Bars

Say It Ain’t So


The existence of tomato sauce flavored chips is about as foreign to me as tomato sauce flavored chips. Gross! Apparently lots of things come in tomato sauce, aka ketchup, flavor.

I just found this new delicious restaurant slash craft beer bar not too far from my apartment called Bitter Suite. Beers are awesome, and expensive, and awesome. Yum Sunshine Coast Brewery Porter! Also, the food ain’t too shabby. Pork belly with succulent crackle, mmm whah (like a smack on the tip of your fingers). I just returned from there. Love that the owner recognized me and my love for Porter’s from a few weeks back. Yeah girlfriend.

I fly to New York in less than one week from today. I was hoping my killer tan would impress everyone, I’m not sure if it’s so killer anymore. I was told to not forget my roots when inquiring about how freezing the temperature actually is. Damn’it, its freezing! Back to the beach. Not sure if I can squeeze a last minute sesh in, however would like to point out that the last two occasions I was at the beach, my bathing suit bottoms, known in Aussie slang as togs, were on inside out. Twice! Yes, twice I’ve been lazily tanning and minding my tanning business to have someone point out, “Oh hey dude, you know your bottoms are on inside out!” Uh…twice, really?!?!

There is a rule many folk may be familiar with which states “no shirt, no shoes, no service”. I would like to tell you that that rule does not apparently apply in Australia. No shirt, no problem. Boys don’t wear shirts, a lot. Actually, if they do, it’s probably a singlet, which is what they call a tank top. Which I hear only Californian surfer boys wear, and FYI no one on the US East coast would ever be caught dead in. There is also a tendency to not wear shoes. Like a lot, again. Most often I see this in grocery stores. Service is all of a different standard, so no problem.

I’m back in time a bit, but as the much anticipated Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part I was released, I was pleasantly entertained at the Blue Room Cinebar in Rosalie, a cute suburb crawling with eateries of all cuisine and alfresco seating, displaying much cuteness in every direction (apparently I’m not one with words this evening). Anyways, Blue Room, tickets cost an appreciated $11 in advance, they have a swinging bar to socialize in before the show, and you order bevies and food prior to taking your assigned seat in the small 50 person theatre and they feed you as you watch the movie. Another wine? Press the button and it magically appears while I stare into Edward Cullen’s dreamy eyes and imagine running my hands through his bouffant.

In the US there is this fabulous reality TV show called Beauty and the Geek where they pair “beauties” of super hot chicks who aren’t meant to be fairly intellectually challenged with even the basics of life, with a “geek” who has most likely never a kissed a girl and is unaware of pop culture phenomenon’s. Heaven must love TV series creators! They were smart enough to run Season 2 of Beauty and the Geek Australia, thank G, and although it has expired I had intentions of blogging about its addictive nature months ago, as the Geeks got sweet makeovers and all the sudden turned hot. Just saying, download that for some amusing entertainment, hello Gilly!

Spike, the damn lizard who has lots of relatives that sprawl all over Brisbane, is technically a Goanna. Just thought everyone should know.

While working in Hoboken, New Jersey from 2007 to 2011 my local bar was called The Dubliner. It was an Irish pub that served awesome cole slaw till the management changed and annoyingly took the cole slaw off the menu. I would just say to Ben, the bartender, side of slaw and Yeungling please! And could sit there for hours. Things changed over the years, but that was the gist of it.

The “pub” next to my work now is called The Coro. There is no weekly Thursday HH (happy hour) like there was in Hoboken, but on the occasion that we do go there all bottled beers are only $5, even deliciousness like Leffe. The toilets are see-through until you press the lock, then it goes cloudy so people can’t see you doing your business. These are the vast differences of the Dubliner verses the Coro. I still secretly favor the Dubliner in the old days, where you could sit there with a pint of Guinness by yourself and listen to the Fratellis. Luckily a new boutique beer bar called Scratch just opened in the Milton neighborhood that may soon to be the Coro replacement.

I’m going to quote my friend Anthony who said at the Coro “I’m pretty sure Australia created the plastic currency that’s now used around the world, except in America because your money is made from paper.” Have a think about that.

