Type: Restaurant
Class: Average

This restaurant is only open for breakfast and for lunch. We met up with Clarkie and Marla here for a little food. I showed up late and just for a drink. I wasn’t really in the mood for food, since I made a large meal of the bacon, eggs, and pancakes for myself that morning. Their food looked equally hearty and everyone seemed to enjoy what they ordered. I had some trouble choking down my drink. Not because there was anything wrong with it, but rather because I still wasn’t really awake enough to be drinking.

The drink was a strong pour with good booze and priced at $5.50 + tax. This is probably one of your best bets for some late late night (meaning early morning) booze and breakfast after a long night of partying.

I liked the general feel of the place. The music was kind of eclectic. I think at one point they played some Circus Contraption, which seemed odd. The walls were done up in nice colors and murals were littered with working class symbols (IE a portion of a time card on one wall.) The lamps were interesting metal work as were the chairs. Tess, our redheaded waitress, was wearing a “Bangs” t-shirts, although what it means, I don’t want to guess.

Clarkie picked up this sponsorship. All in all, it is nice place, but its hours leave a lot to be desired. I give it a flat 3 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Restaurant
Class: Midscale

Etta’s Seafood is your nice, basic seafood restaurant with a small bar area. It is done up nicely in reds and yellows. There are a number of interesting fish themed metal works. Most specifically the coat racks, which look like fish skeletons. Soft jazz plays in the background and sets a good mood for a quiet drink. A large wine cabinet dominates one wall and their booze selection is decent and mostly high end.

Marla accompanied us here and picked up her first sponsorship. Mostly though, our trip here was denoted by talk about Marla’s roommate Michelle. I want to describe the things that we talked about, but it would not be polite. Of course, I am not known for my discretion, but I don’t really like getting people I like into trouble. Lets just say that Michelle has a very interesting outlook on life. The one thing I can tell you about her is the first (and only) real conversation I had with Michelle. I was at a party at Jason’s house and had gone out to talk to Michelle (being a new addition, attractive, and single.) While we were out there, she rambled about a number of topics without any real aim in mind. She talked about being kind of a witch, but what did Wiccan really mean? I don’t think she did. She talked about tree hugging and loving plants and whatnot. I then said, “I don’t know a lot of Horticulture.” From that point, she used the word Horticulture (the study of plants) about 30 times (only a slight exaggeration.) I doubt she knew what it meant. Now if I had been thinking clearly, I would have said Dendraphelia (sex with plants.) Having her say Dendraphelia 30 times would have been much funnier. I finally came to the conclusion that she was not stoned, as I originally thought, and was instead sharp as a bowling ball. And that, my friends, is an introduction to Michelle.

The drink came in a good looking glass, was kind of bland, and priced at $5. There is no reason to come to Etta’s Seafood when Cutter’s is right across the street and you can get a Vanilla Sky Martini there.

I give Etta’s Seafood 2 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

A nice looking place, with many booths and several smaller tables, basically black with colored tile bits. The booths were mainly occupied, so we sat a table and ordered some drinks, and I also ordered a strange goat cheese quesadilla, while Brandon couldn't bring him to find any of the food appealing, even though he was hungry.

The drinks were pretty strong, the price was pretty high, and the service wasn't as fast as it should have been. My quesadilla arrived just shortly after the drinks, and wasn't very fast, so that should tell you something about the drink service. The food was okay, but weird.

There's really nothing remarkable about the place, except for the shark. Yes, the shark. In the back, costing just one shiny quarter, is an animatronic shark. It lights up and wiggles, hanging from the ceiling. It's about 12 feet long. Apparently it used to be at another bar, they decided they didn't have room, and the Belltown Pub took it in.

Other than that, not much of note. There's better and cheaper drinks, just in the area.

The Emerald Grill is the hotel bar for some very cheap hotel, which we only ended up hitting because, after the Belltown Pub and Grill, the Cascadia was closed for a private party. The Emerald Grill, sitting all alone in the middle of nowhere, filled up a second bar slot.

It's an Asian restaurant, very slightly Thai heavy, but really of all Asian cuisines wrapped up in one. There's nothing much to the place, which is that oddest of things, a combination of Asian restaurant and hotel restaurant, looking not quite like either, but perhaps mostly like your typical anonymous hotel bar.

The service was pretty quick at first, although later the server vanished to work the restaurant, which wasn't his fault, I'm sure, but kept us waiting for a check. But what the place did have going for it were the glasses. They were drink bulbs, like one might have seen in a Seventies scifi show, and although much of the Seventies is not at all cool, these glasses are the greatest. With their thick glass base, and then the gently curving, easy to hold bulbous tops, they were a top in the glass category so far. There was brief discussion, certainly never to be followed through on, of visiting a restaurant supply place to buy some. They're that cool.

But nothing else really was notable. The drinks were a little strong (again, a combo of Asian and hotel styles), the prices were kind of high (but not fully hotel high) and there was nothing at all to really recommend the place beyond the glasses.

Wolf had joined us for a night out in the International District, and the first couple of bars we walked past were closed. (That would turn out to be fortunate in regards to Joe's, which we'd hit tomorrow with Clarkie.) Anyway, we finally found an open bar, the L.A. Lounge, which is the lounge attached to the L.A. Restaurant, and overall is a Chinese bar and grill.

It was Karaoke night, which would be almost a theme for the night, and the Karaoke was in Chinese. Still, it sounded exactly like all other Karaoke I've heard, which is one of the weird things about it.

The bartender was around the bar and ready to serve us before we had even sat down. He was Chinese, but then, so was everyone else but us in the bar. We've had a sort of odd impression of ID bars late in the evening, like they'll just have older Chinese men with lots of tattoos under their suits or something, but instead, it was kind of drunken couples and groups, looking through the massive and endless Karaoke play lists.

So the service was very fast, and the drinks were to us just as quickly. We observed a wall of polaroids, none as racy as were once seen at the Mecca, in which a few of those depicted were actually white, and we felt very slightly less like interlopers. Not out of place, mind you, since no one minded us being there. Just like we were intruding on something. The difference is slight, but there.

The drinks were pretty strong, though not the strongest we'd have that night, and we were given a little basket of Ruffles chips to snack on as well, which is always nice, even if it's not much. Bar snacks are always good.

We paid up as the third song drifted by, sung by someone with some actual talent, and then mosied out into the night. Wolf picked up the sponsorship, working to gain the title Master of the ID.

China Gate claims to have a morning and a late night Dim Sum service. They lie. In the morning/early afternoon, you get your full Dim Sum, with the little carts of goodies and all that. In the late night, however, you order from a very incomplete Dim Sum menu, and hope they're willing to make the things on the menu, and then it just comes on a plate, just for you. Not at all the same, and a terrible disappontment.

This didn't occur on the trip this time, but rather last year. But still.

Well, in any case, China Gate redeemed itself. The bar was also full of Karaoke, or rather, mostly empty, but still with Karaoke. We ordered drinks with service that was slower than at L.A., but still acceptable. And the drinks...well, it's like Baranof south, they're so strong. Gasping for breath kind of strong.

Meanwhile, I thought they'd gone to the default music, because there was someone crooning so blandly but so well that it seemed it couldn't be a real Karaoke singer. But then, he slipped on a note, and I looked, and it was real.

But by then, we had choked down our super strong drinks, and were ready to leave, Wolf having picked up a second sponsorship for the night.

Apparently, their hours just changed to leave them open until 2 am, because nobody knows they're open so late. We walked into Sun Ya, which had it's open sign on, and was still pretty much lit up, but the bar was kind of dim, and we didn't see a soul. Not a customer, not an employee, nothing.

And then, as we reached the bar, an old man came out from the kitchen, and started turning things on. TVs, lights, that sort of thing. And we were open and ready for business, I guess.

We ordered drinks, then ordered some food. The pot stickers, with various Chinese hot sauces and Chinese vinegar, were incredible. And I don't think I'm just saying that because the drinks were pretty strong and I was already kind of lit. And even if I am, well, they were still incredible.

The drinks weren't all that big, though. And they were definitely the weakest of the night, although that still places them about average overall.

As we were finishing up, a few more people came in, and the nice older waitress who had recommended the hot sauces and vinegar, bless her heart, busted out bowls of peanuts for people. We got in on that action, and in the end I took a handful of them with me, and nibbled on them for the next couple of days.

Wolf picked up the bar and the food, and that was great, and thus he is, for the moment at least, Master of the ID. Although his supremacy would be challenged, if not usurped, by Clarkie the next night.

Hi All,

So in the hopes of utilizing this website for my own shameless promotion, I have decided to announce that I having a show of my photography at a local eatery. I have 12 photos up, taking 40' of wall space.

The Exhibition is called "Facets of Paris." If you would like an example of my work please visit my on-line Gallery. It is not much, but it some good looking stuff. The show has some of the stuff from the website and some not from the site.

The show will be up for the entire month of November and I am having my opening on Thursday Nov. 7th. at 8PM (till 10pm). I hope to see you all there.

Here are the details:

Where: Jake's Bar & Grill - 323 15th Ave - Capitol Hill (1 block N of Group Health)
When: November (Opening Nov 7th)
Time: Opening - 8PM till 10 PM

Thank you for your time.

-wOOt

So what I am including below is an email that I just received from a new reader. He had asked me a question that I happily responded to (concerning gin and juice.) Then I received the following letter. I am posting the letter as I think he makes some interesting points that I would like to respond to.

------The Original Letter Unedited----------

Just in my own humble opinion, if you were to come in to my bar and order a "gin and juice" and then tell me you were reviewing local bars, I wouldn't give you all that much creedence.

Also what is the point of 570 bars? Who funds you guys, yourselfs?

Not to be rude, but you seem to let everyone know you are going to review their
establishment and thats why your there, hoping for some free hand outs, and then you rate them well if you receive free shit and if some extraordinary level of service or personalism comes from the bartender. Isn't the point of a review kinda supposed to be a review of what an ordinary customer would get if they visited the bar.

Secondly I read a comment about you bashing a bartender at Pesos for giving more attention to the "beautiful babies" and not giving you and your friends enough attention. Well duh, the best advertising any young, trendy bar such as Pesos can have is word of mouth about good looking girls hanging out there. As a bartender, we are told to take care of the good looking girls, so they hang out there and bring in dudes to buy them drinks and shots. Pretty high expectations, and silly if you ask me.

