Mikey B's

As he usually does, Mr. Mix asked the barmaid. "What do you recommend for a mixed drink? Something sweet...not too fruity...."

The relative fruitiness of Mr. Mix aside, Terri, an attractive, dirty blonde barmaid at Mikey B's took it on as a creative challenge. She gave him a drink that she called a Sicilian Kiss, which was, basically, cranberry juice and Southern Comfort. Mix enjoyed the cocktail, but Mr. Draft was mildly confounded by its' name. A Sicilian Kiss...okay, kiss- got that part- its' red. But what does a bourbon mix that originated in New Orleans and is now distilled in Tennessee, or cranberry juice- the official state drink of Massachusetts- have to do with Sicily? Research began...Mr. Draft found out that the mixing of Southern Comfort and cranberry juice originated in 1939, to coincide with the opening of Gone With The Wind, Garnished with a wedge of lime, it was originally called the Scarlett O'Hara. And that nomenclature makes so much more sense....Scarlett...scarlet red like the juice...and the O'Hara conjures up images of the Deep South...and its' comforts. Sorry, Terri...the Sicilian Kiss name just doesn't cut it.

In any case, Terri was an amiable professional and all the Barflies in attendance were happy with her, and just about everything else at Mikey B's. The selection of drafts included Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, Magic Hat #9, Stella Artois, and Shock Top, as well as the usual swill preferred by Mr, Pisswater: Bud and Bud Lite. Mikey B's also offers a good selection of bar grub, such as nachos, burgers, sandwiches, wings, and fries.

Mr. Draft would be remiss to fail to mention that Mikey B's has, collectively, the most beautiful waitresses in city (with all due props to the lovely wait staff at Cork and On the Rocks...)

Mikey B's is a new, notable and happening addition to the city's bar scene, located near the merger of Acushnet Avenue and Ashley Boulevard, near G&S Pizza. Stop in, enjoy the hearty grub, maybe a Sicilian Kiss-- that is, a Scarlett O'Hara--- and enjoy the eye candy. Yeah, Draft isn't being too PC this review... Mikey B's get an 8. Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. 3BOES, Mr. Mix, Mr. Brew-haha, Mr. Pisswater, Mr. Merlot, Mr. Cork.

Pa Raffa's

For about a decade-and-a-half, Mr. Draft, Mrs. Draft and the adorable Draft children lived in the far northern reaches of upstate Vermont, minutes from the Quebec border. Vermont's charms are many-- the lovely vistas of the Green Mountains and Lake Champlain, quiet Norman Rockwell villages, Bernie Sanders, Phish, Ben and Jerry's, and some damned good maple syrup....but one thing it lacks is linguica pizza. When Mr. Draft would return on semi-regular visits to New Bedford to see Mama Draft, he'd be jonesin' for a linguica pizza....specifically, the crisp, thin crust, sausage-laden, tomato paste heavy variety served at Pa Raffa's. While Mama Draft ate the antipasto- a pile of iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, green peppers, hots, onion, black olives, ham, pepperoni, and some other tasty mystery meat, topped with olive oil and vinegar, and enough shredded mozzarella to smother a first-grader-- Mr. Draft inhaled the perfect linguica pizza.

When Mr. Draft hit Pa Raffa's on an official Barflies' visit, with Mr. Mix, Mr. 3BOES, Mr. Brew-haha, and new recruit, Mr. Pisswater, in tow, a linguica pizza was promptly ordered and quickly devoured.

Pa Raffa's is located at the crotch of Ashley Boulevard and Acushnet Avenue in the far north end. There is a full service bar but it is small- only four stools. But other than the Barflies, one suspects that most drinkers at the bar are only there while waiting for their takeout- be it pizza, subs, or Raffa's "bucket of spaghetti." Jess, the barmaid, was proficient and cute, and Pisswater lived up to his chosen moniker, drinking one of the macrobrew selections, while Mr. Mix sipped a rum-and-coke. The decor is faux Italian, plastic grapevines and the like, as well as a Pizza Delivery Elmo doll, sitting at one end of the bar.

As a bar, Pa Raffa's is a good pizza joint. As it should be. And all is right with the world. As a bar, it get a 3. But as a pizza joint, it gets a 8. And the linguica pizza gets a 10. Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. 3BOES, Mr. Brew-haha, Mr. Pisswater.

