a Buffalo Bartenders Blog...

Some of the horrible things that have occurred in a restaurant.

2009-11-19T21:43:00.005-05:00

The most egregious and foul things which have happened in a restaurant or bar.

This is a tough title to take... Over my 9 or so years in the hospitality industry I have seen some fucked up shit. I mean, seriously fucked up... I have seen transvestites pissing in alleys, people doing shit to customers food, customers doing shit to other customers food and the list goes on and on. Here is a little taste of things that happen on an all too frequent basis all over the world.

Little Buddy orders a sub and Pukes on a waiter...

A friend of mine stumbled out of one of his favorite watering holes and decided it was time to eat. He took the long, one eyed, teetering, John Wayne walk down the small South Buffalo side walks to Recckio's craving a Turkey Sub. After babbling incessantly to the waiter he finally ordered.

"Turkey and, uhm, er, Bread... And some cheese and shit... Just yeah go, make it happen!" The waiter gazed in amazement. Dejectedly and amazed Little Buddy was able to walk the ten blocks there and let alone speak in his condition, did as he was asked. Little Buddy tore into that sub with the intensity of Ocho Cinco at the possibility of being in the headlines.

When he finished he leaned back in his chair and groaned, motioning for the waiter for the bill while he continuously let out some of the most foul smelling belches anyone has ever smelled. The waiter approached and Little Buddy went to town.

He projected like an Opera singer on stage. This was probably the most amazing puke fest since "Fat Ass" in "Stand by Me."

The waiter sat awestruck dripping in a mixture of Jameson, mayonnaise, Busch Light and Jagermeister. The table, the bar, and the couple sitting at the high top table across from him were all as soaked as the waiter. Little Buddy lost it. He started laughing uncontrollably.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a crumple pile of pills and peeled a fifty off. He dropped it onto the table and stumbled home...

While we're on the Subject of Turkey Subs...

Recently a good Friend of mine made a late night trip to a Sub place in his neighborhood. He was a regular, they new his order by heart and always delivered a delicious meal. Now my friend is the type of person who takes good care of himself, eats right, no fatty foods, no red meat and NO MAYO!

Unfortunately for the kid making the sub, a prickish little fucker who was looking for a fight, my friend does not take it well when you screw up his food order. Trust me, I know, he has given me shit for it when I put something in wrong on his lunch order.

Food comes and my friend is relaxing unwraps it and takes a big bite. Mayo goes everywhere. Health nut gets aggravated.

"Uhm, hey, yeah you said you knew my order, I really didn't want--" my friend managed out before the lippy 18 year old cut him off.

"Yeah, Yeah, no mayo." the kid said giving my friend the biggest look of disgust.

"Well if it's not a big deal, if you could just make me a new one." The kid began his work on the sub. As my friend watched the kid takes the mayo gun and fills the entire sub roll with about a gallon and a half of mayo and drops it on the counter.

My friend just smiled."Uhm,well friend, I did say no mayo, and I quite clearly--" he was cut off again.

"You got what you got MOTHA FUCKA!" Health nut goes berserk.

Before anyone knows what happens my friend launches the mayo crusted sub through the air like Brett Favre bombing a long one down field. It hits the kid square in the chest. Mayo explodes EVERYWHERE! The kid tries to come over the counter and has to be held back by a few of his coworkers.

Needless to say, my friend can't eat there anymore...

Just like me, except mine is a Wendy's...

A couple of good friends and I used to get together weekly for a lunch at Wendy's. This particular day I had been slightly hung over. Needless to say I was pissing a LOT. Just before we went to order I stopped to hit the head, did my business in the urinal and then went about my OCD, anal retentive hand washing ritual when I noticed the urinal was really, really loud.

I turned my head in time to see the urinal spill over onto the floor. Then begin to spray on the wall. I walked out calmly and motioned my friends to the door while I mouthed "Go, go, GO!" Unfortunately for me, My ID dropped on the floor of the rest room when I reached in my pocket for some hand sanitizer. There was already a message on my answering machine by the time I got home.

"Hello Mr. Bartender, this is Jeff. I am the manager from the Wendy's you were at this afternoon. I do not know what you did to the restroom this afternoon, but I am going to have to ask that you NEVER return to our restaurant." I called back and tried to explain that I was embarrassed by the situation and had figured it would stop on it's own eventually.

They needless, to say, were not in the mood for my explanations, nor did they believe the urinal just overflowed on it's own. Apparently they had to close for two days to repair the damage and disinfect everything... It's been a while since I didn't have to drive out of my way for a Spicy Chicken Combo...

What can I say? At least I didn't shit on the floor...

Unfortunately and much to the chagrin of my staff, I can not say the same for one of the patrons of the bar today. The bar is not the place you would expect to walk into and find a half naked man covered in feces just hanging around in the restroom.

Unless you went there recently. The poor bastard had a simple accident. What followed however was the best part. He asked the Bartender (whom he reffered to with a very informal version of his name) very calmly and like he was asking for a refill, to "Go tell that little lesbian looking broad I'm sitting with that I had a bit of an accident? Thanks Buddy!"

The bartender walked out shaking his head awestruck. "There is, I just, it's everywhere." I asked what the hell he was talking about. "it's on the walls man." he managed out.

"What?" I said, more than slightly confused.

"There is SHIT. All. Over. The walls..." He said straight faced just shaking his head. This guy would've made the Tucker Max incident look like nothing. There was literally shit covering 90% of the floor. Like and elephant had drank some Colon Blow 3000. And this is NOT a small bathroom.

There is a special spot in heaven reserved for my staff.

Until Next Time Friends... Don't Drink Anything I Don't Know How to Make...

Mac The Bartender

Tunnel Vision and a Rememberance of a Friend...

2009-10-21T22:13:00.004-04:00

10/21/2009

There have been times in my career when I wanted to beat my chest and howl at the moon, days when I felt like primitive man trying to understand complex trigonometry. There have been days when I had the AH-HA moment, like the NASA scientists figuring out how to breach our atmosphere and fly to the stars.

Then there have been times where I have questioned everything I am, my career, my goals, my experiences and my strengths and there are times where I have ridden a huge wave of success. This has not been one of those weeks.

I had a run in with a man who I will admit, at times, I do not like. I am sure he has at times felt the same about me. But through it all I have respected him. I have been impressed with his efforts and skill.

Then there were times like this week when I cringed every time I saw him. Everyday until today. Being an Irish (see also: stubborn) bartender, growing up in the family I did, being in the industry I am, I have learned it is very easy to misread someone’s intentions and get sent into an upheaval of anger.

It has been awkward around the restaurant this week. Dodging glances and mincing words. Both I and my coworker have found ourselves unsure of how to react to one another. When we finally spoke I realized we were, much to my chagrin, untrustingly alike. Stubborn, prideful, idealistic and a tad over protective of our image. Whether it is our own self held images or the images everyone else seems to have of us.

On my part, call it the sin of youth, on his call it the sin of experience. We did find, however, that we have one common ground (or many depending on your view) we both want the restaurant to succeed. I can respect him for that. A lot.

As a human sometimes we tend to lose sight of the big picture. So often focusing on every little thing until we nit pick so much that there is nothing left… It is the human flaw of hubris. We want so much for something to work, succeed, for our own sake, that we tend to over look the fact that one tiny imperfection doesn’t change the over all value of something…

I try so hard every day to make my life, the restaurant, the bar run so smoothly and without error to help myself along, help my career, give me that shot in the arm of self patronizing pat on the back which I (at times)seem to think I need so much, that it snowballs and becomes one big mess.

