Sunday, March 28, 2010
2010 Cincinnati Beer Fest
I have to give my review of the 2010 Cincinnati Beer Fest. I had more thoughts rummaging through my head about the event while I was there than I ever could have imagined. I mean it was a great thought. I love beer. What better way to enjoy said beer than to have an opportunity to taste from a selection of 130 varieties? I was however troubled once I got there. I wasn't upset with the $35 I spent on a ticket, and I certainly loved the discount pricing for the designated driver. I also was thrilled to see a big screen viewing area for the NCAA tournament games. The music was pretty good from the jazz trio that was playing and I have to admit, I was pretty damn excited to see the Taste of Belgium working up some waffles (because I LOVE those waffles). Anyway, all that made me happy, but the souvenir drinking vessel? A little plastic mug. Not a cool little tasting glass? I mean for $35 per person, I'd think the vessel actually being glass would be a certainty. Apparently I assumed incorrectly. Then I get my tickets. 35 of them in fact to enjoy 35 samples of refreshing brew. Fine. I'm happy with that. That is until I get to the first booth. I wait in line for what seems like an eternity for my immense thirst, and then I get my measly little 2oz pour. Wow! 35 tickets for $35 = $1 per sample @ 2oz. means I just essentially paid $6 for the equivalent of a bottle of beer. Not a problem if I'm drinking high end micro brews/imports or tasting something unique and limited from a particular brewer, but that wasn't exactly the case for the bulk of the 130 beers offered. I wait in line again. My 2oz. had no chance of lasting long enough for me to stay "watered" while I stood in line, so when I got to the end I offered multiple tickets for a full pour. I knew I liked the beer I was getting, so I saw no harm in that. "Absolutely not," I was told. OK, then. What's the harm in that? My little mug is 4oz. Let me give you 2 tickets for two tastes of the same beer and I know I'll have enough for the next line. "Nope." Now I'm a little pissed. A few beers I really wanted to try had long lines, so I decided to hold off on those until a little later on. I go to my next stop and wait in my usual line, and when I get to the end I ask a question about the beer. The lady pouring tells me she doesn't have any clue about the beer and she, "Doesn't even drink beer." OK, then. Where's the representative from the brewery/distributor to talk about the beer that I read was going to be there in the Enquirer article on Thursday? Not at the beer fest apparently. I will say however, this was not the case for Rivertown, Sam Adams & Moerlein. They were all very nice to me. I decide to move on to the next stop and I look at the clock. Uh oh!! Based on my remedial math, at the pace I'm going and with the length of the lines (and the size of my samples), there's no way in hell I can go through all of my beer tickets before the end of close at 9:00pm. As I pointed out earlier, with 35 tickets it worked out to $6 for the equivalent of a 12oz bottle of beer. What on earth does that start to cost me if I can't use them all? And another thing, If I can have no more than 6 bottles of beer essentially, and I'm drinking those beers over a 4 hour period, with 1 per hour effectively exiting my system according to breathalyzer stats, then by the time I leave I can have no more than 2-3 beers in my system. Why did I bring a designated driver again? I digress. Let's get back to the beer I really wanted to try, but decided to wait until the lines shortened up a bit. I see one of the lines is getting shorter, so I jump in. When I get to the end of the line, the beer I wanted was "out." Gone? Get another keg, damn it! I was told by the very sweet woman pouring the beer, that nobody has come around to check on her in a while, and as soon as they do, she'll get another keg. She then told me I could sneak up to the front when that happens and she'll get me my sample so I don't have to wait in line forever again. EXCELLENT! This made me very happy. I checked back ten minutes later - nothing. I checked back again - nothing. Finally she explained that there wasn't any more of that beer left until they got a delivery from the distributor... the next morning! I'm not coming back tomorrow. This does me no good. Now I'm pissed again. By the end of the night, I waited in line a lot. I also got shot down on 4 beers that I wanted to try that were all gone. I didn't make it through all of my tickets which now changed my cost formula to the tune of $7.50 that I spent per 12oz bottle beer equivalent and I went home sober. Not what I was looking for in a beer fest. I don't want to sound like an ass, but I feel cheated by the whole thing. Maybe next year.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Weber's Cafe/Treb-de-Fox
Today I write about an absolute institution on the west-side. Not far off on the west side mind you, just on the other side of I-75/I-74. I venture to guess that 90% of the people in this town have driven on the particular stretch of highway that overlooks its' neighborhood and just assumed there was nothing of consequence down below. How wrong they are.
