Author: Meghan Stuthard

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Lurking at the Green Beetle.

The popular spelling of “Bushwacker” leaves out the second H, possibly because its creator had too many of his own concoctions and didn’t care about proper spelling. That guy, likely a man named Thomas Brokamp, has “Bro” in his name, so it’s really no surprise that he created what amounts to a chocolate milkshake made with Bacardi 151. This alcoholic milkshake is not as popular here in Memphis as it would be at the beach, but it’s a popular item at the Green Beetle, where I enjoyed one this past weekend. They’re one of the few places in town that have Bushwackers, much to the delight of Wendy’s Frosty fans everywhere. It’s hot out, so now is the time to drink something you wouldn’t normally drink like, you know, a drink made with a rum that is essentially pure gasoline.

The Green Beetle has been around since 1939, but in its most recent form for about seven years. During that revamp, the bar on the north side of the wall was torn down and the current bar, a horseshoe-shaped one, was built out of old shuffleboard tables. Behind that bar was the lovely Krista, expertly battling an onslaught of people stopping in before a show at the Orpheum. No, really, it was completely packed, and she was keeping it together, despite 100 women in rompers ordering shots, which is my personal hell.

As the crowd moved on to the show, Krista and her friend Jeff, a regular at the bar, spent some time talking to us about the Beetle and its patrons. I’ve spent a fair amount of time there; it’s affordable, always full of South Main regulars, and has great food, but I had never heard about its being haunted. Krista and Jeff said that the ghosts are mostly mischievous, leaving sink faucets on in the restrooms and overturning salt and pepper shakers on tables. Krista said they won’t act up around just anyone, which is fine by me, as I already have enough issues without having to deal with a meddlesome ghost.

The Beetle is a small bar, with green walls and dark paneling on the ceilings, making it feel more like a lair. A bar that is a lair is a place where you lurk more than you sit, so it is fittingly appropriate that it caters to those who enjoy lurking (ghosts and people alike). It’s an awesome place to drink and eat before a Grizzlies game and it’s full of TVs for all your sports-watching needs. During the sports dead-zone that is August, however, we were treated to the Jimmy Fallon/Drew Barrymore classic, Fever Pitch, which I guess is only a few steps below ESPN “The Ocho” showing a ping pong game. But as Jeff pointed out, the reason that the Beetle is so popular with South Mainers isn’t owing to its status as a place to catch a game (or a rom-com); it’s because of its role as a gathering place, a bar where everyone there is a friend and neighbor.

The intimacy of the inside of the Beetle spills out onto the sidewalk, where several tables and umbrellas are out for those who prefer to drink beer al fresco. At any given point in the weekend, these tables are packed with Downtowners making the most of their days off. While Downtown is not lacking in bars, it is certainly not full of neighborhood joints that act as both the last stop on a Saturday night and the first stop on a Sunday morning. The Beetle is like that, though; it even takes on a third role as a great business lunch spot. The menu is typical pub fare, but kicked up a notch. You’ve had cheese fries, sure, but have you had Philly cheese fries? The menu used to be exhaustingly large, even leading to one South Main resident attempting — and succeeding — at eating every single item (Mark’s plaque for accomplishing this feat is still on the wall behind the bar). They’ve since pared it down a bit, but it still has something for everyone.

The Green Beetle may be one of South Main’s neighborhood bars, but it’s got the neighborhood bar feel that caters to everyone who walks in. Mosey in and grab a Bushwacker, limit your intake to two, and get some nachos to-go. And oh, if the faucet’s on when you walk in the restroom, run like hell.

Green Beetle, 325 S. Main, 527-7337, thegreenbeetlememphis.com

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Get on the soccer bandwagon at the Brass Door.

CREDIT: Justin Fox Burks

If you’re one of the millions of people who forgot soccer existed the moment your buzz wore off after the U.S. Women’s National Team laid waste to everyone in the 2015 Women’s World Cup, then chances are you’ve rediscovered it these past couple weeks as the 2018 World Cup unfolds. If you’re just a casual fan, then you’re definitely back on the soccer bandwagon because baseball bores you and your life is so pathetic that you need a reason to drink beer at 6 a.m. Memphis is fortunate enough to have two great Irish pubs in Celtic Crossing and The Brass Door, the latter of which I visited last week to get back on the soccer bandwagon myself.