Sometimes it takes someone else who is under the gun over reacting to something small to make you realize that you have been overreacting to small things all along.

To make matters worse this is one of the worst days I tend to experience throughout the year… Today is the fourth anniversary of Jason’s death. I have dealt better today than I have in previous years (a.k.a. not fall down drunk.)

It tends to be a tough situation for me to deal with. Someone who taught me so much, was such a great mentor, was just gone in a flash of twisted metal. And I never even got the chance to say goodbye. But tonight when I button up the bar, and turn off all the lights, I’ll take the short ride home to my home and do what I have done every year since he left. I’ll pour myself a glass of Crown, throw “Cocktail” in the DVD player and have a toast to my friend…

Until next time Buffalo… Don’t drink anything I wouldn’t…

Mac The Bartender

I am in a constant state of Bills denial...

2009-10-13T12:17:00.002-04:00

Buffalo Bills fans are like abused women... We keep going back knowing how things are gonna turn out, but we still tell everyone "this time they're gonna change!"

Kristina Schmitt

As a Buffalonian I am embarrassed. As a Bills fan, disgusted. As a Bills fan from Buffalo I am not the least bit surprised. Dick Jauron misses the guillotine yet again.

After what seemed to be the most heart breaking, upsetting loss of the Jauron era in Miami, Bills fans did not think it could get any worse. Apparently we spoke too soon. Buffalo loses 6-3 in a gut wrenching heartbreaking loss to a, up until that point, winless team.

Now I know what you are thinking, there is no way Dick Jauron could survive this. But unfortunately enough for Buffalo fans he seems to be the Charlie Sheen of the NFL. The Teflon man, nothing sticks to him.

Jauron, a coach not even wanted by the ever losing Detroit Lions, seems to have found a niche within the Buffalo Bills organization. The scapegoat. He has become the man who constantly and willingly bears the weight of loss for an owner who refuses to spend any money, a team who can’t seem to get it together and a coach [himself] who can’t seem to find a winning season

As we all know, shit trickles down hill. Turk Schonert, although he should have been fired two years ago, was kept on for [most likely] use as a scapegoat when Jauron needed to save his ass.

The next logical step (other than firing himself) would be to replace his embattled quarterback Trent Edwards with a veteran free-agent such as Jeff Garcia (who ironically enough would probably have more of a playing rapport with wide receiver Terrell Owens, despite the off field drama which would most likely occur.)

Despite the three year losing streak, the fact that he hasn’t won a divisional game in god knows how long and the fact that he is the most wanted and probably despised man in Buffalo his team has stood by him. Publicly expressing their upset about constantly “letting Jauron down.” Admitting time and again that they are not performing to their potential, which they feel is a slap in Jauron’s face.

Any other team would have called Jauron out on the carpet and made it abundantly clear they wanted some real talent to lead them. In other words, throw them under the bus to save their own skin (much as they helped Jauron do with Turk Schonert.)

But I have surmised that they are unable if not unwilling to give up a coach who publicly accepts all the responsibility on his shoulders rather than assigning blame where it is due. They have a name for that, cowardice.

Last time the Buffalo Bills fired a Head Coach in midseason we were fortunate enough to obtain on Marv Levy. Look how well that panned out for us, while we did not win any of them, we were fortunate enough to appear in four consecutive Super Bowls. We wound up with some of the best players to ever play the game, let alone [for] the Bills.

These same NFL greats are now the same aging goliaths whose shadows hang heavy upon the team who is eclipsed by what they once were. These same players that had publicly embraced us last season when we started out 4-0. The momentous greats who now can’t stomach sitting through an entire game at home. They have even publicly come fourth saying what we have for a while now; these players are not fit to wear the Buffalo Bills uniform.

Unfortunately for Buffalo, Ralph C. Wilson Jr., the illustrious Patriarch of the NFL at 91 years old, who was pinnacle in the construction of the AFL-NFL merger, is not a Buffalo citizen, he is a citizen of Detroit. And seems to aspire (lately at least) to be no better than the 2008-2009, winless Detroit Lions.

But being now, and always (no matter what city they will reside in after Mr. Wilson’s eventual and unavoidable demise) a Buffalo Bills fan, I can only Hope that Chris Berman is right. I hope that I can be shown that “Nobody circles the wagons like the Buffalo Bills.”

Until next time Buffalo… Don’t drink anything I wouldn’t…

Mac The Bartender

Caffeine and why it can lead to akward situations at the bar...

2009-09-30T17:32:00.001-04:00

I'm Tired, physically drained and there isn't much I can do about it. Between work, moving, working on the menu/pricing/order prep for The Club, my regular job at the restaurant and still trying to maintain the normal relationships one could try and have with all this insanity going on. There's one thing that keeps me going... Caffeine... Whether it's Red Bull, coffee, cappucino or jamming whole bags of unground coffee beans straight into my mouth.

I was up late and my favorite Robert Downy Jr. movie was on "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang." A degenerate thief with a pill addiction who stumbles ass backwards into some awkward situations. I'm not quite sure why I love that movie so much. Who knows?

Lately I've realized that my friends are all as insane as me. Charlie has a caffeine addiction which at times has lead to strange circumstances and situations, such as the infamous cranberry situation three years ago.

You see Charlie and I found it to be a spectacularly bright idea one year (and subsequently every year) during our busiest two weeks to slam two to three 24 ounce espressos a day. Unfortunately for us it lead to many strange looks and confusion with a customer or two (at least on my part) which left them wondering if I was freebasing crack out of a light bulb behind the restaurant.

The bar was three or four people deep after a concert and Charlie and I were all hopped up on Colombian goodness (COFFEE BEANS!) A customer ordered a vodka and cranberry and it was all down hill from there. Charlie fell short and ran to the back to get more. There was none to be found anywhere. Charlie booted the store room door open and fired an empty bottle of Cranberry juice across the bar into a wall.

"CRAAANNNNNBEERRRRRYYYYY!" Charlie yelled at the top of his lungs; like he was Brando in "A Street Car Named Desire." the bar stopped dead. I burst into a fit of laughter and the rest of the bar followed suite. The third bartender tried her best to avoid us, thoroughly convinced we had gone mad.

Someone started singing the tune to "Charles in Charge" and Charlie started to dance. To say Charlie is a bad dancer in to say Elaine from Seinfeld is an OK dancer. It's understatement (and this is coming from a deaf, white, Irish kid.) My fit of laughter continued. I was doubled over stomping my foot, tears streaming down my face. The third bartender hunkered herself down in fear one of our heads would explode and shower her in gray matter.

When I finally gained enough composure to wait on customers again I managed out a "HifriendwelcometothebarwhatcanIgetforyou?" Looks confusing eh? How do you think the poor bastard I said it to felt? He looked at me awkwardly before managing out a "What?"

"WhatcanIgetchabeerwinewhiskeybeerwhiskeybeertasteylibations?" He customer looked scared. "I uhm, can I, get me -- ugh --Beer?" I poured him a draft and snatched his cash. The customer didn't bother waiting for his change. I heard him tell his wife "That fuckin' kid's on something, let's get the hell out of here!" another customer asked if I just got back from skiing. I didn't catch it at the time. Smart ass. "Skiing? It's August? You're funny." I grabbed my coffee cup and pounded away. He figured it out real quick.

The moral of the story is, Caffeine is a horrible, horrible, mean nasty thing... I'm runnin' to Starbucks, anyone want anything?

Until next time... Don't drink anything I wouldn't...

Mark Croce to open a $19 million boutique hotel in Downtown Buffalo. The only catch? No one in Buffalo will ever be able to afford to stay there!