I admire the time and effort you all put into the project, but your doing no one a
service with your current way about reviewing places. The one thing that bothers me is the way I stumbled across your website, via google search on Ball room. I just hope the readers are intelligent enough to realize you guys aren't experts, or connoisseurs and are just doing it for fun, on your own dime, and they don't neglect visiting a place because you didn't get free stuff there or you had to pay a cover.

chris c
--------------End Original Letter------------------

And here is my response:

> if you were to come in to my bar and order a "gin and juice" and then tell me you were reviewing local bars, I wouldn't give you all that much credence.

Most don’t. So, I’m curious, you don't happen to bartend at Von's or Cassis?

>Also what is the point of 570 bars?

The specified goal is: To drink in every Spirits Serving Establishment in the City of Seattle.
The point of the 570 Bars Quest: There is no point. That is the beauty of it. This is the personal quest of two guys who were looking for someway to spice up their otherwise humdrum lives.

>Who funds you guys, yourselfs?

We are primarily self funded. While we are happy that our friends (and people who became our friends due to the quest) have chosen to sponsor us, but really, they simply allow the quest to complete more quickly.

>Not to be rude,

Why is it that every time somebody (including myself) starts a statement with “Not to be rude,” They are immediately rude and often accusatory?

>but you seem to let everyone know you are going to review their
establishment and thats why your there, hoping for some free hand outs, and then you rate them well if you receive free shit and if some extraordinary level of service or personalism comes from the bartender.

Let me give you the reality of the situation since you are talking about things that you don’t seem to understand. We spend about 20 minutes to an hour in each bar (not including drive time, parking time, walking time, or getting lost time) which tallies up to anywhere from Six to Ten hours in bars each week. Then we each spend about 5 – 15 minutes writing each bar review. That means we spend roughly 25-40 minutes (on average) of our life on each bar. To say that we are doing all of this work to get “free shit” is, not to be rude, a completely asinine (absurd) statement.

Oh, there is something that I should also explain. You are probably assuming that we walk in, slap our card down and say, “Hi, we are the 570 bar guys. We are reviewing your place for our website. Treat us right or we will screw you.” In that, you would be very, very wrong. The card is always the last thing to come out. We sit down. We have our drink. We may chat with the bartender if they seem friendly, and then finally, if we have a good feeling about the place and the bartender we give them a card. Over half of the places we have been to never even knew we were there. Sometimes this is because the bartender was to busy to talk to us, we were with a large group of people, we just generally didn’t like the place or felt that it was too “scary” to draw attention to ourselves.

Any person in the world can get themselves “free shit.” In fact hustlers make a full time job of it. Do we get excited when a bartender comps us a drink or gives a free shot? Hell yes. Does it happen often? Nope. Not at all. Have we ever gotten a free drink from someone who didn’t like us? Well, only once that I can think of, and that was at Tiki Bobs. Our “free shit” does come partially from what we do, but it also comes from the fact that we are personable and we entertain the bartenders with something that often interests them and that THEY think is very cool.

>Isn't the point of a review kinda supposed to be a review of what an ordinary customer would get if they visited the bar.

When Jason writes a review, he is reviewing the experience more than he is reviewing the bar. When I review the bar, I tend to be more (but not totally) objective. It has been my experience that the places where we are treated nice or where we have a good time, are generally good places all around (Elliott’s, El Gaucho, Temple Billards). But this is the eternal struggle of all reviewers. Most reviewers go multiple times to a place to get an “average” feel of a place. We do not have this luxury. We simply can’t afford it in time or money.

I won’t debate the point of “ordinary customer” since I have already explained our method which I imagine is not the method you thought we used.

>Secondly I read a comment about you bashing a bartender at Pesos for giving more attention to the "beautiful babies" and not giving you and your friends enough attention.

I not asking for equal attention. I am asking for a basic level of good service. The bartender at Pesos would walk past us, without looking at us (using the bartender/waitress no eye contact trick) and then walk right over to make sure the ladies were well taken care of. I can respect treating the ladies well, but ignoring your regular customers is not called for. Oh, did I mention that we did NOT card Pesos. They never even knew who we were.

>I admire the time and effort you all put into the project, but your doing no one a service with your current way about reviewing places.

What are we, fucking Fodor’s? No! We are two guys reviewing the places where we have been because we thought someone out there might be interested in reading about a strange and bizarre journey. If we have given anyone out there, even the smallest amount of entertainment then this quest has more than made up for it. It is a lot of work, way more than we ever expected, but I am glad that I am able to put something out there that makes someone smile, gives them a better idea of how to spend their evening, or inspires people (yes, we have people who want to duplicate this in other cities.) The reviews are a bonus. Not the purpose.

>The one thing that bothers me is the way I stumbled across your website, via google search on Ball room. I just hope the readers are intelligent enough to realize you guys aren't experts, or connoisseurs and are just doing it for fun ...

Oh boo hoo. The web is the poster child for ‘Let the Buyer Beware’. There is so much crap on the web now, I am surprised that you found anything even remotely close to what you were looking for by typing Ball room. You also probably got six porn sites, two supermarkets with supervised ball rooms, and a couple of dance halls. What we have to say is as useful or valid as any other review site I have seen on the web. Generally all you get on places like Citysearch is a fucking useless wanker description of the place and a rating from the 3 people who liked (or hated) the place enough to bother logging back onto the site after visiting the establishment, just to give it a rating. You try looking up some of the reviews that “real” sites give and compare them to what we say. I think you will quickly find that what we have to say about a place is a lot more real than what you will get from them. You get full disclosure from us (“they comped us X”) and if we were there at an awkward time (4 PM on a Saturday) we generally mention it. You don’t get that kind of disclosure from any of these sites.

So Chris, is summary, I wanted to thank you for giving me a spring board to get this all off my chest. Your questions really helped me to solidify my viewpoint on this quest and gave me a way to rant about all of these issues in a way that did not make it seem like I was pulling all of this shit out of thin air.

I hope you will be a regular reader of our site and if you are interested in coming out, or sponsoring us, drop us line.

-wOOt

Type: Restaurant
Class: Average

The Kona Kitchen is a new establishment that replaced a German Restaurant we had to drink at. We are very excited. The most exciting thing about it is that it is owned by the kid villain from Karate Kid II. His headshot hangs outside the window along with a little blurb about the place.

Inside, the décor is extremely basic, having just opened. They are still building the bar in fact, but it will done by the end of 2002, so we figured, we may as well drink here pre-emptively. Mel, who came along with us, knows the owners and we chatted with his wife. She was such a lovely and friendly person I could not stand it. She had their baby with her and the baby was very cute.

We ordered some crab puffs and you could actually taste the crab in them. The drink was tall and strong and priced at $3.50. A shoutout of thanks goes to Glen for picking up this sponsorship. This little neighborhood restaurant is just what the area needed, Mel told us. I liked it and would come back here for some food and a drink.

I give the Kona Kitchen 3 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Restaurant
Class: Average

I have been here twice and the most important things I can tell you are that they are expensive and their food service is slow. Their drink service is not much better if you are sitting in the restaurant proper.

Our drinks were $4.75, weak, and sponsored Mel. They came in a large glass called a bucket. It definitely had that look and feel. All it was missing was a small handle. The Vodka was Skyy so they are using good booze, but they are not using enough of it.

The bar is horseshoe shaped and dark wood. The overall décor is nice, but unexciting. The most interesting thing about the Maple Leaf Grill is that it built into a converted house, much like the Wild Mountain Café. Unfortunately, this house lacks any of the charm or appeal that the Wild Mountain has.

We had this conversation about having a weird sense of Déjà vu’. It went on for about three or four cycles before Jason finally nixed it. I thought it was funny.

We ordered Tapinade and bread. Now Tapinade is basically olives mashed up into a paste and put in a little dish. The amount of time it took for us to get our Tapinade was just shameful. I sure hope that they had to run out to pick the olives and then had to hand mash them before bringing them to us. The guy next to us, who ordered before us, had to leave and asked the bartender, “Are you punishing me for ordering something off the menu?” That should tell you something. We had this conversation about having a weird sense of Déjà vu’.

I give the Maple Leaf Grill 1 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Lounge
Class: Average

The Bombay Grill used to be the India Grill, but now is owned by the people who own Chutney’s. An ex-girlfriend of mine and I did not have a good experience at the Cap Hill Chutney’s. She thinks that she good food poisoning from them. That having been said though, we had a really good experience at the Bombay Grill.

In back, there is a lounge area that they simply do not use. There is a bar back there, but it was stacked with lots of glasses. The host tried to get us to sit in the restaurant, but were having none of it. Oh, when we walked up to the door of the restaurant, he opened it for us and welcomed us in. That is the kind of service and welcome that I like. It shows that they are happy to have you here and that your patronage matters. Strangely though, it is not kind of creepy and sad, like at Salty’s where they have people whose job it is to only greet you at the door. I think he just happened to be there and then did this nice thing for us.

We started a trend by sitting in the back lounge area. After we had been there for a little while a couple came in via the back doors, saw us, said “Hi” and then sat in the lounge. It was very exciting for some bizarre reason. The drinks were $4.25 and both strong and good. Glen picked up this sponsorship since Mel was saving her next sponsorship for the Cascadia Restaurant.

The waiter brought us a free basket of Chapattis with 3 dipping sauces. I really liked the sweet sauce, but Jason and Mel were all about the spicy green sauce. The other really cool thing was that they were playing Indian techno music. It was excellent hybrid of techno beats and traditional Indian instruments. I would actually listen to this music on my own time.

The Bombay Grill is a worthy addition to the University district and I highly recommend that you check it out. I give 4 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Restaurant
Class: Upscale

The Cascadia is an extremely nice place, but getting to it was like a disaster movie waiting to happen. Parking in Belltown is a nightmare, even on a Tuesday night. We had to park about 4 blocks away and it was absolutely pouring. There were high winds and the rain was thick and slanting. 1st Avenue is just not made for this much rain and the size of the “puddles” were frightening. As we were making our way back the car, we came to several large lakes that to big to jump (but I tried anyway.) There was a lot of swerving on the sidewalk to take advantage of small amounts of cover as we made our way back to the car.

The restaurant itself was a great respite from the cold and wet. It was warm and friendly and felt cozy, despite being quite large. The bar is long, made of marble, and under lit. The glasses were square and quite interesting. Two tiered, metal bar snack holders were interspaced down the bar. They held nuts in the top and small pretzel sticks in the bottom.

There is a great looking banquet room at the back of the bar, up a set of stairs with a purple tinted window that provides a great view of the restaurant below. Between the kitchen and the dining area is a glass wall with water running down it. It made the figures working behind it visible but blurry. It was a great effect. The bathroom had the good cloth paper towels (originally seen at Morton’s.)

Mel picked up the $5.50 drinks. They were pretty good, but not poured to $5.50. I am finding that you really need to wow me for a drink that I am paying over $5 for.