The Brass Door is a great place to kick it and watch soccer without actually having to kick anything, which is fantastic for someone like me who would prefer to watch sports without having to participate in them. That being said, I’m the only one who’s often actually sitting down at the bar, as everyone else is standing up and pounding fists and hugging people they don’t know whenever that one guy with the hair makes a goal, or as announcers spell it, a goooooooooooal. The Brass Door is comprised of two parts: On one side, a stately old bar is the centerpiece of a beautiful room with original checkered floors and tall windows; the other side has more of a sports pub feel, with the main attraction being the multiple TVs. To no one’s surprise, my friends and I can most often be found on the grittier side where spilling beer on others isn’t as frowned upon.

Seamus Loftus opened The Brass Door just a few years ago, and it has already undergone a bitchin’ menu change, courtesy of Patrick and Deni Reilly of Majestic Grille. While I celebrate all of the food there, I’m particularly into the brunch menu because it features a grilled ham and cheese sandwich topped with beer cheese dip and a sunny-side up egg. If you’re watching soccer and drinking beer, there is exactly a zero percent chance you’re turning down a grilled cheese with cheese dip and an egg on top of it unless you’re vegan or a soulless weirdo.

The whole food menu is as colorful as Seamus’ language, which is why I can’t repeat most of the conversations I’ve had with him. I can tell you that he is the type of host to offer your friend who is inexplicably wearing Elton John sunglasses indoors a fine Scotch, served neat, that aforementioned friend drinks as a shot. He is the type of pub owner who is a part of the local soccer community, sponsoring both a recreation league team and a soccer-themed podcast, Round Table of Hooligans, that is recorded at the bar. He’s the guy whose soccer analysis you listened to on the Chris Vernon Show during the last World Cup, and he’s going to be your new favorite person to talk shop with if you find yourself at his bar.

The World Cup is a sports phenomenon in that it brings everyone together to actively hate on Portugal’s national team, which is why you will meet no enemies at The Brass Door, regardless of which side of the establishment you park yourself. The fancier side is bright and inviting; it purrs, “Come, sit at my large wooden bar and order a Smithwick’s,” which is fantastic if you’re popping in for lunch with a friend for a midday beverage. The pub side is darker and more forgiving of those who slept in last night’s makeup; it screams, “Hello, yes, hi! Order Jameson and yell about something that happened back in 2009!” Either way, the bartender who most often puts up with my friends and me, Joey, will be there to accommodate you without judgment.

Soccer is rapidly gaining popularity in the U.S. and The Brass Door has contributed to the local rise in interest, often hosting both the Memphis Gooners and American Outlaws Memphis. The World Cup comes to a close this weekend, so I’d suggest joining me in visiting so you can witness the fandom yourself. Next year, for the 2019 Women’s World Cup, plan on patronizing an Irish pub. I promise you that no one will be angry when you spray a whole beer on the floor from excitement, Seamus least of all. 152 Madison. 572-1813, thebrassdoor.com

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Consider a visit to Westy’s

Here’s what you need to know about Jake Schorr: He’s Memphis-born and Memphis-raised, having never lived elsewhere outside of the six years he spent in the Navy. He is an ambassador of Memphis, one of its biggest cheerleaders and a true fountain of knowledge of the city he loves. His family is as ingrained in Memphis as the Mississippi River, having founded the Tennessee Brewery on its shores back in the 1880s. Like the Mississippi, the Schorr family winds its way through Memphis, having impressed itself upon the city with business ventures, bars, and most importantly, beer. Westy’s, old as it is, is still Mr. Jake’s most recent bar venture and his longest-running. Situated down on North Main, Westy’s has been in operation since 1983, serving as the go-to bar for locals, visitors, and both versions of the Pyramid.

Two friends and I met at Westy’s on a Sunday afternoon to, you know, drink beer. At this point, I didn’t know anything about the Schorr family, their legacy, or Goldcrest, outside of the fact that it had once been brewed at the Tennessee Brewery. The original Goldcrest 51 has been served for a while at Westy’s, but I went for the Goldcrest Bock, the recipe for which was thought to be lost, but happened to be recovered just a few years ago.

Here’s how chill Westy’s and its patrons are: We had a loud discussion about bands we saw on tour in the ’90s, and no one nearby appeared to judge us, even though names like Marilyn Manson and Veruca Salt were thrown around with wild abandon. Even after this discussion and several beers, the bartender, Haley, was still politely addressing us as “ma’am” and “sir,” though I can nearly guarantee none of the three of us were worthy of it.