Weber's Cafe is a quiet oasis on Dremen Avenue just off of Beekman St. in Cumminsville. You drive back to it and you're parading through an old working-class neighborhood with old homes, old churches and an outlying crop of old businesses. It was probably bustling and crazy back in it's day before the highway cut it off from the rest of the world, and probably deep into the 70's and early 80's too because of the factories that boomed there. Today, it's quiet, but Weber's, because of its' loyal regulars and old-timers who remember the better days, still has its charm and ambiance. It's one of the only bars in town (I imagine) that closes early in the evening and closes on the weekends too. It adapted it's hours based on their clientele. You want the Weber's experience? Get there Monday-Friday between 11:00am and 7:00pm.
When you walk in, whether it's through the front door or through the car-port in back, you find an impeccably clean time machine. Old beer memorabilia, trophies and pictures from softball teams in years past, and the sense of the little neighborhood cafe you sat on your daddy's lap visiting when you were a kid. The owner is George, and you'll find him behind the bar serving up lunch and beverages to the crowd who are all friends of his. He's been the owner for decades now and he took it over from another gentleman who did as he does. He's more of a fixture in its' appearance than anything hanging on the walls. It's his life, and the friends who visit from day-to-day are an important part of it. You almost get the sense sometimes that it's not a public place, but more like a clubhouse that George runs, or even a hideaway bar in someone's house that everyone has been invited to hang out at. When you visit, notice all of the fox statues and the "Treb-De-Fox" icons woven into its' fabric. Ask George about it. It is in itself, a story about Weber's history.
Like any other little neighborhood joint, the prices are unreal and the character is priceless. Not difficult to have a cheeseburger and a couple of beers for under $7.00. Maybe if you're lucky, one of the regulars brought in his homemade pickles that will adorn your plate. Every month on the first Wednesday, rain or shine, 100 degrees or a 100 below, you can get a New York Strip, grilled with a baked potato and a salad for under $10.00. It's tradition. George handles the grilling. Weather is not an issue.
If you love this town (which I do), and you love history (which I do), then the Weber Cafe's are iconic stops that need to be made. I'm not saying it's necessarily where you want to be on a Friday happy hour in the summer, but it's certainly where you want to be on occasion, imagining a different time and losing track of yours. The Enquirer recently started a feature called "52 Neighborhoods" in which they talk about a different neighborhood each week in a light that most people don't see. Go to Weber's once, and that'll be exactly what you get in the West end.
Weber's Cafe is a quiet oasis on Dremen Avenue just off of Beekman St. in Cumminsville. You drive back to it and you're parading through an old working-class neighborhood with old homes, old churches and an outlying crop of old businesses. It was probably bustling and crazy back in it's day before the highway cut it off from the rest of the world, and probably deep into the 70's and early 80's too because of the factories that boomed there. Today, it's quiet, but Weber's, because of its' loyal regulars and old-timers who remember the better days, still has its charm and ambiance. It's one of the only bars in town (I imagine) that closes early in the evening and closes on the weekends too. It adapted it's hours based on their clientele. You want the Weber's experience? Get there Monday-Friday between 11:00am and 7:00pm.
When you walk in, whether it's through the front door or through the car-port in back, you find an impeccably clean time machine. Old beer memorabilia, trophies and pictures from softball teams in years past, and the sense of the little neighborhood cafe you sat on your daddy's lap visiting when you were a kid. The owner is George, and you'll find him behind the bar serving up lunch and beverages to the crowd who are all friends of his. He's been the owner for decades now and he took it over from another gentleman who did as he does. He's more of a fixture in its' appearance than anything hanging on the walls. It's his life, and the friends who visit from day-to-day are an important part of it. You almost get the sense sometimes that it's not a public place, but more like a clubhouse that George runs, or even a hideaway bar in someone's house that everyone has been invited to hang out at. When you visit, notice all of the fox statues and the "Treb-De-Fox" icons woven into its' fabric. Ask George about it. It is in itself, a story about Weber's history.