I talked weather with these two late 30’s women sitting next to me and explained the great Seattle myth. While it rains everyday in the winter, it does not rain all of the time. This is one of those methods of keeping the riff raff (like me) out. Fortunately, I love the rain and it does not depress me.

I give Cascadia 3 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Restaurant
Class: Midscale

This nice little sushi place is in the Uwajimia building. It is done up in dark reds with medium wood. The bar is long and green and is tended by Josh. Josh is bald and alternative looking. After we told him about our quest, he became much more chatty. We did get his opinion on the TNT Tuna, which is Tuna sushi with Habanero spice. Josh liked it, but 3 out of 4 people surveyed said that they did not like the idea of that combination.

The drink was good, priced at $4 and sponsored by Wolf. The menu looked good, but was a little on the pricier side. Wolf liked the sushi (although the portion was kind of small) and pot stickers that he ordered, but Jason and Wolf both agreed that the Sun Ya pot stickers were far superior.

When Jason ordered his drink the bartender asked if he wanted to call. Jason said no, well is fine. Josh then made a comment that we heartily agree with. When you put a mixer in booze, it doesn’t really matter what you are using.

IFC was on the tube. The glasses and plates were glass with the tiny bubbles that showed that were handmade by some third world craftsman.

I liked the Chinoise, but it is a little too nice to be included in any tour of death of the International District. I give Chinoise 3 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Sports Bar
Class: Midscale

The Reitz Sports Bar is listed as the Reitz Ballroom Dance club. They must have just made a recent renovation and it looks it. This basement establishment is quite large, with a small bar, 8 coin operated pool tables, video games, bar amusements, 2 dart machines, a bass fishing machine, and … an air hockey table. I love air hockey. I’m actually a pretty good amateur. I defeated both Wolf and Jason. Wolf is pretty good, but ultimately I was victorious. Jason enjoys the game, but as with all sports, he gives his all, but just doesn’t have the hand/eye coordination.

Behind a curtain of purple of fringe was the (empty) VIP room. It looks like a great place to hang out, but I can’t help feel that it is reserved for the important people of the ID, which we are not.

Our drinks were $5 and were fairly strong. Wolf sponsored this round and was a great sport when I put his ass down at air hockey. Oh, did I mention that again? I guess after him beating me senseless at DOA 3 Hardcore, it was nice to beat him at something else. Of course, I would love to take Jesse (my co-worker) to cleaners one of these days, but I will have to settle for spanking him at Lord of the Rings Risk and Crazy Taxi.

That being said, Reitz is definitely the place to come in the ID after you have gotten blotto at the other ID places and want to play some pool drunkenly. They give free peanuts and there is a kitchen with bar snacks. There are amateur 9-ball tournaments with some not so amateur players (as based on the guys who were in there with their own cues.) Plus, if you are a sports nut, they have happy hour all day during the big sports games. I believe it was specifically for Mariner’s games, but it might also include Seahawks (yeah right.)

I really liked Reitz and would seriously consider coming back here. I like the fact that the pool tables are coin operated, that they have an excellent juke box (or 80s pop and rock), and of course … air hockey.

I give Reitz 4 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

xType: Hotel
Class: Upscale

The Bookstore Bar is attached to the Alexis Hotel, an upscale downtown hotel. This bar is populated by wealthy hotel patrons and the type of arty wanna be that would both be attracted to a place like this and could afford a place like this. The bar is extremely attractive and is done up like a wealthy man’s library. Book shelves line just about every wall and they are filled with lovely bound books. Of course they could by those faux book bindings, but I hope that they have more class than that. Also used as decoration are empty cigar boxes. I did not recognize any of the names, but I am not what you would refer to as an expert.

The bar itself is a long brown marble and is scattered with coasters with a Matisse like work on them. Forming a wall between the customer and the bartender is a row of Single Malt Scotches. There are so many in fact, that the bartender must move the bottles in order to put down our drinks. He says that they simply have such a large selection, they do not have anywhere else to put them. It looks cool, but I imagine it must suck for the bartender. Our glasses were quite excellent. Shaped like a Martini glass with the stem squished and then modified into rocks glass size and sloped with less of an incline.

Wolf picked up the sponsorship of this $4.50 + tax drink. It was actually much better priced than I expected. Then, of course, there was the menu. This is a high end American Food place. Where else can you order the most expensive white trash meal ever: $8 Mac & Cheese with $6 Pork and Beans. God Damn.

The Bookstore bar had a good literary feel and a good literary look. It is almost always quiet lively in here, with groups of people drinking and having a good time. I liked the look and feel of the place, even if their food menu and food prices were incredibly full of themselves. There is a great Scotch selection for those people who are into that. I give it 3 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

We settled into the bar seating area, planning on getting food as well as drinks. It was a typical mexican restaurant (what more do we have to say at this point), although the bar seating was rather a large area.

Our bartender was quick and attentive. Our waitress wasn't so fast as that, although this was because she was working half the place. Really, she took our food order very fast, so it was probably just the fact that there were a lot of other orders ahead of ours.

The drinks were pretty good, and the pour was strong enough, but we were done with them by the time the food arrived, really. The food was quite tasty.

It took a while to get the check at the end, and I ended up forgetting my leftovers later, but otherwise it was pretty good at El Ranchon.

The bar is in the very far portion of the restaurant, and you have to move through a maze of seating to get to the place. It's a bit too long a walk. The bar was okay looking, with some odd touches. There was a strange ceramic sombrero with Beso del Sol written on it, and with a depression on the top of the sombrero that could hold peanuts or something. However it held nothing. Later, it would hold Brandon's credit card, for a very long time while we waited for the really poor service to finally respond.

The drinks weren't so good, and they had the nastiest limes ever in the drinks. I mean limes that were totally brown and foul, and I have no idea why they were using them. I plucked the lime out of my drink, and I set it down some distance from my drink. It was just gross.

After we drank, we waited to pay. And waited. We tried to attract our bartender's attention again and again, but with no effect. It took more than five minutes to get him to come down, and almost five more to get him to cash us out.

Don't go to the bar here. It's crap.

A third mexican bar in the same night. This bar was kind of small and cosy, and there were a good number of people drinking there. The music from the jukebox was pretty good, and stayed that good for the whole visit. Other than that, it was a mexican restaurant. The tables were interesting, since they were carved wood in the shape of various floral patterns, capped with glass tops.

The drinks weren't great, but they weren't awful, and they had good flavor.

Did I mention the jukebox had the CD Goin' South on it? As seen on TV? I love that (not the CD, just the fact of it's being there.)

There wasn't much about the bar, but the service was way better than at Beso del Sol, so it was good. And then we left.

So several of my entries, post two days ago, just vanished.

I have no idea why.

This sucks.

(This is a recreation. It's not going to be as good as the first one.)

Finn MacCool's is the new bar from the owner of O'Shea's, but while the latter is one of the divier Irish bars out there, Finn's is much the opposite. It's still on the Ave, of course, so it's not the utmost in quality, but I wouldn't want it to be.

The Raindancer was once in the same spot, bar 10, but died and has now been recreated. Where once there was a nice but not very comfortable seating area in front, and then a cluttered, best-seen-in-darkness performance space in back, now there's a comfortable space in the front and then a nicely put together seating area with a couple pool tables in back. Big screen TV, comfortable boots, a good new paint job, new flooring, pretty much it looks so much better in the back that it's hard to believe it's the same space.

We were supposed to meet up (me arriving first) with several possible groups. Dawn from my work was to have a leaving work party; Mandee and Jenny were supposed to meet us, since Finn's, like O'Shea's, is their bar; and Clarkie was supposed to show up to pick up other bars later. Clarkie was the only one who appeared, a moment after Brandon arrived, and so he picked up the bar.

We had our drinks, which come in a bucket glass. The prices weren't bad at all, the drinks were pretty good, and we were pretty happy.

Clarkie picked up the sponsorship, but then we almost went no further. He had a headache, and only because Brandon had ibuprofen in his car were we able to move on.

(Another rewrite. Sigh.)

Although Clarkie's headache had gotten worse while we drove, but he was soldiering on, and we went to Joe's, a place we had just missed out on with Wolf the night before.

But we ended up here tonight. And it was scary.

The floor was littered with pull tabs, like some sort of tickertape parade for the president of Gamblers Anonymous. At the bar, a woman smiled at us, showing off the prominent, six-tooth gap in her upper teeth. Drunken men wandered by to say hi to us, but as Clarkie had a headache and is from Texas, he pretty much got rid of them.

The crowd was all pretty much drunk and rowdy, and the broken down bar was suited for it. A sign at the door indicated that drug use or sale was prohibited, and the police would be called on anyone who did so. A sign at the bathroom said only one person was allowed in a bathroom at a time.

The drinks were pretty strong, as would be expected. The prices weren't so high, either, again as would be expected. And we got the hell out as soon as we could, before anyone realized we weren't drunk, toothless losers.

Clarkie got the sponsorship, and although his headache continued to grow worse, he agreed to hit one more bar as long as we were already so close to so many.

(The last [?] of the rewrites)

Located on the second floor in what is pretty much a very small minimall, Fort St. George is both a sushi bar and a lounge. The sushi bar was closed, but the lounge was just getting started, about half full.

There was a lot of light wood, soft lighting, and the view of the street, elevated at a height, was a good thing. It made the someone decayed streetview seem more pleasant overall.

We were the only white people in the bar, and would remain the same for our whole trip. Everyone else was young and Asian, Chinese in the main. The server, also young and Asian, was fast and courteous. Our drinks arrived very quickly, and we got to have some tasty beverages. Bar snack mix was also provided, and with the background music (40's stuff), the soft lighting and the low babble of conversation, it was seeming a near perfect little stop.

We couldn't linger though. Clarkie had quite the ache now, so we had to head out. We got the bill quickly, Clarkie picked up the sponsorship just as quickly, and we were off to drop him at his car back in the U-district.

And if this review vanishes again, it's not getting replaced, so enjoy it while it lasts.

(Artistic license has been used to substitute for lack of specific memory)

Walking into the Ristorante Salute, Jason and I were immediately greeted by the slightly glazed but inquisitive look of a woman sitting at the small four seat bar. She sat there, straight back, left hand languidly laid palm up with a long brown Sherman’s cigarette settled between her fingers. Her right hand resting on the bar, a half full glass of deep red wine within easy reach. Dressed in nice, but not too nice business wear, she was probably in her 40’s with light brown hair and thin rimmed glasses. Lydia was not pretty, but would soon be considered a handsome woman.

