Angels, Wings, & Schlitz

Boom. Long in the works, a brand new beer cave opens in K-town. Somewhere, a buzzed angel gets its wings. This particular cave is housed at the Ingles on Emory Road, some of you may know it. Let's peek inside this brand new cooley-freezey box.

Swanky, powerful, damn cold and with reasonable prices no less. The real shame about these great repositories of the sauce, is that so few grocers and markets have them. Let's face it, the majority of Knoxville will be years away from such a luxury unless they want to put in the extra effort. Noodle that last sentence. Yeah, that's what I thought too.

Also part of Ingle's expansion and assimilation of everything off Exit 112, is this arrogant and totally beautiful wall of suds with enough quanity to outfit a brigade. Yes, it does go on and on.

Heh heh. Schlitz has little to do with this, except it was stocked in heroic and devastating amounts near the cave. Been waiting for this old formula to make it down this way. In any event, come check out the new cave, folks. It will never be brand spankin' new again.

In which I review, insult, and then review some more

Well, I'll be damned...a weekend without a drenching miserable downpour means a little time about town. In our parlance that means getting out and getting intoxicated while in public. While the uptight might frown on this time-honored behavior, we drunks will use it to explore some unfamiliar surroundings and spread our profane joy. First up, we visited a neat little Mexican Joint on Emory Road: Three Amigos. To be honest, this new restaurant is similar to many such places...common but very tasty fare, and a preponderance of drinks. Some grand like my sumbitchin' 32 oz beer:
For the record, the patrons did not care that I prefer Dos Equis. I, for the nonce, did not care for this...thing:

Every so often, Atlas will go out of his head and make a bizarre drink order...which in this case resulted in something wholly unmasculine. Reported to be a Blue Motorcycle(Jesus), this monstrosity was described by the manager as containing tequila, rum, vodka, and half a dozen other liquors/liquers before his voice trailed off. Personally I think he was just looking at the bar and rattling off what he saw. Feh. In good faith, I would like to point out that the staff at Three Amigos busts its collective ass so I will be going back for more of those huge ass beers and to heckle the shit out of anyone ordering a Blue Dandy. The rest of the weekend proper was a blur...

On Sunday Mackey, Tag, and yours truly went back to Latitude 35 for some lazy beers and a quick sammich. As Mackey has alluded to before, Lat 35 maintains a diverse menu ranging from familiar dishes with a twist- to the forgotten classics, and some unique appetizers to keep the modern drunkard sated. Service was great, as it has tended to be so far...and my Dagwood was superb.

Modestly priced and on the table within minutes. It was so good that I put the tomatoes back on the damn thing...and I'm not a fan of those bastards at all.

The next visit to Latitude 35 will mostly be a large scale drinking adventure...the wine list is begging to be explored. From what I've seen so far, Shiraz and Pinot reds are equally represented along with the more traditional Cabs and Merlot that one sees in run of the mill joints in K-town. I'll let you know how that potential disaster turns out.

Bearden Beer Market

Ok, I’m behind on this one but I’m glad to see these guys on the scene. Apparently the Bearden Beer Market was announced on the KNS blogs all the way back in January or February and it opened just a few weeks ago on Old Kingston Pike. I don’t know how I missed this one but I assume it was due to a drunken bender.

I made the inaugural visit last weekend to see what it’s all about. Let’s say it is still a work in progress but they are open for business and plan to improve on what they’ve started. The place is unique in Knoxville as far as I could tell. The focus is on beer, both small and large quantities including kegs at a good price. The guy I spoke with said they have the same prices as local grocery chains but with more selection including craft beer that may difficult to find. The cool thing is their beer garden where you can sit outdoors to enjoy your beer. They point out that it is English style, meaning no tipping required. It may take some getting used to but ok. They also sell a wide variety of snacks and high quality selections of cheese and deli meats. And I almost forgot to mention that they also have homebrew for sale on tap just like a mini brewery. I had the West Coast IPA and it was pretty good, a bit lighter than what I'm used to but still good.

The place still needs lots of work outside like adding restrooms and finishing the left behind nursery stalls in back but it definitely has potential. The Short-West location is convenient to campus and downtown, though parking is limited to 15 spaces for now so I don’t know how they plan to accommodate a crowd but they’re working on it. The staff was nice and knowledgeable about anything beer related, and there was a small gathering of customers sitting and talking about basically the same stuff but without all the beer snobiness you might expect. I plan to work them into the rotation whenever possible and wish them good luck as they grow their business. We need more beer options in this town.