Jake Schorr

Haley introduced us to Schorr, or Mr. Jake, as his staff calls him. He immediately remarked that he gets people from all over the world at his bar and each one knows more about Memphis than actual Memphians do. He told us the fantastic story of his life: how he started in the stereo business after returning from the Navy, how he once spoke on the phone with Elvis, and how he befriended Alex Chilton. He had stories about Ardent and the old Lafayette’s and nearly every musician who has passed through, and you’d think after all of this, he’d be done. But here’s another thing about Mr. Jake: He doesn’t sit idly by. His most ambitious venture yet is still in the works. The beloved Rainbow Room, located behind Westy’s, has been shuttered since it closed in 1983. His purchase of the former synagogue finally complete, he is renovating and reopening it as a music venue.

Westy’s is hardly a secret, especially for those who live in the Downtown area, but the law school and medical school populations that cram into other, more publicized Downtown bars might not know about it. It’s open until 3 a.m. each night and offers delivery until 2 a.m. It’s got a bizarrely shaped bar (which is one of my favorite things about it), booths, and tables; it’s large enough to accommodate groups both at lunch and late into the night. There’s a large patio out back and, some nights, live music. Most impressively, the menu has over 150 items by my count. Why so many? “I guess I just don’t know any better,” Mr. Jake confesses. Hell, the man wants to add even more. His favorite dishes are the patty melt and the jambalaya.

Haley

Eventually it wasn’t long before our discussion turned to Anthony Bourdain. All three of us are writers ourselves (well, the two of them are writers; I’m more of a barfly with access to a laptop) and one of us being a kitchen wizard, it was hard not to recall Bourdain and his many culinary, literary, and cultural triumphs, especially while sitting at a beautiful old, dark bar. Before long, we had befriended an English couple who had traveled all this way for — who else? — Elvis. It was fitting of Bourdain, to be in this crazy little dive, laughing and drinking with pals from far away, sharing stories about Memphis with two new fans. I urge everyone to do the same, wherever you may drink or dine, but consider a visit to Westy’s. Introduce yourself to Mr. Jake, and prepare to learn something new about this city you love.

Westy’s, 346 N Main, 543-8646, westysmemphis.com

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Stopping by Bayou Bistro

CREDIT: Justin Fox Burks

Ah, Overton Square! The revitalization of the Midtown entertainment district has led to so many shiny new restaurants with their adorable branding and goofy mottos.

While tiny food items and hilariously named drinks can be cool sometimes, that newness leaves some of us craving a real bar, the kind where the bartender rolls his eyes and people don’t ask for chasers. Fortunately, Overton Square is still home to one such bar, attached but separate from the Bayou Bar & Grill. Formerly named Le Chardonnay, it went through a couple additional name changes before the owners settled on the Bayou Bistro. Those of us who frequent it, however, still refer to it affectionately as Le Chard.

Le Chardonnay has existed alongside the Bayou for the entirety of the Bayou’s existence, tucked away in the corner to be enjoyed by those in the service industry well before Overton Square started looking like a carnival ride. It’s a secret hideout from the glitz and specialty burgers; it’s a simple place to enjoy beers for under $3 and avoid guacamole completely. The thing that’s most appealing about Le Chard is that it’s a bar for those who just had “one of those days.” It’s dimly lit, its ceilings are low, the music doesn’t suck, and it’s only open at night. You can squirrel yourself away in a corner with a whiskey neat and rest assured that the only person who will bother you is the one guy whose day was worse than yours. On top of that, your bartender will likely commiserate with you.

Justin Fox Burks

Scott, who mans the bar three nights a week, also fronts a Smiths cover band, Louder Than Bombs. If you can’t talk to a guy that spends a couple nights a week emulating Morrissey about your problems, then I don’t know who you can talk to. Tyler and Megan round out the crew that holds down the bar. For a good time, watch them deal with an unruly patron. Live vicariously through them as they say everything to some drunk asshole that you’ve ever wanted to say but didn’t want to get punched or fired for saying.

Though dimly lit and slightly smoky (they permit smoking after 9 p.m., when they become 21-plus), it does have the modern amenities that holes-in-the-wall need in 2018, like several large TVs. Le Chard is a perfect place to watch a game because the bar is decently sized with televisions at both ends. Also, it doesn’t typically get busy in there until after 9 p.m., so you’re guaranteed a seat when games begin around 7. The bar is home to many diehard Griz fans who gather to watch games during the season (though to be fair, after this season, probably every bar in the city was home to diehard Griz fans). The bar shares a menu with the Bayou, so you can order your po’boys and enjoy them in relative silence without having to deal with Bayou crowds. You can even enjoy said po’boy from the comfort of a couch next to the fireplace, another fine amenity unique to Le Chard.