Before we have a chance to sit down she greets us like she owns the place. “Welcome. Pardon, but we’re just surprised to see you come in. Really we’re surprised to see anyone come in at this hour.” We threw our coats over the stools and sat in the 3rd and fourth stools. Sitting at the hook of the bar she looked at us from her skewed point of view. This is when the conversation began.

I would like to say that I can remember how the conversation went with perfection. But I can’t. I can remember the highlights, and I can try to give you the context, but ultimately I can only give you the funniest and strangest things that she said. The thing that we quickly learned, and the most important thing for you to remember, is that she was FUCKING WASTED. While she was speaking, she would pause as she tried to select the right words from the drunken haze that surrounded her head. Most of the time she would fail and would give up on a point since she couldn’t remember what the hell she was talking about. The only thing that would have made it better would be if little “drunk bubbles” would come out of her mouth while she spoke. That would’ve rocked.

So let me give you the highlights:

· Lydia was from Brazil, but lived in NY, Boston, CA, and Seattle. But this didn’t matter. Now I should say that she did not look even the least bit Brazilian or South American. She was a crusty older white lady.
· I didn’t matter because I am from CT. Jason didn’t matter because he was WA.
· Lydia kept asking me which side of the river I was from. This question struck me as odd, since there are a lot of rivers in CT. Did she mean the Farmington River? Eventually she gave up because I don’t think she even knew what she was asking any more.
· Lydia said, “I went to university in Boston. It starts with an H.” “Harvard?” I replied. “Yes, but I don’t like to say I went to Harvard because then people get intimidated and stop talking to you.” Then Lydia asked if we got intimidated and stopped talking with someone from Harvard or just considered them normal people. Jason, who had been quiet up till this point (mostly) and would not speak again, after this point said the latter. I said, I have known lots of people from Harvard and they are just normal people. Quick side note: A former landlord of mine is the type of Harvard graduate they don’t put in the literature. He is older, unsuccessful, drunken, and lives in the shambles of a house he has been renovating for 22 years now.
· Lydia called us both Assholes a couple of times, although I’m not sure why.
· Lydia called me stupid and she called me a whore. The whore story is kind of funny.
· I was talking with Lydia and she asked what we each did for a living. I told her that I worked for a small software company doing tech support, but my true love was photography. While we were talking about my photography Jason paid for the drinks. It was at about this point that she started calling me a whore and making me defend my artistic principals. Unfortunately, I thought she was accusing me of selling out my artistic principals. What she was actually accusing me of, was that Jason was my pimp daddy who paid for me so I could do my art and this whole job thing I was talking about was a lie (and once again, you better shut the fuck up Glen cause I don’t want to hear it.) It was not until we got outside that Jason explained the timing of her calling me a whore (Jason paying and me not giving him any money for it – it was his turn after all) then it all became clear.
· The conversation ended at about the time that she started saying that anything that wasn’t Brazilian didn’t matter and that we couldn’t understand because we weren’t Brazilian. She said Sinatra was Brazilian and we it was at that point that we officially were done.

The situation was surreal. Trying to argue with a drunken woman who had trouble finishing a thought and was verbally aggressive was just bizarre. As the conversation went on, I wanted to flee but couldn’t draw myself away. My arguments kept getting more and more complicated and flourished as I tried to explain it in some way that would pierce the daze that had settled over her booze dulled senses. There was no real hope, but I kept trying anyhow. Finally Jason said, “We have to go.” And the spell was broken.

As we were leaving, one of the bartenders was leaving at the same time. He said to us, “What was her fucking problem. I just wanted to kick the stool out from under her?” My reply … “She was drunk. Very, very drunk.”

If I ever become like Lydia (on a regular basis, not just one bizarre drunken night) you have full rights to puts a bullet in my booze addled brain.

-wOOt

Type: Restaurant
Class: Midscale

The Icon Grill is a great date place. It is incredibly classy and good looking with food and drinks to match the price that you are paying. There is an enormous amount of beautiful blown glass (probably Chahulhi (sp?) hanging from the ceiling and generally decorating every nook and cranny. The bar is pink marble and is manned by an older, quiet, officious bartender.

The drinks were decent and had a good pour. The $5 drinks were sponsored by Sean so a big thanks goes out to him. Tons of knickknacks hang on the walls and are placed in odd places throughout the restaurant. Upstairs and in the back is the bathroom. In fact, it is the oddest bathroom in all of Seattle. In this bathroom there are video walls and the Flight of the Valkerie plays while you are pissing. The one time I was in there, they had running water showing on the video monitors. How weird.

So, while the Icon Grill is an exceptionally nice place, there is not a lot to be said about it. Bring a date here to impress her, or stop by for a drink when you are waiting for too long in line for a movie at the Cinerama. For me, it was fine, but nothing exceptional. Well, except for the bathroom, of course. I give the Icon Grill 3 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Hotel
Class: Average

While it is not owned by the Vance Hotel, it is, for all intents and purposes, the hotel bar of the Vance hotel. It has a southwestern feel and was almost entirely empty on this Thursday evening. The bartender was cool, giving us shit after I had Jason shy away from the bar and sit at a table. They were playing 70s rocks (Chico and the Man was reference by Sean).

I would not really recommend hanging out here all night, but it is nice enough for a quick drink, I suppose. There really is not a lot to say about this place. It has tree trunks for beams above the door, is done up in brick reds and dark forest greens. Some interesting art hangs on the wall, and a single cute chick came in just as we were about to leave.

It just was not exciting. I give it 2 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Lounge
Class: Dive

In the recent list of unexpected gay bars that Jason was looking at, Hana Teriyaki was listed there. As we walked in, it quickly became very apparent that the list was indeed right. All of the men here were at least 35+ and definitely gay. The Asian bartender had his own lilt and gate and brought us strong and palatable drinks for $3.50. This lounge was in serious need of some repair though.

The walls were once unfinished wood, that have now been painted over with green paint and brown trim. Square, cloth lanterns hang over the bar to give it a good “mood”, but even in the dim light you can tell that the place needs help. Sitting at the bar was your standard lineup of drunks and deadbeats. Here, they just happened to be gay. I wonder if there is a lot of hooking up in a place like this. I imagine there must be but … wait, no I take it back, I don’t really want to know after all.

The jukebox was extremely good and Jason and Sean spent a good 3 minutes pouring over the selection making commentary on what was in there. Why is it that dives have the best juke boxes? Have I brought this up recently? I can’t seem to remember if this was s recent conversation or a recent post, or both. Anyhow, it seems that the divier a place is, the better juke box it seems to have. I just don’t know why.

Did I like Hana Teriyaki? Not terribly. Would I come back to Hana Teriyaki” Probably not. Do I recommend Hana Teriyaki? Well, if you want Chinese food with an “Eagle Tavern” sensibility, then yes. I give Hana Teriyaki 2 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Hi all,

I have gotten some complaints from people lately that we don't tell you all where we are going to people can't come out with us. I would like to fix that somewhat.

I will start posting a general idea, if when I have it. As such here are two upcoming events. I will indicate their likelihood of happening if we don't hear that someone is interested in coming along.

Saturday Nov 16th (Saturday - Short notice) - I believe the ring will journey south. Down into the wilds of South Seattle we shall go. These will be the questionable locales past West Seattle. I figure we'll start about 3 ish and go for some hours. If you want to come, drop me a line at Brandon@570bars.com

The Pike Place Market Bar Crawl - Nov 23rd (Saturday) - This day long drinking binge will take us into the heart of the Pike Place Market. There are somewhere in the neighborhood of 7 places and 2 more within a couple of blocks. Without an indication that people are interested in coming along, this will likely be postponed.

--wOOt

Type: Lounge
Class: Dive

From the outside, this place looks like a nice little Chinese restaurant that happens to close early (by 10:00 PM usually.) Once you get inside, you quickly realize that this is a shit kicker bar. That is, you realize it quickly if your not me. I knew that there was something just a little bit off about the place, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I listened to country music, looked at people who were obviously country music hicks, and generally stayed oblivious to the fact that it was a country and western bar. To make things better, I was still dressed for work, with a nice button down shirt and my long green trench coat. It’s a great outfit, but here, it just made me look conspicuous. I don’t think anyone actually cared, but, oh well.

The drinks were $2.75 plus a quarter for juice. When she poured Jason’s Vodka Cran, she poured the vodka, then she opened a mostly empty jug of Ocean Spray and poured in what was left. It barely touched the clarity of the vodka and left a good quarter to half inch gap at the top. She threw the jug away and pushed the glass to me. I guess not enough cran is never a complaint in this bar.

There is a single pool table nestled in the back corner and numerous rickety faux wood tables everywhere else. The jukebox played modern and not so modern country music. For us though, we drank quickly and got the hell out of there. I want to totally pan the China Dragon, but with drinks that cheap, I could almost overlook the old, scraggily, country and western patrons. Nope, I guess I can’t. I give the China Dragon 1 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5. Bump it up 1 Martini glass if you like country and western and bump it up another glass if you are older and need a place to drink the rest of your life away.

-wOOt

Type: Lounge
Class: Average

Jai Thai used to be a Mexican Restaurant and you can tell by the lack of remodeling they did on the place. They threw on a new coat of paint, changed the wall hangings, and they might … just might have re-tiled a portion of the place. Unfortunately, it totally looks and feels like a Mexican restaurant in subdued colors.

Here are the good points: They had trivial pursuit cards on every table. Their pineapple and shrimp curry was very tasty.

Here are the bad points: The drinks were weak. They were priced at $5, in fucking Northgate. Who do they think they are? The bartender was a pain in my ass, “I’m a bartender first, a waiter second.” This was after it took me about 12 years to get his attention so that I could order some food. It was not like the place was swamped or that we here first (which we were.) Anyhow, there is no reason to come drink here unless you are in Northgate and in desperate need of Thai Food. Otherwise I think you are stuck. Go next door to Tony Roma’s and get free bread, or go to the mall and go to Azteca and get some free chips and salsa, but don’t, I repeat, don’t go across the street to Copper Sky.

I give this Jai Thai 1 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5. The half is for the trivia cards.

--wOOt

Type: Denny’s
Class: Average

The Olive Garden is a national chain of family style Italian Restaurants. I am told the food is fairly good, although I have never had dinner here. We ordered a pastry dessert, which was quite tasty. Our drinks were fine and I am marking them down for not having any bitters. The bartender, Adam, commiserated with us, saying that they also did not have any Orange flavored vodka.

Our bartender was nice, but as Jason kept describing him, he was, “gayer than Gaylord McGayerson.” I’m not sure that he was quite that gay, but then again, what the hell do I know (shut up Glen.) The drink was decent but too weak for the $4.50 that we paid for it. They do not have well booze here, apparently as I think he poured me a Jack and Coke.

