Wharf Tavern

Herman Melville Boulevard runs parallel to Route 18, and just south of the old Wamsutta Mill (presently being converted into upscale condominiums), sits the Wharf Tavern. It is the only sign of night life in a industrial sector of town that is wed to the fishing community and related businesses. But on the evening of the Barflies' visit, it was quiet. Except for Tammy. Tammy is a high-spirited and sassy barmaid with a good, bawdy sense of humor, who seemed surprised to see a few strangers walk in. Tammy mentioned that it was slow, not only because it was a Wednesday, but because much of the fleet was out, and the most regular of the regulars are fisherman. And long-haul truckers... one of who finished up his beer and went to the sleeper berth in his semi, which was parked out behind the tavern. When Tammy stepped out from behind the bar and stepped outside to smoke a cigarette (after ensuring everyone was set with drinks), another patron mentioned, in short order, that, A.) the Wharf Tavern had been around for thirty years; B.) that it served the "best breakfast in town"; and that, C.) Tammy was a "hot shit." While those were not the words Mr. Draft would have chosen, he understood- and appreciated- the other customer's observation. The Wharf has a good reputation for fresh seafood, but the restaurant section was already closed when Mr. Draft and his colleagues were there. The draft selection was limited but Tammy was more than up to the challenge of any sissy drink that Mr. Mix could throw at her. One suspects that if the "fleet were in" and it was a Friday or Saturday night, it might've been hopping...but on that cold, fleetless, mid-week night- it gets a 5...despite Tammy's best efforts. (Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr, Mix, Mr.3BOES)

Le Place

Mr. Draft will be the first to admit that he can trip over the obvious...as in the case of this bar, where he failed to make the mental connection between the pseudo-French sounding name and the possibility that it might be a lesbian bar. Not that there's anything wrong with that. (Sorry...that line never gets old.) As Mr. Draft and his Barfly colleagues approached, note was taken of the rather large outside deck and the rather unappealing view of the great grey concrete wall supporting Interstate 195, directly across the street. However, once inside, the bar opened up to an expansive dance floor and a somewhat glittery decor, reminiscent of a late 70's disco. Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix and Mr. 3BOES were, with one exception, the only "misters" in the place, as the customers were predominately female. And, despite a riveting broadcast of Jeopardy! on the television over the bar, they were primarily preoccupied with each other. Although, Mr. Draft was curious about a specialty drink called a "Suck & Blow," evidentially available in seven or eight fruit flavors, and described by the bar tending woman as "a jello shot in a tube," he settled in with a vodka martini. The Barflies not-fellow patrons were sociable and greeted us upon our arrival, and, one gets the sense, would've engaged us in further conversation had we stayed much beyond our one drink. Le Place is certainly the place to go to in New Bedford if one's gender and sexual preference are of a given nature, but, that said, it seems open and friendly to all-comers (no pun intended). The dance floor itself seems to be one of the better in the city and everyone knows how much Mr. Draft likes to shake his hips. Maybe he'll haffta bring Mrs. Draft some night...or maybe not. Le Place gets a bold 7.5. (Roll Call: Mr, Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. 3BOES)

The New Wave

Located under the Route 195 overpass in the Hicks-Logan district, the New Wave is a small, nondescript cinder block building with graffiti on the exterior walls. Hicks-Logan is a tough neighborhood struck by poverty and crime and rumored to be a possible site for the casino, long rumored to be coming to New Bedford. But it ain't a neighborhood bar. The New Wave often has entertainment, ranging from heavy metal to rap to stand-up comedy. Even karaoke. On the night of the Barflies' visit, it was quiet when we arrived--- just two customers nursing beers at the end of the bar. A dog was asleep on the stage. A barrel-bellied, no-nonsense guy who looked like he belonged on the set of The Sopranos kept an eye on things. The draft selection was limited but a few good ones were available, including the Newcastle that Mr. Draft ordered. The barmaid, a buxom brunette bit of eye candy named Kathleen, was friendly and quite talkative. Someone (Mr. Draft won't reveal who...) noted her thong strap rising above her low-slung jeans and she almost instantaneously became our favorite barmaid. Mr. Mix asked for "a sweet drink," but let Kathleen select and she served him...yes...wait for it...a Pink Pussy. Mr. Mix claimed to like it better than the one he'd had at the Catwalk several weeks ago, but that could've been the thong talking. The New Wave is a gritty, fun, no-frills place, much like the bars Mr. Draft used to hang out in Providence, back in his college days, when he was into...new wave. This bar would've received a 6, but the thong bumped it up to a 7. (Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Merlot)