It’s the Bearden Beer Market, go there!

Boozing is just as fun when animated

I'm not talking about getting tore up from the floor up either. Even when sobriety is crudely thrust upon me by responsibilities and that thing called 'work' I do enjoy seeing heavy boozing portrayed on the small screen. Throw in the limitless options presented by the adult-themed cartoon and we're in business. I present the FX Network's Archer.

The car smashing into what appears to be a boat made of balsa wood is iconic.

It's no secret that LVL loves his dirty and filthy cartoons...and fortunately the powers that be have gotten a full dose now of just how effective and damn funny the genre can be. The fact is characters can be drawn and written with almost limitless options really counts for a lot. Let's be honest, South Park and Family Guy paid their dues...and while their forerunners in The Simpsons and the vastly underrated The Critic dabbled in this absurdity, but it wasn't until cable took this type of program to late nights that we really gain insight into the drunken and drugged out world that is the mind of a comedic writer. The latest and sharpest of such programs these days is Archer.

Archer is set in an alternate reality where the Soviet Union(or at least Russia) is still engaged in a Cold War setting and privatized spy agencies pick up the slack that the CIA, MI-6, and the KGB leave unattended. Thinking of the sophisticated subdued drinking of James Bond and his martini? Think again.

This show is currently like nine episodes into its run, and every episode has displayed one or more characters drinking everything from Absinthe all the way to a double Campari and Vodka.

But LVL, aren't these drinks just understated props? Fuck you, no. The series is riddled with all the worst stereotypes about excessive boozing. Drinking on an empty stomach, drinking on the clock, sex-filled blackouts, drinking and driving, poonhoundery, and bizarre chemicals ingested as a side item to half gallons of gin, scotch, and champagne. Ever see someone snort MSG? Enter Dr. Krieger. Ever seen erotic asphyxiation on your normal Thursday viewing? Archer makes it a plot point in half the episodes. Wanted to see your reamed out mother blackout and lick gin off the elevator floor? Meet Malory.

This bitch's breath could peel paint. Even she runs around half-naked...but that's nothing compared to Lana Kane, Sterling's sometime lover and rival spy.

Lana's animated tits bounce around like 'shes at a rodeo' and yet despite her nakedness, she is an accomplished spy(Archer himself is somewhat of an unappreciated badass) who is known to 'hit the sauce' pretty hard on assignment.

If you've got 30 minutes to blow on Thursdays 10PM, give Archer a shot. You will feel the powerful urge to drink right along with these degenerates. Rampant heroin use and snorting MSG, seems a poor idea though in any reality.

Dead End BBQ - Quick Review

Last week I made my inaugural visit to Dead End BBQ for lunch. Some thoughts:

Pros:

Excellent meats – tender pork BBQ good enough to eat without sauce; smoky beef brisket is the best I’ve had in Knoxville by far. I also sampled 1 rib (how much for 1 rib?!) and ‘twas good. This is why I’ll be going back for more.

Convenient location – it’s located on Sutherland Avenue, close to downtown and short-west Bearden.

Beer and Wine – Woodruff IPA on tap along with standard domestics, domestic and import bottles and they serve several wines too (no liquor); happy hours 4-7 pm and beer bucket specials available.

Cons:

Parking – the parking lot is too small to handle peak hours when everyone drives themselves 1 per vehicle so I recommend carpooling if possible. Night hours may be different when the neighboring produce market is closed to allow spill-over parking.

Too clean – It’s brand new and clean as a whistle! Ok, that’s really good but it is too neat and fresh and just doesn’t have that rundown, hole-in-the-wall feel that you expect with a good BBQ joint.

Sides* – the macaroni & cheese and beans with sausage were unimpressive. The M&C was bland and the beans were served at room temperature or below, twice. *I’ve only been once so they probably can do better. The guy next to me at the bar said his greens and corn on the cob were good. The jalapeño cornbread was spicy.

Endorsement: Package Store

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Bar Review: Sidestreet Tavern

Oddly, the blur in the photo closely mirrors my drunk ass vision at the time.

Today we review another of the 'short west' bars, this one firmly lodged in the quaint little mess...er maze of Homberg Place. Sidestreet Tavern looks to be a converted dentist or doctor's office from the 1970's, that is to say a weird layout and floorplan. For example, there are two bars of modest size on opposite ends of the place. To be fair, both bars are suitably equipped and comfortable...well placed televisions and perhaps the rarest of all bar gems--a damn jukebox with a proper artist list and volume keyed at just the right level. Bonus: Cute girl at the bar with musical taste at said jukebox. So far so good.