The bar was short, plain, non-smoking, and utterly uninteresting. Adam was at least entertaining and the other bartender broke a glass. I asked if there were a lot of casualties (having heard a dish crash in the kitchen earlier in the night). She said that there were. I wish she had said something a little more colorful, like, we have so many casualties some days that you would think it was Normandy Beach. But maybe I am just hoping for a little too much obscure wit from my early 20’s staff.

The place was nice but uninteresting. I give 2 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5. This is mostly for the dessert and for the entertainment that Adam provided us.

-wOOt

A very styling gay bar, which I believe the people who put together Manray also worked on. It's a big, semi-industrial space, with silvery accents, lots of TVs (including in the floor), multicolored lighting and multiple floors and spaces.

As we arrived, there were only half a dozen people there, all gathered at the bar. From kind of sexy boys, to a couple decent looking girls, to a nasty sort of drag queen, even with just a few people they were running the gay bar spectrum. We ended up sitting on a raised level overlooking the main floor, with the aforementioned TV screens in the floor, showing vidoes to accompany the reasonably faggy pop music playing.

There was a whole back area, with it's own bar, that I didn't really go to take a look at, but I could see it from where we sat. It was empty (it was a Tuesday night, after all) but at least as big as the front area.

My drink was a lemondrop, and it was pretty tasty, but more than that, it was pretty strong. We drank up, and gave the bar to Glen, and moved on. It's a good looking place, and I've seen it reasonably packed on the weekends, but there's no real reason for me to go back. Anyway, with the unlucky history of the site, it shouldn't last more than another year at most. We'll see, though.

A venerable stateman of the gay bar scene, the Eagle has been around for a good number of years in a little hole in the wall space that you'll never notice unless you're looking for it. It doesn't really have a sign or anything, you just have to know that it's the Eagle. And a lot of people do.

The place is small, a narrow but kind of deep bar with two floors, mostly in unfinished wood. It looks as if someone started to get a bar ready, then decided what the hell, they should just open. And they did. But it works, looking raw and unfinished, which is fine many nights, because it serves as a good background for the leather men who are often the clientele.

On Tuesday, it was just a bunch of posing pretty boys, which isn't what I expected at all. There were none of the leather daddies in sight, and none of the older guys who I know frequent the Eagle, and overlap with the aforementioned leather types. But then, I know a young guy who headed out there on Tuesdays often, and doesn't really like the old leather guys, so I guess it makes sense, and I shouldn't have been surprised.

They only take cash, which is displeasing. The drinks weren't as strong as I would have thought, and definitely weren't as cheap as I would have thought. They were in fact pretty spendy for how not-strong they were.

We sat at the bar, drank up and got out quick. There's not much there, unless you want to take your chances at the preening boys. Which might be rewarding, but still...skip it.

We're out in my old stomping grounds, somewhat beyond the U-District, in a neighborhood that has only stupid names. View Ridge is one of them, though we're not that far yet. We're at Ristorante Salute, a pretty decent Italian restaurant. And we sit at the bar with a woman who I assume, wrongly, must be the owner, because she's very welcoming as if she owned the place.

Actually, Lydia's just drunk. She starts by engaging Brandon in conversation, and I'm trying to figure out her angle, but then she keeps pausing at select moments and giving up, and I realize she's trying to come up with some delicate way to ask if we're gay, or a couple, or what. Brandon is clueless, and just thinks she's pausing because she's loosing her train of thought. Far from it. She's like a general, trying to figure out another place to make her attack.

She asks where we're from. I speak for one of two times, and laugh when she tells me I'll never matter because I'm from Seattle. The other time I speak is when she asks if I'm intimidated by people who graduated from Harvard, and I say I'm not, then ask her what she does with her architecture degree, and then shut up again.

Meanwhile, Brandon just keeps talking. He gets called stupid a lot (in relation to me, the smart one as far as Lydia is concerned). He gets called an asshole, then we're both suddenly assholes. And while they're talking about his photography, she's asking him all sorts of questions about what he gets out of it. Then, the bill comes, and I pay, and suddenly Lydia calls him a whore. He still doesn't get it, but I've paid, he's not giving me any money, I'm doing none of the talking, he's a photographer and bubbly, it's all pretty clear. I'm his sugar daddy, paying his way so he can keep doing his art. Of course, she's ignoring the fact that he has a job, and all that, but still. She's drunk.

We leave, and one of the bartenders asks what was up with that, since he's heading out too. We just shrug. Okay, it was weirder than just about anything, but it's still pretty normal. There are drunks everywhere.

Then I explain what she was talking about the whole time, and a lightbulb appears over Brandon's head, and we move on to another bar.

The Duchess is a college bar with a faggy name, but it's still just a college bar. I think a lot of locals stop in, too, but it's only a mile or so from the UW, so a lot of college kids are here.

There's pool tables, big wooden tables and benches for seating, and you get to get carded at the bar Immediately On Entry, as a sign will tell you. We ordered drinks, and sat in the corner, and I looked over their Beer Hunter club. Basically, you drink 40 beer selections, none of them terribly exotic, and one as lowly as a $1.25 can of Schmitt, and when you're done, you get a little metal plate with your name mounted on the wall, and you get a hat. It could be done in a week or two, and may be after this quest is done. It's just stupid enough.

There's not much else to say. The drinks weren't much, the prices were okay, the crowd is frat-party-esque, and that's that.

Halloween night. We're out for a drink or two. We go to Piatti, hoping they'll be open, as they haven't the other two times we've been there. It's just after nine, and they are open still, so we sit at the bar, and the nun asks us what we want to drink.

Halloween, remember?

We give our orders to the nun, and a few other odd characters move by while we're waiting for our drinks. The whole staff can apparently dress up.

Other than that, there's nothing much about Piatti. It's got decent Italian food, since I've been here and had it before, but I wasn't much impressed by the nun's drinks, and the prices are kind of high, but then, they're in the U Village mall, which isn't the cheapest place, so what can you expect? Head for Zao Noodle House for your drinking needs, and you'll be happier.

This is the sort of place you could very easily become a regular. They've gotten a full bar licence not so long ago, and while the space isn't very big, it's enhanced by the bar.

The staff is all very friendly, so friendly that the owner sometimes just pops open a bottle of wine and shares with anyone who's in the place. We sat, and the very friendly waiter and bar man approached us, asking what we wanted. He went and got our drinks, and returning, asked if we wanted any food. We said no, but would later change our minds. My drink was quite tasty, and pretty strong, but Brandon's was apparently a bit much, from the face he made.

Really, though, it tasted like tequila. Which, in a whiskey and coke, is odd. I told him to take another sip, and he said, yes, it tasted like tequila. Not quite believing, I took a tiny sip, and yep, it was tequila tasting, not a good thing.

He took it up to the bar, and the bartender showed him that they don't even keep tequila at the mixing station, it's on the back shelf, it's just the brand of whiskey. So Brandon comes back to the table, a little put out, but understanding.

A moment later, the bar man is back, asking with real concern if it's going to be alright. Brandon says, me nodding along, that it really does taste like tequila, but he can't taste it, so he won't know. The bartender shrugs and says sure he can, and takes a drink. He gets the same look on his face Brandon did with the first drink, and says, yes, that tastes just like tequila. So he says he'll get Brandon a Jack and Coke, and would that be okay? But he's already gone as he asks, and the drink is back a moment later, and it's really strong, plus he leaves the other drink, just in case Brandon might want to drink it. Which he eventually does.

Brandon wants to smoke, but I don't think it's a smoking bar, so he asks the bartender. Who says, "Well...." and then looks around the bar. "What the hell, it's Halloween." And he gets an ashtray, and Brandon smokes, and we order some Bruschetta, too, which were really incredible, crisp but not crunchy, flavorful, truly exceptional. Their food, which I've had before, is rather good as well.

The service was incredible, the food was excellent, the drinks were good, the prices...well, six dollar wells are pretty high. We weren't happy with that. But it's still a fine place, and there's lot of wine choices that are cheaper than a well drink, like with Gitano. Go there for food and wine and excellent service, and see if you're not a regular within two visits, three if they're spaced out. I felt like a regular on my first visit in three years, after all.

Combining "business" with pleasure, I was meeting up with my new friend Marla for lunch, as well as having a drink on the quest. Brandon was here, of course, but a bit late, and Clarkie came out with us to pick up the bar.

Marla was waiting out front, since she only lives around the corner, and we decided to just get seated since we had no idea how long it would be before Brandon appeared. The menu wasn't long, but it was hearty yet wholesome seeming food, simple stuff that you can feel no guilt when ordering (okay, there's a lot of meat, so some of my vegetarian friends would tell me I should feel guilt. But hey, meat may be murder, but it sure tastes good, and if God didn't want us to eat meat, why did he make it so tasty?)

Brandon showed up just after we ordered, and ended up just getting a drink, while the rest of us ate. The drinks came in sundae glasses, which is a very large recepticle, and I at least was rather pleasantly surprised. The food was just what I expected, although there was a bit more of it than I thought there would be. Brandon and Marla swapped seats, because the lowering sun was aimed at Marla who had no sunglasses, and Brandon did.

We talked about food choices (Marla eats fish, but nothing with legs). We talked about all sorts of other things, the sorts of little things that don't much matter, but it was good conversation. Marla's great for that.

Clarkie picked up the drinks. He wasn't going to any more bars, but Marla decided to accompany us to another one, so we moved out into the afternoon.

A weird fact about the Longshoreman's Daughter. They don't have dinner hours, but they have a full bar. You see, they were damaged in the earthquake a couple years ago, dropped dinner hours and have never picked them back up because you have to spend a lot more to have dinner. It's odd, then, they have a full bar, but I'm not complaining, because the 5 dollar drink was pretty much a double. Still, strange.

After a stop to pick up art supplies, we ended up in Etta's Seafood, one of the three restaurants owned by local celebrity chef Tom Douglas (the others being the Palace Kitchen, lovely but overpriced on their drinks, and Dahlia Lounge, lovely but with spendy but acceptable drinks.) Etta's wasn't as nice as his other two places, but I guess it's supposed to be the seafood place, and seafood, for all it's priciness, isn't high end, because it can so easily be low end.

The bar area featured a long curvy bar, and a few smaller tables, and we ended up at one of the small tables, on high stools, which Marla wasn't thrilled with, but she lived. There were fishbone coathangers in bronze on the little half-wall that demarcated the bar, which was a nice touch.

We sat and drank and talked a lot about roommates, about my last party, about the sunset (which was nice, with the sun slinking down between two buildings and growing steadily more ruddy, but then the bartender closed the blinds, sadness). We drank slowly and enjoyed the company. And we were delighted when Marla decided to sponsor the bar. It was a good time in just about every way.