Vasco da Gama Restaurant

Named after the famed 15th-century Portuguese navigator who circumnavigated Africa, the Vasco da Gama is an unapologetically sweet, beautiful, old school bar-and-restaurant on Dartmouth street, in New Bedford's south end. The small dark bar is charming in a low-key way, and the bar proper is separated from the dining area by a latticework divider. Mr. Draft was not impressed with the tap selection, but it was better than many, including Beck's Dark and Heineken to accompany the predictable Budweiser. The food that some of the Barflies indulged at the bar- particularly a nice platter of olives and salty cheese- impressed Mr. Draft enough to plan to return with Mrs. Draft to secure a table in the quietly romantic space behind the latticework and indulge in some of the Portuguese specialties, that include goat, rabbit, octopus, and an array of other options from the farm and the sea. The bar's lighting is tastefully subdued and appropriate for a date, or for just hanging out and chatting with some comrades-in-arms. The service was professionally friendly and friendly professional; and the crowd ranged from street-talkin' wannabe homeboy-wiggas to well-groomed suits, sipping cocktails while waiting for their take-out. The Vasco da Gama is one of those places that appears to work equally well as a neighborhood bar- albeit the kind of neighborhood bar that is worth driving across the city to hang out in- and as unassumingly formidable place to partake in a good meal. The old explorer's namesake gets a 7.5. Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Merlot, Mr. Elixir, Mr. 3BOES, Mr. Sazurac, Mr. Mix.

Rose Alley Ale House

Although he may be loathe to admit it, it appears as though Mr. 3BOEs was somewhat ogling the barmaid at the Rose Alley Ale House on the night of the Barflies' visit. And with Mr. Mix alongside him as an impromptu wingman of happenstance, he may have even been "chatting her up," as the British say. And it is understandable, as Leeann was a very beautiful and gregarious redhead, and Mr. 3BOEs was fortified with a few in 'im already. But enough on 3B's vague flirtatiousness--- the Rose Alley Ale House is also beautiful and gregarious. Housed in a centuries old building, facing Route 18 and the State Pier, one door north of Cork, the Rose Alley is a brand new establishment, started by a trio of young entrepreneurs who have an obvious love for beer. Some time back, the building housed the infamous Cultivator Shoal, and local tales of it persist as a haven for drunkards, whores, brawlers, reprobates, smack dealers, knife wielders, thieves, con men and other riff-raff. But Mr. Draft cannot swear to the veracity of these claims...but folklore exists for a reason. (Bones found in the basement during renovations turned out to be of animal in nature.) In any case, the riff-raff are sparse in the Rose Alley...the crowd seem to be primarily collegiate or twenty-something, with a few old wankers like (some of) the Barflies thrown into the mix. The ale house is a two-story joint with an interesting quirk... light ales, IPAs, lagers, and a few other classifications served upstairs, while the downstairs bars offers "specialty beers". In truth, any beer can be ordered at the lower or the upper bar, and a member of the staff will retrieve it from either bar, but there does seem to a method to the madness. The beer selection is remarkably plentiful. Some of the downstairs offerings included Ommegang 3 Philosophers quadrupel brew, Victory Storm King (a Russian imperial stout), and Rogue Dead Guy malbock. Upstairs selections included Allagash Belgian White, Offshore IPA, Troeg's Hop Back Amber Ale, and a dozen others, as well the usual macrobrew suspects, Bud Light, Coors Light, and one inexpensive skunky favorite of Mr. Draft's- Moosehead, a steal for $2. Beyond the brews, the Rose Alley offers a concise menu of bar munchies, including about a dozen kinds of wings, served wet or dry--- that is, with sauce or a dry rub, including teriyaki and barbecue style, as well as the predictable- but excellently fiery buffalo version. There is a handsome sign above the door outside (and Mr. Draft knows a wee bit about signs), but the interior is a bit lacking in decor...and the right visual kick could add a sense of style, character and history. All in all, the Rose Alley Ale House is a welcome addition to New Bedford's ever evolving bar scene and it rates a well-deserved 9. Put some art on the walls...get a 10. And LeeAnn...Mr. 3BOEs lives just a few blocks up the hill...if you're interested. Pretty sure he is... Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. 3BOEs, Mr. Elixir, Mr. Sazurac, Mr. Merlot

