Although the Barflies have a hardcore core charter membership and a morphing collection of characters who come into the group, this collection of imbibers cannot be considered a motley crew, or degenerate reprobates, in any way, as Felix the bartender choice to serve us, despite the sign warning, "We reserve the right not to serve undesirable persons." Yes, the New Bedford Barflies have achieved "desirability". Of course, this was not at the Ritz-Carlton or the Russian Tearoom...but at the Dipper Cafe, a venerable, old and comfortable tavern on Purchase Street, somewhere between Glaser Glass and the Lebanese Kitchen. The Dipper is a laid back and friendly joint, with a talkative and curious group of regulars and a laid back bartender- Felix- who did his unflustered best to make Mr. Mix a girly-drink. Buttershots poured into a Pepsi created a "caramel cola" and Mix drunk it like a man. A girly man.
There were no draft beers to be had, so Mr. Draft opted for his usual fallback cocktail- a cc-and-ginger- while Mr. Moonshine, Mr. 3BOES and Mr. Elixir drank, respectfully, a Sam Adams, a Corona, and a Heineken.
The Dipper has all the usual tavernly accoutrements: a pool table, a couple of booths, the prerequisite dim lighting, dark wood, and an old-school menu board (but, sadly, food is only served between 11:45 a.m. and 2:30 p.m.) It has its' charms, not the least of which is the affable and conversational nature of the regulars. It gets better than middle-of-the-road 6.
Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. 3BOES, Mr. Elixir, Mr. Moonshine.
Dipper Cafe
William H. Carney Lodge #200 (B.P.O.E.)
First, a little history lesson, with the help of Wikipedia: William Harvey Carney was the first African-American to be awarded the Medal of Honor. Carney was born a slave in Norfolk, Virginia and escaped to Massachusetts through the Underground Railroad. He later served in the 54th Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry as a sergeant, and took part in the July 18th, 1863 assault on Fort Wagner, South Carolina. He received his medal for saving the American flag and planting it on the parapet, and although wounded, holding it aloft while the Union troops charged. Recognizing that the Federal troops needed to retreat under fire, he wrapped the flag around himself and struggled across the battlefield, getting wounded twice more, before returning the flag to the Union lines. Later, he modestly said, "Boys, I only did my duty; the old flag never touched the ground." He died in Boston many years later, and is buried in the Oak Grove Cemetery. The west end elementary school, the Carney Academy. is named after him. As is the William H. Carney Lodge #200 (B.P.O.E.).
The lodge itself is like many neighborhood lodges, clubs and fraternal order meeting spots, in the sense that is a bit rundown and has definitely seen better days. The members of the Carney Lodge partake in a number of fund raising events and activities, including hosting a Christmas party for neighborhood children and seeing that they receive holiday gifts. Although open to the public, it is necessary to ring a doorbell at the Lodge to be admitted. The Barflies rang the bell, were welcomed in, and one Barfly guest was asked to remove his baseball cap in order to comply with the posted "no headgear" rule.
There were four or five patrons seated at the bar, all but one of African-American descent. The Barflies, by social circumstance and not by any design, are all lily-white. The Barflies membership, as it is, includes an openly gay man, a Chinese woman, a Jew, a Katrina-displaced New Orleans resident, and a first-generation Quebecois, as well as those of German, English, Irish and Portuguese descent. But, to date, no African-American, Latino or Native-American drinkers have joined the Barflies. (No application necessary...all are welcome- respond to this site in order to receive an itinerary!) All that aside, the Barflies were made to feel quite welcome.
Mr. Merlot immediately struck up a conversation with a female customer, who he had known for years, and she (Carol) also recognized Mr. Mix, having worked on the campaign of Governor Duval Patrick, alongside the politically outspoken Mrs. Mix. Other non-Barfly patrons, and the barmaid, Cynthia, were friendly and conversational.
Mr. Draft veered away from the beer selection, and opted for a CC-and-ginger, the whiskey dispensed from a lazy-susan type device that held the liquor bottles upside down and assured of delivering a perfect one-ounce shot. All the other Barflies, with the exception of Mr. Mix. drank bottled beer, and Mix settled on a White Russian. Mr. Mix also bought a cheeseburger, which he thoroughly enjoyed, and for which the proceeds from were to be put in the fund for the aforementioned neighborhood children's Christmas event.
Located on the corner of Cottage Street and Mill Street, the Lodge is not particularly inviting from the outside, but is comfortable and warm once within. The yellowed walls could use a paint job, and a few more beers could be offered. but it was an enjoyable visit. It gets a 6.
Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Merlot, Mr. 3BOES, 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
M & C Cafe
When Mr. Draft entered M & C for this session, Mr. Mix and Mr. Merlot were already seated at the bar, sharing a bottle of Portuguese red wine. Mr. Draft quickly surveyed the draft selection and opted for a Narragansett Bock and was pleasantly surprised by the subtle chocolate
undertones and understated hoppiness, giving reason to celebrate the comeback of Narry, a Rhode Island and southeastern Massachusetts beer legend. Soon, we were joined by Mr. Cork, who, if memory serves, also ordered the Narry Bock. M & C is an old school, north end bar, perhaps better renowned for its' food, which include an array of local seafood and Portuguese specialties, such as linguica, chourico, cacoila, favas, and the like. There is a separate dining room, which was adequately busy (for a Wednesday night), but the bar itself was quiet and overly lit. Frankly. Mr. Draft and his colleagues left that particular Wednesday night, and Mr. Draft felt it was a difficult bar to review as there nothing particularly distinguishable about it, in either a positive or negative vein. The barmaid was friendly and efficient, the rest room was clean, the bar was large and inviting...but, somehow, it just registered as bland. As the Barflies' unofficial leader and official reviewer, Mr. Draft was in a quandary...so a decision was made. Several day later, Mr. Draft returned, not with the usual suspects, but with Mrs. Draft. It was early on a Saturday evening, and things seemed a bit busier, both in the restaurant and on the bar side.Despite the engaging conversation proffered by Mrs. Draft, and the distraction of her compelling physical beauty, Mr, Draft was on a mission from God (to borrow a phrase from The Blues Brothers)--- to more deeply explore M & C, with a critical eye and palate. The bartender was Mike (the "M" of M & C--- still don't know who "C" is...) and he was gregarious and chatty. Of note was the greater than previously seen draft selection, which included not only the aforementioned Narragansett Bock and the to-be-expected macro-breweries, but also Blue Moon Belgian Wheat, Samuel Adams Winter Lager, Killian's, Smithwick's, and a selection from Buzzard's Bay Brewing. Not too shabby... Mr. Draft ordered a couple of stuffed quahogs, one for himself and one for Mrs. Draft, and they were quite good...hearty, spicy, and ripe
with decent-size chunks of q-hog...much better than the ones at Freestone's.... All in all, the second visit opened Mr. Draft's eyes a bit. Yes- it is too bright, it is a little on the unremarkable side in terms of decor, it is family-friendly (either a good thing or a bad thing depending on one's parental status and mood) but the better-than-average draft selection and the selection of bar munchies help it receive a 6.
Addendum:
M&C's had a fire and we wish them well with their renovations. We will raise a glass in honor of you and hope you come back soon.
Freestone's Bar and Grill
The fourth bar on the Barflies' hit list. Disclaimer: Mr. Draft has a long relationship with Freestone's, as he started going there when it first opened over twenty-five years ago, when Mr. Draft was an impressionable young art student. Mr. Draft brought a number of art-school hotties there with hopes of impressing them with his good taste. Sometimes it worked, more often it didn't. Mr. Draft enjoyed many evenings there with friends. Mr. Draft had a post-college graduation dinner there with his parents. Mr. Draft spent many Saturday afternoons there, nursing martinis, reading the New York Times, and swapping jokes with Norm the bartender. Mr. Draft first date with the future Mrs. Draft was at Freestone's. When Mr. Draft moved away to Vermont, and returned to New Bedford for periodic visits, he always visited Freestone's, usually with wife and offspring in tow. Mr. Draft loved the Syrian nachos, the stuffed quahogs, the cheese fondue, the carrot cake...
But now, when Mr. Draft visits Freestone's, he feels as if he is visiting a dear, old friend...that is not doing very well. The decor, which seemed vibrant and exciting and sophisticated in the early 80's now seems...dated...and stale. The food is not what it was...even my old stand-by- the aforementioned Syrian nachos- were over-cooked and unappetizing. A change of ownership is probably partly to blame, but it seemed like it was growing old even when the original owners were still there. It may be that New Bedford has so many more interesting options than it did back in '84 when Freestone's was a hotspot. Or maybe, it's just tired.
The draft selection is good (not excellent) and the staff is as hospitable as always, but until Freeestone's takes a leap forward, and shakes up the menu and brings the decor into this century, I can only give rate it a 6. I want my dear, old friend to get better...
And, yeah, the Sam Adams was fine.