The only bar bit was that the drinks were, as expected, kind of spendy, and hadn't been the best drinks ever, or anything like that.

Thanks to Marla for picking up her first sponsorship. She's says its likely her only one, but we'll see. She's going out with us again today (two weeks later, ugh, I'm so far behind) so it may happen again.

Type: Neighborhood
Class: Dive

From the outside this place looks downright tiny. But upon opening up the door is like walking into the Tartus (its a Doctor Who reference.) You would also expect a place located down south on 4th Avenue to be a lot … dirtier. In fact, it was one of the more spotless dives that we have been to. We arrived at about 4:00 on a Saturday afternoon and the place was mostly empty. This does not dissuade my opinion of the class of clientele that they will get here. It is probably working class and it can probably get quite rowdy in here.

The most interesting feature of the place is a gas fire pit by door that is set into a round table and has high stools around it. I guess it is the warming station for spies that have just come in out of the cold.

Our drinks were small and kind of weak. Jim picked up his first sponsorship here and paid the $4 for the drinks. That price sure did not impress me. They have a Golden Tee 2003, 2 pool tables, lots of pull tabs, and a ton of beer signage and beer mirrors. A couple of TVs display the game, which we were losing, as usual. Lets face it, the Seahawks suck and they always will.

Marco Polo is fine, but if you are looking for strong drinks before coming over here to play some pool, I recommend you pop into Kettles first, get your drink on, and then come over here for a little amusement. I give Marco … Polo 2 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Lounge
Class: Dive

This place is infamous. It has been mentioned numerous times, most notably by JoJo from Bush Gardens. I mentioned JoJo to Robin, our bartender. She did in fact know her and told us that JoJo was having a birthday party the upcoming Thursday for her. Robin was crowing about their Karaoke and was ragging on the karaoke at Bush Garden. I suspect that there is a bit of a rivalry going on between the two places, not that anyone I know would be involved.

Kettell's is a diner dive with a diner dive lounge. The décor is something out of 60’s and needs to be wiped down with a skin blistering mixture of bleach and hot water. The crowd is older and seems to be quite settled into their chairs at the sunken bar. Our drinks were hella strong, priced at $4, and picked up by Jim (thanks Jim). Thankfully these $4 drinks kicked the ass of the Marco Polo $4 drinks. They could learn a thing or two.

We ordered food. I made the mistake of ordering meatloaf at a place I had never eaten before. While Jim’s fries were good and his sandwich looked tasty, my meatloaf was … well … questionable. It was like eating in my high school cafeteria again. Buy fried food here, it is safer.

I liked Kettell's and would definitely recommend it as your place to stop to get trashed in Georgetown and not get beat up. I give them 3 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Neighborhood
Class: Dive

We got Gringoed. We had a whiskey coke, a vodka cran, a regular size blended margarita, and a coffee with Baileys. For this, we paid $24 before tip. I can’t prove this (not knowing anyone Mexican in Seattle that I could send in there as bait to test my idea) but everyone we have talked to has said, it is quite likely. Now it is not like we walked into the Waterfront of Mexican places. Oh no. This place was divearific and located in South Park. For those of you who don’t know, this is the down and out part of town. At least that is what it looked liked. Not really my idea of a good time. That being said, we, got gringoed and we got gringoed hard. I feel sorry most of all for Jim, who picked up this “most excellent” sponsorship.

Juan Colorado’s is one third a divey little restaurant (where they moved an old freezer out of the back room by dragging it across the floor) and two thirds bar area. There are a couple of booths, a couple of tables, a corner bar with about 6 seats and a small stage area. An interesting “Virtual Clock” was up on the wall and left us fascinated for almost our entire visit here. There was also an electric globe (I forget their proper name, but it is the kind that creates blue lines of electricity that are drawn to your fingers) above the bar.

Lets just say that the place was shabby, not friendly, not unfriendly, but the fact that we got Gringoed must force me to give them the dreaded 1 “We don’t need no stinking Martini Glasses” out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Sports Bar
Class: Dive

The funny thing about the County Line, besides not actually being on the county line, is that there were more Mexicans here than there were at Juan Colorado’s. This place caters to a large assortment of working class people in the South Park area. The front area is a restaurant that looks like a low rent Denny’s. This is not a bad thing, but merely my perception from the 3 and a half seconds we spent walking past it.

In the back is a the lounge/bar area. It is quite large, with 2 pool tables, a dart machine, a bunch of video games, pull tabs, and a stage with some instruments set up on it. There was going to be live music, although god knows what that would have been. I wonder if it would have been the same bad cover band from Legends in West Seattle.

Our bartender/waitress was a doughty, but lovely person. She was very friendly, but you could tell she was a fixture of this place. She poured us some painfully strong drinks for a happy hour price of $3. She even noted that we were still in happy hour by “just a few minutes.” So instead of stalling, she helped us out. I appreciate that.

Despite the questionable nature of the patrons of the County Line you will get a good drink here, not pay through your nose for it, and might even have a good time. Thanks to Jim for picking up his 4th of evening. I am glad that he got a cheap one after the hell that was the Juan Colorado bill. I give the County Line 3 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

We were meeting Mel for a night of drinking, and we thought we'd head to the Tyrol Restaurant to have a drink there, since it was still rather early. But, lo and behold, there is no Tyrol anymore. Instead, there's the Kona Kitchen. Turnover in this town is getting ferocious.

Kona Kitchen is a Polynesian/Japanese restaurant run by the guy who played the young villian in Karate Kid 2. For real. He works there, and is really friendly, too, Mel tells us, since she's been here a couple times before. He was busy when we stopped in, and only appeared at the very end of our visit, but he was indeed very, very nice.

Instead, we were helped by his wife, who's a sweet and lovely young woman with her baby usually in her arms, even while she's taking your order. The kid's maybe a year old, but I think is a few months less than that, and just hangs out at the restaurant. Which is necessary, because they're renovating the place, and have just opened and all, and so they're each working in the neighborhood of 100 hour weeks, and it's just easier if the baby stays with them. Darn cute baby.

We were dismayed to see their lounge was not yet open, but then decided, since it was just a remodelling thing, and they already had the licence and the booze, we'd just get a drink anyway. Which we did, along with crab puffs that for once had a noticable quantity of crab. The drinks were tasty, a good starting drink, not too strong but definitely not too weak. Our hostese made with the polite chatting about the restaurant, and we were happy to be there because they were so nice and earnest. I'm told their food is good, too. Apparently the wife's mother works in the kitchen, so it's a total family affair.

We gave the sponsorship to Glen, who I think we're getting a bit ahead on, but I'm not sure. Someday we'll have to actually sit down and figure out if he's ahead, behind or just about right, but it would take too much work...boy, we're lazy.

Warmed by our first drink, we headed off to find a second.

We were in the neighborhood, so it was easy to stop by this little house that's become a restaurant. It lacks the homey charms of the Wild Mountain Cafe, but it does try, still being a converted home and all. The bar rests in what must have once been the living room, and is kind of packed with seating. There's a surprising amount for such a small space. We ended up at the bar, sitting at the end of the narrow horseshoe shaped enclosure.

The bartender was kind of quick to take our orders, but the drinks took a minute to get made, and then we ordered the tapenade, and that was a mistake. Not the flavor, which was lovely, but the time. It's just bread, sliced, and a little dish of the tapenade, with a few capers tossed on the top. Should take a couple minutes at most. But it was fifteen minutes almost before it arrived. We were already pretty much done with our unexceptional drinks by that time, so we scarfed the bread and tried to pay our bill. Which was also a slow and lingering process, even though, note, we were at the bar.

They have a great selection of hot sauces, I will mention in a pointless aside, since I don't think anyone should go here.

The drinks were pricey and not very good. The food was tasty but slow. Mel picked up the sponsorship, and it was good. We moved on.

We headed for Taste of India. But there is no Taste of India, there is only Bombay Grill. It's the same place, but apparently Chutney's has taken over running it, and changed the name, or something. That's twice in one night, for those keeping score.

We went to the back, to the bar, which was totally abandoned. There was silverware and such on the tables, but no one was back there, and there were glasses of all sorts just lined up on the actual bar, four and five deep, like the place was never used. In fact, our server suggested a different area, because no one used the bar, but we just took our seats there after explaining we weren't eating, and he seemed fine with that (once we weren't eating.)

We ordered drinks, which turned out to be quite strong, and as we were drinking, our server brought us a basket of chappatis, with dipping sauces, which is perhaps the best bar food option we've ever gotten. Yum, cilantro-mint sauce. We devoured them, finished our drinks, and had been joined by another bar table group in defiance of the abandoned bar theory. Trendsetters, that's us.

We gave the reasonably priced drinks to Glen, and we moved on. Thanks to Glen for two sponsorships this night, to join all the others. Almost to 30 bars, he is.

Mel said she was good for one more sponsorship, and we had a place in mind, which had foiled us with Wednesday closures. Cascadia was perhaps the last bar in Belltown that we had to drink at, and this seemed a good time.

It was pouring as we left the U-District, but had pretty much settled down by the time we got to Belltown, which was good, because we had to park four blocks away. Still, walking in a drizzle for four blocks wasn't a thrill.

But Cascadia was. It's very attractive from the outside, and this is perhaps the thrill I'm talking about, since the inside didn't really measure up. There are artfully arranged plants, mostly dead, but encircled with lights, and the overall impression is of some lost and romantic grotto of a restaurant. Inside, the bar is to the left, and we headed to that sinister place where a clutch of women filled one end of the bar, giving off a heavy lesbian girl group vibe, and a couple of women kindly scooted down one seat to let us in, having just arrived themselves and sat in the middle of the six other bar stools.

We ordered our drinks, and then I noticed the waterfall wall, the one thing in Cascadia that measures up to the charming exterior. Between the restaurant and kitchen is a glass wall, inside of which is a cascade of water that falls in various chaotic patterns. It's very appealing, and you get to walk right past it on the way to the restrooms.

The drinks weren't superb, but they were decent, and at this point, the last bar, you often don't want much strength. Cascadia did okay in the strength category without killing us. Price-wsie, I think they were kind of spendy. There were little two-tiered snack dishes at the bar, with nuts and pretzel sticks, which was nice. I needed more nibbly things.

Mel picked up the sponsorship, and we headed out into renewed rain and enormous puddles that it almost took an act of God to cross, but fortunately, you could with some determination go around them. Thanks to Mel for the two sponsorships of the night.

