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.
Pa Raffa's
Black Watch Pub
Sociologists, historians, cultural scholars, and long-time readers of the New Bedford Barflies Post take note: this is the first bar that the Barflies visited and reviewed that had existed as another bar which the Barflies had also visited and reviewed. Take notes.
Not long ago, the Black Watch Pub, on Dartmouth Street, about midway between Cottage Street and Rockdale Avenue, had different ownership and a different name. It was, formerly, the After Five Bar and Grill. The After Five was unremarkable but its extensive beer selection etched it a rating of 7. Not long after the review was posted on this blog, a series of comments from one or more individuals appeared. Those comments were not simply about the bar but contained vicious personal attacks about the current owner. Whether those comments are justified or accurate is unknown but one thing is known: this space is an inappropriate channel for that kind of ugly acid commentary. The Barflies took a vote and unanimously decided to eliminate the comments that were determined to be of a nature best described as libelous, even if not in the strictly legal sense of the word. The First Amendment may guarantee unabridged free speech, but the NB Barflies do not. The commentator may have valid points- or may not-- and he is welcome to find another venue to voice them.
Now, back to our regularly scheduled review: the Black Watch presents itself as a 
quasi-Scottish bar (even though Irish flags hung in deference to St. Patrick's Day), and it comes across as patently false. New Bedford has significant populations of those descended from Africa, Cape Verde, Portugal, Quebec, England Ireland, Mexico, Greece, the Dominican Republic, Guatemala, Nicaragua, Puerto Rico, Italy...and bars that evolve from those cultural identities seem natural in NB and environs. Scotland...not so much. Except maybe as a "brand" appeal to make Robert Burns Day as commercially viable here as St. Patrick's Day or Cinco de Mayo. Please...if there is a significant Scottish population in this area of which Mr. Draft is unaware, apologies are offered. (And yes, to Mr. McManus of the near Cape, and your kilt...a nod and a glass of Glenfiddich next time Mr. Draft enjoys your company!)
The Black Watch retains the large draft selection that the After Five did, and that is the only saving grace. Andy, the bartender / owner, was certainly amiable and capable enough, but in all in all- the bar was virtually empty save for the Barflies and a couple of enthusiastic regulars, who were only too-happy to see some new faces. As the space is large, the sparseness of customers made it seem particularly vacant. And nothing kills a bar faster than a vacuum. Even nature abhors that. In fairness, the Barflies' visit was on a Wednesday night....maybe it hops on a Friday. But Mr. Draft doubts it. It get a very middle-of-the road 5...and fingers are crossed. Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Elixir, Mr. 3BOES, Mr. Merlot, Mr. Sazurac, Mr. Tap.
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
Royal II Restaurant
Just to the east side of Route 18, in a maritime industrial zone, about midway between Union Street and Cove Street, on a triangular wedge of asphalt sits the Royal Restaurant II. There is a Royal Restaurant I (sans the numeral) on North Front Street, just north of Sawyer Street which the Barflies have yet to visit. In the name of full disclosure, Mr. Draft will be the first to admit that he has dragged his children, hence known as Baby Girl Draft and Draft Junior, to pubs and taverns (that served good food) since they were infants-- hell, since they were in utero-- but still Mr. Draft didn't expect to see a couple or three kids sitting at the bar drinking Yoo-Hoo when the Barflies dropped into the Royal II. Mr. Draft quickly came to the perhaps erroneous, but likely conclusion that they were the children of the barmaid, Carla, and only in for a quick visit with Dad. Mr. Draft drank the least disagreeable draft choice- Narragansett (which has actually vastly improved since its' unexpected return) over the macrobrew regulars- Bud and Coors Light. Mr. Mix drank Carla's suggestion--- a Sex on the Beach variant called Sex in Florida. Carla seemed to be somewhat of an absentee barmaid, as she was often away from her post, but Mr. Draft believes she was working as hostess, and occasionally vanishing through a door behind the bar to seat patrons in the adjoining restaurant. The Royal II is frankly, nothing special--- again , with notice that the 'Flies did not eat there- it is too bright and too bland in environment to be particularly engaging. The menu was bilingual, and there was a spinner rack, displaying compact discs of fado and other Portuguese music, so one can credit the Royal II with playing to its' strength and embracing the customer base. Not a bad place, but nothing that makes the Barflies anxious for another visit. The Royal II gets a 5. Roll Call: Mr. Draft. Mr. Mix, Mr. Elixir, Mr. 3BOES, Mr. Lupilin, Mr. Brew-haha
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
Club Sport Madeirense
Upon entering the Club Sport Madeirense, the Barflies were hit with a wonderful waft of Portuguese cuisine emanating from a backroom kitchen and were struck by the liveliness of a happy, boisterous crowd. The clientele were diverse with respect to age, ethnicity, gender, and social strata, just the way the Barflies like it, even if jumps with a vibrancy reminiscent of the cantina scene from Star Wars (although Mr. Draft may have been influenced in this perception by Mr. 3BPOES dead-on vocal impression of the tinny, post-jazz music from that particular scene). The Club Sport Madeirense has been a staid fixture on the corner of Acushnet Avenue and Madeira Avenue for many years, and the Club is the primary sponsor of the annual Feast of the Blessed Sacrament (more familiarly known, simply, as "the Portuguese Feast," an event which is said to rival New Orleans' Mardi Gras for the amount of beer consumed). The Club is also responsible for sponsoring any number of youth sports activities, from soccer matches to Little Leagues, and annually awards scholarships to many local students. It stands as a shining example of the tavern as good neighbor, quite committed to the local community. The bar itself is a bit rundown, its' age showing, but it is comfortable, and the walls are lined with old black-and-white photographs that detail its' history and membership. Also on the wall was a sign warning that the Club is a drug-free zone. Much to the distress of Mr. Mix and Mr. Elixir, the Pac-Man machine was not working but some good Portuguese grub took their minds off that. The Barflies were offered a deck of cards at the table which they had occupied but most of the Barflies don't play games that don't include a video monitor. 