Heading into summer months, it’s important to know the location of all shady patios, and Le Chard has one of Memphis’ best. It’s to the side of the building under a canopy of wisteria. Like the inside, it’s dim in there due to being completely shaded by the vines. It’s not often crowded because no one knows about it. Wow your friends by taking them to a secret spot where you can nurse your hangover on a breezy patio, free of judgment.

Le Chard has a full bar available, plus all the draft beers that are offered by the Bayou’s bar. When I say “full bar,” remember that I’m talking about a bar where you go when you’ve had “one of those days.” So don’t walk in there ordering a frosé just because the patio is cute. Order a whiskey and loudly complain about your neighbors, as God and Le Chardonnay intended.

Le Chard remains unique in Overton Square because the joints are shutting down in favor of the new places. Support your local joints and go tie one on with the crew that still remembers when Overton Square was a ghost town. I’ll buy you your first shot.

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

The Liquor Store: dog-friendly and Instagram-worthy.

Gather your friends and rescue dogs, check your three-drink weekday maximum at the door, and rejoice! It’s patio season in Memphis!

This is the time of year where Memphians can get away with double-digit amounts of draft beers on a Tuesday just because it’s 70 degrees outside. They can justify sugary drinks and cheese fries because calories don’t count when consumed outside. In the spirit of the looming patio season, I opted for an outside drinking experience. That is to say, I stepped outside my comfort zone of “dark and smoky” and into the patio zone of “light and airy.” I went to The Liquor Store’s brand-new patio, a patio I felt I could use to ease into the season because “liquor” is in the name of the place.

The Liquor Store has been open just a few months, so they missed out on patio season last year. Last week, they opened their patio, nestled among the shipping containers out back of the building. The space is covered in AstroTurf and filled with bright white picnic tables and tangerine umbrellas. It’s all enclosed within a cinder block wall, also painted a bright white. My friend and I decided it looked like an outdoor space in a Pee-Wee Herman movie, so we’ve nicknamed it Pee-Wee’s Playhouse Patio. The shipping containers may soon house an outdoor bar, and, if you’re lucky, Paul Reubens on a bicycle.

Seasonal cocktail

The success of a Memphis patio can be difficult to predict. A patio that I don’t think will make it is suddenly booming, whereas some of the great patios in this city remain underappreciated and underutilized. The Liquor Store’s patio has a lot of what people like: colors that look great in Instagram photos, dog-friendliness, and unique drinks made with a liqueur no one at the table can pronounce. Not only did I take a picture and pet a dog, but I also indulged in the patio-worthy drinks on the menu. There’s the Fortified Broad with Rhum Barbancourt, orgeat, white port, and cinnamon, which was as good as a rum cocktail gets if you’re not much of a rum drinker. I also drank an Earl Grey Sour, made with brandy and egg whites. We ordered mojitos, too, because it just felt right on a breezy, spring night. They weren’t listed as a specialty drink, but they were delicious without being too sweet. Not to be outdone by liquor, there’s a strong showing on the menu from local beers and, for the less fancy, 40 oz. High Life. The allure of drinking 40’s on an AstroTurf patio off Broad Avenue may be too much for Memphis to resist; the only thing that kept me from going that route was the lack of the proper soundtrack.

While a great patio must have great ambience, food plays into the equation as well. The Liquor Store serves breakfast all day, and anyone who has ever found themselves falling into a CK’s at 4 a.m. knows what a beautiful tango exists between booze and breakfast entrees. We ordered the steak and eggs, the former deliciously cooked and knocking the socks off the steak that five shots of Jameson deem passable at a 24-hour diner. The steak and eggs was also served with a large pancake, which we didn’t know, so its presence was like finding a bonus tater tot in an order of french fries. The Liquor Store: making your 9 p.m. patio breakfast dreams come true since 2018. Lunch and dinner are offered as well, and here’s a second gentle reminder that cheese fries’ calories don’t count when you eat them outside.

I’m glad I began patio season at the Liquor Store. It was full of people and puppies at sunset mid-week: a good omen in my book. The summery feel of the place and cold rum drinks have me yearning for all the other Memphis patio power-players to get into the swing of it. In Memphis, our patio season can be fleeting as the weather goes from cold rain to sweltering Hades in a matter of days. It’s important to take advantage of the season while it’s here and to make the most of any weather opportunity that makes your 40-year old friend take his shirt off in public and order a round of breakfast shots.

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Atomic Tiki

The Atomic Tiki has only been open a month and a half, and owner Brian McCabe, known by most as Skinny, has big plans. “I’m already changing the menu and adding new drinks,” he says. “I’m taking down that wall and building a big bar.”