It's the night after Cascadia, and we're out with Wolf looking for more bars in the ID. But sadly, many bars in the ID are just phantoms. Places that have a full licence, but don't use it. We stumble into a couple of places, only to discover they have nothing like a bar in them, but can recommend places to go. Well, we have the list, so we know about that.

Finally, we arrive at Chinoise Cafe, which is in the corner of the Uwajimaya complex. It's a nice looking place, with a not-so-large bar, but it's got about 8 stools a couple of tables, and that's all we need. Our bartender, Josh, is a friendly guy who takes our drink orders fast, serves them up quick and then moves to get Wolf's food order. Sushi and potstickers come rapidly, and are tasty, and the drinks are good, also, so we're having a good time. Josh becomes the first bartender we've told about the quest in maybe thirty bars (unless we told the waitress at the Longshoreman's Daughter, which I think we might have, but can't recall doing). He likes the idea, which we always like, when a bartender gets into it, but we think that's about it. But, instead, he applies a discount to our bill, which was really cool of him.

The drinks were good, and the prices were okay, and the food was tasty, so it's a good stop if you're say, shopping at Uwajimaya. Which we would be, in a few minutes, so it fits.

Wolf picked up the sponsorship, the first of three for the night.

This was a little gem of a place, sort of. To sum up--cheap pool, air hockey, good music, free peanuts. Now, on to the review.

We didn't even know where the place was, and it's set back from the street with a little parking lot in front of it. By little, I mean it's one car deep, and fills just the front of the space. Which doesn't look big. But you enter, and descend into a lower level that's huge. There's a big seating area with a couple TVs, the bar, and then the entertainment area. They have many coin-op pool tables. They have air hockey. They have a bass fishing game. They have other video games, and darts. I think there might even be dancing on some nights, in the VIP area behind a curtain of shiny tinsel.

We sat at the bar, with our Uwajimaya food all about. I had bought many rice crackers, and now set to munching on some of them. We waited a bit for the bartender, who finally was summoned by Brandon going to look for her. She whipped up our drinks quickly and pretty strongly, and brought us bowls of peanuts (no shells, unlike most such places.) Brandon had been looking longingly at the air hockey table, so we adjourned to the farthest corner of the bar to play a round or two. Wolf and Brandon had a hard fought game, and then the winner, Brandon, chewed me up and spit me out.

The drinks were good, but the prices were kind of high. However, the entertainments were cheap, since it was coin op pool, always a big money saver. And we liked the place, in part because the staff (all one of them) was very friendly.

Wolf picked up the drinks, and we mosied on to try to find another open bar.

My, what a nice looking bar.

It's got book lined shelves, and lots of bottles of scotch all over, and cigar boxes on display. It's not so large, and was very full.

Did I mention it looked nice?

However, the drinks were weak and highly priced. Far too high for what they were slinging.

But it sure looked nice. Lots of books, did I say?

Wolf got the sponsorship, the last of the night. It came after looking around and around for another bar that was open, and being foiled again and again. Which brought us to the Bookstore Bar. A stop I advise you not to make.

We were going to see Harry Potter opening at midnight, and we figured as long as were in Downtown, we could hit a few bars. Sean said he wanted to pick up the Icon Grill, which he had claimed a good number of months ago, so we headed there first.

It's a big, bright place, with a high ceiling and a lot of space. There's a lot of marble (faux or not, I'm not certain) and brass, and there's a lot of pink. Pink coffee cups, pink napkins, pink this and that. Why it's all pink, I can't say, but there it is.

The bar is a long graceful swoop of marble, with a lot of bottles behind, and of course, pink cocktail napkins. It's big and mixes impersonality (of size) with coziness (the soft colors and such). We ordered our drinks, which were alright, but not a big thrill, and were kind of spendy. But I can see why someone would want to hang out here, because it's got a good feel.

Plus, there's the bathroom. There's a vertical row of televisions, from which blare the sounds of "Flight of the Valkyries" as well as images of waterfalls, swimmers, waves, rain, all that sort of thing. Help for the pee shy I suppose. There's real wash cloths to dry yourself with, which is a nice touch.

Sean picked up the sponsorship, sort of, and then we moved on to find another bar.

A little bar attached, as it were, to the Vance Hotel (although it is not, our bartender assures us, the hotel bar.) It's not a great place to look at, merely functional. We entered and had to circle around a short wall to get to the plain but servicable bar, where a short debate erupted over where to sit. I wished to be at the bar, where two cutie boys were sitting, while Brandon wanted a table, for no reason I can discern. The bartender, overhearing the argument, came over to intervene, jokingly, and then we ended up sitting at the table because I'm kind of sick of bickering, and it was just easier.

We thought the bartender, who seemed very cool, would continue, and we were going to card him, but then he just vanished to talk to the one hottie boy who remained at the bar, the other leaving moments after we arrived. Our drinks were delivered pretty promptly, but we had difficulty getting our check, a negative. The drinks in any case were nothing special.

I didn't expect much, and that's what I got. We moved on.

We were getting a little hungry, so Brandon hoped to get food at this place. It was only about 10 pm, so there was a decent chance. But sadly, the kitchen was closed, and only the bar was open. It was a dim, undecorated hole in the wall kind of bar.

There were a goodly amount of guys in their 30s to 50s in the bar, no women at all, and if that's not enough of a clue, our waiter was a swishy Asian guy of indeterminate age. One of the weekly rags of the city recently pointed out that Hana was one of the city's overlooked gay joints, and they were right. It's very gay, although a bit old for my taste, and very overlooked. Because we weren't regulars, or gay enough, or something, we got a lot of looks as we waited for our drinks.

There being no food, there wasn't much point in lingering, so we didn't. The drinks weren't strong, but they were pretty cheap, so it was alright. We headed out to return to the movie line, three bars seeming enough for a night with another purpose.

It was a bar that had foiled us on our 8 bar night three and a half months ago, but tonight it would be ours. We were tired from the night before, but still there was drinking to be done. So we made our way to Oaktree, and headed into this, the most shitkicking Chinese bar you'll ever see.

The clientele were low rent, a mix of old white guys and trashy white couple, hair teased and teeth optional. Two guys were stumblingly playing pool at the single table, with the people who were next (as marked on a chalkboard) heckling them to hurry them on. One of the player's Afroed Chinese girlfriend kept trying to hex the other guy's shooting. The crowd was rowdy, the yelling regular, and the music country. Brandon, having blotted country out of his mind, called it 70's rock.

The drinks were strong. Rather, it should be said, my drink was very strong. The bartender ran out of cranberry juice after just a splash, and then, the drink still an inch empy, just shrugged and pushed it over to Brandon, who was buying this round. So it was pretty much just vodka. Fortunately, a little cranberry goes a lot of way.

We drank, we listened to the shouts and I at least expected a barfight, and we moved on. Because it was for the best.

Jai Thai is a scavenger of a chain. The first we visited was once Il Gambaro. This one was once the home of the Northgate Azteca, and it still showed. The bar looked like a Mexican bar, with tiles and half walls and lots of stucco, just repainted and with a few Thai touches. It was kind of weird.

We were sketchily attended to by our bartender, who was slow to notice us, and slow to keep up with the needs of our table. He wasn't all that busy, so it makes no sense. We got our drinks, and ordered some food. The food was okay, but not great, and the drinks were the same, too sweet in my case, and not very strong. But it was expensive at least.

Oh, wait, that's not good.

Anyway, Jai Thai wasn't a winner, and it joins the other bars in the neighborhood, which is just one to avoid. With one exception, the next bar we hit, of all the places.

Olive Garden is a chain, and this place, located near Target, wasn't much different from the others. But there was a nice bar, and there was a nice bartender. So it was good.

Adam was a smiling, personable, reasonably cute gay man. Or, if he wasn't gay, I have no idea how he was straight. He looked (odd as it seems) like a rather cute Ron Perlman, who isn't particularly cute. But it worked somehow.

He was funny, and told us a story about how if you don't have your nametag, it's better to wear anybody's nametag than not wear one at all. So it would be better to be, say, Kathryn, then to be a nameless Adam. Which I don't get.

Anyway, we ordered our drinks, which were good enough, and had a dessert, which was excellent, a berry and ice cream thing, and I thought about bruschetta but couldn't justify the money, and it was all good.

So if you're in the Northgate area, and you want a drink (the prices, by the way, weren't great, but weren't awful) and maybe some food, the Olive Garden is about the only place you should count on. Azteca, too, maybe, but that's it.

Hi All,

I would like to start by thanking Jim (a new sponsor) and Marla for making our trip down south a success. Next I would like to update you all on our plans for Pike Place Market.

I have just been reminded that I can not go out Saturday evening since I have work committments (damn them!!) Instead, I am thinking that we should hit Pike Place Market Friday Evening instead. I don't know how many we will be able to hit, but if we get a good crew together it will be fun. I suspect that we will meet at about 7:00 PM and then motor on through until we are tired, broke, or in jail.

Email me at Brandon@570bars.com if you are interested in participating. Alternatively post a comment here to indicate interest so that buzz can begin to form.

--wOOt

Let It be known that for the first time in at least 6 months, I am all caught up. This may last for 5 hours or it may last for weeks (as I stay caught up) but for the moment, look upon my glory and bow before it.

I hope this makes up for the fact that I have been so far behind for so long.

I will do better until the next crisis that causes me to fall behind.

-wOOt

We were going to the south end of the city, with Marla and Jim in tow, and the first bar we came to, in Georgetown, was the Marco Polo Bar and Grill. From outside, you would think it was a sort of pit, but inside it was actually rather low rent but nice, like a sort of country diner. There were only a few people in the bar, and our sort of cute bartender girl came over rather quickly to get our order, and just about as quickly to serve us. There's a large seating area, which I'm guessing is the Grill bit, and which we sat in, and then a rather smaller bar area, which featured a circular counter with a gas fireplace on the counter top, in the center. There were chairs all about, and I'm thinking on a winter eve there would be few nicer places to sit.

The drinks weren't very expensive, and were pretty good, not great, but the Marco Polo is so far out of the way that there's no real reason to hit it.

Jim picked up the sponsorship, after several failed attempts on other days long past, and we moved on, across the street.

Once, a long while ago, we were recommended to drink here by Jojo, who works as Busch Garden. However, it's been months since then, and we hadn't stopped in. Today was the day. The four of us entered the restaurant, and with some hesitation circled the whole place to get to the bar in the back. It was a place that looked like it saw two kinds of customers--the regulars, who live nearby and enter by the back door, and a few long distance drivers, who must end up in the area somehow. At least, there were three empty Grey Line buses in front, and the drivers were all inside having lunch.

