Bracket. This is done mostly so I don’t have to deal with lines and also have an opportunity to talk to the bartenders before they end up in the weeds.

And by “night” I am using a fairly liberal definition of the word. Shit Stain & I started off by joining Speakeasy & The Wheach for some lunch beers out in Naperville. Shit Stain & I followed this with some pre-training (my new word for pregaming on the train) on the Metra BNSF. From what I’ve observed on the BNSF I’m starting to thing it stands for Beer! No Sober Fucks.

Eventually we made it Union Station and found Au Cheval around 4:45. Unfortunately, Mimsy, Shitstain and I were on time, but The Razor was busy listening to Taylor Swift or working, or something. This is unfortunate because we came primarily for drinks and just wanted a seat at the bar, but Mike the host wouldn’t seat us until our whole party arrived.

Well, I shouldn’t point fingers at Mike, I’m sure it’s Au Cheval’s policy and he has a job to do. Also, I figure it’s well within Au Cheval’s rights to make this policy considering how long the wait got later in the night.

Now, about that countdown for The Rocket. The first and best idea we had was to wet our whistles elsewhere and managed to do so at the conveniently located Haymarket Pub & Brewery across the street.

As a note on Haymarket, this is a bar that people constantly ask me about when I first mention the Bar Bracket. Haymarket is not one of the bars that made the bracket. Normally I would interject the word “unfortunately” into that sentence (Unfortunately I qualify about 50% of all sentences with the word), but in this case I feel nothing is lost by not including Haymarket.

Let me be clear, Haymarket’s brew’s are delicious, but the bar itself felt pretty unremarkable. Clean and comfortable, but generic. Service was nice, but a bit slow. Maybe we would have had a different experience with a table, but I don’t see the attraction of coming back here (besides the brews.)

After The Rocket landed we departed Haymarket and went back to Au Cheval.

It was almost fitting to go to Au Cheval after Haymarket because I have received just about as much criticism about Au Cheval being on the bracket as I have received regarding Haymarket’s absence.

Still, I’m stubborn about sticking to the method I created for trying to objectively pick the bars for the bracket, even if the voting on the matchups themselves is entirely subjective.

We returned to Au Cheval to find an hour and a half wait time, but ended up seated almost immediately. One major perk to grabbing some of those tasty brews at Haymarket after putting our names down. And luckily for my cause we were seated at the bar.

The cocktail menu was small, but well crafted, and everyone enjoyed their selection of beverages. I had the Horse’s Neck, and it was delicious. I also tried Mimsi’s Old Fashioned, which was also delicious. Despite being a restaurant I feel like these drinks definitely made Au Cheval well suited to put up a fight in the Bar Bracket.

As for the food. It. Was. Delicious. I really wish I had wrote this part sooner so I could give Au Cheval more honors in this department, but all I’ll leave you with is the knowledge that this little steak-looking things are slices of bacon (or bacons, as us cultured folks say):

BACONS!

Now, despite everyone enjoying Au Cheval, 100% of the group thought that The Happy Village would dominate it just by being an actual bar bar.

It didn’t.

I may have mentioned that it sucked.

Au Cheval won this matchup 4-0 and I’m excited to go back, but still have concerns about how it will face up against an actual bar that doesn’t suck.

As for the rest of the night, we left Happy Village and checked out the nearby Club Foot. This was Club Foot’s last night open to the general public (and hence my opportunity to toss in a Final Countdown reference.)

Club Foot was a blast for a plethora of reasons, and it’s sad to know that it’s gone while Happy Village stands.

Shit Fountain, USA

Other adventures of the night include finding an actual “Shit Fountain,” Shit Stain earning the name Shit Stain at a hotel later in the night, several interesting Lyft rides, a trip to Fado’s in River North, and I think some tacos and horchata (yes, they do make a ‘chata without rum in it).

I will spare you my drawn out stories about these adventures partially because they have faded from my memory due to time and alcohol, but also because I suck at telling them.

Right now my employment is up in the air which might slow down the bracket, but hopefully I won’t go another 4 months without posting again.

Until then, I guess you can stop worrying about a bracket for the best bar in Chicago and just focus on the real bracket.

Champaign Bar Bracket

Or how we just went to Murphy’s.

Ah, first road trip of the Chicago Bar Bracket. Well, unless you count the Metra rides and accumulated Lyft journeys as a road trip. I guess they did involve roads and small trips.

Regardless, a return to ye olde University of Illinois, where I paid good money for a piece of paper to put on a wall and much more money to pump vast quantities of yeast’s shit through my liver.

After trekking down 57 at completely legal speeds I arrived at Renaked and Daddy’s (aka Stir Fry’s) new house. Arrival on campus felt weird as for the first time in about a decade I felt like I had not come home, but felt like an actual visitor.

While glad to see Renaked and Daddy, I felt a little disappointed. Keeping with my innate ability to forget things while traveling, I forgot to bring a house warming bottle of booze for the Renaked Daddies. To compensate I called Mimsi and Mostaccioli to put in a request for Daddy.

In the classiest of Illini fashions, Daddy wanted Ice Bombs (more on that later), so I put in an order of UV Blue. I’ve never actually bought UV Blue before, so I thought I had a respectable bottle (~$30) to give as a housewarming gift. Liver Pro Tip: for those unaware of UV Blue’s general scumminess, it’s not a fancy/expensive bottle. I guess the bottle is representative of the gifter.

Wish the Renaked Daddies’ liquor cabinet freshly stocked with cheap booze, we moved on with our plans for the evening. Originally we (I) planned to name every room of Renaked and Daddy’s new home, then proceed to party in them in bracket-style fashion. Bracket-style fashion means that we would party in two rooms at a time, decide which room makes the better bar and advance the superior room.

Our grand plans were left blowing in the wind as we quickly became three sheets to said wind.

For perspective, if I had a can of beer and a bottle of liquor for each can of beer and bottle of liquor at Renaked-Daddy’s house, I’d be too lazy to count them. Let’s just say the alcohol flowed like the salmon of Capistrano and move onto the more important activities of the night: drinking games.