2009-09-25T02:30:00.001-04:00

I for one, am for development in Buffalo, any part of Buffalo, Downtown, West Side, South Buffalo, east side et cetera, et cetera. However, if you’re going to develop the city of Buffalo, why not have something that people in Buffalo can actually afford. And I don’t mean Buffalo’s small population of rich affluent people.

Mark Croce has made a living in Buffalo extorting business owners for parking spaces and college students for over priced parking when they are out drinking like well, college students.

But Mark Croce’s penultimate cash cow has been his over priced string of Franklin Street establishments. The Chop House being his center piece establishment. An establishment [which] for most Western New Yorker’s is a place they will never see the inside of.

Now, Mark Croce has finally come forward admitting (what we’ve all known for a while now) that despite saying otherwise in recent interviews, he will be opening a Four Diamond rated boutique hotel in Buffalo New York. You know, Buffalo, NY; the third poorest city in the country per capita. Croce has invested $19 million dollars into the project. Although it is not clear how much of that money belonged to Croce and how much of it was from different Federal, State and City grants.

Croce, who obviously didn’t graduate from the Russell Salvatore School of Business Ethics and Class, has decided to expand his Franklin Street conglomerate to include lodging. No doubt it will be built to the utmost standards. It will probably be over the top and laden with Italian Marble in the typical snobbish fashion.

Which brings me back to my point, Buffalo is the third poorest city in the country. Aside from Buffalo’s small populous of wealthy elite, visitors from Toronto, NYC or out of market sports teams in to play our local greats, who will be able to afford the inevitable gourmet restaurant, 20,000 foot banquet halls or the overly expensive rooms overnight or for an hour for that matter? And if you think it’s going to be reasonably priced, you’re probably to kind of person who would accept Kool-Aid from a man in Nike sneakers and purple robes…

For that matter where does Croce expect his guests to park? He doesn’t own any large lots close enough to the facility to house the expected traffic. And you know someone who can afford to stay the night at a Four Diamond hotel probably drives the kind of car which they won’t be to thrilled about parking on the street.

For this to work ideally, Croce would have to buy a string of buildings on Delaware Avenue which border his existing lot with entrances on Huron and Delaware. I know one person who will be pretty stubborn about selling their bar to help Croce out.

But, as much as I am against such a grand display of Mark’s wealth, persona and arrogance all to give him one more ego stroke, I am for development and jobs coming to a dismal Buffalo market. What can I say? At least he isn’t opening another parking lot… Yet…

Until next time Buffalo… Don’t drink anything I wouldn’t...
Mac The Bartender

The national media exploits isolated incidents to make Buffalo look foolish...

2009-09-21T14:56:00.010-04:00

"ESPN has become the Fox News of Sports, and Skip Bayless is their Bill O'Reilly"
--Charles Roberts

First Patrick Kane's infamous "Cabbie Incident" then T.O.'s innocuous comments, followed by McKelvin's front lawn and now Dante Whitner is missing $400,000 in jewelry... For a city with so much good going on the national media focuses on our stereotypes and isolated incidents to make us look so bad.

Anytime you hear about Buffalo inevitably, topics brought up include: chicken wings (yes CHICKEN WINGS not BUFFALO WINGS), our massive lake effect snow, the four lost Super Bowls or Niagara Falls (which is NOT in Buffalo, it's in NIAGARA FALLS!)...

Buffalo is made out to be a city full of low brow, middle class blue collar hicks who play hockey all year. Now I have to hear about how "dangerous"Buffalo is for an athlete to live in? Why? Because two dumb ass 16 year old kids spray painted McKelvin's lawn (which is NOT in Buffalo, it's in Hamburg) or because Dante Whitner's house was broken into and $400,000 worth of jewelery is stolen?

Who leaves $400,000 dollars of jewelery laying around? BUY A SAFE! I don't leave my $15 earrings laying around anywhere! The other comments have been about Leodis McKelvin pressing charges on the kids who spray painted his lawn. McKelvin didn't. the District Attorney did. So ESPN can stop with those comments as well.

And Regardless if McKelvin pressed charges or not, who cares? They defaced his property and were trespassing. They should be taught an important lesson early in life before they do something even more stupid. Like, I don't know? Stealing $400,000 worth of jewelry from Dante Whitner's home?

Now let's focus on T.O.'s innocuous comments from the end of the Monday Night Season Opener at Gillette. T.O. said in a nut shell

"There were some opportunities that we missed, and those are some of the things you’re talking about," Owens said. "It's always a work in progress, and Trent has to better assess what he’s seeing out there and take some shots down the field.

"We're going to do that, and by no means was that the reason that we lost the game. There were some opportunities and until the last five minutes, we had the game in the bag. That really wasn’t that case.

"Obviously, we didn’t utilize myself and Lee as much as we would like, but we still had the game won."

These were sentiments echoed by Buffalo's Quarterback Trent Edwards, Wide Receiver Lee Evans and Offensive Coordinator Alex Van Pelt.

Yet somehow everybody's agreement (including the national media and the Buffalo fans) on this statement is neglected by ESPN Mullet Enthusiast of the year Skip Bayless. He targeted T.O. and insisted that it was a return to the old days of Terrell Owens causing upheaval in the locker room.

Did I mention our Quarterback, other main Receiver and Coaching staff all agreed with Owens? If ESPN is the Fox News of sports, Skip Bayless is the Bill O'Reilly of the network, then Terrell Owens is the Democratic Party of the National Football League.

Now let's not forget the 75,000 or so screaming fans which stream to the stadium weekly to enjoy watching their local sports team, in good weather or our famous torrential weather, win, loss or draw. The hard working citizens of a small city who spend their "blue collar" money on one of the smallest markets in the league. The same people looking for a couple of hours of entertainment on a Sunday before they have to return to their jobs on Monday.

Seems like any other city to me? But like Always Buffalo is stereotyped as a city of losers. Isn't it about time the citizens of the area start to object? Don't get me wrong, I'm not calling T.O. a saint, but let's save the attacks on Owen's character for if and when it is actually appropriate.

John Lennon asked us all in 1969 to "Give peace a chance." I am asking fourty years later to "Give Buffalo some respect."

Until next time Buffalo... Don't drink anything I wouldn't...

Mac The Bartender

New York State sees a glimmer of hope. President Obama, urges Governor Paterson not to run for a second term.

2009-09-20T18:45:00.002-04:00

Anyone from New York is aware of the ongoing budgetary crisis, the looming tax situation and recent 27% tariffs levied on Beer and Wine sales in the State of New York which are buttoning up bars and restaurants as quickly as the smoking ban which hit the state in late 2003 and early 2004.

And anyone who follows politics is aware that there was already no love lost between President Obama and Governor Patterson due to the latter’s appointment of Kristen Gillibrand to Hillary Clinton’s former Senate seat rather than Obama supporter Caroline Kennedy. This was also not a big win with New York voters.

Governor Patterson took over for the embarrassed, Prostitute enthusiast, Elliot Spitzer in March 2008 after Spitzer was busted in conjunction with a statewide prostitution ring.

Since then Paterson, who has proven himself far too inexperienced for the job, has made one poor decision after another. In his first day in office he called for an “end to dysfunction in Albany.” He should have tendered his resignation that day and saved New York voters a lot of headaches and aggravation.

Patterson rushed his budget through the state senate which was spoon fed to the voters as a way to close the billions of dollars in budget gaps. The budget which was ultimately passed increased New York’s deficit by $1.4 billion in as little as ninety days.

In Patterson’s 2009 Budget he was able to close the budget to nearly 4.9 billion dollars at the expense of small business owners and higher taxes for the middle class. He also levied a 27% tariff on all alcohol and wine sales inside New York. The rising costs are causing consumers to spend less time at local watering holes and restaurants causing many to either cut staff or close all together.

