#dive bars

Club Pussycat, Hong Kong // 1985

Coastal Seafoods in Minneapolis is a fresh seafood market. It's a neat little place. When @littlerunnergurl visited us years ago she and I shopped there for ingredients of a seafood stew LRG made for us.

There's a small counter for hot food in back. Two four-tops and a small row of bars stools next to a cold window is the complete dining room. A Facebook page devoted to smashburgers had mentioned this place's burger recently. That's what got us over there.

We ordered one Coastal Burger. "Two 4oz Wagyu Beef Patties, Caramalized Onion Jam, Pickles, American Cheese, & Dijon Mayo on Toasted Brioche!" (images from the Coastal Foods website)

I also ordered the wonderful looking Connecticut Style Lobster Roll. "Warm Lobster & Seasoned Butter on a Toasted Tom Cat Bakery Roll"

The cook cut them in half so Sheila and I could try some of each. Both were fantastic. We didn't order French fries or any sides. The older I get the wiser I am about not ordering too much food. For sure if there had been a serving of fries in front of me I wouldn't have left until the plate was clean. As it was, we walked out feeling satisfied yet not needing to adjust the car seats back so we could fit in the Subaru.

I'd been wanting to see some dive bars. A block away is the Fraternal Order of Eagles #34. It's an appropriately dimly lit place where most of the customers seemed to know each other. We didn't order food, but I almost did just to purchase a cheeseburger for under ten bucks, a rare thing these days.

The bartender was friendly. She knew what to pour for people a few times without asking. I chuckled when she asked us if we'd be okay for a bit unattended when she went outside for a quick smoke.

It's located at the intersection of two similarly named streets. When I was a kid it was mind-blowing when I saw Minneapolis street signs with the same numbers. Sure, the Av and St make a difference, but it still seemed like division by zero to someone not yet accustomed to how cities named numbered east/west and north/south roads. Similarly, I was amazed when my dad pointed out the named streets in some places were in freaking alphabetical order.

After a bottle of beer (and a sunset) we drove south a short distance through the cold and dark night to the Schooner Tavern. It too is at an intersection of numbered streets.

It was a bit louder, but no less dimly lit, than the previous place. The two bartenders were very friendly. Sheila and I again sat at the bar for one beer.

We listened to conversations around us. It was only 5:30 PM but some folks appeared to have started the evening early. A frazzled looking guy (who was probably 15 years younger than he actually appeared) must have gotten the happy hour special on "fucks" which seem to have been a 20-for-1 deal. Whew, I got tired of hearing that word used as noun, verb, adjective, preposition, pronoun, article, and adverb.

The bottles behind the bar appeared to glow. If the bar had been quieter maybe I would have heard them hum.

Sometimes I want of those tiny Red Bull refrigerators with the glass door (as seen in the left side of this picture I took). Sheila doesn't think it would look appropriate on our coffee table no matter how well it fit. People would probably trip over the power cord she also claims. I still want one though.

We still enjoyed the atmosphere while we had one beer. After that we headed to the brewery by our house. It's at the intersection of one named and one numbered street, more to the sensibilities of my suburban mind.

We met up with one couple we know and another couple who were on a second date. The guy is a regular, the woman is new to that crowd. At first she seemed like she wanted to move to a private table. Soon though she warmed up to us, and the six of us had a great conversation.