For reasons unknown to sane people, the group asked me for a drinking game suggestion. I rapidly suggested Bourbon, a drinking game I made up several years ago on the Bourbon Trail.

Back in yester-year, I created Bourbon after The Wheach requested a new game while walking towards the bathroom. I also managed to finish designing the game before The Wheach could drop a full BM. Obviously one of my prouder moments, and given my general behaviour on the Bourbon Trail one of the few I’m glad to reminiscence about from that trip.

I’ll skip over the details of Bourbon for this blog post. It’s something you just have to play. It’s mostly a derivative of Irish Poker with betting tossed in and no pyramid with a small mix of Go Fish. There’s also a play called “Wild Turkey.” If you’re still following me at this point, now is a good time to make an appointment with your therapist.

We finished the game of Bourbon quick enough and without any Wild Turkeys. Somehow the group still had confidence in me and trusted my decision to play Dice Game next. I don’t remember if Dice Game is something I invented, or something passed onto me, but it’s simple enough so I’ll include it below.

Dice Game

Requirements: 6 cups, 1 die.
(No, this is not the name of a terrible internet video.)

Line the cups up in a row and number them 1-6.

Have one person roll the die.

If the corresponding cup is empty, that person gets to pour any amount of beer into that cup.

If the cup has beer in it, that person drinks the contents.

After rolling/filling/drinking, pass the die to the left.

Welp, that’s pretty much the game. Let me know how it goes the morning after you play, cause you’re sure as hell not gonna be able to speak after a couple rounds of Dice Game.

Daddy sat out Dice Game because he needed his sobriety intact so he could pick up his brother, Daddy-Brother, from the train station.

You may have noticed, but our group has a slight aversion to sobriety.

We quickly raised a pot of cash to pay for a cab so Daddy could drink, and just as soon Mimsi converted the pot to a stack of singles, the most appropriate way to pay for things. Also, someone hatched the idea that I should pay the cabbie, shirtless.

Going outside, shirtless, to pay a cabbie who is dropping off two gay guys may as well be my middle name, so I obliged without question. In retrospect I feel like I should have tried to bargain something out of this deal, but I feel like my amusement level may have maxed out somewhere around the words “shirtless” and “singles.”

We rounded out the night in typical fashion. Fires were made. Dicks were punched. Feelings were damaged. Pizzas were ordered. You know, the typical party montage you’d see in a Bud Light commercial.

Luckily, Saturday morning started out in simple fashion. I pissed off Wheach, Wheach was pissed at Rebecca, Liz ate half of an angry looking donut. Pretty standard. Also, Ice Bombs came up in conversation for the second time in as many days.

Daddy wanted to start the day out with an Ice Bomb, but didn’t remember how to make them. (2 shots citrus vodka, 2 shots vodka, 2 shots UV Blue, Sprite. I think.) Daddy searched for how to make an Ice Bomb on the inter-Googles and ended with results for how to make a bomb out of dry ice.

Daddy is probably now on the FBI terror watchlist. You can thank me now for using aliases on this blog so you can use plausible deniability to distance yourself from Daddy Terrorist.

Eventually we accumulated enough collective dexterity, energy and willpower to head to the tailgate.

We arrived at the tailgate, armed with Golden Ticket Keystone Ice and two rolls of duct tape.

When I bought the Golden Ticket Keystone Ice the orange-ness of the box distracted me and I didn’t notice the Ice-ness of the Keystone. Also, keeping with the Willy Wonka vibe from the Lagunitas brewery last week, the chance of winning a golden can of Keystone had me pretty excited. Excited enough to purchase Keystone, which is saying something.

As for the duct tape, I had plans to either play wizard staff, or reenact the final scene of Die Hard, using duct tape in lieu of Bumblebee Tuna labels.

Given the setup of the tailgate I feel like the Die Hard option was appropriate. Crammed-In and his crew had three RV’s arranged in a U shape with tents covering the open space in the U. It gave off a very fortress-esque vibe and I can very easily see Hans Gruber holding Champaign hostage from this base of operations. Or Daddy Terrorist. I hear he’s slotted as the villain in Die Hard 6. Die Hard 5 already has Hoptimus Pils, the beer tank from Lagunitas, slotted as the villain.

We quickly noticed the lack of a grill at the tailgate as Crammed-In and Sancho showed us their setup. Crammed-In pointed out a small armada of crock pots. Apparently crock pots are more convenient than grills. I don’t know. I stopped listening when Crammed-In said the word dips. That’s right, dip with an ‘s’ at the end. As in more than one dip.

Crammed-In would have had my full attention after mentioning the pluralized form of dip, but unfortunately ecstasy over my forthcoming edibles overwhelmed me.

The idea of adding an ‘s’ to the end of a word being a positive addition is a definite change of pace for me.

I am a recent convert and advocate of the idea of a silent ‘s’ in certain words. For example, a silent ‘s’ would make it sound much more appropriate when I say “I had cakes for breakfast today.” On the plus side, I come across as only semi-terrible for eating only one cake. On the downside, it sounds like I’m eating a 4th meal called breakfat. And let’s be honest, fat is not gonna get broken if the main sustenance of breakfat is cake.

Breakfat or not, the spread rotating through the crock pots impressed myself and the group. At first, like some sort of n00b, I ate the items from each crock pot separately. But eventually, as inebriation and Illini ingenuity settled in, I decided to just start pouring everything in sight on top of the Chilli and muddling it together. My progress on the wizard staff may have had something to do with the enjoyability of my invention, but I stand by my concoction with pride.

And now, onto the Wizard Staff. Also known as Wisest Wizard or Candolf. I assume Candolf also has wine and vodka equivalents, Candolf the White Zin and Candolf the Grey Goose.

Wizard Staff is a simpler game, from a simpler time, passed onto me by Anheuser (who also just launched the Houston Bar Bracket). For Wizard staff you just tape all of your beers together as you drink them, slowly turning you into a powerful wizard as your B.A.C. becomes your Mana Meter. Staff waving and Harry Potter spell-making are both appropriate when playing Wizard Staff.