The 2010 Budget is a mess as well. New Yorkers face a budget deficit of $15.1 million dollars and a state debt of $55 million. This is how Patterson proposes closing the gap:

 An "Obesity tax", which would add an extra tax of over 18% on all non diet soft drinks such as regular soda, and energy drinks (a tax for being fat)
 New 4% Taxes on digital music downloads, videos and pictures downloaded or the "I-tax"
 A tax increase on malt-flavored beverages, beer, and wine (a tax for drinking your NYS blues away)
 A 4% tax on taxi rides, car rentals and limousine services
 A tax on movie tickets (as if they aren’t expensive enough)
 A new 4% 'personal services tax' on haircuts, beauty salons, health club services, and weight loss programs (so now we tax people for trying NOT to be fat)
 A 4% tax placed on cable and satellite TV, pay per view movies
 Additional fees for fishing, and camping
 New fees on items ranging from boilers, to explosives, to jewelry, to sporting events
 A 4 percent sales tax on clothing and shoes under $500, except for two weeks out of the year
 Additional fees on automobile purchases, registration and driving fees.
 The Ravitch Commission recommendations, which include tolls on the city-owned East River and Harlem River bridges (which has never been done before), and levy an annual driver's tax based on vehicle weight

But what kills me is, once again tax payers suffer the brunt. I don’t see any pay cuts for State employees or elected officials. Benefit reductions for elected officials as us poor “peons” face skyrocketing and historically high health care costs. The rich get richer and fatter while we pick up the tab.

President Obama’s main concern is Patterson’s dwindling poll numbers which reflect poorly on the Democrats. This is fine by me, as it means we get one more Albatross out from around our necks, even if that wasn’t the intent.

Now if we could just find someone to run against Byron Brown… Is it too late for Mickey Kearns to file as an independent?

Until next time Buffalo… Don’t drink anything I wouldn’t…

Mac The Bartender

Brown wins election, Croce barricades another bar and Mac has had enough of it...

2009-09-18T15:20:00.009-04:00

I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore!

Byron Brown

On December 31, 2005 Buffalo Mayor Byron Brown was sworn into office. Since then it has been one allegation of corruption or abuse of power after another. Whether it is the "One Sunset Fiasco" the multiple FBI investigations or his, then, under age unlicensed son stealing his car and crashing it all over Buffalo.

Political pundits and the equally corrupted Buffalo News all argued that if Brown lost this year's Mayoral Primary Election to South Buffalo native Michael "Mickey" Kearns that it would be a return to the days of "Six Pack" Jimmy Griffin.

The guilt by association tactic used on Kearns, who is from the same neighborhood as Former Mayor Griffin, seems to have worked. What the Buffalo News failed to report and what the Political Pundits did not want the good people of Buffalo to realize is that most of the people who supported Griffin from South Buffalo, the people who received patronage jobs from Griffin, didn't want Kearns in office.

Why you may ask? Because all of the supporters and pundits from the Griffin days were all well taken care of with patronage jobs they received under the Brown administration.

Brown said that if Kearns was elected to office that he would divert money away from poorer neighborhoods on the East Side and reroute it to South Buffalo. Brown's administration has actually proven itself guilty of it's own slander. Brown's administration diverted money from the East Side of Buffalo and gave the Money to former NBA player Leonard Stokes to open up the failed "One Sunset" restaurant.

$90,000 of the $160,000 loaned by the City of Buffalo to Mr. Stokes has virtually disappeared according to City Hall's accountants.

Then as of to make matters worse for the already embattled Mayor, it is now being reported that when Stokes was found to have a stolen handicapped tag for his vehicle Brown allegedly got Stokes off the hook after Stokes was taken to Brown's office the day he was arrested. Brown as usual refuses to address this or any issue insisting it is just "dirty politics."

The Brown Administration is now also under fire for allegations of voter fraud by deciding to keep certain polling places open later than they were supposed to be. There are also allegations that voters in poor neighborhoods were being coerced into voting with offers of a free bag of groceries.

Local Buffalo developer Carl Paladino has also recently made allegations that the Brown Administration has been running a "pay to play" policy within their administration as well.

Mark Croce

Another source of a lot of Buffalo's problems lie with Mark Croce. The local restaurateur and parking lot conglomerate has done some fairly shady things over the years. Croce, who started his career as a Deli owner and allegedly lived out of his car at one point has made a big name for himself. He has also become too big for his britches. both literally and figuratively.

My first interaction with Mark Croce was in 2005 when My cousin opened a Bar on Pearl Street behind Shea's. Croce, who owns the parking lot which surrounds it immediately proved himself to be an uncontainable ball breaker. We were hassled about using the back door or parking by it momentarily to load or unload anything and constantly harassed by his staff.

Nine times out of ten the lot was unattended. This meant paying at a prepay terminal. However the terminal was constantly broken. Croce's company would actually print up official looking tickets and leave them on your window. First time $30, second time $60 and third time? Towed or booted.

The only problem with this is it is illegal for a private company to write parking citations. Only the the City of Buffalo has the authority to do this. Unfortunately for most people they do not realize this and assume it is a valid city parking ticket and insert a check or money order into the prepaid envelope which is sent to a P.O. box which Croce owns.

Unfortunately with the pay to play mentality which was mentioned before, the City of Buffalo: Parking Violations Bureau will not do anything to stop it. Although they do not advise paying them.

The final straw was the barricading of our aforementioned back door by Mark Croce, who insisted the bar staff were shooting fireworks at his lot attendants. The City sided with Croce and the Fire Marshall allowed the barricade and lowered our occupancy limit. Ultimately one of the reasons business began to decline.

Fast forward four years to present day. Croce has moved on from simple harassment to extortion. When Club W opened on Delaware, Croce's mouth piece for his parking endeavours came in and offered the owners a lease on four spots outside of the back door of the bar for $150 each a month. Not overly unreasonable. A little pricey but I have seen people get gouged worse. Within no time the price rose to $400 dollars a spot each and every month. Most bookies don't even charge a vig like that. Twenty thousand dollars a year for four parking spaces.

When the owners refused to be taken advantage of any longer and gave up the spots they were met with multiple visits from the Fire Marshall. To make matters worse Croce was back to his old tricks. Barricading doors. Occupancy went from somewhere in the neighborhood of 200 people to somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 people.

Croce has now focused his efforts on the new owners of Crocodile Bar. They as well were tired of being taken for an exorbitant amount of money for having their back door accessible. So Croce barricaded their back door as well.

Chris Wahl from Club W recently appeared on the evening news discussing the issues they were having with Croce. He can probably expect a visit from the Fire Marshall any day now. That aside though, it's about time someone stood up to Croce.

Mark Croce has endangered the lives of everyone in those establishments if there is ever an emergency such as a fire or an explosion. near the front doors. However Croce is unrepentant and unapologetic. He has even gone so far as to show up with Buffalo Police Officers at Club W threatening to press charges if the barricades are removed.

Croce, who owns the Buffalo Chophouse, D'arcy McGee's, Laughlin's and the Buckin' Buffalo, seems like he does not want competition or free enterprise in Buffalo. It appears he is happier just trying to be the only gig in town. well played Croce, oh, and I have news for you, The Chophouse sucks, Prime 490 or E.B. Greens makes a hell of a lot better steak for nearly half the price.

Until next time kids... Don't drink anything I wouldn't...

Mac The Bartender

Mac goes out with Johnny Hopkins. Hilarity ensues.

