The boxtie is much vaunted on billboards around town, a new marketing strategy, less desperate than the billboards offering a burger and a beer for five dollars during the happy hour. I have dropped in for the happy hour burger and beer, only to be sent to the bar to partake. Petty yes for me to complain, but I like sitting in restaurant and wondered why it mattered. Billboard didn't say bar special only.
The table sign explained boxtie for me, and this picture had the scale and texture right. Priced at two dollars and available in four varieties, including a chicken curry, I had a notion to try the curiosity. I ordered two of the boxtie, chicken currie and a banger with mushrooms. They were hard to make out on the billboards, looking like a burrito or fallen over taco. Not so sure I would call them an Irish potato pancake because the flat crisp folded over doesn't remind me of the potato pancakes served by my mother. I guess Latkes are different too than what my mother served with applesauce.
The place has some traffic for a Friday night, and the staff talked about being slammed earlier before the Lumberjack game. In fact, I could not find a seat at the pub bar, good for the house. A threesome was playing blues, including a pretty mad harmonica, and the house shut off their monitor power because they were playing too loudly. The threesome was warned, but this never happens at Dreamers, the hole in the wall blues club over on Pine Street. I am pretty sure the manager learned her crowd control chops at the Cloverleaf Bar.
Saturday night of last week, I was drinking with all my friends who had left West Michigan to live in Brooklyn or Queens. While there, I had to pass on coffee with a Roosevelt Park musician who once published a column in Fogged Clarity. I had a nice evening but my night would never bring them home for good. In fact, I think the editor of Fogged Clarity now holds concerts in his apartment in Chicago.
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