After the first couple beers of Wizard Staff, which I proudly played by myself, Big Country showed up. He was down for joining Wizard Staff but disappointed that I had a head start. As Big Country tends to do, he started up some sort of engineering jibber-jabber about calibrating our wizard staffs. I don’t think they teach this sort of witchcraft at Hopwarts, so I mostly ignored what he said. Also, Rebecca decided to join sometime around now.

In an effort to close the ~~Bomber~~ Can Gap, Big Country and Rebecca decided to take out the big guns and start shotgunning. Unfortunately, Big Country decided to tape his beer to his wizard staff before shotgunning it. This lead to half the beer pouring out the top of the staff as Big Country spun the staff around trying to guide the hole to his mouth. It legitimately looked like some kind of contraption from a water park gone horribly wrong, spraying booze on unsuspecting but delighted tailgaters. Well, at least the tailgaters who saw other people get sprayed were entertained.

Generally, having our current beers on the top of the wizard staffs led to problems, with me liking to make grand hand gestures and such while drinking. This also made it hard to hold my cigar, so instead of lighting my unwrapped cigar I put it in my back pocket for later. This led to the unfortunate side effect of destroying the cigar, but the fortunate one of coating my back pocket in tobacco leaves.

I’m somewhat glad the cigar accident occurred because given what I put into my body throughout the breakfat I don’t want to know what scents were coming out of the mad scientist’s gastronomical laboratory that my innards had become. Instead, I had the refreshing, filtered and smooth flavors of a $4 cigar emanating from my anus throughout the afternoon. At least that’s what I hoped for.

Rebecca’s staff & whatever my contraption became.

The other problem I had with my wizard staff was it’s overwhelming size. Yes ladies, you heard me right. As this problem grew I made the executive decision to reinforce the staff by taping the empties on the side of the staff at the stress points. Unfortunately my reinforcements were about as effective as the Maginot Line.

However, my impressive staff did lead to three attractive girls questioning it. Naturally this led to discussions about about the bar bracket. This is more impressive when you consider that the first time I saw one of these girls in the morning I was holding two cans of beer and biting into an unpeeled banana. I know all this talk of bananas and staffs may be overwhelming for some.

All of my friends later informed me that my conversation with the girls ranged from terrifying to creepy, which is believable because I started the day off by slurring my words like someone fed a wet mop into a Gatling Gun. And that was after the 0th beer.

Eventually I ran out of things to pour onto my chilli or to tape onto my staff, so Rebecca, The Wheach and I decided to head to Murphy’s for a one-bar Bar Bracket of Champaign.

Murphy’s won in case you’re curious.

To leave the tailgate I faced my fears of a lack of Lyft in Champaign and summoned an actual taxi, although the words actual and taxi are up for debate when it comes to Champaign Illinois. This taxi was fine enough, and we may have burst out laughing when we got the bill – $7. But as for my second taxi of the day, I’m legitimately not sure if I got in a real taxi or if I got into a rando’s van that had “Taxxie” scribbled on the side. Either way I survived, but suffered from too much fear to strike up my normal obnoxious taxi/Lyft conversations.

Although we did not do a Bar Bracket in Champaign, we did do a mini Table Bracket inside of Murphy’s.

Upon arrival at Murphy’s we only managed to find seats at the bar. Psh, who sits at the bar at Murphy’s? Not these guys, that’s for certain. Well, except that one time we did that.

After a couple minutes a nearby tabled opened up which we appreciated because had not so patiently ripped through drinks from Erin at the bar. We quickly swooped in and claimed this uncharted land as ours.

However, The Wheach coveted an occupied table near the window, so he sent me over to negotiate a table swap. We didn’t even need to take hostages in this negotiation, which was convenient because Daddy-Terrorist was not present. My smergy-dershy slurry speachy must have been pretty on point by this time of day because we got the table free of charge. Still, The Wheach offered up a round of Fireball shots like the benevolent victors of the vice that we are.

However, we are not just benevolent victors, but hungry ones and we quickly began plotting to conquer another table. When the table next to us opened up we ran into a small obstacle. We only had 3 people and wanted to take claim of approximately 12 seats worth table. Luckily our wizard training came in handy as Rebecca still had her duct tape. We cordoned off our new tables and pretended like it meant something. Apparently it worked, as the Murphy’s staff said nothing despite stopping by our tables several times over the next 40 minutes.

If anyone asks, just say a Dallas nurse drank here recently.

We decided to start up some more drinking games once Big Country, Little Country, and the Bonercrushers showed up. (I know, college, right?) Tonight on the agenda, Hockey, which I’m too lazy to describe, so here’s a link, and then a second wagering game that I made up.

Made Up Wagering Game

Give each of four players cards 2-7 of a suit.

Each player puts down a random card in secret.

First players guesses the total number down on the table, and wagers a certain number of drinks that the total is at least that number.

Next person then wagers either more drinks, or a higher number, or calls bullshit.

If they wager, then play continues to the next person.

If they call bullshit, then the cards are revealed and whoever loses drinks.

Mrs. Bonercrusher did not like this game and Mr. Bonercrusher made fun the Mrs. for not understanding.

Anyways, there’s some more tales from the weekend but keeping track of the entire group’s activities throughout the day is a sisyphean task and would ruin all the things I have to talk about in person.

Oh yeah, at some point this day there was a football game. To my understanding the Illini won a Big10 game. I’ll wait and see if this is true. I have my doubts.

In other news, the Chicago Bar Bracket scored some free tickets to a Beer Dinner at Sheffield’s, so look for the review of that later this week. Until then feel free to follow on the Twitters or Facebook to stay up to date with next Saturday’s matchup between Sidetrack & Twisted Spoke.

Peace.

Lagunitas: Spanish For Tasty Beer

A trip to a Chi-fornia brewery.

After a rousing loss by the beloved Bears, Z-Bot, Grapes and I had little to do with our Sunday.

Sure, we played some Quantum and Cards Against Humanity with some friends I’m too lazy to think of nicknames for right now. And sure, one of those games I highly recommend while the latter is a bit worn out. But regardless, the domain name DiceDiceBaby.com is already taken so my board game blogging aspirations are over. Thus I’ll move on to the more intoxicating adventures of the afternoon.

