Tag: Bar Report

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Drinks at Bar Keough, Finally

CREDIT: Photographs by Justin Fox Burks

When a Bar Keough sign went up at 247 Cooper but the windows remained covered, it was enough for the Flyer to name the space “Best Unopened Bar” in the annual Best of Memphis staff picks. Kevin Keough, owner of Café Keough Downtown, finally opened the doors in late 2019, revealing an intimate, eclectic space with a prize jukebox, recognizable staff, and what I believe to be the world’s only bar food menu featuring tartine.

On the night we visited, Keough himself was there to monitor additional repairs on the Claremont jukebox that looms from the rear of the bar. It houses 100 45s from Keough’s extensive personal collection, and he changes them out regularly. Currently, it’s home to some fantastic ’80s alternative and at least one Van Halen record, which we assume is responsible for breaking the jukebox in the first place. One dollar gets you 10 plays at Bar Keough, and a bonus for old jukeboxes is that no one can skip your track to play “Funky Cold Medina” 15 times.

Photographs by Justin Fox Burks

Mike Hutsell at Bar Keough

It’s not just the music that sets the place apart, though. Bar Keough is nothing fancy until you notice the thoughtful details that make up the décor. The red diner-like counter that serves as the bar, for example. The Zenith speakers peeking out from behind whiskey bottles. The light fixtures above, which Keough tells me he ordered from Belgium from a German dude with an Italian name who designs racecars. This last fact fills me with remorse that the light fixture has already lived a more exciting life than I.

The drink menu itself is also beautiful in its simplicity, containing such college-kid classics as the Madras and Green Tea interspersed with “I’m an adult now” drinks like the Old Fashioned and French 75. Then there’s the most welcome addition of the Tom Collins, which I drank only before I was old enough to drink, but you better believe I sampled one at Bar Keough.

Bartender Mike Hutsell says his favorite drink to make is an Old Fashioned, and I’m delighted to see that he still uses the unnaturally pink maraschino cherries, which I’ve really started to miss ever since they began disappearing from bars in favor of that snobby-ass Luxardo cherry. There’s also a small wine list, local and domestic bottled beers, and Miller High Life ponies, for those who would like one more but do not deserve a full beer. On draft, there’s Newcastle, Stella Artois, and Guinness, which is a small, but mighty mix of beers. Fans and haters (who are really just closeted fans) of White Claw alike, join me in thunderous applause! Bar Keough also carries the coveted water beers.

Our go-to move is to have a couple drinks each while writing about bars we go to, but Hutsell was having none of it. “This is a safe space for more than two drinks,” he says. This checks out. Bar Keough is nestled on the corner of Cooper and Peabody, a quick walk from Central Gardens, Cooper-Young, or the Overton Square areas. It’s important to note that it’s also stumbling distance to the CVS — because who knows what can happen to one’s body after a few Bar Keough Blue Hawaiians.

While Hutsell is normally bartending for happy hour, it’s Scott Miles who does the heavy lifting for larger crowds on Friday and Saturday nights, when I can personally guarantee you the Smiths and New Order will be played.

“I’m just winging it as I go,” Keough says when I ask what big plans he might have for the bar’s future. He’s already tinkering with the menu and curating the jukebox’s next rotation. He’s here, just days before Christmas, kicking it with Mike Snodgrass, area jukebox junkie and restoration expert. He’s still on the prowl for more 45s, a process augmented by his newly acquired skill of dinking records (look it up, pervert).

As I finish my final drink, the jukebox lights up and kicks back on. Bowie’s “Let’s Dance” blares. Bar Keough is going to be just fine.

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

A Beale Street Bar Tour

CREDIT: Justin Fox Burks

There are two things about Memphians that I know to be true when seasons change: They Instagram a selfie with a leaf emoji and caption it, “It’s autumn, bitches!” and they drink copious amounts of alcohol in a place they do not normally go. And while spring might find you sprawled out on a blanket in Overton Park with a cooler, and winter might find you sipping wine in a fancy bar, fall finds you on Beale.

Justin Fox Burks

It’s football, it’s basketball, it’s cool air, and it’s Memphians’ civic duty to make it to Beale at least once a year to take a photo and text your friends, “lol we’re on Beale.” So that’s where we went. We didn’t go to a bar because going to one bar is for grandmas! We went to several bars because we’re young, we’re wild, we are simply unhinged, and it’s autumn, bitches!

Our first stop was where your sober dreams go to die: Wet Willie’s. Justin asked for something that “wasn’t too sweet,” and our bartender said, “If it ain’t sweet, it’s sour,” and in your face, Memphis! You will drink this sugar, and you will like it! We aren’t enjoying pâté on the captain’s deck; we are on Beale Street, we are partying, we are simply unhinged!

Justin Fox Burks

I went with a Monkey Shine, which is banana and alcohol. Justin had a Pink Dazed, which is strawberry, alcohol, and a donation to breast cancer awareness. Alex enjoyed a Shock Treatment, which is blue and mixed with alcohol. The décor in Wet Willie’s is made up of mirrors so that you can see exactly how much of an asshole you look like drinking double-digit ounces of frozen daiquiris next to a tourist wearing a shirt that says “Gone Squatchin’.” Our brain freeze count is at seven, our diabetes is inevitable, and I’ll say this for Wet Willie’s: It gets the job deliciously done.

What do rambunctious youths want?! Great deals on cheap booze! When do they want it?! From 4 to 7 p.m. during the Rum Boogie Café happy hour! We are fiscally responsible and simply unhinged! We’re enjoying $3 bottled domestics and $3.75 drafts in a bar whose whole mood is old guitars! I’m about to hit you in jaw with some hardcore Memphis trivia: Those guitars do not belong to the musicians whose signatures they bear. They are purchased or donated, and when a famous musician comes in, Rum Boogie asks them to sign the guitar so they can hang it up with a nameplate denoting it as an actual guitar signed by Alice Cooper! Or Joe Walsh! Or … yes, that’s right, Robin Thicke! I’m going to piledrive you with more Rum Boogie facts. Rum Boogie offers a 3.9 percent discount for customers paying in cash, so if you pay with a card, a surcharge gets added on. Is it sneaky? Nah, it’s written on your check because Rum Boogie properly informs their customers, bitches!

Justin Fox Burks

We cruise down to Blues City Café where a total bummer awaits us. There’s a line to get in because tourists love ribs and cheese fries topped with gumbo. Not deterred, we go next door to The Band Box, which is the non-restaurant part of Blues City that has a stage and a bar. There are two women at the bar visiting from Vancouver, and they love Beale, too!

We’re partying with Canadians, we’re thanking them for the Grizzlies, we are solemnly recommending that they visit Stax and the National Civil Rights Museum, and we are simply unhinged! Our Canadians tell Justin “good for you,” when he tells them he’s vegan! He’s validated, I’m drinking Bud Light draft, Alex is racking up compliments on his Jaren Jackson Jr. jersey, and we are running amok on Beale!

Justin Fox Burks

Beale is not just for tourists, and real Memphians know that because they’ve picked up a book and read about its history! You can hear live music seven nights a week! You can drink in the street! You can hit multiple bars before a game! There’s a nip to the air and you’re simply unhinged because it’s autumn, bitches!

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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

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.