Waterfront Grille

Located on Homer's Wharf, just south of the Bourne Counting House, sits the Waterfront Grille, an elegant and upscale addition to city's thriving bar-and-restaurant scene. That space, in a previous incarnation, had been the home of Louie's on the Wharf, a legendary New Bedford restaurant, that raised the bar for the local culinary community. Let it be said that the Waterfront Grille is a worthy successor. Overlooking the harbor and the docked fishing fleet, there is a lovely view that rises above the cliched and schmaltzy sentiment that a cynic like Mr. Draft might ordinarily assign to such a visage. It is beautiful and does, no doubt, attract visitors of the city, but the Waterfront Grille is no kitschy tourist trap. Small, white tubular lights hover over the bar, creating a tasteful atmosphere that is neither too cloyingly romantic nor unnaturally bright. On the night of the Barflies' visit on-tap brews were nothing spectacular or out of the mainstream- Miller Lite, a Sam Adams Seasonal offering, Blue Moon and Long Trail, and Mr. Draft opted for the lunatic choice. The pretty barmaid, Jennifer, proved to be an excellent barkeep. Several of Mr Draft's hungrier companions ordered food at the bar and greatly enjoyed their meals. And while Mr. Draft greatly enjoys the company of his compatriots in the Barflies-- for example, Messrs. Elixir, 3BOEs and Mix are somewhat of a Holy Trinity of entertaining geek conversation, Mr. Merlot and Mr. Sazurac are formidable thinkers as to local politics and art, and keen observers of cleavage; and one could get lost in Mr. Brew-haha's dreamy eyes--- Mr. Draft thinks he would most enjoy the Waterfront when he is out "on a date" with the beautiful Mrs. Draft. It bests functions--at least in the evening-- as a romantic spot. And it rates a 9...and if the draft selections improved ever so slightly, it might enter the exalted realm of the Tens. Roll Call: Mr. Draft. Mr. Mix, Mr. Elixir, Mr. 3BOES, Mr. Brew-haha, Mr. Sazurac, Mr. Lupilin

Claudio's Cafe

Claudio's sits on Acushnet Avenue, south of Baiyles Square and north of Nash Road, and is distinguished, as one cruises by in the evening, by a sharp indigo neon sign. On the night of the Barflies' visit, there was a respectable gathering of customers, many watching a soccer game on the television, broadcast in Portuguese. The draft selection was predictable, and Mr. Draft opted for a bottle of something forgettable. The barmaid, an improbably buxom woman named Toni, was capable, gregarious, and flirtatious in the standard professional manner. All present ordered some bar grub, mostly sandwiches and French fries, which were quite satisfactory. Mr. Mix drank something too sweet for most human beings, and Mr. Merlot seemed to enjoy the fortified Portuguese wine he'd ordered. Claudio's has an extensive menu, and music on some nights. It is clean, friendly and generally "good," but there is little to separate it from the plentiful pack of popular Portuguese pubs populating the Ave. Except for that indigo neon and Toni's...well, Mr. Draft won't say. Claudio's ranks a respectable 6.5. Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Merlot, Mr. Sazurac, Mr. Elixir, Mr. 3BOEs

Hibernia

Whenever Mr. Draft hears the term "Irish Bar", he is reminded of McSorley's Ale House on Manhattan's Lower East Side, staffed by first generation Irish immigrants, serving only two kinds of beer (no liquor or wine), and only opening its' aged doors to women in the early 1970's when required to do so by statute. It is quite possibly the oldest bar In New York City- though some at Pete's Tavern on Fifth Avenue may dispute that claim- and it may be Mr. Draft's favorite bar in the world...although Gritty McDuff's in Portland, Maine, and the Starry Plough in Berkeley, California are right up there. (The Plough, by the way, was rumored to be running guns for the IRA, a legend Mr. Draft chose to embrace in his younger days. And they served great fish and chips.)
However, most newer Irish bars seem to identify themselves Irish as a genre rather than as an ethnic by-product, looking forward to the money deluge of St. Patrick's Day, with the requisite green beer, corned beef and cardboard shamrocks.
Hibernia, in the space formerly occupied by Merlot (reviewed at any earlier date), may have a slightly higher pedigree. While there is nothing explicitly "Irish" about Hibernia- the name is the Latin term for Ireland- it is light years beyond its' predecessor as an inviting watering hole. The tap selection is broad and satisfying, and the decor is inviting- unlike the prior tenants. Hibernia offers good, simple pub food and the staff - including a quite capable and perky barmaid named Lindsay- are gregarious and proficient.
"Irish" bars tend to attract a high proportion of professionals from the worlds of law enforcement and fire fighting, and Hibernia is no exception. Unfortunately, Irish bars also attract large gaggles of politicians, as on the night of the Barflies' visit, when it seemed that most of the City Council was there. Now, that's a scary crowd. Hibernia rates a 7.5.
Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Merlot, Mr. Moonshine, Mr. Mix, Mr. 3BOES, Mr. Sazurac