One of the weirder aspects of this place is the upstairs area. It's basically an open area that reeks of a converted bedroom or office. Cozy couches and some bar games give it the appearance of someone's living room. Seems a pretty cool place to loiter, but you will have to navigate stairs to get a refill. As we all know, stairs/steps are the bane of the besotted drunkard so tread with care.

Sidestreet offers a standard pub fare on the menu...nothing outrageous to be found there, and they have a liberal happy hour policy from 3-8 everyday. Not bad at all, although that information would have been more helpful to me with more than six minutes remaining. Shit.

This is one of the dwindling number of bars in Knoxville that still permits smoking, so leave your kids at home(where they should be anyway, you jackasses) and prepare to launder your garments afterward.

Oh, and for the love of God, don't park in the kitschy antique store parking lot. Sumbitches will tow your ass, as the ubiquitous signs proclaim quite loudly.

So, if you are in this part of town and want to drink a few in a place other than the Toddy's consortium...you're in luck, Sidestreet will take good care of you. The service is impeccable and friendly.

Review: Slivovitz

And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. Revelation of St. John 6:8

With apologies to Mr. Blake, with whom I doubt very seriously ever expected his famed rendering of Death on horseback to grace a booze blog. Then again he probably never tasted the brutal horror that is slivovitz, aka Hellhooch.

This review is a curious one. To wit, the authors of this blog will each shudder and squirm when remembering trips to Restaurant Linderhoff in Farragut. Though we do not consume this murderous plum brandy often, we do feel a sense of shame and terror at the very mention of the liquor. Twice in recent memory we've journeyed deep to the west of Knox County for authentic German cuisine and atmosphere. Twice we've acted like boors, cads, rakes, and in one nasty case--the accused. However, that's a story for a different post. Lets stick to the topic and review at hand:

Fucking plum brandy from the Goddamn Balkans. This shit tastes literally like fire...I've often spoke of it in hushed whispers "like tequila made in a coal mine" and that's being generous. It defies taste. In fact, I'm not going to take this much further. This shit will kill you. Need concrete proof? Then consider our clinical case of young college student Slobodan Tyrone Washington Jefferson Radesvic Milosevic(no relation) aged 22 years:

Get the idea? Stay the fuck away from this shit. Your criminal record, your relationships, your family, et all will thank you. I am firmly convinced the Black Hand organization was on this tripe when Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated and thus triggered World War One. If you've ever seen our group at Linderhoff, you'll wonder why more global wars haven't erupted. Fuck the former Yugoslavian states with a board wrapped in concertina wire.

Maui Wowie

Ho! Despite my best efforts to self-implode overseas, I have returned to the C48 with many observations and reflections about the bucholic Hawaiian Islands.

In my chronicles, I have tried to maintain consistancy but given my crude notes and even more baffling recorded memos on my almighty cell phone talky box it's all a crapshoot at this point. Here goes.

Flight departs Knoxvegas to Atlanta...travelling with the rents and other family so I am nervous about getting an eye opener at the early flight. The point is moot, bar closed at McGhee Tyson and the regional flight literally mocks you with the lack of beverage service. Arrival at Hartsfield(a layer of Faustian Hell akin to O'Hare, the lowest pit of betrayer's ice) is also too early to get good and tucked, but traveling back in a week's time will allow me to scout out potential bars to dull the the boredom during layovers.

Flying to Salt Lake City begins the trip in earnest...Delta offers drink service in first class, but showing self-control I decide to wait. After all I am traveling back several time zones and who wants to travel to the State of Mormon needing beverages only to find 3.2% misery. Feh.

Delta flight to Kahului Maui. Now we're cooking with gas. Cocktails are gratis in first class, and the Lord gets his drink going in full force. After loudly informing everyone in first and business class that Jack Daniels is a traitor's drink, I settle into Woodford Reserve minis. Drink by drink, brick by brick I build a wall of strength to keep the sober wolves at bay. Honestly, homos, why are you up with the elite if you aren't going to booze it up? Five drinks later and some pretty pills, I am sloshed and staring out my window at miles and miles of blue. Damn, that's thirsty work. I get number six on the tray when the pilot announces gleefully we'll be setting down early due to a healthy tailwind. Great news for 99.9% of the passengers, bad news for the Lord as he quaffs his bourbon on the rocks. By the way, straight drinks rather than mixed cocktails or beer is the only practical way to booze on the plane, lest you spend time in line for the head. I prefer the front end of drinking rather than spending all day pissing in a glorified chemical crapper.

