Consumed

Most of us can picture the embattled alcoholic, staring down at a tempting glass of vodka and calling a fellow abstainer late at night: “I’m craving a drink and need your help.” But a person having the same struggles over a glazed doughnut? That’s a much harder image to swallow…

Drink of the Week

Let’s be honest: No one goes to the Diamond Cabaret & Steakhouse for its specialty cocktails and rare steaks — they go for the tits and ass. With its dark-red walls, leather chairs and neon chandeliers, the currently controversial Diamond was the perfect spot to pop my strip-club cherry. This…

Drunk of the Week

The new SAT is the final step in the coddling of America’s children, which is ruining society. It started with allowing snowboarders at Vail and continued with the acceptance of ridiculous baggy pants — the ones with crotches hanging around the knees, making kids look like clown-school rejects or young…

Desperately Seeking Sushi

By the third time I’d driven past the construction site, the workers were getting suspicious. The fourth time, they waved. I was beginning to wonder if mocking motorists was their job, if the building site at First and Josephine was really some sort of day-vacation spot for burned-out roughers and…

Bite Me

At Hapa Sushi (see review), you don’t have to worry much about rules. Don’t sneeze on your neighbor’s edamame, don’t lick the help, don’t stick two chopsticks in your top lip and pretend you’re a walrus (they’ve seen it before, Shecky, and no one thinks it’s funny). If you can…

Drink of the Week

After my friends and I grabbed two open spots at Bowlero Lanes one Saturday night and strapped on our snazzy rental shoes, we placed a friendly little wager: The losing team must buy the next round. And even with a 49-point spread to make up for my ball-handling deficiencies, my…

Drunk of the Week

Now that Halloween is over, I’m sure you’re counting the days left during which every Target, Barnes & Noble and Best Buy will be filled with a miserable quagmire of people who are apparently unaware that other humans populate the Earth — running you down with their shopping carts, blasting…

State of Reflux

If you’re going to drink alcohol, do it before noon.” Ordinarily, receiving this medical advice from your doctor would be a dream come true, like having your dentist tell you to work half days and eat rock candy to save your teeth. But not now. In suggesting the cocktail brunch,…

Slice of Life

Key West today is not my kind of place. For starters, while I love the ocean, I’m not a beach-community kinda guy — not a guy tuned to that Endless Summer, quasi-Caribbean, Jimmy Buffett-and-a-strawberry-daiquiri vibe. Trust me, the last thing any of you nice people want to see is my…

Drunk of the Week

I didn’t get out last weekend, and I doubt that you did, either, because we are apparently under biological attack. I don’t know for sure where this bug came from, but it’s probably hell. The bug ravages your body until you’re so sensitive that even your hair hurts and you…

Drink of the Week

I love snakes. Not big boa constrictors or mammoth pythons, but cute little green tree snakes about as long as a ruler. I’ve owned two, both of which met untimely deaths — but those are stories for another day. I’d never thought of mixing my fondness for reptiles with my…

Do You Believe in Magic?

There’s a colossal amount of stuff I don’t know. Seriously. A lot. And I’m not talking about the specialized, esoteric knowledge that only a few specialized, esoteric people possess. I’m not talking about being able to translate dead languages, suss out the weight of distant stars, or speak at length…

The Sporting Life

The original Brewery Bar closed right around the time I was born. What information I have about its glory days comes mainly from historical documents, Web archives and the spotty memories of its habitués. It was a beer-soaked neighborhood watering hole that took up residence in the old Tivoli brewery…

Bite Me

I was sitting at my little two-top lonelyheart’s table at Brewery Bar II, nursing an afternoon beer and waiting to hear the perfect song. Something deep and meaningful. Tom Waits, maybe. A cut off Nighthawks at the Diner. Or maybe something from Springsteen’s Nebraska. What I got instead was Poco’s…

Drink of the Week

After spending an afternoon downing Old Fashions with the ladies who lunch at the Washington Park Grille, I was just like Rhett Butler: I didn’t give a damn about anything else I had to do that day. Rumored to have been created for a retired Confederate general who didn’t care…

Drunk of the Week

In our continuing effort to improve the human race, we here at the Institute for Drinking Studies are eager to answer those questions that all of us have after seven straight hours of drinking. In the aftermath of a very liquid weekend at Govnr’s Park Restaurant (672 Logan Street), Dr…

Full of Holes

Here’s some advice for all the aspiring chefs in the crowd. Want a cinch gig in the kitchen? Go to Switzerland, the home of fondue-style cooking. If there’s an easier path to cash for a chef than setting up a fondue joint, I haven’t heard of it. That’s because no…

Bite Me

Okay, so you’ve got this great concept for a nightclub — an Austro-Bulgarian hip-hop joint, some all-Japanese speed-metal sushi bar, whatever — but no place to set up shop. Well, I’ve got good news for you: a zillion square feet just opened up in a prime location at the Denver…

Drink of the Week

Harking back to my Irish roots (in case you’re interested, Dunn means “brown” in Gaelic) on a blustery fall evening, I headed to Fadó Irish Pub for a stiff drink and comfort food. After settling into a secluded booth not far from the blazing fireplace, I ordered a Screw the…

Drunk of the Week

When purchasing a home, you must consider many points. The location needs to be somewhere you’ll feel safe — and must also have good resale value. When the time comes to sell, it’s difficult to cut a deal if your potential buyers are abducted from the back yard or clipped…

Just Say Pho

It’s Saturday night and it’s raining — long, vicious sheets of water not just falling, but slapping the ground as if the pavement had said something nasty about the rain cloud’s mother. I’d made the dash from my car to the door in a scuttling hunch — the way you…

Bite Me

They came in the dead of night, ready for war, in a rented minivan. They wore rubber gloves, hats, surgical masks and special-issue combat Birkenstocks, forsaking their customary Phish concert T-shirts and Guatemalan peasant dresses for basic black — the formalwear of today’s fashionable domestic terrorist. They marched in grim…