Brisness to Melbourne


Some graffiti off of Flinders

Stop being so secretive Melbourne! With your graffiti-laden laneways that just scream “I’m soooo cool!” Well, damnit Melbourne you are! Now stop showing off your multi-culturism, excellent public transportation, and ethnic pots melting. I get it already! I get that there are people having fun down some secret ally that I  have no idea exists, at a bar behind a turn next to a statue above a lamppost. The problem is, I want to be in the know so so bad and you’re rubbing in the fact that I’m just a clueless tourist!

Flinders Station & passing tram

For years Melbourne has been on the list of must visit cities, however, I’ve always been a bit nervous that I’d fall in love with it and never want to return to where I came from. A bit of  a habit of mine. So off I went, a little bit of business, and little bit of pleasure. Am I rushing to move? Not quite yet, but give me a couple more goes with some people who are actually in the know and you may be hearing more from me about the 2nd biggest city in Australia.

So obviously on the quick two-hour jaunt down south I wrote down a few things I wanted to accomplish while in Melbourne:

  • Manicure
  • Laneways (Alleyways)
  • Penguin Island (Prince Phillip Island)
  • Wineries (Yarra Valley)
  • Wes (Friend from Splendour)
  • Street art!

I did you a favor and decoded some for you. Now, I guess the only things on that list I did not accomplish were seeing the penguins (awww, I know!) and going to Yarra Valley. Don’t worry; I made up for it partying with Wes till the wee hours the night before. Figured, hang out with someone “in the know” and save the penguins for later. I’m sure they’ve been there for hundreds of years.

I also wrote down a couple of general Australian observations that have nothing whatsoever to do with Melbourne. Firstly, snakes! Yea snakes! They’re gummy candy (or what they like to call lollies here, whatever). And they’re just like everywhere. All the time people are like oh hey, do you want a snake? And I just laugh and go heck yea, throw me a snake!

Also, when was the last time you remember getting served a full course meal, with booze, on an economy domestic flight? I mean, I’m pretty sure Continental even got rid of those cute little turkey sandwiches that gave them such a competitive advantage. Gave me a reason to rack up the frequent flyer points at least. But in all seriousness, it’s been ages. But Quantas however, the official Australian airline, bangs out meals like nobody’s business. Full dinner, beer and wine, and a Cadbury thank you very much. Just saying.

And I’ll leave you with one more before heading back to Melbourne. Taxis. You sit in the front. Yea, weird right? Like, they get mad if you don’t. But what’s also really neat, is they have a system called Cab Charges. So for work, if I need to take a cab anywhere in Australia they give me these tickets that act like credit cards and it automatically bills the company. Sweet.

So I spent my first free night in Melbourne after a long day of giving presentations roaming around Degraves Street. It’s a cute laneway lined with tons of cafes, outdoor seating, and just had a vibe about it. So…everyone gets it, right, that the farther south you go the colder it is, farther north hotter etc. I live in the north, Melbourne is very far south. But! Nobody in Melb seems to care and they all just chill outside in a very European way and smoke their faces off. So, I found myself a spot in the corner of Degraves Espresso Bar, had myself a glass of Sauv Blanc from Yarra Valley and ordered the stuffed octopus. Think I surprised the cute red-haired waiter with my accent. Oops, happens sometimes.

Cafes and such

I then wrote down another list of things to do, most likely forgetting that I had already done that the day before.

  • Take pics of sweet street art
  • Make local friends and learn the laneways
  • Love this city!

Center Place

Crossing Flinder’s Lane, Degraves turns into Centre Place and it’s even cuter! Tons of boutiques resting next to cafes. A wrong turn, some graffiti, another laneway. The following evening I tried a different route after scouting around all day, and ended up at the Crown Casino. Gorgeous interior with high-end fashion and dining. I ended up in the food court eating Mousahka (huge Greek influence in this city – second largest Greek population in the world next to real Greece) before heading off to a backpackers bar where I befriended Gabe and Sara and ended up at a bar called Trash Bar in the middle of the city with their dreadlocked friend named Rabbit. Nice to meet you, time for me to head out.