After landing and settling into the first of my two digs,

The Lord realizes he needs to acclimate to his new surroundings and the heat. So hydration will be the watchword of the day. That lasts 20 minutes and two bottled waters. So I am off to the grocer, whereupon I find that Hawaii's liberal liquor laws allow booze to be purchased with such staples as rice, pop tarts, and various stewed meats. Ok, that's more of a Turkish thing.

Around 9:51 AM local time, I decide that I would like to find some literal Maui Wowie to make the trip complete. Alas, where to search? Who is trustworthy? What are the rules here?

10:17 AM local time-Maui Wowie obtained. Here, quite easily in fact:

The coincidence is palpable. If you are asked for the time, the locals are holding. Just sayin'

Tuesday night, the Lord and his few cousins and cousines that consume the brew are out and about. We have some Longboard Lagers at a local Sportspage Bar on South Kihei Hwy and I noticed something. The folk of Maui love tacos. There were three separate joints within earshot of the bar. Maui Taco, Tortillas of Maui, Taco Up Your Ass in Maui(a franchise with origins in Taco Up Your Ass, Buenos Aires Argentina). Who knew?

Wednesday, after moving my accomodations to the Grand Wailea in Makena

This place fucking rocks. Huge bill to pay, but totally worth it to ditch the sober folk. They have thirteen pools, including the always splendid swim-up bar. The primary restaurant and bar is Humukumu's. Actually the name consists of 30 plus characters, an anomaly in a phonetic alphabet of limited consonants and stunted vowels. The bar is literally an aquarium, salt water of course and surrounded by fountains with terracota dolphins and semi-naked islander gods and goddesses. Some native fish in there as well, but I might have hallucinated that part. The Maui Wowie is strong with this one, some scarred fart in a samurai helmet once said.

Spectacular open air eatery...and of course, the sun sets just so...the pools and fountains become sublime examples of simple majesty.

The real kicker is that my bar tab was transferred to the table(thus becoming the always sought after cadged drink) when the father and mother of the groom picked up the tab. Scallops for appetizers, spiny lobster(still in season) and a filet tartar set the night off wonderfully. Wine from Oregon, more whiskey...damn, this place truly is God's own backyard. I swore I could have seen fireworks. Oh, right there were...

Granted, I am so torched at this point I thought Nagumo's carrier's were at it again, and that Commander Genda himself was leading Zeke's to strafe my vacation. Not so, but fireworks are closely regulated here so offshore boats are the preferred platform. It was really spectacular and when combined with the scantily clad women, a real delight...till I passed out on the beach and try as I might could not get to my high dollar room. Fuck. Where is the concierge when you need him? No doubt fucking the Phillipino maid in a closet/conjecture-editorial license/

The wedding itself was Thursday morning and the hammer of Thor was pounding in my skull. Surprisingly I did not hurl in Makena Cove nor on the Road to Hana, but I did seek to defile this blog's prominent Hawaiian friend by micturating on just about everything. Oh yeah, drank some weak ass champagne that was lukewarm after the service. Sorry for the low mention, but the Lord despises that merde'

That evening, we made the long ass drive to Lahaina on the northern end of Maui for a proper Luau. At first, I was skeptical but soon even I was convinced this was the place to be. At nearly a hundred bucks a head these fackers pile in 6-800 people a night and rake in the dough, with gratis drinks to a point. Culture, wickedness, lust, and pagan idolatry all rolled into one. Sumbitches over there never heard "thou shalt make no graven image" memo that's for sure.

Let's get to the tits shall we?

There are quite possibly only two other sets of breasts in the world more splendid than what I saw that night, and have decided that coconut bras should be brought to the mainland. More on that when I see how that turns out. Seriously though, I highly recommend this luau. Fine swine, steak, and other local cuisine that will really do the trick.

On the way back, we passed some po-po setting up a roadblock. Good thing I wasn't driving. Flat beer and Mai Tai's still will get you in heap big trouble.

Friday we hopped by helo over to Oahu...very Magnum PI-ish. On a serious note, the trip to Pearl Harbor demands the utmost in respect so no drinking reviews there. Just solemnity and sense of greater honor to those that will never sip a beer on this earth again.