(Mr. Draft, Mr. Merlot, Mr. Sazurac, and Mr. Cork are excluded from that generalization.) One note that struck Mr. Draft: an elderly woman, who might be described in the unpolitically correct vernacular as a "bag lady," slept quietly by the door, unperturbed by the noise and seemingly as welcome to be there as any of the folk who were drinking cocktails or beer, playing pool on the blue felt table, or eating a linguica sandwich. That act of kindly indifference knocks this place up a rung. The Club Sport Madeirense rates a 7. Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix. Mr. Merlot, Mr. Sazurac, Mr. Elixir, Mr. 3BOES.
Tilia's Cafe and Restaurant
Mr. Draft would guesstimate that there are a dozen-and-a-half bars on Acushnet Avenue, on the northern stretch between Coggeshall Street and Brooklawn Park. The vast majority of these are, by name, menu and/or reputation, "Portuguese bars." That term may not mean much outside of cities like New Bedford, Fall River, or Newark (New Jersey), or in other American cities which have substantial Luzo-American communities, but Mr. Draft will hazard a definition: a bar, pub or tavern in which the majority of the clientele and staff are of Portuguese-American ancestry, where the predominant language may be Portuguese, where at least a fair sampling of the vinho and cervaja may be of Portuguese import, and where the food served is primarily traditional fare such as linguica, kale soup, bacalhau, caciola, and the like. Tilia's, about smack dab in the middle of the Avenue, about midway between Coggeshall and the park, clearly falls into that definition. And it also falls smack dab in the middle as a bar. Tilia's, which is rather non-descript from the outside, is a bit more appealing once one passes through the door, but still a bit dark and drab. There are no beers on tap, and Mr. Draft worked his way through a tasteless bottle of Miller Chill Chelada Style, while Mr. Elixir and Mr. Mix played a game of Ms. Pac Man on a temperamental and malfunctioning console, that Elixir only got to start with a Fonzie slam. The decor was unexceptional...a blue felt covered pool table, a couple of televisions suspended above the bar, a jukebox and a lottery ticket vending machine. In fairness, the Barflies did not pass through the door to the much larger, backroom restaurant, and did not eat. But we came to drink. Tilia's gets that smack dab in the middle rating: 5. Roll call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix., Mr. Elixir, Mr. 3BOES, Mr. Sazurac, Mr. Merlot.
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
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.
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
No Problemo
After a dry summer hiatus, the Barflies have reconvened, and the membership has grown. The usuals suspects have returned, for the most part...Mr. Cork, Mr. Merlot, Mr. Mix, Mr. Sazurac, Mr. 3BOES, Mr. Elixer , and Mr. Draft, the primary contributor to this blog. Mr. Greyhound is MIA, perhaps in a blue funk about the closing of his beloved Merlot (on William St.) or frustrated that most bars don't keep grapefruit juice in stock. Mr. Martini is unavailable as he is presently teaching a class on usual gathering night (that guy's priorities are seriously fucked up!) However, two new recruits have entered the fray...Mr. Brew-haha and Mr. Whiskey.
This expanded group made it's first stop No Problemo, at the corner of 
William and Purchase Streets in downtown New Bedford. No Probelmo has been a fixture on that corner for a number of years serving some damn good burritos, enchiladas and other Mexican foods. Recently, the small establishment doubled it's size, got a liquor license, and put in a pretty good bar. And that bar is an very good addition to the downtown drinkin' scene.
The bar itself is a classy brushed copper. The walls are painted in an earthy shade, something Sherwin-Williams probably calls "terra cotta" and those walls are decorated with an array of kitschy, fun and stereotypically south-of-the border icons:the ceramic head of a Mexican wrestler, a black velvet matador painting, an O'Keefian cattle skull, and the inevitable saints.