Drinking Recap: Z-Bot’s apartment

Honey Jack & hot cider: Highly recommend this combo. Much better than the popular Fireball & cider and definitely a step up from regular old whisky cider. Whatever you do, remember, “friends don’t let friends drink virgin ciders.”

Southern Tier Warlock: A delicious pumpkin beer making an appearance at the local Marianos after much fanfare during the Delilah’s Bar Bracket matchup. I would go on about this beer’s superiority over Southern Tier Pumking (much to Snappy’s protest, despite Snappy never tasting Warlock), but alas, I am much too lazy for beer blogging.

Strawberia, by Z-Bot: The most striking thing about this beer is that Google Doc’s spellcheck finds nothing wrong with it. Guess Z-Bot’s beer is definitely a thing. Unfortunately “it requires too many strawberries” and Z-Bot has no plans of ever making it again. Due to this, I would like to ask all of my “faithful and numerous” readers to boycott strawberries and bring the price down.

While the beverages, boredom and bitterness settled in after the Bears loss we decided to rescue the remainder of our Sunday. To do so, we stuck with Denver’s original plan of going to the Lagunitas brewery, despite the fact that Denver decided to bail on his plan.

We arrived at the brewery without any bullet holes in our car after a joyful ride around Pilsen looking for the illusive “16th and Rockwell” entrance. Liver Pro Tip: Google Map the 16th & Rockwell intersection before heading to the brewery.

We ventured into the building after parking our proudly bullethole-less car. The entrance hallway had Willy Wonka music on a loop; appropriate for an “adult candy” factor. The hallway guided you through the brewery towards the center of the building where refreshments, or rather “adult candy” awaited. The music particularly suited Z-bot as he has rambled on his Willy Wonka Halloween costume plans for about a week now.

The hallways also had an assortment of black lights, laser lights and disco balls to fill out the Willy Wonka whimsy. This, paired with large windows giving you views of the industrial brewery where their ~~Oompa Loompas~~ brewers make the magic happen. Or I suppose the yeast makes the magic happen and the brewers just make wort, if I am to listen to our tour guide. I almost prefer this as I now imagine yeast as microscopic Oompa Loompas.

Winding through the access tunnels and crawling up a couple flights of stairs (elevators are in the works) proved worthwhile as the center of the building contained a building in and of itself, housing the best brewery tap room I have laid eyes upon.

The tap room consists of an obligatory gift store, followed by an “L” shaped hallway containing couches and the like. This hallway leads you to the taproom itself, containing rows of long Oktoberfest style picnic tables (crafted from the old roof of Lagunita’s Petaluma brewery), a stage with live music and a full bar with Lagunitas on tap to the far right. On the edges of this room there are regular tables, and doors to an indoor balcony containing smaller picnic tables overlooking the brewery.

Pretty sweet setup, even without mentioning the peanuts & pretzels (plus a full menu for ordering).

After grabbing a Lagunitas Daytime we waited around at the picnic tables for someone to round us up for a tour.

While waiting I had a chance to briefly meet a member of HOPS – a Chicago based homebrew group – and he introduced me to the founder of Skylark, one of the bars on the bracket. The Skylark founder kindly informed me that they are tapping some Three Floyd’s BrooDoo, and given my love of Three Floyd’s I may have to check this out before they sell out.

Eventually “Dino” – one of three tour guides nicknamed Dino, all with different pronunciations – came bearing a large cross with the word “Tours” scrolled across the top. We followed this modern martyr of the malt.

“Dino” (Jake) introduced us to Lagunita’s Chicago facility – Chicagonitas as he may say. I enjoyed this name but much prefered my creation, Lagucago. Either way he dived into trivia about the company and brewery, and trust me there’s a lot of it.

First, the name. Dino explained that Lagunitas is an old Native American dog breed. Then he explained that he’s lying and it really means tiny lagoon in Spanish – or something like that. Honestly I thought it was German for a whale’s vagina.

Then Dino explained the history of the facility – it used to be a steel plant until that went out of business. Cine Scene, a production company of some sorts then bought the property. Unfortunately the vibrations from nearby train tracks made the building unsuitable for Cine Scene’s filming. Dino also mentioned that Cine Scene had filmed parts of Transformers on this lot. For some reason I have trouble believing that a Michael Bay movie could be hindered by shaking the camera. Really I may just credit these ‘vibrations’ for 95% of his work since The Rock and Independence Day.

Either way this particular building did not meet Cine Scene’s needs and they sold it to Lagunitas. Within 18 months of construction Lagunitas had more than its fair share of fermenters and brewing equipment, including an extra large tank which required Lagunitas to knock out an entire wall. Lagunitas has plans to put in more of these tanks and also has a habit of naming some of their tanks – Cheech & Chong, and Harry out in California, plus several named after former canine co-workers.

I feel given this naming tradition and history of Cine Scene that these extra large tanks need Transformers themed names. My suggestion are Megatank and Optimus Pils. At the very least they should name this group of tanks the Autohops.

The Lagunitas brewery and Dino came equipped with many small quirks like this. The brewers have painted many of the poles around the building with various themes – Chicago flags, cigarettes etc. – along with a air compressor painted like a Mario Mushroom. Personally, I enjoyed Dino talking about the R2D2-esque ‘Hop Cannon’ the most, pretty much exclusively because it gave me a chance to shout “Get to the hopper!” in my best Arnold impersonation.

Anyways, here’s some bullet points to sum up the rest of the tour

Plans to add a rooftop beer garden, with awesome skyline views.
Plans to add an indoor amphitheater.
May or may not have Conan O’Brien imprisoned in the green room of said amphitheater.
Plans to add a doggy day care (apparently the California location has more dogs than people on site).
Dino’s personal plans to add an awesome bowling alley above the hallway leading to the tap room.
Literal tons of more equipment for the brewery including new kegging lines and fermentation tanks and such.
Various stories about the history of Lagunitas, including how they mostly make their pilsner to keep the founder’s wife happy (and the Germans who make all the brewing equipment).
They use tons of hops. Both in the figurative and literal sense.
Plans for Die Hard 6 to take place here (I may be making this one up).