2009-08-31T22:09:00.004-04:00

The life I lead often puts me in the proverbial “right time, right place.” I happened to have one of these interesting evenings when I went out with one of my best friends after the Buffalo Irish Festival last Friday. Now let me start by saying, these “right place, right time” events are becoming fewer and fewer the more domesticated I become.

I started out the night simply enough drinking Guinness, listening to Irish Music, eating Lamb Stew and watching the Rince Na Tiarna Irish Dancers tear the roof off the event. I enjoyed it, as I do every year, with my Friend Johnny Hopkins. Per tradition (and Johnny’s insistence) we decided to go have a drink downtown at a bar my friend Billy works at. This is where the hilarity began.

Bada Bing is usually a fairly tame crowd. Everyone flocks there for their food, assortment of beer and whiskey and Billy’s wise ass remarks. We hung out on the patio and enjoyed the cool night air. This young Bartender (whom I’ve never met in my life) approached and asked what we needed.

“I need one thing, sweetie. I need you to go to Billy and tell him I want to arm wrestle him. She looked at me like I had three heads. I just smirked.

“Wait, you what?” I smiled again.

“Trust me, it’ll be worth it.” She walked away muttering something to herself and shook her head. I could see Billy’s face from where I was standing and he seemed pretty damned confused. He walked over and smiled when he saw who it was.

“You are fuckin’ dip shit.” Billy stammered out between chuckles. He knows our order without having to ask. We make some idle talk with Billy until I hear something which sounds vaguely familiar. It sounds like someone is getting thrown out of a bar. I make my way up to the patio gate when I see someone yelling at a cop who happened to be walking by when he was thrown out.

“Fuck these assholes!” the drunken mess screamed. I watched my friend Kyle who was working the door, he stayed pretty calm throughout. The cop was willing to let the kid walk away until he tried to swing. Then he was more inclined to have him assume the position.

All that the cop said was “Assume the position.” Right away you could tell something was off with this kid. He was breaking out into a cold sweat and his eyes were darting around like a teacher who just got pegged with a spitball.

He started to backpedal now. “Uh, just forget it, I’m sorry, I’ll get out of here.” He said trying to stand up.

“Too late” said the cop “now get your hands back on the front of the car.”

Now things became clear. The cop pulled bag after bag of cocaine out of the kid’s track jacket and pants pockets. BINGO! The kid reeled around without notice and head butted the cop. He tried to take off like a flash to the young cop's right. The officer grabbed him and was able to momentarily restrain him on the rear of another car.

The coke head again flailed his head forward at the officer who was by this time prepared for it. Captain train wreck hit the pavement face first and was in cuffs before any of us knew what happened.

A girl to my right asked what was going on. I explained how the kid had head butted the cop twice after they found six little baggies of cocaine on him in an effort to evade capture. The girl was mortified. She ran back to her group and began to tell them the story.

Again this kid jumped up and tried taking off, this time in cuffs. It didn’t work out too well for him. He again wound up on his face, this time with a knee on his neck. A drunker and slightly less entertaining man from the girls group ran up to the fence screaming that he had it all recorded on his phone.

“This is Police Brutality. You’re using excessive force! I have it all on camera!” I looked at him and laughed.

“Police Brutality my ass. He resisted arrest and assaulted an officer. He’s lucky he didn’t get tazed!” I said with a smile. Two and two finally clicked to four and I realized the girl who I told the story to was probably the drunk guy's girlfriend and the drunk guy was obviously the coke head's friend.

“Bull shit, they bounced him off of a car!” He snapped back.

“He’s lucky they didn’t bounce him off of a stun gun I said. He head butted a cop and had six bags of cocaine on him!” I said quickly.

“Fuck you asshole!” These guys must really like rectums. I mean seriously, everyone was an asshole to them.

I then began to count the baggies of coke sitting on the hood of the cruiser for him. “One, two, three, four, five” I paused, “oh wait, there’s lucky number SIX!” I said pointing them all out.

The girl approached us and began to intervene “Come on, it’s time to go.” She said calmly.

“Fuck that!” He said. “I’ll Channel 4 News! These, pigs can’t get away with this!”

More proof this buffoon was hammered. I'm pretty sure he meant to slur out "I'll send this to Channel 4 News, or I'll call Channel 4 News." but no, this drunken mook mumbles out "I'll Channel 4 News." Like he is going to psychicly channel a dead spirit named "4 News."

By this time we had a fairly good crowd around us, laughing at the amateur paparazi with the Blackberry. I turned around and saw the shift commander glaring from his Ford Explorer.

I could now do one of two things. Let this kid get himself locked up with his buddy (who by this point was trying to kick the windows out of the Police Cruiser from the inside) and laugh as they hauled him off to sleep it off in the drunk tank, and possibly get tagged with an accessory charge.

OR I could try and level with him, let him realize that he need to shut the fuck up and go home so he could bail his buddy out in the morning, without having to explain to his parents why they were both in jail when THEY had to com bail HIM out.

“Listen buddy, your girlfriend is right, why don’t you get out of here before you get yourself in trouble? That Lieutenant in the SUV isn’t very happy with you screaming words like ‘Pigs’ and ‘Excessive Force.’

"She's not my fucking girlfriend!" he screamed. Johnny, then as if to add insult to the drunk kid's already hurt pride, jumped in.

Oh, REALLY?" he said swooping in and putting his arm around the young lady's shoulder. She didn't have to say a word to let us now that she wasn't amused.

My advice, and Hopkin's failed pick up attempt were met with a hearty “Fuck you, ASSHOLES!” As the drunk kid stormed off the patio and confronted one of the officers. Sometimes there is just no saving people from themselves. I’m pretty sure he got hauled off too.

As this was all happening, the kid who owned the shitty early ‘90’s era Nissan the coke head was bounced off of came out of a bar across the street screaming about the dent in his rear fender. Johnny being the mouthy prick he is decided to fuck with the kid who owned the car.

“Dude, the dent is the least of your worries! The Passenger side rear fender and tail light assembly is held together with duct tape! Trust me no one is gonna notice the ass print before the duct tape!”

"But I didn't have this dent! Who's gonna pay for this!?"

Johnny tossed him a five dollars. "Get a bumper sticker and some more duct tape" He then tossed him five more "and some tampons you whiney bitch." Nissan boy walked away with his head down, defeated and verbally trounced.

When it was all said and done I walked up to Kyle at the door and inquired whether he was thrown out of Bada Bing or the neighboring bar Venue.”

Kyle looked as proud as a new kid with a bike. He smiled ear to ear as he proclaimed “Yeah, that’s right, I threw him out. Dick.” and lit up a smoke.

Just more proof that, Buffalo Native and Cocaine Enthusiast, Rick James was right. Apparently cocaine IS, in fact, one hell of a drug.

Until next time friends… Don’t drink anything I wouldn’t.

Mac The Bartender

Ray Flynn's Golden Dollar Bar and a memory of Tommy

2009-08-13T01:12:00.002-04:00

I often find my self seriously considering that I was born in the wrong era. The eighties and all of their self indulgent behavior, the nineties and all their grit and the two thousands and all of there alarming societal self destruction just don’t seem to fit in with my views on the way life should be led.

The thirties and all of it pre war speak easies, the forties and the beginning of the cocktail revolution and the Rat Pack era, hard drinking but classy days are where I belonged.

This was a time in the world when people like Humphrey Bogart exuded class and Lauren Bacall dripped with sexuality. Dean, Frank and Sammy tore up the charts (and a few nightclubs) with there cynicism, good looks, voices and whit. These my friends were the Golden Era of the Bar Industry. Martinis had taken over the world and Manhattans were closing in fast.