The bartender. a young and capable server, was knowledgeable about the beers and made suggestions. He served a young and hip crowd (except for the Barflies- most who aren't "young"---there are actually a couple of Barflies who are also members of another hallowed institution---AARP, and as to "hip"...remember the old, classic Tower of Power funk hit What Is Hip?...well, some Barflies remember it...and, just asking, what's a "Coldplay?" But, I digress...
Mr.Draft was disappointed that there were no drafts available, but there was an extensive bottled beer list- 41-count 'em- 41 beers were available, including the common macro brewery offerings , as well as Anchor Steam, Sierra Nevada, Smuttynose, Lienehfiugel's, Modelo Negro and a host of others. Mr. Mix, as could be expected, indulged in a bit of fruity pink liquid, that looked like a Shirley Temple, but was, in actuality, a Watermelon Sangria, and enjoyed it like any good girl-drink drinker would. Despite calling himself Mr. Whiskey, Mr. Whiskey drank bottled beer, but he has admitted to a love of Jack Daniels, so it is expected that he will earn that moniker in the upcoming weeks. Mr. Merlot enjoyed the red he was served, happy that it wasn't a tiny bottle of Sutter Home. Of course, No Probelmo serves some great bar food, and the 'Flies shared some guacomole and chips...special guest and Honorary Barfly, Mr. Lupulin (Hop Oil) - now in London- had what is likely to be the best meal of Mexican food he will have until he returns from across the Atlantic.
The younger Barflies didn't seem to be bothered by it, but there was a happily loud and steady din of conversation and subdued music, that made it difficult for the curmudgeonly, old bastard contingent of the Barflies to carry on a conversation of their own.
No Problemo is a vibrant and welcome addition to the downtown NB bar scene and it rates an 8.
Roll call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr, Merlot, Mr, 3BOES, Mr. Elixer , Mr. Sazurac, Mr. Brew-haha, Mr. Whiskey and Honorary Barfly Mr. Hop Oil.
Bom Apetite
Bom Apetite is a quiet, little Portuguese restaurant in the shadows of the Bellville Avenue mills. One can pass through a glass door from the restaurant, or from the avenue entrance into Bom Apetite's quiet, little Portuguese bar. A bit overly lit and somewhat stark, the small lounge area contains a a short length of bar and a half-dozen or so tables. As the bar stools were all occupied, the Barflies ordered drinks from Tony the bartender and sat at one of the tables. Mr. Draft ordered a Sambuca on the rocks, as no draft beers were to be had, and Mr. Greyhound again had cranberry juice splashed in with his vodka. Mr. Mix sipped at- and didn't finish- a fruity concoction of pineapple juice, rum and a mystery ingredient, while Mr. Sazurac indulged in an espresso, with somethin'-somethin' on the side. At least three televisions were on, broadcasting a soccer game, news, and something resembling an afternoon soap opera- all in Portuguese. All the customers, except the Barflies, were speaking Portuguese. And Tony took our orders in English, but one sensed Portuguese was his first language. The Barflies enjoy drinking in a city that is ethnically diverse and know that only the surface of the Portuguese (and Hispanic) bars have been scratched, with many more to come in the coming weeks. But this bar was just a bit too plain...a bit too vanilla. A language shift alone does not make a bar cosmopolitan in feel. This place rates a quatro. (Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Greyhound, Mr. Sazurac)
Al's Cafe
When driving on Bellville Avenue, near the old brick mills that remain a source of controversy (tear 'em down? don't tear 'em down? historically significant? eyesore? future artist's studios? or gentrified apartment complex? or rat haven?), keep one's eyes open for Al's. It is triangular, as if it were New Bedford's beer-budget answer to the Flatiron Building, but it is not without its' particular charm. A red, Coca-Cola influenced sign hangs above the door with the name of the no-nonsense joint, along with a one word legend: CACIOLA. The casual reader may have reason to believe that "Draft" is not a Portuguese name, but rest assured, Mr. Draft's paternal grandmother (his "Nana") was named Isabella Roderigues and she was born in the Azores. Mr. Draft grew up with Nana's kale soup, and much linguica, chourico, fava beans and codfish. Mr. Draft has eaten alot of Portuguese food. Including caciola (prounounced
"ka-serla"). It is stew beef or cubed rump roast, marinated in red wine, and cooked with garlic, onion, red pepper flakes and other ingredients until it crumbles apart, served on a roll or with a boiled potato and a simple vegetable. And Al's is known for it's caciola. Some say it is the best in town. But alas, on the night of the Barflies' visit, it was too close to "just ate dinner" to indulge, so Mr. Draft will return to check it out another time, with Mrs. Draft in tow. As a bar, Al's looks intimidating from the outside and has a deserved-or-not reputation as a biker bar...but it looks to the Barflies to be another dark, comfortable, working-class, neighborhood bar. But with caciola. Served by a barmaid named Cecilia. (Mr. Draft doesn't make this stuff up!) Al's rates a 5.5, but the caciola could knock it up a notch... Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Sazurac, Mr. Greyhound)