This is good news because anyone familiar with the history of tiki bars in America knows that bigger and better is always the right move when it comes to tiki joints. Critiki.com describes the American post-war tiki bar as an “over-the-top themed restaurant” that emulates what we imagined Polynesian culture to be like.

I’ve always pictured tiki bars as a gaudy marriage between my parents’ childhood home videos and the backyard parties in Edward Scissorhands if they took place on a beach. As it turns out, I am not wrong. Quick research on Critiki turns up the Dobbs House Luau, a clown show of a restaurant once open on Poplar with an A-frame roof and a huge Moai out front.

The Dobbs House Luau closed in 1982, and aside from whatever Bahama Breeze is trying to be, the Atomic Tiki is one of only two tiki places that exist in Memphis. Skinny and his staff have crafted a pretty solid menu of tropical drinks, from the typical Mai Tais and Zombies to the more modern Midnight Train, made from Amaro and Kraken rum. Spongebob’s House is a fruity blend served in a pineapple, while Bang Harvey’s Dead comes with an edible flower for a garnish (“It’s okay, if you’re going to eat a flower,” my friend says). The Buck Nasty is a bourbon drink with allspice dram, a liqueur made from allspice berries. The Milk Punch, a popular Tiki throwback, is spiced rum, nutmeg, and half-and-half — and truly delicious for those of us who enjoy the occasional beverage made with dairy. Signature drinks are just $10-12 and are house concoctions, while staples are original tiki recipes or twists on them (for example, a new drink debuting soon is the Long Island Iced Teaki). A third section of the menu is devoted to bowls, larger and more … interactive drinks that might be better shared. I ordered the Spongebob’s House for myself, though, so there is only a little shame in consuming a bowl by oneself.

In the old tiki restaurants of the ’50s and ’60s, the cuisine was basically Chinese-American “dressed up with pineapple,” according to Critiki, which might have been its undoing, considering the way the humble pineapple is disparaged locally for its appearance on pizza. “Unpredictably, we’ve done a lot of food sales,” Skinny says. I try the top-selling Polynesian meatballs which live up to the hype. Skinny is also redoing the food menu to include more vegan and vegetarian dishes. It is expected to be available on April 6th.

The tiki bars of old Memphis might’ve featured working volcanoes or waterfalls, and Skinny is slowly building up his kitschy interior design to do the Dobbs House Luau proud. Netting hangs from the ceiling and knick-knacks adorn the walls: mermaids, surfboards, and, inexplicably, a plunger and Gone in 60 Seconds VHS tape. While some might exclaim, “Hey, that’s not tiki, that’s just tacky!” most of us will see it for what it is: a fun, neighborhood bar that lets the drinks be the star of the show and the wall plunger play a supporting role.

“We want the neighborhood to dictate what we are,” Skinny says. The bar is right around the corner from Crosstown Concourse on Overton Park, meaning there is soon to be a lot of neighborhood to dictate Atomic Tiki’s direction. He envisions his space as a bar for neighbors to walk to for local beer during happy hour or late at night for a tropical nightcap. I imagine that, over time, the place will accumulate more wall art, more ridiculousness, and become a destination bar for those who want to experience an uncommon drink. Tiki is the logical next step for Memphis mixology that prides itself on innovation, and while a tiki cocktail doesn’t feel as mature as a barrel-aged whiskey drink, it sure is fun to order something with a plastic monkey in it. Take a hint from your grandparents, who saw Polynesia as an exotic place soaked in rum and full of hula girls and built a whole restaurant phenomenon around it. Be the neighborhood and dictate to Skinny what you want: a Jet Pilot in your hand and him in a hula skirt.

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Are you cool enough for Memphis Sounds?

Nine times out of 10 what happens in a basement should stay in a basement (if you’ve ever read Marilyn Manson’s autobiography, you’re nodding very hard right now). That never held true for Memphis Sounds, the beloved blues bar housed in the basement of the Econo Lodge downtown. It was a total dive, unforgettable, the type of place you only recommend to really cool friends.

Even with all of that being said, Memphis Sounds fell off my radar. It bleeped back onto my radar last week when a friend pointed out that it had reopened in the River Terrace Yacht Club on Mud Island. If it’s possible, it has gotten even cooler.