The Missouri was impressive though, a fine example of the killpower we drunk Americans can produce. Only the nation of misfits and boozers can make 16/50's and CIWS towers.

The next time someone smarts off about being able to drink enough to float a battleship, tell them to piss up a rope.After Pearl, we headed into Honolulu proper and took in some of the local fare and sights. Goethe tells us that where there is much light there is also much shadow. Truth. It's a big town, and some parts are quite hideous and slummy. Even in paradise, there are the dregs.

Now, world famous Waikiki Beach is another equation entirely. Dior, Gucci, Armani shops all along a main drag that is only feet away from some of the most gorgeous, if crowded beaches in the free world.

Then of course, there is also the little fact of meeting my future wife...hold fast sublime creature, daddy will return for you one day.

Holy shit. Holy f'n shit. By the way, this was a very important moment in my 35 winters. Trust me, it was.

I can't really recommend drinking on the cheap in Waikiki...it's not going to happen. Even the token beers and drinks I had at The Cheesecake Factory required a bank note.

To wrap up, finally my drunk ass gets back to the Kahului airport and I am ready to depart...having a couple of hours before boarding I of course get tanked in the bar like any decent red-blooded American. The Slav they had behind the bar offered me another Longboard and mentioned their special of shots for 3 bucks with the purchase of a beer. Clearly he was a little confused when I asked if it was well drinks only. He gestures vaguely to everything and I proceed to clobber his Knob Creek bottle. Big time. Well done Ivan, no doubt your boss has canned your shit by now, but you put my ass on the plane in fine fettle. So much so that I had one drink on the plane before passing out. In first class, the attendent pretty much tucks you in...or I assume so, since my drink was gone and the tray table was up.

Anyway, more of the same boozing on the way over repeated itself on the trip home...and the scouting at Hartsfield paid off at a Sam Adams themed bar. Flat broke at this point, put two imperial pints later I am ready to get back to Knoxvegas.

Whew. Blogging it was more tiring than actually living it. To all the readers(all six of you) get your ass over to Hawaii or I'll kick you in the shins. And so, the sun sets on this tale.

Tora, Tora, Tora

Against my better judgement, I'm posting a entry on virtually zero sleep. Combine that with 3 days relative sobriety, jetlag that would make Einstein's musings on relativity stand up on end, and a night drive back from the coast and it is like I am drunk.

Ironically, the authors here have a gentleman's agreement to post sober. Weird yes on a blog dedicated to drinking, but we all think that the clarity and pain of the morning after is a better mental state to edify the public.

I'll be posting soon about Maui, obviously with reviews of local joints, airline/airport commentary, thoughts on Hawaii law enforcement, and plenty of pictures. Stay tuned or fuck off.

Examine a shooter 1.0

Kentucky Bow-Legged Woman(amounts approximate)

Jim Beam(1-1.5 ozs)

Amaretto

Pineapple Juice

Lime Juice

Triple Sec(the black sheep bastard everyone forgets)

Combine, shake, and strain out. Will fuck you up big time, so make certain you have a free morning to shake off the guilt and baleful glances of friends and co-workers.

Favored by booze-mongers in K-town, this preferred libation of the group is feared and respected by the new generation as never before. Once a staple drink of the authors, now used strictly as a strategic nutshot during the Liquor War of 07-08.

In Vino Veritas

It's been mentioned by Mackey that we went to a new(well new-ish) pub over the weekend. I've posted before that we write this blog for our own entertainment, primarily, and that holds true for one other aspect of Drinking Knoxville. It's a resource.

You the reader(who may now be counted in double digits, mayhap an even dozen) will get the straight dope on bars and pubs we frequent, or even the places we go intermittantly like some sort of wine-swilling diplomat. While you get this valued information and decide where to spend your filthy shekels, we are challenged to strike out from the comfortable barstools and tables where scores of servers and tenders of the bar refer to us as regulars. (Most of the time with hate in their beady, hopeless eyes.)

Together we will assault the bars and joints in this Brigadoon of a town...sparing you only the noxious reviews of franchised eateries and soul-murdering chain bars. They can eat a bowl of dick.

One more thing, if you are ever asked by a beautiful woman if she can sample your wine...don't be surprised when the hooker bitches at you when she spills it. It's an odd but universally held conception that no good deed goes unpunished.