We sat and ordered drinks, and then food. The drinks weren't weak at all, and the prices turned out to be decent. The food was a mix. I liked the onion rings, although they were no Boss rings (a moment of silence for the dead Boss grill... alright, that's enough.) While we were seated, waiting for food and eating and such, Marla, at our request after a few odd references at the Marco Polo, started telling us the abbreviated story of her life. It's too long to recount, and it's her story anyway, but I'll mention, at the least, Scientology, Mexico, lying parents and a lack of formal schooling. It's a remarkable story that carried over to the next bar, and sometime you should hear it. You might still, courtesy of her brother.

Anyway, we ate, we listened, we paid (another Jim sponsorship) and we moved on.

Our bartender, Robin, was not the one recommended by Jojo so long ago, but was upset not to have been. She told us to come back for Jojo's birthday party, on Thursday, but I doubt we will. Too many other bars. That moment has already passed.

We had to cross the river into South Park to get to the next bar, and it wasn't worth it. We entered Juan Colorado as the night's darkness really started to set in, and we were the only white people in the place. Which hasn't been a problem in the ID, but would be here.

Our waitress, with limited but functional English skills, took our order, and returned a moment later with unimpressive drinks. It was the bill that wowed us, though.

We got Gringo pricing.

24 dollars for four drinks, two of them wells, one a margarita, and the last a Bailey's and coffe. In a divey, crappy Mexican bar in one of the poorer neighborhoods of town. Yeah. Right.

Jim paid, stunningly. I wouldn't have picked up the drinks, but he did. Note, he's also paid for all of Marla's drinks for the day, and would continue to do so for one more bar.

We left Juan Colorado's, Gringoed out of the joint. If you're white, don't go there. Otherwise, don't go there anyway, because it was nothing special. But really, if you're white, don't go.

It's nowhere near the county line, and never has been. But the County Line still has the name of a bar you would go to if you were the Duke boys, and needed to have a quick escape or something.

We all wanted to escape as we entered. The front of the bar was filled with a collection of desperados, drunk and surly Mexicans in great quantity, but we walked by and entered the nearly empty main bar, where a few members of the white trash tribe, my former tribe, lingered like holdovers from a previous administration, not yet fired because they're overlooked.

Our bartender was such a one, a woman past her prime and overweight, but jolly and fun all the same. It was nice after Juan Colorado's. We got our drinks, finished up the last parts of Marla's life story, and after a few more minutes of lame conversation (we were all pretty much done by that time, I think) we moved on and left the bar.

Jim picked up the very reasonably priced, rather strong drinks. If you're somehow in South Park and need a drink, it's a pretty decent place to stop. You could do worse. You could go to Juan Colorado's.

Thanks to Marla for coming out, and to Jim for the four sponsorships for the day.

Both Brandon and me are now up to date. We're caught up entirely. The last bars were on Saturday, it's Monday, we're current.

Huzzah!

Wait until next week for us to fall behind once more. It won't take long.

jason

Type: Neighborhood
Class: Average

The Park Pub is nice quiet neighborhood pub in the Greenwood area. It is across the street from the WPI (Woodland Park Inn) and it is just about its polar opposite in every way. The Park Pub is attractive with a neo-minimalist feel of strong simple colors and elegant but not ostentatious accents. The drinks are average and overpriced at $5. There is a good beer selection on tap, but I have two major concerns. What does it say about a place that has both Rogue (uggh) and Pabst Blue Ribbon on tap? Nothing good, if you ask me.

The restaurant portion is painted red and has hanging square cloth lanterns. A wall of vintage pin-ups sits next to the kitchen. The center area is black, has a bar with 6 stools and inverted cone shaped lamps. The right side of the bar is painted green, has two pool tables, and two large signs in green and white that say ‘PUB.’

The “crowd” here was mixed and definitely local. The bartender and a patron were eating sushi from down the street. I tried to make a little conversation and got looked at like I was insane. Soft instrumental jazz played in the background, but it was the good kind, not the Kenny G, John Tesh kind. All in all, I liked the place but not prices. Go to the WPI to get plastered, but come here on a Monday for their $5 burger and beer deal. I give them 3 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Sports Bar
Class: Average

It is easy to miss this seemingly tiny little pub as you drive towards the block of death (Baranof and crew.) They have a parking lot that fits 4 cars, a Jim Beam sign in the window and a front door with a porthole.

Inside, the place is well-lit and has numerous amusements: 2 dart machines, 2 pool tables, 1 roller game of some sort, a deer hunting game, pinball, and a Golden Tee 2003. The entire place was filled with fratty guys and once again, I was overdressed. No one seemed to care, but I still noticed it. A group of 4 guys were playing both pool and Golden Tee at the same time, rotating between both games. Numerous TVs (both big and small) are littered throughout the place and are tuned to various different sports programs and channels.

The most interesting things I found here were their beer pitchers. These pitchers have a white cone sitting in the center of them. I kept looking at the cone, trying to figure out what the hell it was. The I saw the bartender flip a pitcher over, fill the cone with ice and then screw on the bottom. Genius I tell you. What a perfect way to keep the beer cold in the container. Pure Genius.

While I would never come back to Bleachers, I can see its appeal as a neighborhood sports pub. There is lots to do and if you like fratty university sports guys then this is your place. It all seemed really gay to me, but I think that is just because there was not a single girl in the entire place (and there were about 12 guys here.) The drinks were pretty good and priced $3.00. I give Bleachers 3 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

--wOOt

Type: Sports Bar
Class: Average

Located in Lower Queen Anne, down a smaller side street, I would never have expected to find such a hopping place here. From the outside it just looks like a regular place. Very little sound escapes through the closed front door. As the door opens, the din of an exciting nightlife washes over us. The bouncer, who is holding a metal detector, takes one look at us and waves us on in. Its good to know that we don’t look like a threat.

Floyd’s place is a large well lit establishment with a long light brown bar to the right, table seating on the left, and a center flirting table down the center. Behind the bar are three tiered shelves that hold dozens of different beer taps. Some of them are part of their rotating stock and others just interesting collectables. Above the seating area are also dozens upon dozens of unusual and not so unusual beer bottles. In the back is a small gaming area with its own TVs and several red felt pool tables.

My only complaint on this night was that it was primarily a sausage fest. What few women we saw there were definitely there as part of a couple. I thought I saw two girls there alone, but as we were leaving I noticed the two male jackets sitting there on the bench. The music was DJ driven and was a mix of 70’s Funk and modern punk. Behind the bar was a small cigarette “refrigerator” with its own cash drawer.

The drinks were $4.50 and they were fine. I really liked what I saw here and would consider going back. I don’t know if they normally have more women here or not, but I hope so. I would also recommend one of their many tap beers rather than mixed drinks. I give Floyd’s Place 3 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Neighborhood
Class: Average

This unlikely little neighborhood pub turned out to be incredible find. Located out “in the middle of nowhere”, basically up Dexter, it is not actually near anything but some residential housing and a couple of the TV studios. The Dexter and Hayes Public House is not a large place, but it is exceptionally cozy and nice. The upstairs area has a medium sized dark wood bar (seats 8), several booths and several tables, one of which has a chess board set into it. Behind the bar, Jaye pours a mean assed drink.

I recently talked about the bartender at Miriani’s, who was an exceptional bartender as he was eager to please. Jaye is the other type of excellent bartender. Not only does she pour a kick your ass drink for $4, but she is incredibly fun and sassy. She reminds me a lot of Florence, but more outgoing. Jaye’s arms are covered in tattoos. A martini glass with Sinatra’s birth and death days, a tattoo for George Clinton and one for the P-Funk all-stars. One for Sean Connery and one for Elvis. This is a woman with great taste.

Downstairs is a “function” room that can be rented out. Really it is two rooms, one with a pool table and a Golden Tee 2003 machine, and another with a dart machine and a steel tip board. There is a back yard area with grass where they do barbecues and other fun outdoor things.

Then there was the music. Jaye says that she should get commissions based on how many of the following CDs she sells. The first is the soundtrack for “Not Another Teen Movie” which is 80s songs done by 90s artists. It was what we were listening to and it was great. Jason ran out and bought it the next day. The other CD she showed me, was called, “When Pigs Fly” Songs by artists you never expected to hear. For example, there is Ohio done by Devo and a duet done by Jackie Chan and Annie Di’franco. How weird is that.

I think that this is my new favorite small neighborhood drinking hole. I dug it a lot and I loved Jaye. I give Dexter & Hayes Public House 4 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Hi All,

So this friday's festivities have been finalized. We will be meeting at
the Pike Pub and Brewery at 7PM. The Address is 1415 1st Ave.

We will be in the back by the pool tables, and if not, by the bar.

We will be here until at least 7:30. After that, you better call me to find out where I am.

The Pike Pub & Brewery
1415 1st Ave
Seattle, WA 98101
Phone: (206) 622-6044

Map

Two thirds of the way done, by the official count. By the real count, of how many bars there are, it was probably a few weeks ago, but we might still end up closer to 570 than I think, so we'll just leave this bar as the .667 point.

Park Pub is a little bar not far from Woodland Park. It's got a pair of pool tables to one side, the restaurant seating, such as it is, to the other, and the bar right in the middle. We sat at the bar, where I observed they had Rogue Ale on tap (never a good thing). The bartender and a friend were eating various sushi obviously not made at the establishment (I suspect there would be no fork snatching here.)

It was a neighborhood place, but an upscale one. Which is odd. But I suspect the neighborhood is plenty high class enough to support such a strange bird, and if you want the neighborhood dive, the Woodland Park Inn is just across the street anyway.

The drinks weren't all that strong, and at 5 bucks, they were a overpriced. There was something weird about the drinks, too. Mine tasted kind of fizzy, which a Vodka Cran just shouldn't.

It's a place to skip, I think, although I liked the look of the place, dark colors with decent lighting and interesting spaces. But I'm not going back or anything.

We've driven by this place time and again, and I didn't realize it was anything but a beer bar. Actually, there's a Jim Beam neon in the window, so it's obviously a real bar, but who can tell in a quick drive by?

We entered and there's a little privacy wall in front of you, so you have to go right or left to get into the place. We went the wrong way, away from the bar, and ended up circling the whole place to get to our seats there. It's a sports/entertainment bar, with pool tables, darts, a few video games, a shuffleboard table (I think) and suchlike. The place isn't exactly high end; rather, with it's bright lights and slightly run down look, it's just the opposite. But the crowd was young and having a pretty good time (it wasn't a big crowd or anything, keep in mind) and the bartender was quick to set down his magazine and get your drinks.

The pour didn't look so good, but the drinks were strong, so it just shows that even 381 bars don't yet make an expert. Of course, they were small drinks, so it doens't tak