You can’t miss the sign. It reads “Cool Jazz Hot Blues” and illuminates the steps leading into the bar. I was thrilled to see that Memphis Sounds had taken over such a great location. The Yacht Club is a real piece of work; it’s vintage cool with a split-level design allowing multiple levels to all look down onto the dance floor. I hadn’t been inside since an unfortunate formal where I was the date of a man who only asked me in an effort to try to convince his friends he was straight. He was not. Sad dates aside, perhaps most stunning about the club is that it affords guests the absolute best view of the bridge and the river. Huge windows look out into the Mississippi, and once the weather cooperates, that patio will give Beale Street Landing a run for its money. I got there right as the sun was setting and was mesmerized by the view.

Memphis Sounds

Memphis Sounds has a hell of a week every week. On Wednesdays, there is line dancing. Karaoke goes down each Thursday. On Fridays and Saturdays, there is live music. The bar charges a cover on the weekends, but embarrassing yourself with either dancing or singing mid-week is completely free! I visited on line dancing night because I’m from Nashville, and my curiosity was piqued. Could Memphis, which competes with Nashville on so many different levels, possibly beat Nashville at its own sport? The answer is yes! A dance floor full of women absolutely demolishing a synchronized line dance to Michael Jackson’s “They Don’t Care About Us” is the best thing I never knew I needed to experience. To make it even better, there’s a huge screen wherein you can watch a very large version of yourself as you dance. This is not a selling point for me, but I imagine it is for those who a) can dance and b) don’t have soul-crushing feelings of inadequacy.

I had about three separate incidents wherein I wanted to throw myself down on the dance floor, Wayne and Garth “We’re not worthy!”-style. The bar opened at 6 p.m. and people were there right at 6, ready to dance. In Midtown, we can’t even get a show to start on time. Do you love your home bar so much that you’re there when it opens? No, you don’t. A gentleman made a Three’s Company reference to me. Do you attend bars where there are Three’s Company jokes? You do not. Do you know that there is a remix version of the Cha Cha Slide and that there are people in this world that can make it look cool? You do not. You are as unworthy of Memphis Sounds as Wayne and Garth were of Alice Cooper. It’s the coolest bar in town, and I am not cool enough to have been there.

Here’s how to get there, assuming they don’t kick you out for being a dork: head to Mud Island and stop at the guard booth. Tell them you’re headed to Memphis Sounds to get schooled on the dance floor, then keep to the right. Admire the badass view of the river as you park. Proceed inside and order a $4 martini (there is table service as well as a bar) and then get out there, you hot shot! See if you can keep up! Memphis Sounds isn’t currently open Sunday through Tuesday, but it’s open until midnight Wednesday and Thursday and stays open even later for the music on the weekends.

I can’t stress this enough: There is a beautiful blues club on Mud Island with a hell of a view and a large group of women line-dancing to Michael Jackson that puts country line dancing to shame. If you’re looking for more fodder for your “Nashville sucks!” cannon, this is a good place to start. God, I love this city. It never stops surprising me, and I will never stop defending it.

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

The Belle Tavern — don’t spoil it for the rest of us.

CREDIT: Facebook/Belle Tavern

Over the past month several people have recommended the Belle Tavern to me, citing great drinks, an impressive bar food menu, and the happy hour, and service industry prices. I had not heard of it before and, frankly, I’m disappointed that you guys held out on me so long. I might not still be in the service industry, but I still have that look in my eye of perpetually needing to unwind. It’s the one you get only after years of dealing with the boobs who terrorize servers and bartenders. So sure, it took me a hot minute to discover the Belle Tavern, but I finally made it. Seven of us braved the icy roads over the weekend to seek shelter and whiskey, and God bless them for being open and willing to accommodate us.

Arctic winds and ice would seemingly kill a bar crowd, but not at Belle Tavern. The place was half-full when we arrived and stayed occupied the whole time we were there. The bartender, Q, suggested a hot mug of mulled wine to start and, people, let me tell you, that alone would’ve made it worth the trip. Friends had suggested the 3 Whiskey Old Fashioned, which we also ordered. It, too, was incredible. One of my buddies had the Bourbon Cherry Limeade. Its color is such that it could be mistaken for an actual cherry limeade, if you need something to pour in an old Sonic cup and carry to your kids’ sporting events. The Belle Tavern also has a huge selection of whiskeys, a welcome sight to the snow-drunk masses and connoisseurs alike.

A good bar can get by on the booze alone, but a competent menu never hurt, either. The Tavern used to be a part of Belle Southern Bistro before it closed, and it still maintains a lot of the great grub that was showcased at the Bistro. We ordered the Butcher Board, a selection of meats, cheeses, and more for $15, and it was enough to pass around the whole group. In fact, it was such a large amount of food that the conversation turned to the cost of living in Memphis, with the Butcher Board serving as the affordable housing offered here as opposed to, say, the skyrocketing Nashville market.