These were the Golden years of Ray Flynn’s Golden Dollar Bar.

Anyone who is privy to my previous blogs is aware what special and deep rooted memories I have of Tommy Flynn and his bar. Tommy Flynn was a gracious man with a big heart. His smile and personality were the essence of what the Hospitality Industry was built on. Tommy oozed class and charm. He was the nest Bartender I have known and the nicest man I have ever met.

One vivid memory I have from my youth of Tommy Flynn occurred in March of 1992. My Grandfather had passed away a year before and my family made their yearly pilgrimage to Ray Flynn’s. I missed my Grandfather, He and Tommy had a long standing friendship which went back to their youth.

I remember climbing a bar stool, which at the time seemed like an insurmountable tower. I was ordering a pop when Tommy came around the bar and smiled at me. I smiled back. I remember his crooked smile and his powder white hair.

I summed up all my enthusiasm and said “Hi Flynn!”

Tommy erupted with a fit of laughter as did half the people standing around. “Hi kid.” Tommy said with a smile. I remember looking at his big smile.

“You knew my Grandfather.” I said with the wide eyed innocence of a five year old child going on six. I remember feeling remorse; this was my first Parade without Popsi.

Tommy just smiled. “Yeah kid, I did, that’s right. He was one of the best men I ever met.” I remember getting my soda after that and going to open birthday presents. I remember seeing Tommy every year after that.

And then I remember the sorrow in Tommy Flynn’s sad eyes when he announced to the bar that he would be closing for good. It was 1999, I was 13 and it was the last time I ever saw Tommy Flynn.
I would be lying if I told you I made an overt effort to contact Tommy. I had many times considered it. But I never thought he would remember me, much less care to tell me stories about my Grandfather. Then I received a post on my blog. It was from Tommy’s daughter. She told me how much my memory of her father meant to her. My memory, that amused me. I described her father’s bar as a palace of peeling possibly toxic lead paint.

But then I stopped to consider her feelings of the place. To her, just like me, that broke down bar meant the world. She had glorified it as I had. It was truly a palace to us. The memories of family and friends and the time spent in that bar are what truly glorified it the most for everyone.

Then something stranger happened. Tommy’s daughter sent me an e-mail. Her father had passed away. Tommy Flynn was eighty years old. He had finally given his last toast. It was now time for him to walk around and take a seat on the stool, time for Tommy to finally rest. If there is a Gin Mill in the great beyond, I bet you it looks a lot like Ray Flynn’s Golden Dollar Bar.

The world could learn a lot from the charisma and charm of Tommy Flynn. We have truly lost a class act. Buffalo has truly lost a legend.

Cheers Tommy, this drink is for you.

Mac The Bartender

Local "Hero" Gives City (and Taxi Driver) Black Eye

2009-08-09T20:00:00.004-04:00

Buffalo, New York (especially my old neighborhood) went crazy when local hockey great Patrick Kane signed a 3 year contract in 2007 with the Chicago Blackhawks to a tune of $3.725 million (USD)a season(after bonuses of course.) Buffalo was elated, a local boy made good on his talents and would be able to show what a native of a small but hard working Western New York city could be capable of.

And make his hometown proud he did. Kane had his first goal and first shootout against another former Buffalo legend Dominik Hasek on October 4, 2007. Kane was named Rookie of the month in October, 2007 after scoring 5 goals and having 11 assists in twelve games.

The accolades continue, on December 15, 2007 Kane returned to Buffalo for a regular season game against the team he grew up watching, a sold out crowd of 18,500 cheering fans filled the arena with applause in a pre game ceremony welcoming Kane back to Buffalo. Although the Blackhawks lost, Kane scored the only Chicago goal in the 3-1 game.

An impressive career was in the making. Kane finished the 2008 season receiving the Calder Memorial Trophy which is dedicated to the league’s best rookie. Kane also helped take his team to the playoffs for the first time since 1995.

He finished his first two seasons with the NHL with 46 goals and 96 assists averaging him 71 points a season. It was also announced in May 2009 that Kane would be honored with gracing the cover of EA Sports’ NHL 10. It was also rumored that on Wednesday August 16, 2009 Kane was supposed to join the US Olympic team who are currently preparing for the up coming games.

However…

On August 9, 2009 it was announced that 20 year old Patrick Kane and his 21 year old cousin James Kane were arrested at five Sunday morning for Felony robbery, theft of services and criminal mischief.

Kane and his cousin caught a taxi from Buffalo’s bustling Chippewa District after what was presumably a long night of partying. The fare which they were charged was $13.80. This is where things get a little clouded. Kane allegedly gave the taxi driver fifteen dollars. The driver informed the young men he did not have twenty cents to give them as change and attempted give only a dollar of their $1.20 change back.

Not much is known about why twenty cents has led to the alleged altercation. But it is being reported by the Buffalo Police that the 62 year old cab driver was then physically assaulted by Kane and his cousin. The driver received minor cuts, broken glasses and possibly a broken nose.

No comment has been made by Kane’s agent or family and his team has only acknowledged that they are aware of the allegations against Kane and that they stand behind him fully.

Now let’s analyze the situation for a second. Patrick Kane, a twenty year old Multi Millionaire professional athlete and his twenty-one year cousin assault a senior citizen over twenty cents and is facing felony charges and Gary Bettman isn’t flying off the handle about this? All I can say is Kane better be glad he is a NHL player and not an NFL athlete. Roger Goodell would be throwing the proverbial (and possibly physical) book at him.

But in the end it will come down to what it usually does, a slap on the wrist, some public apology, some community service and an out of court settlement. Pampered athletes continue to reap the benefits of a broken and corrupt system which favors celebrities and the rich. Let’s face it; if this was you or I, we would be looking at some possibly serious punishment.

Until Next Time Kids…

Mac The Bartender

Anthony Bourdain in Buffalo

2009-07-27T20:00:00.003-04:00

Any who know me well understand I am a fanatical Anthony Bourdain and No Reservations fan. The fact that he is premiering his "Rust Belt" episode which puts itself deep into the heart of my hometown is amazing to say the least.

Buffalo, New York gets a bad wrap. We have horrible winters, lousy summers a half polluted lake, Canadians to the north of us and a football team which holds the record for being the losingest Super Bowl team in the history of the NFL. Our economy is depressed and the governmental leaders are to busy handing out patronage jobs to their friends and the "loyal supporters" (AKA Wallets) which put them in office. I mean Jesus Christ, our Mayor is being investigated by the FBI right now.

But there is a different side of Buffalo rarely discussed in the national spotlight. With everything that is wrong with our city there is so much that is inherently right.

Over the past several years we have become a gastronomic hub. Fantastic restaurants like Ditando's, The Left Bank, The Blackthorn, Doc Sullivan's and Tempo show that we are capable of so much more than the Buffalo Wing (by the way, we just call them wings around here…) or Beef on Weck. We have Five Star gourmet restaurants and Blue Collar pubs all which produce a quality of food which can not and will not be paralleled anywhere else. Come and try some of our pizza and tell me I’m wrong.

Our night life is a booming industry, Nightclubs and Local bars dot the landscape like trees in the wilderness. Chippewa District bars like Bada Bing, Crocodile Bar, Club W and Jack Devine's offer a diverse array of entertainment.

Allentown gets in on the action with Hardware, Brick Bar and the Old Pink.

You move on down to Elmwood and places like the Thirsty Buffalo, Nektar and Fahrety’s cater to a more mid twenties crowd. Any college Student will tell you Main Street by UB is the place to party when school is in session. Mojo’s and The Steer are always packed to the rafters.