A view of Melbourne from St. Kilda

Thankfully Saturday arrived, I had a lovely sleep in, and then Wes, one of our besties from Splendour in the Grass whisked me off to St. Kilda. Now that’s where I want to live! Along the coast, streets lined with palm trees and high-rises overlooking the ocean I just thought, so California. Although it was a bit chilly out, we walked along the water, and I got so excited at the thought of spring approaching, and it has. Goodbye longest winter of my life!

Wes walking the beach

We dined at the Beachcomber and again I was caught off guard with the odd coupling of seafood and Greek dishes that seem to be so apparent in this city. We munched over tapas and wine catching up about the cities of Melbourne, Brisbane and traveling. Wes and his flat mates later had me over dinner for lamb lollipops and kangaroo skewers. I didn’t even know it was kangaroo until after. And I didn’t mind. It was good! Wes then showed me his local scene out in Collingwood where we danced and laughed and mingled and danced until my cabby dropped me off in the city as the sun was rising. Needless to say, I didn’t go see the penguins on Sunday. This was also the day I found out that Beyonce was pregnant. Global news here people!

Wes, a drag queen, and me out in Collingwood

Monday through Wed back to the grind at work. After dining at the work event Tuesday a friend took me to the scariest bar in the world! For realz. So there it is, another laneway floor to ceiling in graffiti. Another turn, and then another. At this point I’m saying, “This is EXACTLY what I’m talking about! No idea, I would have had no freaking idea!”

Yea, well so Croft Bar has this whole mad-scientist/institute theme. There are test tubes and odd décor all over. No biggie. We’re pretty much the only people in the bar, and Ryan the young bartender is chatting to us about crazy cocktail mixology stuff and local beers. But then, I have to pee. HOLY SHNIKES! So, you go up these stairs and it looks like an insane asylum. In the ladies room, there is even like a hospital bed and stuff. I’m getting the heck out of here! Like seriously, I need to be accompanied to the bathroom the next time around. And even better, apparently there are multiple floors in this place with different themes. Not super cheesy like Jekyll and Hyde in NYC, but just super scary.

The ladies bathroom

So I guess the best part was, aside from me being totally freaked out, was when we asked Ryan if we could take a pic of him he posed with his to wrists out in front of him, facing down and said “I pose like this because I have a baby roo at home.” I gave a Whhhhattttt! And he responded, “yea, I’m way Aussie mate!” and I think that is the best quote I’ve ever heard.

So I just flipped my head over, took a pair of scissors, and straight up just cut my hair. Just like that. Pause. It sounds way more dramatic than it actually was. It was like an inch. Not Brittany style or anything. I could feel myself starting to get scissor happy so I scooped the contents up from my bathroom sink, and moved on to dinner. I don’t think anyone will even notice. But that’s okay, they aren’t supposed to. Shhh.

Note to self: don’t eat fish curry while sipping pink grapefruit juice.

The great Pinot Grigio debacle of 2003


I had thought the great Pinot Grigio debacle of 2003 had left me scarred of white wine for life. Thank goodness that phase has worn itself out. You see, as a 19 year-old college student living abroad for the first time, the sweet fruity yum yum in my tum tum of Pinot Grigio at a point in my life where my buds haven’t quite developed the appreciation for a dark roasted stout left me jumping into the wine world head first. There was so much Pinot Grigio consumed during that four month stint in London, late night benders of cheap two pound bottle after bottle, and long-afternoon sleep-ins that my body reached a point of saying, “white wine! Yuck!” But like I said, I’m so glad all of that is over.

Luckily for me, the proximity and availability of deliciousness gracing itself in my presence in the form of Sauvignon Blanc’s and Semillon’s and combo situations from South Australia and New South Wales and New Zealand keep surprising me quite regularly. Pinot Noir’s & Malbec’s – you’ll never out wear your welcome but while the sun is shining (although not as warmly as Id like, still!), you’ll have to move over and share my buds with your lighter variety friend.

My weekend evenings are spent drinking schooners (the larger size option, but not even a US pint size really) of craft beer in places with live music in West End and vintage-torn nooks and crannies of the Valley.  A young guy who reminded me a bit of Jesse Eisenberg asked me about Brisbane’s style – am I noticing any trends – I replied that in the types of places I’ve spent time the past few weekends – it looks like the same bunch of hipsters you’d find in the east village or Brooklyn. He thought that was cool apparently.