The bar itself is both elegant and cozy. There were several tables, a lounge area, and a stately horseshoe-shaped bar (my favorite style of bar, if you are wondering) with super-cushy bar stools. The Tavern is accessible only by alleyway which serves two purposes: One, not as many dummies can find it, and two, it makes me feel like I’m walking into an illegal poker game — something I’ve yearned for since my first viewing of A River Runs Through It. There is also a huge window that opens into the alley, which will lend itself to awesome alley parties and open-window rainstorms once it warms up. To find Belle Tavern, take a right down Barboro Alley from 2nd and look for the blue neon sign, like a beacon shining bright.

The Tavern’s tag line is “The Place Your Friends Haven’t Told You About.” It’s a mix of speakeasy and pub, divey with the alleyway entrance, yet comfortable owing to lack of crust punks passed out in the restroom. It’s dark and romantic, but can be dressed down with a little of what I call “yelling about hating Tom Brady in front of strangers.” The bar laughs in the face of tradition, booking music Sundays through Wednesdays instead of on weekend nights, when most of the clientele just wants to chill. The place has a huge TV above the bar and another in the lounge area. The bar is open from 4 p.m. to 1 a.m. Mondays through Saturdays and from noon to 10 p.m on Sundays. Happy hour is from 10 p.m. to midnight (uncertain how this is handled on Sundays). For those of you who deserve it most — the dear hearts of the service industry — happy hour is open to close. Finally, for you New Year’s Resolution sorts, there is a “prohibition” menu with mocktails. Hearty congratulations to all of you who have just found your new pre- or post-Grizzlies game bar in the Belle Tavern. Don’t spoil it for the rest of us.

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

El 7 Mares: approved by Jesus.

CREDIT: Facebook/El 7 Mares

Facebook/El 7 Mares

Make your wildly outrageous claims about Memphis, but never call into question its Mexican food scene. Ivan Rabb, bless his heart, made the mistake on Twitter last week and was immediately reprimanded by all of us: the Summer loyalists, the Las Delicias enthusiasts, and all you lucky East Memphis folks with access to Chili Verde during the workday. There’s been no report on whether he has found the Memphis taco truck of his dreams yet, but it’s my pleasure to urge everyone, including Rabb, to “Hustle” over to El 7 Mares on Jackson.

El 7 Mares is, like many of our favorite Memphis Mexican haunts, stamped with the seal of approval from the one and only Jesus Himself. I know this because a large, non-threatening Jesus hangs above the bar, there to forgive and encourage you in your tequila-soaked endeavors.

My friend and I listened to our hearts and ordered a large pitcher of margaritas for $16. A margarita, though basic enough, is incredibly easy to screw up for so many places. (Now that’s a Tweet thread I would enjoy reading, as I have an ever-growing list of “Wow, I Can’t Believe They Botched the Marg” places.) El 7 Mares did no such thing: It was strong, not too sugary, and served with big straws, like the ones you get with Icees.

In keeping with the theme of forgiveness, I was dressed like some sort of mix between 1990s Janeane Garofalo and a dog wearing a sweater, and they still served me. Furthermore, a kid was playing basketball inside while we were there, and although loud noises while I’m dining are egregious sins anywhere else in the country, I am okay with the sound of dribbling in Memphis-area restaurants.

The menu at Mares is, of course, extensive. They have a seafood bucket of crab claws and crawfish for $28.99! They also have a huge selection of soups in varying sizes. Assuming Memphis has a winter this year, how delightful will this place be? And it was all so affordable. I’ll pay top dollar for good soup but can always make room for a place that keeps it reasonable and tasty. For our friend Ivan Rabb, there is a drink on the menu called a California Root Beer, apparently one of the few drinks in this galaxy made with Galliano. We stuck with the margaritas, as I am past the age of drinking vanilla liqueurs. I also ordered a half-dozen tamales to split, and if those were any indication, I can’t wait to go back and try more of what they have.

The restaurant also stays open late on Fridays and Saturdays. Beginning between 10 and 11 p.m., the place will have more of a club feel. They’ve got a full bar and a huge area for dancing, which is ideal for working off the tamales you just ate, unless you’re me and the thought of public dancing is your personal idea of hell. El 7 Mares is actually one of several Mexican restaurants that stays open late as a nightclub, meaning there is a good chance one of your favorite spots does it, too. If you go out dancing, however, two things to remember: photographic evidence required and no squirrelly crap like putting grenadine in your Corona. Remember: Jesus is perched on that bar. Spiking a Corona with anything other than lime is crossing the line.