Finally, I’ll give a shoutout to the brewery’s Monday and Tuesday activities. The tap room is open to the public Wednesday-Sunday, but on Monday and Tuesday they reserve the space for nonprofits. The nonprofits can host events there free of charge in addition to getting all the beer for free with 100% of revenue going to the charitable organization. Lagunitas also offers private tours and tastings as prize packages for charity auctions and raffles etc. So in other words, Lagunitas is a pretty sweet addition to the Chicago community. The contact info I got for the nonprofit I hope to hook up with this sweet deal is Jake.Durham@Lagunitas.com

The biggest and maybe only downside to this brewery is that it’s so new. Too new to have been on any of the best bar lists etc. that I used to make the Bar Bracket. Still, I definitely plan on coming back here for several return visits. I think it may soon top the list of best day drinking locations for Winter in Chicago.

As always, for a briefer review of Lagunitas, you can always check out the Chicago Bar Bracket Google+ Page.

After the brewery we went to a Meetup which promised a free psychic. Unfortunately we waited around for a couple hours and our reading was not in sight so we left. Fortunately I’m thinking about hiring this psychic company to come out for the Chicago Bar Bracket sometime, so keep your eyes on the @BestBarBracket twitter for that.

Until next time, go drink some Lagunitas.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

The Hideout vs. Delilah’s

An unpretentious bar versus… another unpretentious bar.

For the last Bracket Matchup between Quenchers and The Globe I found myself stuck in the rain and enjoying some waiting beers at a River North bar. This time I made the rookie mistake and forgot to bring some waiting beers on the Metra for the ride in with “The Wheach.” Terrible decision. We had to make sober conversation and watch our locomotive peers imbibe in motion.

Soon enough though our Prohibition themed rail tour of Chicagoland was over and we met up with “ZBot” outside Union Station. Once united, the three of us hopped in a Lyft driven by Olanjibberjabbersomething, or Olan for short.

Olan did not seem to appreciate my attempts to say his full name. Also, while on 94, we’re pretty sure he was actively trying to kill us. Then again “Shake It Off” was on the radio and death may very well be the most effective way to get Tay Tay’s tune out of your head.

Luckily we avoided the obituaries despite Olan’s best efforts and arrived at The Hideout. Olan decided the best way to follow up our joy ride was by honking and yelling at us about slamming the doors on his Chrysler 200. The word “slamming” was used pretty liberally by Olan in this case. Also, if you’re concerned about how people close your doors then maybe you shouldn’t be signing into an app that has you drive strangers around. Just saying.

Best Tumblr Ever

First impressions of the area around The Hideout aren’t too encouraging unless you’ve decided to run a Tumblr of best Fleet and Facility Management buildings in Chicago.

As for The Hideout itself, all I can say is that The Wheach & ZBot were afraid to walk into the hideout and sent me in as a scout. I also saw some sort of baseball bat like object near the door which on first impressions I assumed was for chasing away rats. On further inspection of the bar this is probably not true.

Rat Bash!

Besides Lawrence, the bartender, our group was the entire crowd at The Hideout when we got there. (Bar opens at 4, we were there at 4:15 on a Friday. Like the classy people we are.) Fortunately Lawrence is one cool dude and The Wheach & ZBot’s fears about the bar were calmed as soon as he started chatting with us.

For my first drink I asked Lawrence for a recommendation, being the experiential sort of Bar Bracketer that I am. He mentioned the house cocktail, The Wooden Leg: rye, soda, lemon, bitters. We took three of those and adjourned to the patio out front.

No crowd = extra picnic tables for us!

It’s pretty hard to pass up drinking on a picnic table. The hideout provided no exception.

For those of you who have never drank on a picnic table, go to College already you fucking teenagers.

Also spotted from the tables was a Vespa gang. They came into The Hideout for a drink and then were back on the streets terrorizing innocent scooter drivers. We assumed the Vespa gang was quick to leave because they were probably doing their own Bar Bracket.

Anyways, we eventually had to head back into The Hideout proper to get more drinks, and that’s when we found these gems.

Next on the Agenda: Chicago Bar Bracket pins.

Free pins. Hashtag Score. (That’s how you do that, right?)

For our second round of drinks we were introduced to Crafthouse cocktails. Crafthouse, a Chicago company, makes bottled cocktails and Delilah’s had some left over after a block party. I had a Moscow Mule (my first Moscow Mule). The Wheach tried to order the Southside (because it was he didn’t know how to say Paloma) but then I reminded him that the Southside has gin so he opted for the Paloma. ZBot ginned up and took the Southside.

The group unanimously chose the Southside as the best Crafthouse cocktail. Vigorous debates ensued between The Wheach and I about whether the Moscow Mule or Paloma sucked balls. I say the Paloma was weird. Might have to do a Crafthouse cocktail bracket to get to the bottom of this.

Eventually we moved onto more conventional drinks and Mimsy showed up. ZBot attempted to peel the label off his beer and stick it on my glass. He was disappointed that it did not change the taste of my beer. His alchemy skills have been in decline for years. Mimsy continued drinking whisky diets, picking up where he left off on the last matchup.

Lawrence, of the Lawrence Peters Outfit.

In addition to abandoning our cocktail quest we also abandoned the picnic tables so we could talk to Lawrence the bartender. He’s been there a solid 14 years, which only sounds like a short time once you hear that The Hideout has been in operation since the 1890’s. Also, according to Lawrence, The Hideout gave approximately zero fucks about prohibition. The Hideout didn’t stay open as a speakeasy. Apparently The Hideout just stayed open.

Props old timey Hideout, props.

While conversing with Lawrence I spotted a Nebraska water bottle behind the bar. Lawrence told us it was filled with acid to spray Cornhuskers.

It came as a small surprise that Lawrence was so passionate about hating Nebraska given that he told us that he knew nothing about sports when we tried describing the bar bracket. Then again, the four in our group went to Illinois and the Illini were scheduled to play Nebraska the next day. What can I say, Lawrence played to the Crowd.

I also assume his band, the Lawrence Peters Outfit plays to the crowd in much the same manner with “un-ruined country music.” The Outfit was scheduled to play at the Hideout later that night. Unfortunately we were too inebriated later and ZBot had Mario Kart at his place. Actually, scratch out the ‘u’ & ‘n’ at the beginning of that last sentence. Although I do want to check out the LPO sometime.