Like any other little neighborhood joint, the prices are unreal and the character is priceless. Not difficult to have a cheeseburger and a couple of beers for under $7.00. Maybe if you're lucky, one of the regulars brought in his homemade pickles that will adorn your plate. Every month on the first Wednesday, rain or shine, 100 degrees or a 100 below, you can get a New York Strip, grilled with a baked potato and a salad for under $10.00. It's tradition. George handles the grilling. Weather is not an issue.
If you love this town (which I do), and you love history (which I do), then the Weber Cafe's are iconic stops that need to be made. I'm not saying it's necessarily where you want to be on a Friday happy hour in the summer, but it's certainly where you want to be on occasion, imagining a different time and losing track of yours. The Enquirer recently started a feature called "52 Neighborhoods" in which they talk about a different neighborhood each week in a light that most people don't see. Go to Weber's once, and that'll be exactly what you get in the West end.
Friday, March 12, 2010
A Bar Experiment
I've always preached that getting good service in a bar is often the responsibility of the patron. I know this sounds ludicrous, but I have my reasons. First of all, I've seen far too many people wander into a crowded bar, stand behind a group of drinkers camped out in a particular spot and hope to just make eye contact or wave a couple of bucks in the air for a round of drinks. They end up waiting for five minutes, get pissed off and complain about the inattentive mixologist. Think about it like this: You're a rock star on stage and there's lots of lights and sounds. Everyone can see you quite clearly, but beyond the bar it's a lot like the crowd in the auditorium. Lots of noise, distorted sounds and motion. Everything starts to blend together. Believe me. If you're standing back there on a Friday night and a couple of guys are loud and drunk, you eventually start to tune some things out. In order to get the bartenders' attention at first, sometimes you need to do something a little out of the ordinary. One thing I like to do is help the bartender out. As soon as I walk in and see thirty people standing at the bar clamoring for a cocktail, I look around at the tables and grab a handful of empty glasses. I walk right to wear the bartender is standing, ask everyone to excuse me while I help out, and set them right in front of him. The bartender gives you a "Thanks for the help. Who are you? Can I get you anything?" look, and you're in. Order your drinks, thank him graciously, always tip best on your first two rounds, and trust me... you won't have to wait for a drink the rest of the night.
I also always like to keep an eye on the bartender to see if they like to have an occasional drink behind the bar. This won't happen as much as it used to because the general thought of owners and managers is, if the bartender drinks, their drinking free product, thus, they're stealing. The way bars really should work is, the bartender has a few drinks with clientele, they eventually think he or she is really fun, they offer to buy them a shot or a beer, and you end up charging patrons for what's been consumed all evening by you and they leave liking you better than the stiff that turned them down at the other place. If the bartender does drink, I see what it is, and on one of my return trips I order two of those. When they set me up on the bar, I give a nod and a grin, slide one towards them, we toast, drink our drink, and never say a word, or maybe tell them that they looked like they needed it. Walk away. Buying the bartender a drink is a slippery slope. Bartenders are savvy. We know the reason for your kindness. You want free drinks or really big pours in return. Do you know how many dumb asses have tried to buy me a drink while I'm working and told me why they're doing it? Don't do it because you expect something in return, but rather do it because you appreciate their efforts behind the bar and then, you'll probably get something in return anyway. We're fickle back there.
I'm also partial to the jukebox donation trick. Watch who's putting money in the jukebox. Whether you like what they're playing or not, pick a group of people that have spent a lot of time picking tunes. At some point, take $5 and wander over to their table. Say, "Hey, sorry to bother you, but you guys were playing some great music earlier... here's $5 to pick some more and keep it going." Make something up... tell them some guy who likes ABBA just walked in and we need to hog the machine or something. Just walk away after that. Before you know it, each one ends up buying you a drink because they think you're pretty cool and you just got four cocktails for $5.