Finally, most telling of our city is that the good people of Memphis are quick to discuss cuisine but can’t help punctuating the recommendation with, “… but it isn’t in the greatest neighborhood.” Fire Mexican food doesn’t come from white people in Collierville, unless you guys know something I don’t. Places like Summer and Jackson have some of the best eats because that’s where the people that cook those delicious meals raise their families. If you want authentic atmosphere and amazing food, step outside the comfort zone and quit belittling a neighborhood for not having country club amenities. El 7 Mares had a handful of blue-collar folks in there, Spongebob on TV for the kids, and a friendly and fun staff. Kudos to everyone who read Rabb’s tweet and suggested one of the awesome and family-owned joints without remarking on the perceived inadequacy of location. That’s why we are on Twitter and all the non-food geeks are still slumming it on Yelp praising mediocrity.

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

A Deep Dive into Lefty’s Sports Pub

Go fetch that damn ball, you lazy dog.”

The ball rolled across the carpet and came to a stop while Sally, a Schnauzer, watched. Sally’s owner got up and went after the ball himself. His friend said, “Now, why would she go get the ball if she knows you’re going to get it for her?”

Dogs, big and small, are allowed inside at Lefty’s Sports Pub as long as they don’t bite. It’s been two minutes since I walked in the door, and I am all in on any bar where dogs can hang out.

I try to write about bars that haven’t received a lot of attention, but it turns out Lefty’s Sports Pub has been featured on the cover of the Memphis Flyer before, back when it was known as Shirley’s Overtime Inn. The article was prominently displayed in the bar until Shirley sold it and it became Lefty’s, some 10 years ago. It has existed under one name or another for over 50 years, tucked away on Summer in a sea of used appliance stores. Now it is home to Sherry, the greatest bartender in the whole wide world. I told her I would write that, but it is not a lie. She might be the world’s greatest bartender.

Sherry, as it turns out, is the cherry on top of what is the most colorful cast of characters that the bar scene might ever know. I met Elvis, the large stuffed dog who sits propped up at the bar with a handle of tequila. There was Sally, of course, who was too tired to play fetch by the time I got there. There was Kathy, a bar regular who has since passed on, but whose cremated remains fill a Miller Lite bottle behind the bar. Mr. Cecil wasn’t there, but I felt like I knew him by the time I left. The same goes for Hollywood (so named after winning big on a scratch-off) who is recently departed from us after sustaining injuries from being hit by his own van back in September. But Sean, Larry, and the Toms are very much alive, happy to kick it with you at the bar over $2.25 domestics. They don’t serve liquor, but you can bring your own and pay $2.25 for a set-up, same as a beer. They also don’t serve food, but it’s a block away from Elwood’s Shack and you can bring your own takeout.

Sean pointed out that neighborhood beer joints for working folks are dying out, and while I see his point, I don’t think we have anything to worry about as long as Lefty’s is around. This place is what you picture when asked to conjure up an image of a neighborhood dive. NASCAR cutouts adorn the walls. A “No Guns Allowed” sign hangs behind the bar. They even have Ms. Pacman!

There are a couple of pool tables, too, but I can’t imagine any pool game being preferable to sitting at Sherry’s bar and listening to stories. She told me about a police officer who would park across the street and watch them with binoculars, so Sherry brought her binoculars so she could watch him back. Then they’d send a sober bar regular swerving out onto the street, just to watch the police officer take off after him. Bar regulars knew to bring their cars by here for Hollywood to work on. Mr. Cecil arrives every day when Lefty’s opens at noon, after telling his wife he’s going out for ice cream. I think the thing that Sean laments isn’t the loss of a neighborhood bar, but the loss of the sort of genuine people that give a place like this its character.

I can’t tell you everything I learned at Lefty’s that night, like why that cop had it out for Lefty’s or Larry’s nickname for the matriarch of a prominent Memphis family. I’m still not sure why “714” was scrawled in various places in the bar or the unfortunate circumstances that led to the toilet paper being chained to the wall. I don’t want to spoil Tom’s idea for interacting with the dead for you, and I certainly don’t want to divulge everyone’s opinions on Princess Diana. I don’t want to explain the situation with the squirrels in the attic and the untimely demise of a Cabbage Patch doll collection. I’d rather you go find out for yourself. Tell Sherry I said hey, buy them all a round, pour one out for Hollywood and Kathy, and for the love of God, don’t do anything that gets you on the receiving end of Sherry’s double bird-flip.

Lefty’s Sports Pub, 4497 Summer (763-2679)