If someone were to ask you to drink your drink very fast, in comparison to a “chug”, that would be called “sculling.” For example, “hurry up; scull your beer so we can go.” Another point of observation, if you were the bar staff and it was your job to go around and pick up everyone’s empty glasses you’d perform the job of “glassying”, and be labelled a “glassy” to guests and other members of the staff.

I don’t drink tea, because I don’t drink caffeine really, at least on purpose, but tea is a form of life here as it is in the UK. Tea means tea, like what you would drink, but tea also means food. I have two tea breaks a day at work, morning tea and afternoon tea, and that usually consists of me eating the free cookies. So far, the cookies are winning the tug-of-war over my will power. These tea breaks are also conveniently, or perhaps inconveniently, timed in accordance to my old smoke breaks so conceivably the cookies have become a substitution. Let’s hope I’m not fat next time we meet. If I am, you’ll know why.

Monday evenings I play Bingo at the boutique beer cafe Archive in West End. I’ve gone twice and have not won yet. I also found out that the really really really really cute bartender is married so now I want to try something different. Bingo just became so lame. Thursday I go (well, I went once but plan to make it a regular thing) to a boot camp type workout class organized by Wiley that takes place out on the lawn next to the building. It’s fun, because it reminds me of my old boot camp type workout class on the lawn next to the  building in Hoboken. Only different.

I was tasked with obtaining an Australian hobby as a means to meet people but I don’t think I’ve accomplished that yet. Prior to my arrival we’ve determined the following limitations: no surfing because I’m scared of being eaten by a shark, no rugby because rugby players aren’t datable – and I’m a wuss, no scuba diving because I’m afraid of being eaten by a shark. I guess I’m left with learning how to play the didgeridoo. I’m still open to suggestions at this point.

Lollies are candy. And candy is chocolate. Make sense? Basically, lollies are hard candy and gummies. And they all are a bit not as awesome. I went to go see Harry Potter in 3D the other night, obviously, and was a bit perplexed by my candy options. Where are all the Sour Patch Kids, Swedish Fish, and Hot Tamales damn it!  It was a literally a tossup between Fairy Floss and popcorn. BTW – do you know I was asked, “Is it true in America you can put melted butter on your popcorn?” Sure is! What the heck do you call that unsalted, unflavoured bag of corn seeds? It’s also worth mentioning that for this particular movie theatre, when we purchased our tickets online, we also selected our seats in advance as you would on an airplane. Not too shabby for $21 thank you very much Australia.

My roomie Kate refers to herself as a Cadbury. There is a glass and half of milk that goes into a Cadbury bar of chocolate apparently. And therefore, she is a light drinker. The French Festival was on last weekend in Southbank. I’d never been to Southbank properly yet. Now I know where those weekend markets are, and where the lagoon is so I can tan hopefully very very soon (still unlikely). When we drove back in toward the city she said, “ahh, I love the Brisbane skyline, it feels like home.” Mind you, we were still in Brisbane, just crossing the river, but when she asked what in the States reminds me of home I could think of three distinct things, the Ben Franklin Bridge, the feeling you get when you first arrive down the shore, and the view of Manhattan from Hoboken.

I’ve been eating out a lot recently. I love to eat out. I think I’ve finally adjusted to the inflation on food. I don’t flinch as hard when my main costs anywhere from $20-35 and it’s just an easy night out. An entree is an appetizer and main is an entree. Make sense? I really craved a Mamouns falafel the other day, straight from the west village. I also eat a log of sushi. Often, you just get handed the whole roll over the counter, not cut up or anything, and just take a big bite from it like that, maybe dribble a little soy, but it’s kind of an on the go situation, unless you’re at a sushi train or something.

And I think that’s all I wanted to share with you for now.

Could this be beer heaven?


4:20 at Pony Bar
The menu at Pony Bar – changes daily!
We crawl through Hells Kitchen and down restaurant row. Although its cold outside, it’s not cold enough for us to see our breath. The glow of Christmas lights outside the boutique restaurants gives a sense of comfort, despite the holiday having gone. Onward, march.

