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.

After Five Bar and Grill

Located in an unremarkable building on Dartmouth Street, the After Five is a spacious, unpretentious and comfortable bar. Mr. Draft was fairly impressed with the variety of beers-on-tap that went well beyond the usual macro-brew offerings, prevalent in most local bars. The young man behind the bar fumbled a bit with mixed drinks and questions, but the Barflies give 'im a free pass as he confessed right away to being a novice barkeep. The walls of the After Five are painted a pale green, similar to the hue of pistachio ice cream, and that seems odd for a bar. And those walls have movie posters festooned upon them. But the decor is quite secondary. The beer was good, the staff was amiable, the crowd was pleasant, and the grapefruit juice so necessary to Mr. Greyhound's happiness was not in stock. (Once again, cranberry juice was offered and Mr. Cape Codd--- er, Mr. Greyhound relented.) The Barflies ordered and thoroughly enjoyed some pub-style comfort food, including buffalo wings and a platter of French fries, topped with melted cheese. The After Five, if it is open Before Five, even seems like it might not be a bad Saturday lunchtime place, one which a Barfly might consider bringing his wife and offspring to sometime. Once the kid behind the bar is up to speed, this place could rate an 8. For now- it's a 7...with promise. (Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Merlot. Mr. Cork, Mr. Greyhound)

Pub 126

Located at 126 Dartmouth Street in a rather non-descript building sits Pub 126. Upon entering, Mr. Merlot had a flashback to an earlier era, when the building housed a neighborhood Portuguese restaurant that was operated by the grandmother of a friend. Another memory was about to be born. There was no one in the pub except the owner/manager and the breathtaking barmaid, a Puerto Rican beauty by the name of Yamadie. As the Barflies settled onto the barstools, Yamadie explained that a few friends had been in earlier and bought her a couple of shots of tequila, as it was nearing her birthday- February 29th. She divulged her age- seven...in leap years and attempted to guess the ages of the Barflies, almost always guessing somewhat lower than the actual age. She was a good barmaid, and she knew how to woo a crowd of middle-aged customers, playing to her strengths and the usual male flirtatiousness. Mr. Mix asked her to make "something sweet and creamy" (as much as Mr. Draft is tempted, he will not insert a sexual innuendo here). She quickly mixed up something with vodka, Chambord and Bailey's, which she said she didn't have a name. The Barflies christened it a Yamadie. When asked about the lack of crowd, she explained that there was a regular Wednesday-night darts league that gathered there, but on that particular evening, they were engaged in a contest at another place. She thought that by 9:00, the dart league would arrive and things would get lively. She further noted that Thursday was karaoke night, and while she didn't work that night, she always showed up, usually to sing a Madonna tune. There was no draft beers, no grapefruit juice and no decorative atmosphere to speak of...but the Barflies might go back on a Thursday just to see Yamadie sing Like A Virgin. She rates a 9 plus...the pub itself only gets a 5. Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Mix, Mr. Greyhound, Mr. Cork, Mr. Merlot)

Knucklehead's

Mr. Draft has been familiar with the catchphrase for this place for some time, without having been there, as it it plays heavily into their newspaper ads: "Where Everybody Knows One." Kinda funny, a little parody of the famous line from the Cheers theme song : "Where Everyone Knows Your Name." But "One" what? On the Wednesday evening that the Barflies visited Knuckleheads, they found out.
Four Barflies entered Knuckleheads, and the only other customers were a couple sitting together, and four other men seated across the bar. Mr. Sazurac joked to them as we entered..."Oh, just what you wanted to see come in...four more guys." They laughed about it, as the male-to-female ratio in the bar was nine to two, and the two were the female half of the couple, and the very young looking and perky barmaid, Vanessa. Mr. Sazurac, Mr. Cork, Mr. Martini, and Mr. Draft settled in and ordered a round. Knucklehead's is situated on MacArthur Drive, in an odd industrial area between the waterfront and Route 18, across from a Fastenal hardware distributor. The bar itself is nothing special, but to be fair, a visit on another night may have yielded a larger and more gender-diverse crowd. As Mr. Draft sipped a somewhat tasteless pineapple-infused vodka, several more men entered the bar. And then a few more. And a couple more. By the time the Barflies were about to leave, the male-to-female ratio in the place was twenty-one-to-two, as the lady with the guy and Vanessa were the only of the fairer sex there. Mr. Draft assumes that the One that every knows is the barmaid, the only woman in the place without a guy at her side. Knucklehead's rates a Five. (Roll Call: Mr. Draft, Mr. Cork, Mr. Martini, Mr. Sazurac)