I'm also fond of tipping the bartender for another bad tipper on occasion. If it's a bar where the bartender has seen me before, but doesn't really know me yet, this can be a valuable relationship builder. At some point, someone will be a bad tipper or not tip nearly what the effort was worth because they were so high maintenance. You'll know this because a lot of bartenders will discuss bad tippers with the rest of the bar as soon as they leave. Theory here is, that you won't want to be talked about behind your back, and so you'll tip really good. I just pull a $5 bill out right then and order another drink for myself. I tell them to add it to the tab, and then a put the $5 down and say, "That's for the bad tipper. I hate to see my bartender suffer because he was an ass."
I also have a myriad of tricks to use with the wife when she's expecting me at home. I can't tell all of them because she may be reading. However, one that she already knows about is the "first drink" trick. Order a drink, and right before you're done with it, set it aside. Don't touch it, don't let the bartender touch it. Leave enough in it that it doesn't look finished, and then order another one. You may have four more drinks, but keep that glass there. When the wife calls, tell her where you are (so you're not lying) and when she asks how long you've been there or how many you've had, simply grab the first drink that's been sitting there unattended for an hour and say, "I'm actually still drinking my first drink." No lies, just subtle manipulation of the truth. She's happy (as happy as she can be) and you're off the hook. Cheers!!
I also always like to keep an eye on the bartender to see if they like to have an occasional drink behind the bar. This won't happen as much as it used to because the general thought of owners and managers is, if the bartender drinks, their drinking free product, thus, they're stealing. The way bars really should work is, the bartender has a few drinks with clientele, they eventually think he or she is really fun, they offer to buy them a shot or a beer, and you end up charging patrons for what's been consumed all evening by you and they leave liking you better than the stiff that turned them down at the other place. If the bartender does drink, I see what it is, and on one of my return trips I order two of those. When they set me up on the bar, I give a nod and a grin, slide one towards them, we toast, drink our drink, and never say a word, or maybe tell them that they looked like they needed it. Walk away. Buying the bartender a drink is a slippery slope. Bartenders are savvy. We know the reason for your kindness. You want free drinks or really big pours in return. Do you know how many dumb asses have tried to buy me a drink while I'm working and told me why they're doing it? Don't do it because you expect something in return, but rather do it because you appreciate their efforts behind the bar and then, you'll probably get something in return anyway. We're fickle back there.
I'm also partial to the jukebox donation trick. Watch who's putting money in the jukebox. Whether you like what they're playing or not, pick a group of people that have spent a lot of time picking tunes. At some point, take $5 and wander over to their table. Say, "Hey, sorry to bother you, but you guys were playing some great music earlier... here's $5 to pick some more and keep it going." Make something up... tell them some guy who likes ABBA just walked in and we need to hog the machine or something. Just walk away after that. Before you know it, each one ends up buying you a drink because they think you're pretty cool and you just got four cocktails for $5.
I'm also fond of tipping the bartender for another bad tipper on occasion. If it's a bar where the bartender has seen me before, but doesn't really know me yet, this can be a valuable relationship builder. At some point, someone will be a bad tipper or not tip nearly what the effort was worth because they were so high maintenance. You'll know this because a lot of bartenders will discuss bad tippers with the rest of the bar as soon as they leave. Theory here is, that you won't want to be talked about behind your back, and so you'll tip really good. I just pull a $5 bill out right then and order another drink for myself. I tell them to add it to the tab, and then a put the $5 down and say, "That's for the bad tipper. I hate to see my bartender suffer because he was an ass."
I also have a myriad of tricks to use with the wife when she's expecting me at home. I can't tell all of them because she may be reading. However, one that she already knows about is the "first drink" trick. Order a drink, and right before you're done with it, set it aside. Don't touch it, don't let the bartender touch it. Leave enough in it that it doesn't look finished, and then order another one. You may have four more drinks, but keep that glass there. When the wife calls, tell her where you are (so you're not lying) and when she asks how long you've been there or how many you've had, simply grab the first drink that's been sitting there unattended for an hour and say, "I'm actually still drinking my first drink." No lies, just subtle manipulation of the truth. She's happy (as happy as she can be) and you're off the hook. Cheers!!