In Buffalo, Bartenders are celebrities in their own right. You could speak with a multitude of people about our night life and names like Paul Hartel, Billy Domiani, Ben Bell or Vinny Demarco will instantly spark up fond memories of evenings you may not wholly remember.

Buffalo is built upon a proud heritage of hard working and hard playing people. We have rags to riches stories like Tucker Curtain (who although he may not be liked by all) is definitely and inspiration.

Buffalo has a history of being a “Blue Collar” town. The Steel Industry here helped work on the Manhattan Project and produced steel for a great deal of the infrastructure which this country is built on.

We are the largest "small town" in America. People inevitably grow to love the community around them. Why do you think most of our professional athletes stay or return here when they retire? Because we are an amazing place to live.

Jeremy Jacobs, the owner of Delaware North Companies Inc. is a Buffalo native. He headquarters his business on Main Street in Buffalo. He has enough money to spend his life in Antigua if he really wanted to, but chooses to stay here.

The Goo Goo Dolls could have forgotten about Buffalo when they made it big. However they chose to give back to their community. They have played free shows and yearly hold a free concert called Music is Art in Buffalo. Robby Takac, the bassist of the Goo Goo Dolls also opened a recording studio in Buffalo as a way to help give local entertainers opportunities and amenities which weren’t readily available to him when he started out.

I am not discounting the problems we have as well. Any place you will live will have short comings. But for once I am happy to finally see Buffalo put in the national spotlight for its merits rather than its athletes or demerits.

Cheers Buffalo.

Mac The Bartender

A real post! I swear, no teaser this time!

2009-07-21T22:49:00.002-04:00

Perhaps, just for a moment in time, I felt unsure of my career. I mean who HASN’T that happened to? I am a damn good Bartender, a fairly decent cook and an acceptable Restaurant Manager (at least that’s what I assume from the fact that I am still employed with a rather large company.)

But lately I just haven’t been into it as whole heartedly as I should. Maybe the corporate aspect of it is just not my style (Lord knows I’m more of a free thinker type) but it didn’t seem to be an issue before. I mean I have worked for the same company for nearly four and a half years now.

Maybe I am bored with the Front of House? I have been yearning to cook again and seeking out an opportunity to do so as much as possible in my free time. I toyed with the idea of opening a small (I mean very small) Pub. But with the economy the way it is and the lack of available funds for such an expensive undertaking I have kind of cast that aside for the time being.

Maybe I am sick of working in the same old boring place day in and day out. (Unlikely considering how interesting work has been lately.) What could the reason be then? I don’t know. I did a lot of thinking while I was on vacation at my family’s cottage. The best I came up with was that I was feeling sorry for myself (for what, I know not.)

Well relaxed and fairly reinvigorated I slapped myself into shape and shook off the doldrums. Sometimes I just get into a funk.

Good news arrived unexpectedly though. My brother will be state side on Friday and probably home shortly after that (for good this time.) I hope everyone knows what this means… Clams and beer, in not so moderate amounts and fishing every chance I get. It also means a week after he is home I will get smacked with a pretty nasty illness from burning myself at both ends. Oh well, it’ll be worth it.

Last week the misses and I went to the Mulberry (her favorite) for the first time in a while. Surprisingly enough they wouldn’t let us make a reservation. Apparently they only take them for groups of five or more. It was great to have a NICE meal with just her and I. It has been a while since we were out at a nice Restaurant.

As always my Friend JoJo from college was bartending. We made small talk while Ash and I waited for our table. From what I gathered from JoJo, between the rushes of customers assaulting the bar, she is doing well. We sat sharing stories of recent experiences over our drinks. Thankfully JoJo abstained from the shots she usually forces (if you believe that…) me to do. After about forty-five minutes the hostess let us know, it was time to eat.

I was disappointed to find they were out of their seafood bisque amongst other things. But when you go to a restaurant that makes their food fresh every day you have to expect it. My predictable significant other got her Lobster Ravioli (which I have to admit is amazing…) I ventured from my usuals of the Joe Shaw Rigatoni or Shrimp Fra Diavolo for a unique pasta dish I have never tried.

It was a spicy treat which consisted on Campanelle (a small trumpet shaped pasta) shrimp, cherry and bell peppers, Vidalia onions and what I can only figure was some type of Italian version of buerre blanc with a kick..

The shrimp were anything but (shrimps) they were decent sized (probably U-6) which I am not usually a fan of. They are very easy to over cook and have a tendancy of becoming very tough when they are. These, however, were fantastic and melted like butter.

As good as it was it made me want my favorite restaurant even more. Scarlet. Hint-Hint!

Anyways, if you have never been to Mulberry I suggest you go. The food is phenomenal and the prices are reasonable. If you go and settle on a boring spaghetti and Meatball, make sure you heed my advice. Do NOT order a second meatball. The Goddamned things are the size of a softball.

That’s all for now friends…

Until next time… Don’t drink anything I wouldn’t…

Mac The Bartender

P.S.

I have decided I am starting on my own book… It’s hopefully going to be like “Waiter Rant” met “Kitchen Confidential” and they settled down and had some kids and after their relationship got stale decided to have a threesome with “I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell” to shake things up a bit… Big shoes to step into I know, but I think I am fairly capable...

Mac The Bartender is now on Twitter...

2009-07-18T09:34:00.003-04:00

What a long month or so it's been, work on the house is crazy, but we're making huge progress, I haven't had a lot of time to do a blog in a while so here's a quick update, Work is the same as it ever was, always interesting but always fun.

My best friend (who may as well be my brother) will be in Texas Friday and will finally be done in that god forsaken sandbox overseas... Not much time for more today I'm afraid but after reading "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell" I have been reinvigorated to write...

More to come!

Mac The Bartender

www.Twitter.com/MacTheBartender (watch for the tweets!)

Trinity...

2009-06-07T00:58:00.001-04:00

For any who know me very well they know one of my favorite books is the novel Trinity by Leon Uris. It tells the story of the Larkin family from the fictional town of Ballytogue in Northern Ireland. It tells the story of a family who is constantly plagued by sorrow and misfortune. The death of close family members and friends, oppression of a people because of their religion or where they lived and the fierce pride one can still seem to find in themselves and their lives despite all of this have rung oddly true to me both when I first read it and as I live and breath today.

I have found through my life that nothing is easy. Despite what people may tell you everything worth having in life involves some form of struggle and pain. It takes work. Growing up where I did I had the interesting position of seeing people I knew and admittedly was very envious of get handed everything by their parents; and while my family did not live in abject poverty, I was aware at a young age that there were certain things in life I would have to live without.

This is not to say that I did not have things I probably didn’t need. I had toys as a child, quite a bit of them. I enjoyed fishing (which is not a cheap hobby.) But I knew that these things were a privilege. I did not ask for a new pole every year and didn’t own my first really nice pole until I was in the early part of twenty (at which point I was able to pay for it my self.)

But I never got that brand new beamer from Mommy and Daddy as the kids I went to school with did. I didn’t wear designer clothes growing up (and at this point in my life don’t have many “big name” labels in my closet. I won’t spend a hundred dollars on a pair of shoes and very rarely pay much more than that for a new suit (before tailoring…)

My first car was a 1994 Chevy Beretta that I got from a very good friend for free because he won a new one in a contest and I braved the sleet, wind and hail with him for four hours waiting to see if his key would be the one out of a hundred which unlocked the car.

We never took yearly, expensive vacations to exotic places like Cabo San Lucas or Disney (although I did get to go to Disney once as a small child.)