Our visit to The Hideout was about to come to an end, but then The Wheach noticed a bottle of Malort on the shelf. This is also when I finally realized it’s “Malort,” not “Malorts.” Tsk tsk.

The Wheach and I did a round of Malort, coming nowhere near The Wheach’s expectation of how bad it would be. Also, Lawrence gave the best description of the taste that I’ve ever heard – concentrated grapefruit. Definitely better than my “1000 pine needle” description.

Besides telling me how to actually say Malort, Lawrence left us with a request to say hello to Mark, the owner of Delilah’s. Someone remarked that the Chicago Bar Bracket is now the modern Pony Express. I said “more like the Pony Keg Express.” Nobody laughed. Figured I should beat a dead pony and put that joke here.

After Malort’ing it up we headed out and called a second Lyft with a much nicer Lyfter. Sadly this driver vetoed our idea of getting a couple bottles of Champagne and having him drive us around in Club Lyft.

Arriving at Delilah’s it was obvious that Delilah’s is not located in the urban boonies like The Hideout. Wheach and ZBot were undeterred from entering this bar. Maybe it was the liquid courage, maybe it was Drew the doorman’s awesome mustache. Still, ZBot was pretty adamant about telling us how much Delilah’s sucked based on his previous experiences.

After complimenting Drew on his ‘stache I proudly walked up to the bar and asked for Mike the owner, much like a true jackass. Whatever, working for the Pony Keg Express requires thick skin.

Better than my original plan of ordering “Makers, Markers, Cranberry Vodka.”

Unfortunately Mike wasn’t there so I proceeded to order a Makers and ginger with a squeeze of lime and a dash of bitters. I’m confident that my drink order quickly elevated me to Queen of England status in the bar.

Reassuring the crowd that I got the order from “The Twitters” did little to help my standing within the rigid bar room hierarchy. Still, I appreciate the recommendation from the social media guru running the @DelilahsChicago twitter handle.

The Makers & ginger was delicious and followed up with a shot of Makers. Mmm, Makers on Makers on Makers. I then picked up my usual tomfoolery and asked Eric the bartender what his favorite cocktail is. Eric proceeded to make the best Old Fashioned of my life, made with Old Weller 107 Bourbon. If you’re ever at Delilah’s, get this. They even light the orange twist on fire. After several intensive seconds of Googling, I learned that the flame is supposed to lightly caramelize the oil from the skin, adding to the flavor of the drink. Some claim it’s just showmanship though. Either way, fire makes me happy.

We then proceeded to have a variety of cocktails. I had my first sazerac, made by Drew, the bartender/doorman. The difference between the smell and taste of the sazerac was striking and beautiful. I cried a little. The Southern Tier Warlock was also particularly tasty (pumpkin beer.)

Eventually The Wheach decided he wanted a French 75. Eric had no clue what I was talking about when I asked for two of these and he rightfully laughed at me. Guess I moved on from Queen of England to King of France status with that drink choice. Still, Eric figured out how to make it and despite being his first time it was delicious. I’m not sure what a French 75 is supposed to taste like, but it was delicious.

With each cocktail and beer recommendation from Eric and Drew tasting better than the last I was quickly emboldened to try new things. So naturally when ZBot offered to buy me a drink I jumped on the opportunity to try something new, something fresh.

And that Makers and Diet was superb.

At some point “King Jim” showed up. Not sure when exactly. Alcohol.

Before leaving the bar I pointed out the sweet swag we got from The Hideout. Delilah’s didn’t have any pins, but Drew pulled out a pitcher full of matchboxes. I asked for the pitcher. Sadly Drew was a sane bartender and declined my offer. I settled for a matchbox.

Overall both bars were awesome. They were divey and had great bartenders.

Delilah’s unpretentiously made well crafted and delicious cocktails. Also the atmosphere of the bar was a bit more imposing and set the mood, while The Hideout, most likely because of the time of day, didn’t really set the mood and kinda let you set your own.

Meanwhile The Hideout had some history to it and a sweet patio. Plus I feel like we didn’t get the full Hideout experience as we didn’t stay around for a show or for many drinking companions besides the feared Vespa Gang.

Makers, Markers, More Makers Markers.

It’s a tough call between these two bars. Both bars had welcoming demeanors and it was easy to make yourself comfortable. At The Hideout we got to shoot the shit with Lawrence. Eric at Delilah’s was equally great to talk to and he told us a bit about what goes into being a bartender and some perspective on the craft.

For me, I preferred Delilah’s because it didn’t feel as empty (maybe because it wasn’t – not The Hideout’s fault given the time we went), but mostly because of the damn good cocktails.

Wheach liked both bars but preferred The Hideout “Because I don’t need reasons.” However, he did find a new project for his wife to work on at Delilah’s. A counter for his Maker’s Graveyard. The Wheach originally planned on doing a separate writeup for the matchup, but the pain of The Hideout’s loss was too much and he said the quote above would suffice.

Mimsy preferred Delilah’s, mostly for cocktail making ability. He also saw an almost empty bottle of Buffalo Trace on their shelves and considered drinking a 2nd Bar Bracket bar out of Buffalo Trace.

ZBot ended up liking both bars, which was a big surprise because he said he was automatically voting down Delilah’s based on past experiences. ZBot also followed through on his idea to do a writeup for this matchup, which is included below.

I’ve known about the Chicago Bar Bracket for a few weeks, and was given the actual bracket a few weeks before the competition began. I thought it was a great idea, but I hadn’t heard of a lot of the bars. A few of them I had been to and absolutely despised just based on my experiences (Delilah’s, Big Star, The Violet Hour, Guthrie’s) and a few of them made me question “why is this on the best BAR list?” (Au Cheval, The Chicago Diner, Kuma’s Corner), but I trust Plunger’s very scientific method of determining what location is on the list.