Davy's Locker

Davy's Locker is a venerated, old-school seafood joint, with a mid-priced menu and a middle-of-the-road crowd, situated on the wrong side of the hurricane dike's flood gate in New Bedford's south end. On the backside of the restaurant, overlooking an ugly parking lot, which overlooks a rather lovely waterfront, sits an attached but distinct lounge, about the size of a double-wide motor home. Mr. Draft was pleased to see that the lounge had a personality and decor that was quite different from the restaurant proper. Having expected the bar to be decorated with buoys, life preservers, plastic crustaceans, and tables assembled by laying slabs of thick glass perched on lobster traps...it wasn't that. But Mr. Draft isn't certain that the decor projected the ambiance one would want either...the furniture and vibe was only slightly better than the late Merlot on William Street. In an attempt to project hip, it only resonated a chic best described as reminiscent of late 70's porn films, with odd red mood lighting over the bar, faux black leather love seats and chairs, a corrugated aluminum ceiling, and tables that look like were made from the leftover parts of unused exercise equipment. The only thing missing to really get the porn vibe (other than the "actors and actresses") was some funky wah-wah music. But decor aside, it was ...okay. The young barmaid, Leandra, was friendly and professional and the draft selection was adequate. Mr. Draft opted for a Buzzard's Bay seasonal ale, as did Mr. Lupilin. Mr. Merlot drank a merlot (!), Mr. Mix drank something coconut-infused and Mr. 3BOES sucked down another of the draft options. Interestingly, though known of the Barflies indulged, 101 different martinis (a term loosely used in this context) were available on the menu, and this explained the lettering across the bar back mirror with the legend that read "Martini 101". The bar at Davy's Locker is- thankfully- not what one expects, but on the flip side, what it is isn't much better. It gets an "okay" rating: 5.
Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Merlot, Mr. 3BOES, Mr. Lupilin

Restaurante Alianca

According to veteran Barfly Mr. Cork, the food is excellent at the Restaurante Alianca. But the assembled group of Barflies was out to drink, not to eat...but that said, the aroma of codfish emanating from the kitchen was appealing, as were the posted menu offerings: calamari, fish cakes, shrimp cakes. The bar side of this small, south end restaurant was packed with regulars, who were friendly and jovial. The barmaid was a stunningly beautiful young woman named Lisa, who reminded one of the Barflies (who shall remain nameless) of a young Sarah Palin, but Mr. Draft thinks that particular Barfly may have been on the way to inebriation. Lisa actually looked more like Diana Prince- and if the dear reader does not know who she is, then that reader needs to familiarize him / herself with silver age DC Comics. Alianca had a dismal draft selection- Coors, Coors, and more Coors. Mr. Draft settled for a bottle of an imported beer called Super Bock, which, if taste- or lack thereof- is any indication, may as well be the Coors of Portugal. The light in the cooler behind the bar was bright enough to serve as a beacon to ships coming into a fog-laden harbor, and if that light were dimmed, the room would seem less harsh and more comfortable. Mr. Draft will return to the Restaurante Alianca, with Mrs. Draft (and perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Cork) some evening to try the great-smelling codfish, but as a bar, the place only rates a 5. Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Cork, Mr. Merlot, Mr.3BOES, Mr. Whiskey, Mr. Brew-haha

South Side Annie's

More or less verbatim dialogue:

Mr. Draft: "Give me a Stella Artois."

Hilda the barmaid: "How about 'Hello...how are you?...May I have a Stella Artois, please?' "

And so, Mr. Draft received a quick lesson in conversational barroom etiquette at South Side Annie's and the Barflies were off to a good night. In reality, the Barflies approached Annie's with a bit of trepidation, as it is one of those bars that is often buzzed by, in a rather rough south end neighborhood. But as is often the case, our apprehensions were unfounded. Up until about eight years ago, a place called the Owl's Nest existed in that space, and that place had a reputation deserving of trepidation...and caution. But now, the roughest element seems to be Hilda's lesson in manners. South Side Annie's is actually a very warm, inviting dark wood saloon, which has a large television screen positioned above the bar, and an adjoining game room with pool table, video games and Foosball. The bar is festooned with an admirable collection of license plates from many states, and a digital reader board, which emits messages concerning specials and a quote-of-the-day. Mr. Draft enjoyed his bottle of Stella Artois, not overly disappointed that the draft selection was limited to Sam, Bud, Bud Lite, and Coors, as an adequate selection of bottle beers was available. Mr. Whiskey embraced his moniker and ordered a Jack-and-Coke. South Side Annies also gets a nod of approval for the traditional bar room offering of pickled hard boiled eggs, as well as stuffed peppers, as low-cost snacks. On the night of Mr. Draft's schoolin' by the cute and sassy Hilda, pitchers of Sam Adams were available for $5.00. Pleasantly surprised by all that awaited within South Side Annie's, the Barflies give it an 8. Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Merlot, Mr. Mix, Mr. 3BOES, Mr. Whiskey, Mr. Brew-haha