Approaching 10th avenue there isn’t too much around except a vast Hess Station on the corner of 45th street. Taking up nearly a whole block, this immeasurable vicinity sticks out as awkwardly as your grandmother at a gay cabaret. But there is another defining characteristic to this street corner, The Pony Bar.

Stouts, hefeweizen, IPA…hops upon hops upon hops! Glorious days, I think to myself, this has to be the best place on earth. What makes this place so unique is that it serves only craft brews from across the US. That means you may try a Belgian ale or a delicious German wheat but its going to be grown domestically.

I feel like I’m on Family Feud when I scan the large board taking up the back wall behind the bar. Each listing depicts the brewery, beer, and alcohol content (ABV). No need to mention price because they’re all only $5. Try and find another steel like that in Manhattan. I dare ya.

I’m intrigued by the breweries and curious to learn more. Where is Goose Island and what’s their speciality? How about Sly Fox? I’m seeing a theme here that many brewers choose names from animals, uhum, Dog Fish Head.

I take notice of the clock on the wall. It’s permanently stalled at 4:20. I find it no coincidence then that their happy hour which earns patrons $1 off all drafts runs from 4:20-5:20 daily. I approach the bartender and ask for one of their large score sheets. This allows me to keep track of each beer I drink and give it a rating. Once I hit 100 I get a free t-shirt. Clearly obtaining this goal is my latest priority.

I now spend my days daydreaming about the next time I will be able to stop in the Pony Bar, grab a seat at one of their large picnic tables, and dabble with the thought of which beer will catch my fancy. For starters, I cannot get that Cappuccino Stout out of my mind!

http://www.theponybar.com

New Years Eve in midtown Manhattan?


Tomorrow is New Years Eve. Year 3 in New York City. Makes me question myself and my whereabouts every time I contemplate how long I’ve been here.

Year 1: House party in Murray Hill. Ice luge, check. Penthouse, check. A bunch of people I know, check. A bunch a people I don’t want to know, check. Midnight tolls. I’m confused. I don’t like it much and wonder, although surrounded by those I love, kinda like, and want to hate, and do hate – is this forthcoming of a new year worth my efforts?

Year 2: Same penthouse. No ice luge. Same group of people I love. New group of people I hate. Still wonder why I’m here. Not satisfied with my only, or at least only semi-viable option being a replay of last year, only worse. I end up at a diner five minutes past the stroke of midnight. It’s empty. Service is slow. What can you expect? I’d hate me too if I had to serve burnt grilled cheese on New Years Eve in Midtown.

Year 3: I’m opting for something different. Can I truly leave New York without doing an all-inclusive open bar in midtown for too much of my hard earned money? I mean, I only drink beer so $135 open bar for a bunch of, well at least I hope something a bit tastier than Coors Lite drafts, but lets be serious folks, shitty drinks while wearing a fru fui outfit, mask, and a bitter cold on the
roof top – apparently a view of the fireworks, to freeze my ass of and shiver like there’s no tomorrow – is worth it.

I envision walking in, seeing a dark-haired and blue-eyed man give me “the look”. I’m still not even sure if I know what that means. They hand me my free bottle of champagne. A big guy, a magnum of the good stuff. Not the shitty mini bar type that is most likely what I’m going to get. So yea, I’ve got my sexy sequined skirt on. I even went the ten-fold to curly my hair. Still deciding if I’m in the mood to manipulate my toes in a “I’m ready to walk on the side-walk in my stockings” kind of heels, or just opt for the sneakers kind of mood, but we’ll see.

The forecast calls for snow, rain, and sleet. 28 degrees farenheit. Awesome.

Least to say, I have to do it once. Pay a shitload of money to stand in line. Hide out next to the entrance where the waiters exit to serve the handful of h’ourderves not sufficient enough to satisfy an over-filled bar. Drink my moneys worth of beer; not in the least that I could have gotten for $15 at my local, where I’m pretty sure the clientel will be a bit more my speed and can have a conversation other than Brittany or Tiger’s latest shananagins.