I finally was able to attend my first match-up, The Hideout Vs. Delilah’s. As I mentioned above, I have had no good experiences at Delilah’s and was very against the notion that it could beat out another bar, even if that bar was a drag. The first bar in the match-up was The Hideout, a place I had always seen a sign for while driving to work, and thought “You really don’t want to advertise the place you are hiding out at. Is this a joke sign that someone put up for the hell of it?” Turns out, it’s a nice little dive bar next to the Chicago Fleet Management Depot, kind of off the beaten path and not really near anything all that grand. Here’s the view from out front, re-used without permission from Google Maps:

They have a nice outdoor area where you can sip your cocktail (or slam it, depending on how good of a time you are having) and a stage in the back.

When we arrived, we met our bartender, Lawrence (Laurence? Lauren’s?) and explained to him what we were doing. We were also the first few people in the bar, at 4:10 PM, so yes, we were those guys. Anyway, we asked for a suggestion on any house cocktails and were given a $5 Wooden Leg. Not too shabby but nothing exquisite. Next we ordered some of these local Chicago pre-made drinks, I got a “South Side” which included Gin, and the other two guys got drinks that I cannot recall at the moment, but mine was definitely the most delicious. Finally we went back inside, took a look around, and had a little chat with Lawrence. He gave us the history of the bar, talked about his band and invited us to come back and watch him play “his brand of country” that night in the back room. At this point it was time for us to head to Delilah’s, and I was not quite yet in the mood to go back to a place I had such poor expectations of.

When we arrived, we sat at the L corner of the bar, so the four of us (Mimsi had now joined us) could discuss and drink together. The bar was much quieter and less… douchey than my previous experiences. The upstairs death trap was not open, and we were able to hear each other while we were talking. Plunger again explained to the bartender, Eric, what we were doing and how everything worked. He was extremely excited about it, but when he saw the bracket itself became a little disillusioned, saying that he’s up against some stiff competition. As the bar was relatively quiet, we were able to get Eric to create some of his specialty whiskey based drinks, and we were not disappointed. I don’t recall the first drink that we had as someone else was ordering and I just decided to go with the flow and acquire the same drink, but it was damn good. Before making some Old Fashioned’s for two of the guys, Eric decided it was time to have a Maker’s Mark shot with the four of us. No complaints here!

So while I had a good experience at both locations, I think it might be a little unfair to give Delilah’s my vote as we went there later in the evening with a more active crowd. With that in mind, though, Delilah’s is definitely in a more central location. I personally don’t care about live music and doubt that waiting for the bands at The Hideout would change my vote to them. While The Hideout is kind of a historical building (old Chicago bar open during prohibition, not even a speakeasy) it did not seem to be old or as dusty/moldy as I would have expected. Walking into Delilah’s it was dark and somewhat uninviting, and it had a hint of moldiness and dust about it. Despite the dirtiness, Eric proved to be an excellent bartender with great drinks, knowledge and enthusiasm. Lawrence also embodied these characteristics, but unfortunately for the Hideout, there were too many factors against them for me to vote for them in this round.

My vote, despite my general disdain for the upstairs of Delilah’s, will begrudgingly be for Delilah’s based on location and excellent cocktails.

So that about sums it it up. A 3-1 vote for Delilah’s over The Hideout. Both bars were great and I’m obviously making a return to Delilah’s for the Bracket, but The Wheach and I are also making plans to return to The Hideout for the Lawrence Peters Outfit sometime.

If you want to read individual reviews on each bar, you can find them at the Chicago Bar Bracket Google+ Page.

Until the next bracket, remember, “it’s never too early to start thinking about drinking.”

The Globe Pub vs. Quenchers Saloon

A battle between an emulation of the world’s most bland culture and umm… quenching?

The Globe vs. Quenchers, the inaugural bar battle. For this battle I enjoyed the company of my friend “Mimsy” and decided to prepare for the showdown by researching absolutely nothing about these bars beforehand except their location.

For this matchup the night started a little early for me. After leaving work I got caught in a downpour and took refuge under an awning outside of La Madia in River North. While waiting for the rain to stop I decided that if I’m going to be stuck at a bar I may as well go in and help myself to a drink. So I did. Very reasonably priced beer and a good selection. Unfortunately I was the only one there and the rain wasn’t doing Direct TV’s reception any favors so it was a pretty tame experience.

Anyways, after my 5 o’clock “Waiting Beer” (Waiting beers are a thing, right?) the rain abided, I hopped on the Red Line & Met Mimsy at his place. We grabbed dinner at Big & Little’s Lakeview then jumped in a Lyft to start the Bar Bracket at The Globe Pub on Irving Park.

Turns out The Globe feels like a pretty standard English pub and dark enough inside to make your questionable morals feel welcome. Also, after entering the bar it feels like a pretty small and typical neighborhood bar, but turns out to have a fairly large back room and a another room parallel to the front room with its own storefront.

After our quick inspection Mimsy and I grabbed two seats at the bar. I awkwardly asked the attractive bartender if she had any personal specialties and she very quickly told me about the Oktoberfest. Don’t really know if pouring beer is much of a specialty, but I guess that’s what I get for asking a dumb question in a Pub. Mimsy ordered a Jameson & Coke like a normal person.

For the most part, our trip to The Globe was pretty uneventful. Mimsy and I sat at the bar, talking up typical gibberish bar talk. At one point we noticed a couple globes on the wall and started talking about the globes we owned as children – exciting stuff. About half an hour later I had a major epiphany and realized they had globes because it’s called The Globe Pub. Get it!?

Possibly the more entertaining thing about the bar was the sign in the bathroom. It was something soccer related, so I didn’t really care for it until I read the bottom which stated “free wireless internet provided.” I found this amusing because they chose to advertise “wireless internet” instead of just saying WiFi. I suppose they’re trying to appeal to the narrow band of people who are savvy enough to want wireless internet but not savvy enough to know what WiFi is. Or maybe it’s some quirky English thing like calling elevators lifts or eating cardboard for breakfast.

In reality I probably shouldn’t bash English food. I actually like it. However, whenever I see someone else eating English food I assume they’re hipsters and pretending to like it. I saw several of these hipsters at The Globe.

