Art, architecture and drinking

Don't mix. You've been warned.

So, there's Franklin and Mortgage in Philadelphia. It rocks. Sit at the bar if you are for reals. Nice scenery and the bouncer was a total sweetie. No cell reception, but if you are determined you can make it work. Sort of lounge-y as the night goes on. But recommended.

Then Ranstead Room. Another died and gone to heaven speakeasy. The guy knew his stuff. It almost made me...well...prepare yourself for good drinks. Don't cry. Don't think they won't play the Jackson 5. Don't be afraid of spending the entire night there until they kick you out. It's worth every minute. Even if you have an embarrassing moment later trying to recreate the actual payment of the bill. All this is good.

But as circles are known to do, if you begin with heartbreaking artwork and cab rides and wedding ring shopping, well don't be surprised if you end at a magnificent work of architecture. Quiet, shy, lost, cold, in awe. Listening to the Beatles like a sap.

Shhh, secrets

Safe House. Nothing new there. Then this whole thing with iPods and youTube and then the renaissance. I love a road trip. Noble Experiment. Let's write about ice. And that totally hot thing that is happening with speakeasy bartenders. Yes, this is a win for feminism. And did I mention the beautiful ice? Good company, nice interior, secret, secret, secret. Except when the entourage keeps sending u txt msgs. Oh well. That's what the off button is for. Let's talk about skulls as art. Or not. Or calligraphy and tree-carving because this is also a bit like B & W. Oh and they played Best Coast for two seconds before it got nixed. This bar might lead you to make the first move. Or it might make someone remember your name and be sweet even though they're really a bitch. Magic.

The Worst Cocktail in the World

F-ing Las Vegas. What? How many ingredients are in a Manhattan? That would be three.

Three ingredients. One of which the customer specified as Maker's Mark bourbon. So, two are all the bartender needed to come up with.

Caesar's Palace. Night of the Leonard Cohen concert. Rodeo in town. Just wanted a quick cocktail and some people-watching before the show.

The bartender didn't know the ingredients. Then as he was doing his "flair" he broke an entire bottle of vodka. (No vodka in a Manhattan, but whatever...) and then after cleaning up the glass, identifying that vermouth and bitters were part of the equation, and pretending he was roping a "doggie" with the soda gun...he charged me $25.

wtf.

Bernard de Voto

A...you have to grab a copy for the project. Girl, it is majorly relevant. And wil help with the martini piece. I can't stop quoting it in my daily life. And the there's Myrna Loy and William Powell and i just want to be Nick and Nora. Write up your part...i have already dreamt mine.

Stone Brewery Beer Garden

I hate zoos. I hate obnoxious bartenders that don't know shit about the beer they are promoting. And I hate GPS units. But... I love, love, love the Stone Brewery Beer garden. Do something about the cretin stepchild bartender and we're all good.

Second trip. Transposition. Do you feel that breeze? Do you see the butterflies? Did I mention that there is a koi pond? I mean when nothing else makes sense you can always depend on a koi pond. With the right company and the sunny San Diego weather, I might stay forever in the lovely green alcoves, whiling away the rest of my life drinking sour beers.

MMM

F if they don't go and ruin it every time. There was the one night with John Denver and the first off-color remark. Then the phone numbers get exchnaged and now you and O and the insane texting. There should be a law. Four to twelve-thirty is too late. And then the next time, let's blame it on the dance party. I was totally caught off guard. Terrifying. Girls on a mechanical bull. Sweetheart. Why is that the term, sweet is not right. In the words of Catherine Irwin, "i've been good. And i've been good for nothing"! Let's write it up.

Rogue-Obsessed

I can't stop drinking Rogue beer for some reason this month.

My current favorite is: Rogue St. Rogue Red Ale

It's great because it is robust without being one of those hoppier-than-thou IPA's that macho beer snobs seem to be enamored with. I also seem to be able to drink this nearly endlessly without needing to switch out to something later in the night. Excellent, if pricey.

I've also been in love with the Mom Heifenweizen, great during the warm fall of the Southwest.

The Captain Sig's Northwestern Ale is really strong and nice for a good kick if you are only going to have one beer at the end of the day, but it's a little much for repeating.

Dead Guy has been a long-time favorite since my days in Milwaukee at Roman's Pub. It's sort of a basic fundamental beer snob beer and one that can comfortably sit in my fridge any day of the week.

I guess I could branch out and go back to the Belgians for a while, but I do love Rogue. There's plenty more to keep me busy for a while.