Mee Hong

At the southern end of Route 18, at the intersection of Cove Street, sits the unremarkable little building that houses Mee Hong, a favorite South End Chinese restaurant. The four Barflies in attendance occupied 100% of the available stools at the bar that was about the size of an average kitchen counter. In all fairness, the Mee Hong is not truly a bar, but rather a good-sized joint with the afterthought of a bar, that seems to exist, primarily, as a mixing station for the restaurant's drinkers, and, perhaps, to idle away a few minutes with a fruity rum drink, while awaiting one's takeout order. But it is a very good spot to enjoy some lobster Rangoon or pork ribs (which Messrs. Draft, Mix, 3BOES, and Merlot did). There are no draft beers available, however there are a fair assortment of bottled beers. As is the norm for Chinese restaurant bars, Zombies. Love Potions, Scorpions, Volcano Bowls and the like are available, most of which seem to be made with an assortment of rums, fruit juices and coconut milk. Mr. Draft ordered the Mee Hong Gentleman's Special, which sounds like something that would be offered at the Foxy Lady, and it was a predictable and overly sweet cocktail concocted with two rums, a mai-tai mix, and a splash of Bols Apricot Brandy. (A note to the women: there is also a Mee Hong Ladies' Special but Mr. Draft - and not even Mr. Mix- was willing to cross the gender divide to indulge.) Mr. Mix ordered, and seemingly enjoyed, a coco aku, made with rum and coconut milk. The Mee Hong's resident bartender, Sara, did her job efficiently but she was not very conversational. The decor is an unfortunate mix of harsh lighting, quasi-Chinese kitsch, and bad diagonal paneling...but stick to the Rangoon, and all will be well. Good restaurant...not so good bar. As a bar, the Mee Hong is a 4. Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr, Mix, Mr. Merlot, Mr. 3BOES

Chuck's China Inn

There are a plethora of Portuguese / Portuguese-American bars along the Avenue and many of them are quite good. But barhopping to several of them on a single night, can be become a distinction-blurring excursion of too many fava beans on the counter, flaming linguicas, syrupy wines, a strange synthesis of the Portuguese and English languages (Portuglish?), and far too many attractive women named Maria that would mind-numb all but the most fervent Luzophiles.
Chuck's China Inn is the antidote. Chuck's has been a staple in the New Bedford restaurant vibe for many years, offering a full range of Chinese-American dishes such as the indefatigable General Tso's Chicken and the giggle-inducing Pu Pu Platter. (Well, it induces giggles in Mr. Draft's preteen son...but, then again, he also is quite amused by Provincetown's most common nickname.)
Passing by the hostess station and through two large dining rooms, the Barflies sat in the cocktail lounge, a visually-impressive, beautifully decorated little bar. It may be one of the last great hidden gems in the city's bar scene. The room seats only a few...perhaps less than two dozen...but it is worth squeezing into. The lounge features intricate lattice work, three-dimensional dragon heads, bare breasted women in bas-relief, and a bullet-proof looking bartender, beefy enough to bodyguard Beyonce. The bartender was affable and professional. The draft selection was limited to Samuel Adams' offerings-Cherry Wheat, Lager, and Octoberfest, but that was certainly adequate in a place that one could opt for a Zombie, a Love Potion or a Volcano Bowl. There is something oddly noirish about Chuck's....the cocktail lounge would look great in an old black-and-white movie, where Humphrey Bogart would fall for some stunning Asian girl, who'd dope him with powdered opium in his bourbon, when he asked too many questions. Even after that, Bogie would give this place a 9.
Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Merlot, Mr. Elixir, Mr. 3BOES, Mr. Whiskey, Mr. Brew-haha
A last note: Mr. Mix and Mr. 3BOES would think Mr. Draft remiss and Luddite if he did not mention the patrons playing Grand Theft Auto on the bar's television screen.

Cafe Funchal

Cafe Funchal is like alot of other bars. But none of them is in the city of New Bedford.
Located on the corner of Church Street and Nash Road, having moved from a much smaller Acushnet Avenue location, Funchal is quite remarkable. On the night of the Barflies' official visit, it was, as it often, is quite busy. The main bar is situated in a cavernous room, with an incredibly lengthy bar and three (four? five?) large flat screen televisions hovering above, like quietly humming "close encounter" motherships. The exterior architecture and the unlikely location do not signal the handsome decor that awaits within. Besides the liquor bar, staffed by at least two very good bartenders, names unknown to Mr. Draft, there is an elegant horseshoe-shaped oyster bar. Mr. Draft is of the belief that perhaps the best accompaniment to a Guinness draft stout is a couple of iced oysters on the half shell, and Funchal did not disappoint him. The Cafe can be loud, but it is a good loud...the kind of loud that comes from people talking, laughing, flirting, and socializing. There is an extensive specialty martini list, and a phone-book sized menu, focusing in on some of the the best Portuguese food in the city. The Mr. Mix and Mr. Merlot...oh, the hell with this---Mr. Draft is just going to say it....Cafe Funchal gets a 10 for at least a half-dozen reasons: an excellent menu; professional and knowledgeable staff at the liquor bar and the oyster bar (c'mon, when was the last time someone could explain to you the subtle difference between an oyster from off the Rhode Island coast versus one from off Long Island?); a beautiful interior architecture; a jumping crowd; and bold owners with the balls to open a Tribeca bar in the north end of New Bedford!
Roll Call: Mr. Draft. Mr. Mix, Mr. Merlot, Mr, Whiskey, Mr. Brew-haha, Mr. 3BOES