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
A Review of Bockfest
I apologize about my delay in getting to my newest post. I was recovering from a wonderful weekend in Over-The-Rhine. It truly was extraordinary. Young and old, out in droves celebrating the coming of spring, Bock beer and relating to a time that brought rich, German heritage to a boil on the streets of downtown Cincinnati. What was so amazing about the weekend was the collection of people that came down to enjoy the weekend. It wasn't the round-up of usual suspects, but rather a soup of suburbanites, downtown dwellers, hipsters, young professionals, wealthy & poor, old & young. It made me happy to see local newscasters on a day off enjoying a pint and enjoying conversation. The priest from my mothers' church was indulging in a couple Bock beers, so too was the guy at the gas station I go to all the time. The masses were out, and they all came calling for a good time in the name of this town's German past, a right of spring - a celebration.
The bars were hopping as you might expect, and for me, I looked on it like a proud father would watch a child learning a new trick. Seeing some of the faces in the crowd as they discovered such gems like Milton's or Mr. Pitiful's for the first time. Pitiful's had the Goshorn Brothers Friday night, and the crowd was as emotional as it was electric. Courtyard Cafe saw more life than it usually sees, and some fresh paint and a fresh approach lent itself well to the opening success of Jack Pott's (the old home of Jefferson Hall). Grammers was hopping with it's usual hipster/party more than most crowd, and even the new Senate Restaurant got in on the act with some bock beer flowing from its' taps. Of course, I don't have to point out that Arnold's was one of the places to be. The ownership there has been a huge part in the continued growth of the event. The wonderful thing about bars like Arnold's or Miltons and Pitiful's, is that they've been around long enough, that a couple that now resides in the suburbs with their 2.2 kids and the dog playing in the yard, run home to them like an old friend. This last weekend, they were filled with lots of old friends, and a lot more new ones. More than ever before. Everyone shined. Over-The-Rhine welcomed everyone home. It didn't turn it's back on us all. It gave us a warm embrace... and lots of cold beer. The music was being played, the dancers were decked out in traditional attire, the food was delicious and the smiles were wide. It was a great weekend for Over-The-Rhine. Better yet, it was a great weekend for Cincinnati, and for all of you who forget about downtown except during weekends like this or Taste of Cincinnati or Oktoberfest or Bengals/Reds games, remember: We're here the other 350 days of the year, waiting to give you that warm embrace. See you soon.
The bars were hopping as you might expect, and for me, I looked on it like a proud father would watch a child learning a new trick. Seeing some of the faces in the crowd as they discovered such gems like Milton's or Mr. Pitiful's for the first time. Pitiful's had the Goshorn Brothers Friday night, and the crowd was as emotional as it was electric. Courtyard Cafe saw more life than it usually sees, and some fresh paint and a fresh approach lent itself well to the opening success of Jack Pott's (the old home of Jefferson Hall). Grammers was hopping with it's usual hipster/party more than most crowd, and even the new Senate Restaurant got in on the act with some bock beer flowing from its' taps. Of course, I don't have to point out that Arnold's was one of the places to be. The ownership there has been a huge part in the continued growth of the event. The wonderful thing about bars like Arnold's or Miltons and Pitiful's, is that they've been around long enough, that a couple that now resides in the suburbs with their 2.2 kids and the dog playing in the yard, run home to them like an old friend. This last weekend, they were filled with lots of old friends, and a lot more new ones. More than ever before. Everyone shined. Over-The-Rhine welcomed everyone home. It didn't turn it's back on us all. It gave us a warm embrace... and lots of cold beer. The music was being played, the dancers were decked out in traditional attire, the food was delicious and the smiles were wide. It was a great weekend for Over-The-Rhine. Better yet, it was a great weekend for Cincinnati, and for all of you who forget about downtown except during weekends like this or Taste of Cincinnati or Oktoberfest or Bengals/Reds games, remember: We're here the other 350 days of the year, waiting to give you that warm embrace. See you soon.
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