So wish me luck folks! I’m off to celebrate New Years Eve in Midtown! Oh boy!

Zack’s Oak Bar and Restaurant


Enter through plush, forest green curtains into this cozy eatery and there’s no doubt you’ll be greeted with warm smiles. Because of its size, Zack’s offers a feel of exclusivity without the pretentions. A honey-comb tiled floor, oak-panels, and long mirrors line the bar with pictures depicting Hoboken’s early days. Although located off the beaten path, Zack’s isn’t missed by the locals. Some even go as far as to call it Hoboken’s own version of “Cheers”.

With only ten small tables in the dining room there can be a wait on weekends but it sure is worth it. The intricate ceiling, painted blood-red, contrasts the warm walls and tea lit table-settings inviting couples to nestle against lush corner pillows and talk intimately over French wine.

Aside from the nonchalant ambience, the true reason to visit is the food. You could call it American with a twist of everything. Favorites include the Stuffed Chicken (stuffed with asparagus and a drizzled with a soy based 5-spices sauce), the Lentil Salad (with balsamic and topped with warm goat cheese), and the Turkey Burger (a local favorite). In addition to their standard menu, new specials are offered daily from hearty, healthy pastas to fresh fish and juicy steak. Choosing a special off of this menu never fails.

With funky, indie-rock music flowing softly from the speakers, Zack’s is divey enough to make you feel comfortable at the bar sipping a few pints (from light beer to imported Belgian drafts) or watching the game on one of their four TVs. Yet at the same time will make you feel elite snuggled in the tiny dining room amongst your closest friends – who most likely are soon to include the staff.

In the summer months al-fresco dining proposes a nice alternative for people watching and on the weekends brunch offers all the favorites. At Zack’s it’s a win-win. It won’t drain your wallet and will leave you feeling at home with a smile.

Zack's Bar on Urbanspoon

Beauty Shop (966 South Cooper)


Dining at this retro, eclectic restaurant in the heart of the Cooper-Young district in Memphis takes you back to the insides of a 1940’s barbershop. As the name suggests, the decor alone is worth a visit. The front dining room, which houses a few small tables and a bar showcases hand blown glass chandelier’s and lime green sinks from the days of this 1st unisex barbershop in Memphis where the men had their hair snipped in the front of the shop and ladies were expected to have their services in the all pink painted back.

Tables are wedged where the old dressing stations used to be – still in tact with the original ice cube-like glass separators, original shelving and accent lights. The sheik, white decor and leather booths adds a sense of 70’s sheik.

The food is a great mix of traditional American and international cuisine with an interesting twist. Many dishes offer a sweet alternative to the typical meal; for example, try the chicken wings and watermelon smothered in a sweet thai sauce or the highly recommended grilled peaches topped with blue cheese. One of the many highlights is the famous BS Grilled Romaine – smokey romaine doused in a semi-spicy dressing with bacon, tomatoes and blue cheese. All dishes are served on vintage plates.

For entrees, the seared snapper was very flavorful although overcooked with a crisp exterior – as is everything in Memphis. The salmon with a side of arugula salad was tasty yet a bit salty in addition to the fishy mussels.

The highlight – dessert. Known for their cakes, the strawberry and caramel are melt in your mouth, moist cakes topped with a thick frosting. I also recommend the crepes (banana and nutella as a favor to our pal Elvis) was extraordinary.

For a post dinner drink – stop by the Mollie Fontaine Lounge (679 Adams Ave) which is owned by the same management as Barbershop and used to be the owner’s personal residence. Set in an old Victorian house, experience what true Memphis has to offer as Mollie’s is a place for the locals. Stepping inside this massive Victorian, the aroma of musky smoke fills the air. With live music Thurs – Sat, grab a glass of wine from their extensive list of cocktails as you relax to the piano and blues.

The first floor is strictly non-smoking, with two rooms of unique decor, enlarged black and white photos from the 60’s, cow-skin carpets and antiques nestled in tiny corners. Upon climbing the old wooden staircase to the second floor, the vibe is a bit more lively, the air a bit more smoky, and the various couches, nooks and funky atmosphere enough for anyone to melt into the true heart of Memphis.