Antonio's Restaurant

Antonio's, at the corner of North Front Street and Coggeshall Street, is a longstanding New Bedford establishment, with an excellent reputation and deservedly so. With an atmosphere of understated elegance, it manages to be, simultaneously, a neighborhood hangout, a serious restaurant specializing in fine Portuguese cuisine, and an inviting spot for a romantic rendezvous.
The selection of draft, while not remarkable, is certainly serviceable, and Mr. Draft opted for an IPA from Long Trail, a Vermont-based brewery. It was the perfect accompaniment to the pair of stuffed quahogs ordered. The quahogs themselves were subtly sweet and adequately spicy, the taste only slightly impaired by a slight scorching (too long under a broiler?) Mr. Mix, at the bartender's suggestion, had a Batida de Maracuja, made with a Madeira Island-made passion fruit liqueur. As Mr. Mix generally likes to order drinks that throb with sexual innuendo, the drink's name probably translated from the Portuguese as something like Nibble My Trouser Snake. Mr. Mix described it as "liquid sweet tarts." Mr. Draft would return to Antonio's in a heartbeat...good food, pleasant staff, and a sophisticated interior without a hint of pretentiousness. Mr. Draft gives it a 9. (If the quahogs hadn't been mildly burnt, it coulda been a contender...it might have received a 10!) (Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Merlot)

The End Zone

Somehow, the Barflies have lucked out in the sense that in our mission to visit every bar in New Bedford, we don't have to drink at an Outback, or Pizzeria Uno, or T.G.I. Friday's, or worst of all, an Applebee's. Thankfully, these chains have forsaken New Bedford for the strip malls of suburban Dartmouth and Fairhaven. And the worst of them is Applebee's, with it's cloying attempt at familiarity, describing itself as a "neighborhood bar and grill," when it is, in reality, but a corporate eyesore and dismal eating/drinking experience. The End Zone is the real deal. It's a true neighborhood bar and grill that was packed on the Wednesday night that the Barflies visited. It has a adequate draft selection, and Mr. Draft settled in with a Samuel Adams Winter Lager, while Mr. Merlot had a merlot(!), and Mr. Mix, sticking with a theme, drank a Slippery Nipple. As might be expected, with a name like the End Zone, it is entrenched in sports memorabilia and a basketball game played on the overhead television (somewhat in competition with the gentleman trying to sing and play guitar on the stage in the adjoining dining room.) There is an extensive menu with the usual assortment of bar-friendly munchies, and the dining room was as crowded as the bar. The other patrons were sociable and conversational, and Mr. Draft is of the opinion that it could easily become the kind of place "where everyone knows your name," like on that TV show. A comfortable, authentic "neighborhood bar and grill." It rates a 7-and-a-half. (Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Merlot)

1846

Much to my disappointment, 1846 doesn't refer to some significant historical event, but, alas, to the address: 1846 Purchase Street. Number 2 on our list, the 1846 was a pleasant surprise. Set in the heart of a neighborhood best known for drug-dealing, prostitution, and other questionable activities, the Barflies entered with some trepidation and ended up thoroughly enjoying it. The bar was a long, seamless counter of stainless steel and had comfortable, matching high-backed stools that matched. The barmaid was very friendly and informative as were other staffers. A Red Sox game played on the television, and predominantly Spanish music played. Mr. Draft's only disappointment was the draft selection...in fact, "selection" is too generous a term...there was only was weak draft choice,,,an Icehouse, or a Miller Lite, or something equally forgettable. Mr. Draft instead ordered a CC-and-ginger and felt like his dad, swilling one down at the long gone Imperial. The 1846, despite its' non- selection of draft, is a gem of bar. It had an excellent staff that made newcomers feel welcome, and an atmosphere that was warm and homey...the perfect neighborhood bar. Mr Draft gives it a strong 7-and-a-half.