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

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

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

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 Garden Sports Pub

As one travels down Union Street and passes the neon sign illuminated window of the Garden, one would not know how large the place is within. There are a number of pool tables and other barroom distractions, as well as a big horseshoe shaped bar. There, however, is no garden of either the floral or vegetable variety, so Mr. Draft, noting the sports-centric theme of the bar assumes that the name is a reference to the Boston "Gah-den." Mr. Cork was once again greeted with enthusiasm when the Barflies entered. No offense to Manny at Campino but this old acquaintance of Mr. Cork's was much cuter. As it turns out, the blond babe bartender, Ann Marie, used to babysit for Mr. Cork's sons, which quickly ended Barfly speculation on Mr. Cork's reputation as a ladies' man. Ann Marie was quite friendly and conversational as well as very pleasing to the eye. Mr. Draft took note of an odd drink being sipped by a nearby patron. It was a Windex-colored concoction in a large translucent plastic cup, with a can of Red Bull half- submerged in it. The patron told Mr. Draft that it contained gin, vodka, rum, Blue Curacao and, of course, Red Bull. It was called a Trash Can, and he said it was appropriately named, as one "will getya trashed." The draft selection was strong including the usual suspects as well as Magic Hat #9, Sierra Nevada, and Smithwick's. Like nearby competitors FINS and the Catwalk, the Garden is populated by a young, attractive crowd, looking for a good time, in every conceivable sense of the term. For its' enviable draft selection, for its spaciousness and unpretensiousness, for the somewhat hip crowd, and for Ann Marie, the Garden gets an 8. Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix. Mr. Cork, Mr. Sazurac)

Rainbow's End

The Bad: In it's previous incarnation, this bar was known as Puzzles, and on Groundhog Day, 2006, some demented neo-Nazi scumbag by the name of Jacob Robida entered, and after having a drink and confirming with the bartender that, yes, it was a gay bar, pulled out a hatchet and a handgun and attacked several patrons. The Good: It's moved on. On the evening of the Barflies visit, all were keenly aware and disturbed by the memory of Robida's violently homophobic actions, but encouraged to see that the bar had come into its' own as a proud, openly gay bar. The name change and the sign - using the graphic image that has become visual shorthand for "gay," the rainbow arc- were steps in the right direction. There were no draft beers available, but the bottled selection was adequate. Mr. Mix, channeling the spirit of Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City, ordered a Cosmopolitan, while admiring a vintage video game in the entrance way. The bartender, Ken, was friendly and professional and armed with a ceiling mounted array of upside-down liquor bottles, assuring that each patron gets exactly the correct allotment of booze in his glass. A small stage was adjacent to the bar proper which would soon be the setting for a drag show, which a poster promised would feature, among others, "Miss Diane Ross" and "Miss Paris Hilton" and "a lite pastry buffet." Frankly, the Barflies were more curious about the pastry than the Ross and Hilton wanna-bes. The Ugly: The place is a bit dank, with the decorative highlights being strings of tiny Christmas lights and some kitschy gold-painted statuary situated in alcoves. Gay doesn't have to mean campy. And the restroom could use a good scrubbing. All in all, the Rainbow's End is tight in the middle of the ratings scale: a 5. (Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Merlot, Mr. Cork, Mr. Martini)

The Bullpen

Located several blocks south of Brooklawn Park, on Acushnet Avenue, the Bullpen is an old North End institution. Pearly Baker, a well-known band that covers the Grateful Dead, the Rolling Stones, the Allman Brothers and other 60's rockers, has played there every Tuesday night for over sixteen years, making them an institution, of sorts, as well. But, the Barflies visited on a Wednesday night, and the pub was subdued. Except for the bartender, Rob. He was a big man with a big belly and big laugh and he went by the nickname "Big Sexy, " given to him by one of his regular customers. (Mr. Draft agrees with the "Big" half of the nickname, but will leave it to others to judge the "Sexy" part.) Mr. Mix ordered a White Russian, as Big Sexy asked him to "keep it simple", and the Russian kicked like Nureyev. The draft selection was lackluster, highlighting the usual suspects: Coors Light, Budweiser, Bud Light, and Mr. Draft's pick of the litter, Killian's. Big Sexy spoke enthusiastically about the Bullpen's Sunday brunch and about the sexual escapades of some of his lady customers (who, on the night of the visit, were noticeably absent.) The Bullpen is a bit rundown, but in a good comfortable way, like an old sofa, with a few stains and loose seams. Big Sexy has a big, sexy persona and a contagious laugh,which knocks this venerable old neighborhood institution up to 7-and-a-half. (Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Merlot)

The Catwalk Bar and Grill

Blueberries in the beer? Sure, why not? Mr. Draft ordered a Sea Dog Blueberry Ale and was surprised to see a couple of dozen actual berries added to his mug. (On a side note: evidentially, some blueberries are sinkers, and some are floaters, much like...oh, never mind). While it added nothing to the taste, it added fiber, vitamin C and anti-oxidants making it the healthiest brew Mr. Draft has had since his college days, when inspired by a scene from one of the Rocky movies, he'd gulp down a raw egg in his Pabst. The Sea Dog was a vast improvement in taste (and texture.) The Catwalk is a vibrant, sexy, and trendy bar on lower Union Street, populated by vibrant, sexy and trendy patrons, such as the Barflies. Three lovely barmaids tended the bar, and one in particular took on the challenge of Mr. Mix' esoteric cocktail requests, including the Pink Pussy. The Pink Pussy was recommended by the barmaid across the street- at FINS- and the Catwalk's more-than-capable barmaid was able to produce it, while suggesting other concoctions. She may have been the most knowledgeable bartender as to the subject of mixology that the assembled Barflies have yet come across. However, when she found out that the Pink Pussy was recommended by her across-the street competitor, she referred to her as "the dirty girl"...which was just a little catty...and kinda hot. The Catwalk was rather busy for a midweek night and the patrons very friendly, particularly two regulars, who referred to themselves as Bert and Ernie (Mr. Draft suspects these were aliases). Bert and Ernie told jokes, made drink suggestions, and recommended a number of other drinking establishments within the greater New Bedford area. In the summer, the Catwalk opens up a rooftop bar that overlooks the harbor and the town of Fairhaven, perfect for vibrant, sexy and trendy patrons...like the Barflies. For its' plump draft selection, for its' cute and smart barmaids, for its' atmosphere of gregariousness and good humor, the Catwalk rates a vibrant, sexy and trendy 9. (Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Merlot, Mr. Light Weight)