Regal Beagle

One time, Mr. Draft and his lovely wife were driving along on Acushnet Avenue, and upon passing a particular bar, Mrs. Draft pointed out that the sign for a particular neighborhood bar perturbed her. It was called the Golden Arrow, and the arrow on the sign was bright red. Mrs. Draft, sometimes a beguiling literalist, found this incongruity a source of aesthetic (and, perhaps, spiritual) distress. Now, her distress is has been alleviated. The Golden Arrow is no more...it has become the Regal Beagle.
There has not been a change in ownership or atmosphere, only the opening on an in-house kitchen and the addition of a fair-sized menu of beer-friendly meals, burgers, sandwiches, appetizers and the like. The name itself---the Regal Beagle-- has been appropriated from the old television sitcom, Three's Company, which ran from 1977 through 1984, and featured the goofy antics and double-entendres of Santa Monica roommates Jack, Janet, and Chrissy. The shows' premise was that Jack, who was heterosexual, pretended to be gay, so that he could room with female roommates, Janet and Chrissy, as his prudish landlord (Mr. Roper) wouldn't have allowed it any other way. Three's Company propelled John Ritter (Jack) and Suzanne Somers (Chrissy) into stardom. Joyce DeWitt (Janet) not so much.
New Bedford's Regal Beagle has embraced the theme, using the sitcom theme song in their radio ads and naming their sandwiches after characters from the show...not only Jack, Chrissy, Janet and Mr. Roper, but secondary characters such as Furley and Larry Dallas.
The Regal Beagle is a pleasant neighborhood bar, with an affable barmaid named Angela on duty on the night of the Barfly visit. She proudly pumped her seasonal specialty drinks---the Banana Nut Bread Shot, the Boo Berry Blast Martini, and the Caramel Apple Martini, among others. Mr. Draft drank a bottled Sam Adams because it came with a complimentary glass (Mr. Draft love bar freebies), Mr. Merlot sipped his red wine, Mr. Whiskey and Mr. Brew-haha sucked on other bottled beers, and Mr. Mix drank one of Angela's aforementioned creations.
The Regal Beagle gets a 7...and that has nothing to due with the golden arrow/ red arrow bumping.
Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Merlot, Mr. Whiskey, Mr. Brew-haha

Not that anyone is asking, but if Mr. Draft were to open a bar with sandwiches named after old sitcom characters...well, let's just say that the sandwich list would end with the Movie Star, the Professor and the MaryAnn.

Inner Bay Cafe and Grill

Across from the dike on Cove Street, there sits a small, elegant, old brick building that houses one of New Bedford's most charming bars...and there's a restaurant there, too. Years ago, Silmo Coffee Syrup was manufactured in that building, and a generation of New Bedford children- including Mr. Draft- gulped down countless glasses of coffee milk made with that sweet stuff. Now, the Inner Bay is in its' place and producing some sweet stuff of its' own. As Mr. Draft's tastes have matured away from coffee milk and toward good draft beers and old-school martinis, he ordered an Absolut martini. A very cute and gregarious barmaid, Gloria, proved to be quite skilled in her profession, making an excellent martini, so dry it was crispy, by doling out the vermouth with an eyedropper...clinically efficient and oddly elegant. Mr. Mix's tastes have not matured much beyond coffee milk, and perhaps in homage to the days of Silmo, he ordered an espresso martini...which is more akin to an Awful-Awful from Newport Creamery than a classic cocktail. But, it was pretty and he thoroughly enjoyed it.
According to Gloria, Thursday is poker night--- and on the night of the Barflies' visit, it was Texas Hold'em Night, but the Barflies exercised fiscal restraint and did not head upstairs to partake in the games. But that option, the Ms. Pac-Man game by the door, the fava beans served as a bar snack, the impressive menu, the comfortable and tasteful barroom, and Gloria herself won over the Barflies. The Inner Bay rates an unequivocal 9.

Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Merlot, Mr. Whiskey, Mr.Brew-haha

Mi Antojo

Located in an old storefront that looks like it was shipped in from a San Antonio barrio, Mi Antojo is located in a rundown, tenement-packed neighborhood, right off Route 18, on Rivet Street. And it's a fun bar, and even better restaurant. As there was not a draft to be had...but plenty of bottled and canned beer-Corona, Dos Equis, Negro Modela among them- Mr. Draft settled for a Red Eye, a half-and-half mixture of beer and tomato juice, supposedly popular in Mexico, although the tomato juice is often substituted with Clamato, and a shot of tequila is often added. There was a language issue...the barmaid, Roxie, spoke no English and the Spanish of the Barflies is weak. Luckily, a friend of Roxie's- a woman by the name of Gloria- jumped into the fray- and translated the orders for Roxie, who did an adequate job. And Roxie was cute.
Unlike, No Problemo in downtown New Bedford- which the Barflies are quite fond of- there is nothing trendy or Mexican nouvelle cuisiney about Mi Antojo. It is decorated in the manner I expect a Mexican restaurant - in Mexico- to look like...without wrestler's masks or other tongue-in-cheek kitsch. The sides sampled at the bar- a thick, chunky guacamole and a esophagus burnin' salsa were excellent.
Visit Mi Antojo , drink at the bar...eat some good food with it. As for the language barrier...Mr. Draft just doesn't care when it's this authentic. It get an 8.
Roll Call: Mr. Draft. Mr. Mix, Mr.3BOES, Mr. Elixir, Mr. Moonshine

Union City Bar and Grill

New to the city bar scene (having been around for about nine weeks as of this writing), the Union City Bar and Grill, located in what-used-to-be the Main Event, on Union Street. The Union City Bar and Grill is ripe with potential...for good or evil. Let's start with the good: it is freshly redecorated, it has a spacious dance floor, a potentially romantic dining room, and some kick-ass deep-fried mozzarella. But there was no one to enjoy the new decor, no romancin' and no one dancin'. And only a couple of Barflies were scoffing the cheese. Mr. Draft engaged in a conversation with the cook, who assured him that reggae nights and other musical diversions would be soon coming.
Now for the evil...well, maybe, not really evil, but certainly misguided: other than the aforementioned personable kitchen personnel and five Barflies, the only other people in Union City were a sweet, 21-year old, mind-numbingly buxom barmaid (Sarah) and a chatty, lecherous old goofball customer (Kevin).
Now, if Union City were a sitcom, Sarah would be Suzanne Somers' Three's Company character, but with shorter hair and a fuller blouse. Kevin would be played by the bastard child of Cliff Claven and Barney Fife, with a little bit of Rush Limbaugh thrown in. As might be surmised, presidential politics was the conversational topic, and Sarah's naivety (she had concerns about Reverend Wright!) and Kevin's low key viciousness (complaining about New Bedford welfare "dregs") led to a heated debate, with Mr. Moonshine coming to the forefront as left wing spokesman for the left-leaning, Obama-supporting Barflies. In actuality, the spur-of-the-moment political banter made for an interesting time.
But, with a little planning and a lot of luck- especially in these dire economic times- the Union City will catch on...music, dance, a bit of a crowd....and the entertainment won't have to fall to Sarah and Kevin.
With due respect for the "newness" of the place and the audacity of hope for the Union City Bar and Grill's success, it gets a 5...with fingers-crossed.
Roll Call: Mr, Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr, 3BOES. Mr. Elixir, Mr. Moonshine

Kirby's Irish Pub

A few years back, a bar opened on Kempton Street, a few blocks east of Rockdale Avenue. It was called the Irish Immigrant, and it was quite popular with college kids, firefighters, police, lawyers, and politicians. Darts and occasional quasi-Irish folk music were the entertainment. The beer selection was predictable. And the environs were dingy, with bathrooms bordering on unsanitary and about to cave through to the basement. And in the day's prior to the law against smoking in bars, it was one of the smokiest places in the city.

Flash ahead to the present: the Irish Immigrant is no more. In its' place is now a family-run establishment called Kirby's Irish Pub. And it is a vast improvement ...now smoke-free, freshly painted, and handsome in a publy way, with renovated bathrooms, Kirby's is still popular with college kids, firefighters, police, lawyers, and politicians.

On the night of the Barflies' visit, it was relatively quiet, until a pack of "suits" arrived, as if a busload of attorneys just arrived to stake a claim. And they looked and acted like regulars. The draft selection at Kirby's is better than most and Mr. Draft enjoyed a seasonal ale, and the vast majority of the others sipped on draft beers as well...save for Mr. Mix, who drank some awful cocktail that looked and tasted like a junior high chemistry experiment.

Kirby's is a comfortable neighborhood pub, with some pleasant diversions and distractions, an adequate bar staff, and a pleasant-enough ambiance that is far, far better (and less odorous) than its' predecessor. But it feels a bit too generic...and somehow, someway, Mr. Draft wished it felt a bit more unique. Kirby's rates a 7...and it could be an 8, if something juiced it up a bit.

Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Merlot, Mr. Cork, Mr. 3BOES, Mr. Whiskey, Mr. Brew-haha, Mr. Moonshine

Sapatinha's Cafe

On the evening of the Barflies' sojourn into Sapatinha's, located in downtown New Bedford at the corner of Acushnet Avenue and School Street, there were only three or four patrons at the bar...and no bartender on duty, seemingly, as we sat on the stools. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Maria appeared. She was a friendly, middle-aged, self-depreciating woman with a plastic bag on her head. Really. She explained that she'd taken advantage of a quiet moment to dye her hair in the ladies' room, and she proceeded to serve the Barflies, with a Rite-Aid bag over her hair.
The draft selection was limited to Bud and more Bud, so Mr. Draft shifted to his fall-back choice, a can of Guinness. Mr. Merlot sipped a heavily fortified Portuguese wine, strong enough to strip paint off a hardwood floor. When asked by Mr. Mix for a "mixed drink, something creamy, sweet, no fruit juice," Maria suggested a Tequila Rose, which Mr. Mix ordered. It turned out to be a premixed cocktail, the color of Pepto-Bismol and the flavor of Frankenberry cereal, a strong artificial strawberry kick. Mr. Mix described it as "being offensive to the palate."

Sapatinha's is a rather nice place, dark and quietly elegant, with plush seats and the illusion that it is twice as large as it actually is, due to the placement of a large mirror on the back wall, an illusion only broken by the realization that the exit sign is in reverse and there is a guy at the other end of the bar who looks just like you. Two televisions played, one broadcasting Jeopardy! and the other airing American Gladiator, appealing to both the Apollonian and the Dionysian sides of the cafe's patrons. A hand drawn portrait of Mother Theresa hung behind the bar, as did a Red Sox banner, touching on all things holy.

A sign hung over the bar that read: "Credit is for banks not bars. If you ask me, I will throw you out." Sapatinha's will likely not be a beneficiary of any $700 billion dollar bailout.

The cafe was quiet that evening, but Mr. Draft suspects that Friday and Saturday nights are more vibrant. Sapatinha's gets a straightforward 6.

Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr, Mix, Mr. Merlot, Mr. 3BOES, Mr. Moonshine

Pour Farm Tavern

Located midway between Union Street and William Street, on Purchase, sits one of the city's newest drinking establishments. And it's a very welcome addition. Mr. Draft and the rest of the Barfly crew comfortably ensconced themselves at the staid bar, tended to by a competent young man by the name of Jesse. The Pour Farm is warm and inviting and Mr. Draft was impressed with the draft selection. Many bars in New Bedford serve beer on tap...the Pour Farm does it with a zymurgist's zeal. The on-tap selection includes Guinness, Harpoon UFO Raspberry, Cisco Whale's Tale, Brooklyn Brewery Pilsner, and for the feeble beer aficionado, Coors Light. But Mr. Draft opted for the seasonal offering from Dogfish Craft Brewery, a small and adventurous brewery, based in Delaware. It was a bit pricey at $5.50, but Dogfish's Punkin' Ale was a hearty, chewy brew, with a strong pumpkin pie kick, and hints of cinnamon, nutmeg and coriander.

In the name of full disclosure, Mr. Draft must confess to a previous life as a maker of tap handles. Customers included the aforementioned Dogfish Craft Brewery, as well as Wolaver's, Magic Hat, and Otter Creek. But Mr. Draft knows no loyalty and is a bit of a beer whore...whoever is making the best brew in any given season and at any given location--- that's who gets Mr. Draft's lovin'. But that said, Dogfish is consistently good-- in the bottle and especially, on tap. And the Punkin' Ale is a beauty. And so is the Pour Farm Tavern. It is a highlight for the beer connoisseur, New Bedford's answer to Portland's Gritty McDuff's, or Burlington's Vermont Pub and Brewery.

Mr. Draft has no idea what the other Barflies drank. Or even if they were there.

The Pour Farm rates a strong 9, with a suggestion or three on how to up the score to a 10...

1.) Start offering some good, simple pub grub--- keep it simple and beer friendly- fish and chips, an Angus burger, some bangers and mash, a good Caesar salad (which means with anchovies), and the like.

2.) Hire bartenders who have extensive knowledge about beer (or the willingness to get educated on the subject) and can talk up the offered brews, asking customers what they like, making suggestions, able to explain the difference between an IPA and a pilsner. This would go along way to making the Pour Farm the '"go-to" place for smart and serious beer drinkers in NB.

3.) Stock a pile of the Ale Street News and/or the Yankee Brew News by the entrance. Leave an issue or two of Draft magazine about for visitors to peruse. Play up the commitment to GOOD beer, for all it is worth. Build it and they will come!



Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Merlot, Mr. Cork, Mr. Sazurac, Mr. Elixir, Mr. 3BOES, Mr. Whiskey, Mr. Brew-haha, Mr. Lupilin,