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

Legends Sports Pub

Located on Covell Street, between Acushnet Avenue and Bellville Avenue, in a residential neighborhood, Legends Sports Pub is an unpretentious, standard-issue neighborhood bar, with few bells and whistles. On the night of the Barflies visit, which corresponded with Game One of the World Series, one of the four large television screens aired baseball, while the other three sets played CNBC, Nascar racing and Dog the Bounty Hunter...all sports of a kind. Mr. Cork dismissed all the televisions, with their schizophrenic glow, as "electronic eye-candy." Legends offers pool and a too-loud jukebox, but only a very limited draft selection. Much to the delight of Mr. Mix, the special drink menu, posted on a dry-erase board, includes "martinis" made from such candy store staples such as Snickers, Butterfingers, and peanut butter cups. (Mr. Draft absolutely draws the line at drinks made from Bazooka Bubble Gum!) The pretty, young barmaid, Tabitha, proved to be a capable keep, but there were only three other customers other than the Barflies constituency. Legends has a regular, North End customer-base and it is the favorite of many...but Mr. Draft fails to see its' charms. It gets a middle-of-the road 5. Roll Call: Mr. Draft. Mr. Mix, Mr. Merlot, Mr. Cork, Mr. 3BOES, Mr. Elixir, Mr. Whiskey. Mr. Brew-haha

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.

New Bedford Sports Club

Mr. Draft will admit to a tendency to not quite remember things quite the way they really were. In my memory, the party was always more exciting, the conversation more revealing, the girl way hotter. But, Mr. Draft would swear that on his last visit to the New Bedford Sports Club- granted, probably twenty-years ago- it was bigger, livelier and heavily populated with a youthful crowd, playing pool on one of many tables, flirting, doing shooters. listening to a jukebox. But on the the night of the Barflies' visit, it was none of those things. It was rather drab, despite the overly bright lighting and the pale blue walls, and a faux-granite bar top, with an extremely limited draft selection and an absolute absence of female customers. All of the customers were portly, Portuguese middle-aged men, none playing pool on the lone, azure-felt covered table. The bartender seemed to go missing for long periods, and a seemingly regular customer walked behind the bar and served the Barflies, apologizing as he did it. A video game- unplayable- flashed a digital message reading "bad hardware", which, more-or-less, sums up the NBSC experience. There are many great Portuguese-centric bars, clubs and restaurants along Acushnet Avenue, but this isn't one of them. It rates a 2, which still makes it better than Red J's Colonial Lounge.

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

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

Dipper Cafe

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.