I’m not sure what the exact appeal of the Globe is. I suppose it’s a good place to watch soccer and drink good beer. I’m a fan of the latter and not really sure what the former is. In fact the soccer upset me a bit. I was gladly commenting on how the pop music selection was pretty out of place for an English pub (and I also assume the music selection is a ploy on behalf of the owners to get people to use the Touch Tunes machine). Then some bloke asked for the bartender to turn off the music so he could hear the soccer game. Guess he really likes the word “GOAALLLLLLLL,” whatever that means.

The one plus about The Globe being a soccer bar is that they have yellow card coasters.

No, not a roller coaster themed after the band Yellow Card.

As for the beer selection, they did have some good beers, but it wasn’t a huge selection. Plus my Oktoberfest was warm, but all of my Guinni (that’s plural for Guinness, right?) were perfect.

After an hour or two at The Globe we decided to mosey on over to Quenchers. Our Lyft driver between bars was pretty awesome. He said he liked to party. I explained the bar bracket to him and he informed me that “that’s too many rounds of partying.” Guess he doesn’t like to party.

How it really was.

How I remember it.

So we arrive at Quenchers and find a gaping hole in the ground to greet us as we step out of the cab. Probably should have seen what Quenchers would be like based on that.

Walking into Quenchers the first thing I noticed was the smell. I assume this was what the 70’s smelled like. Well, this smell plus some weed.

As a first impression, Quenchers is an absolute dive and if you manage to feel unwelcome there then you’re doing something wrong.

Anyways, the first thing I noticed about this cash only bar was the absence of chairs and tables. I mean there were some bar stools at the bar, but this dive doesn’t put on heirs and fancy the place up with stuff like common furniture. (Although, to be fair there was furniture out on their patio, we just never made it that way.) In addition to the vacant room with standard dive bar wall fare and the patio, there was also a small room for shows. We were too cheap to pay for wristbands, so we didn’t get to see the show. However, there was only a curtain keeping us out and we also had to go through that room whenever we went to the restroom.

Anyways, before I had a chance to pester the bartender with a stupid question about specialities, I came across this sign.

I ain’t no Phat Cat.

So naturally I got the Poor Dog with Special Export, temporarily forgetting just how terrible Malorts is. Probably should have coughed up some big money for the Evan Williams. Mimsy kept with his Jameson & Coke, again like a sane person.

At some point while working on my Special Export I started chatting up “Uncle Ray,” the 60 year old, smooth, and kinda badass bartender who’s been at Quenchers for 28 years. The next day Mimsy saw my father and mentioned Quenchers. My father knew the bar well and remembered Uncle Ray, remarking “That guy’s been there forever.” Anyways, Uncle Ray talked about the change in socioeconomic class the bars customers have gone through in the time he has been there and the multiple expansions the bar has had.

During his oral history of Quenchers, Uncle Ray made a reference to the kitchen and I naturally thought “yeah, cause I’m gonna eat at a place like this.” Minutes later I saw an order of loaded ‘taters come out that could only be described as having the most heavenly beautiful cloud of sour cream I’ve ever seen resting atop a golden basket of taters. So then I was all like “Yeah, I’m gonna eat at a place like this.” Unfortunately I had wasted my glutton tickets at Big & Little’s earlier in the evening and had no room left for a ‘tater treat.

Eventually I asked Uncle Ray if there was any cocktail that I just had to have at this bar. He told me that Quenchers is mostly a beer bar & pointed out their extensive selection. He then asked me what beers I like and gave me a recommendation and it was awesome. I think it was a Half Acre, but don’t quote me on that. Maybe I’ll just have to go back and get another recommendation as a reminder (and some of those loaded ‘taters.)

About this time Mimsy switched over to Buffalo Trace, neat. I attempted to order a second Buffalo Trace but Uncle Ray had to break it to me that he was now out of the BT. Mimsy was very proud that he drank a bar out of Buffalo trace, even if it was only a drink. I then tried to order Gentleman Jack, which they didn’t have, so I went back to quenching my thirst with another Half Acre.

And then this happened:

“Shit’s happening over there” – That Guy ^

I probably should have yellow carded that guy with the coaster I took from The Globe, but I wasn’t clever enough for that at the time.

After Mimsy finished all the Buffalo Trace at the bar we decided to call it a night.

However the entertainment wasn’t over. Our Lyft driver on the way back decided to talk about pretty much whatever he wanted. Apparently he’s on a Russian dating website (he informed us that he’s Pakistani, cause I guess that matters?), but he assured us that it’s a really good one. He also told us that he plans on going to Moscow in December (because Russia’s such a great place to visit right now), and then decided to tell us that he does in fact like thick girls. Then he gave an explanation of his perfect woman – an Asian women with a Russian accent.

So there’s that.

Anyways, comparing these bars was a little hard, but at least they were both casual bars and both had outstanding service.

The Globe is known for soccer and its beer selection. However Quenchers seemed to have the better beer selection and seemed to benefit from addition by subtraction when it came to the soccer. Personal preference I guess.

When I used to work on the beer trucks, when I walked into a bar that looked like Quenchers I’d usually mark it down as a place not to go to. However I ended up really liking Quenchers and would definitely be up for a return trip.

I think the biggest difference between the bars is why you would go to each bar. The Globe felt like a well put together pub you’d love to have as a local corner bar.

Quenchers felt like a place to go when you’re looking for the best possibly way to absolutely Quench your sobriety. Quenchers is to getting drunk as Pedialax is to getting sober.

And after initial impressions I planned on advancing Quenchers in the bracket, but for the above reason I changed my mind to The Globe. Quenchers feels like a bar that you go to to get drunk. It doesn’t feel like it would be a great casual hangout to spend time with friends (although in fairness the patio may have been pretty sweet.) Also, I feel like Quenchers is a place you have to go to later in the night. We showed up right before people started rolling in. If we had went to Quenchers first, or at any earlier time, I feel like it would have been a very different experience and not one I’d want to repeat.

So, because the pub pulled off being more casual than a dive bar, The Globe Pub advances into the Belushi Division of the Chicago Bar Bracket.

For more info on the bars, you can find individual reviews of each bar at the Chicago Bar Bracket Google+ Page.

Also, Mimsy liked the Globe more, and it sounded like location was his biggest factor. He did say that he also like Quenchers.