If Al Swearengen were still alive that would be so awesome. That doesn’t really have anything to do with this review, especially since Swearengen made his domain the northern frontier. A few tips before you venture into what I assumed was an “authentic” old west-style saloon.
1) The only awesome Wild West mustaches you’ll find are on the faces of douchie hipsters with 9-year liberal arts degrees from Kaiser College. I expected authenticity, not ironic facial hair that I “just don’t get, because it’s like, obscure.”
2) You can’t just walk in with a loaded pistol prominently sticking out of your holster. People actually get pretty scared. The west ain’t like it used to be.
3) The wait staff don’t know their southwestern American history. I say “Remember the Alamo!” and some mustachioed hipster named Declan says something about how he lost his Dashboard CD in a rental car. What an asshole.
4) I did actually manage to find a Members Only jacket I lost in 1992, so they do live up to the Lost and Found part of their name. Credit is due there. Not surprisingly, that Wynwood hipster was the one wearing it.
The waiter also called me “chief” which I thought was cool.
If you go in anticipating those flaws, you’ll find that they actually have some pretty bitchin’ food. I don’t know what any of it is called since I tend to just point at things and remark “that!” when I haven’t slept in 38 hours and am not quite sure where the entire left side of my body is. It was good though, I think it had, like, meat in it or something. The waiter also called me “chief” which I thought was cool. He was like “hey, chief, that’s not where the restroom is, don’t start unzipping yet” and “chief, you can’t pay for your meal before you’ve ordered it, please put your card away” and “chief, please refrain from yelling obscenities at the gentleman in the Members Only jacket. It is his jacket. He didn’t steal the jacket you lost when you were 8 from our ‘lost and found’ bin, I distinctly remember him walking in with it.”
The bar was pretty standard fare. Typical beers and your more random variety like Sea Dog Blue Paw Wheat Ale littered the place. If you’ve never had that Sea Dog, imagine taking a normal ale and throwing a blueberry pop tart in there. Then you inject that into an actual blueberry and eat it while sniffing blueberry-flavored chap stick. It’s a very weird tasting beer. Very weird. I’m talking something like… being tickled by a rapist weird.
In addition to all the superfluous stuff like food and drink, on the four occasions I’ve been there they had a television playing clips of 80s skiers wearing colorful jumpsuits wiping out in the snow. It was a very weird DVD. Very weird. I’m talking something like… being asked out by your gynecologist weird.
I believe they take pesos…
To reiterate on what I began expanding on earlier, the service there is great. The people are pretty laid back which means they probably suck at math so you can use that to your advantage if you wish to mess around with the bill. Speaking of the bill, the food is cheap. I believe they take pesos which accounts for the lower-valued good-tasting food. What I found strange was how I didn’t notice any Mexicans working in the kitchen. I had a private chuckle at the irony of that.
To sum it up, this is a pretty good place to go eat and act like a pretentious dickfuck when you’re on a budget.
People who would enjoy it
People who would not enjoy it
- 185 NW 36th St
- Miami, FL 33127
- (305) 576-1008