And while I do have some fairly nice, luxury items that I probably did not need (my Blackberry and my Canon Digital SLR being the chief culprits) and took a trip I probably could have lived without (Vegas in 2008) I have worked and toiled with the sweat of my back for them and none of them were handed to me.

It seems silly to me that in the day and age we live in that people with jobs (while approximately ten percent of our country is unemployed and a much higher percentage are trying to survive on minimum wage jobs which BARELY cover the gas to get to and from work every week) would have the nerve to bitch about their jobs. They should be thankful they even have them.

I find it humorous when the very small amount of people I still keep in contact with from High School who were handed everything by their parents tell me how hard their lives are now that their on their own. They never knew about the hefty costs associated with utilities and rent and vehicle payments and insurance, groceries, health insurance, clothing etc.

While their parents (a majority of which grew up without much themselves) probably thought they were helping their kids and giving them “everything they couldn’t have” when they were growing up; have done them a disservice. They didn’t prepare their offspring for the harsh realities of the real world. It saddens me that our populace is full of ill prepared Paris Hilton parodies.

Paris, France had someone like that once. They sent her to the Guillotine during the French Revolution. All she did was suggest the starving populace “-- eat cake.”

Despite everything though, I envy these people not. I look back on my youth with a smile rather than a sad expression. I am proud of what I have and what I have worked for. So what if I had to bust my ass for it? It has just allowed me to appreciate life that much more…

Until Next Time Kids… Don’t drink anything I wouldn't…

Mac The Bartender

A day in the wilderness...

2009-05-21T01:19:00.002-04:00

It's been a crazy few weeks...

Monday I decided to take a ride out to the Rez. I needed a little time to myself. Time to get away and time to clear my head and think. I tend to think best with a fishing pole in my hand.

On my drive out to the reservation I drove past where the Shamrock used to be. I smiled. It's been a very long time since I passed there. Although a Tim Hortons stands there now I still rememebr the times I spent visitng with my friend and mentor Jason. It was the first time in a long time I could think about him with with an air of amusement rather than a feeling of remorse.

I thought about the amazing chicken wings he made and the jokes he would send at me from over the bar. He was a good friend and I miss him a lot.

I have been rather nostalgic lately. I have spent a lot of time thinking about Big Jer. It's been 18 years since he died. I miss my Grandfather. I often wonder how different things could have been if he hadn't passed away. But as they say when it's your time it's your time.

I guess why I have been so nostalgic is because my life is drastically changing. I am about to move into a house with a young woman I care very deeply for. We may not have things perfect but I don't think it could get any better. Honestly I dont think I would want it to. It would probably turn out to be one hell of a dull life... :-D

I suppose these life changing events are what have really been putting me into this mind set and casuing me to re examine how my life has been led up until now. I haven't exactly been what one would call a model citizen. I have made my fair share of mistakes and done my fair share of "living life to the fullest."

I always thought I had a full and happy life. I had plenty of friends and always had money readily available. But it came with a price. I had punished my body and my spirit both physically and emotionally. I had pushed friends and family away in favor of leading the life I wanted to.

What I realize now is while I had plenty of "friends" I had very few FRIENDS. And while I had money to buy the nice things I wanted I was usually miserable (and for a period of time in college perpetually drunk.)

Now looking back on it I regret ever having done it. It distanced me from my family. My father in particular.

I have never really been particularly close with my father. We have a good relationship and I know I could go to him with anything. He would bend over backwards for me and I would do the same for him.

Despite this I have always felt an uncomfortable akwardness with my father. Like seeing an old friend for the first time in years and not knowing what to talk about. You see when I was young my father had to do what he had to do. He had to work second shift to support his family. Unfortunately it led to my father and I not being able to develop much of a close relationship with my father at times when I proably could have needed to the most. As I grew up I held this against him(real mature right?)

I understand now how foolish it was.

That is what I have come to realize as of late. That I always relaize my errors far too late. Fortunately I am learning to spot when I am making a bone headed move before I do it.

But whta can you do? Thus is human nature...

Until nextime... Don't drink anything I don't know how to make...

Mac The Bartender

What a Long, Strange Trip It's Been...

2009-04-25T23:52:00.004-04:00

Over the past six or so years I have spent my life working in the restaurant industry in some facet. Whether it be the horrible time I spent in child labor hell (fast food), the time I spent working for my cousin at small bars he owned, helping friends out from time to time at their establishments or working my current gig (both before and after the promotion.) It has been a life full of late nights and long hours.

I have made friends and lost them, loved and lusted and spent my time and money both foolishly and wisely. My life at no time has ever felt repetitive or droning. Given the instability of jobs and money in this industry I have always been left with an interesting story a fond memory or a humorous anecdote.

I have spent nights that turned into mornings partying with friends and attempting to preserve the feelings of enjoyment for as long as possible. The smiles and the laughs fading long after the sun has risen. I tried with all of my energy to postpone the inevitable loss of my misspent youth.

I have dropped in and out of college changing my major four or five times hoping to find that "Ah Ha" moment. Trying to find the thing that would elevate me from my proletariat servitude lifestyle. The career that would lead me to my fortune and eventual fame, every single time to no avail.

I remember impassioned arguments with my father about how I lead my life. It was so bad at one point that my father asked me (unfortunately inebriated at the time and in front of his family) when I would "Get a real job and stop my daydreaming." It was a crushing death blow to my morale which I would not soon recover from. It took nearly six months from that day for my father to come to a party I had planned for The Bar for me to feel a revived sense of pride in what I do.

My father for the better portion of my career spent his life looking down on what I did. Probably due to the sophomoric and immature lifestyle my older cousin leads. My cousin who happened to have made a lot of the same mistakes I had. I think my father's fear was that I would wind up a lonely, depressed fool living "one step ahead of the law."

I had not given my parents much to be proud of in my life. I was a horrible student; I was disinterested and bored with school. I slacked my way through life living off of the cuff of my sleeve. I was nearly thrown out of school numerous times. I was almost arrested at one private school for all of the trouble I caused. I didn't graduate with the rest of my High School class and stopped showing up to summer school which almost caused me to not receive a High School Diploma.

My father never had to apologize to me for what he said (all though he had numerous times, he knew I was hurt and embarrassed.) I understood his frustration. I knew where it had come from and what caused it. I knew the fear he had of me losing grip on my life.

All it took was my father uttering a few words to me upon attending the party for me to realize the amount of love my father had for me.

"You know, you should be proud. You are pretty good at what you do." He said to me with a look I had not oft been privileged enough to see. It was a look of pride and admiration. I realized that day that my father was less worried about me winding up like my cousin and more worried about me winding up like him.

My father is an "uneducated" man who spent his life working two and three jobs at a time to try and keep my sister and I living the life he couldn't. Between working in as a Print Pressman and cleaning banks and department stores, my father got very little rest. Both he and my mother had it tough growing up and both he and my mother had to struggle for everything they have. I watched them nearly lose everything they had numerous times to make sure my sister and I were comfortable. We never went to bed hungry, although I'm sure on more than one occasion they did, just to ensure we didn't have to.

My parents went without a lot to make sure we had everything we need. Looking back on my life now I am amazed and bewildered on how they were able to stand by and watch my live the life I did and not strangle me. I never would have had the patience to deal with me.

It took me until the age of 23 to realize how much of my life and talent I squandered on foolish endeavors. And while I haven't completely changed my lifestyle I have definitely moved to make it head in a better direction. I may not have grown up having everything I wanted but I damn sure had everything I needed.

I, like my father, have worked for almost everything I now have. I admire my father for everything he has done for me and my sister. The insurmountable odds both he and my mother overcame have taught me a lot. He taught me that no amount of money can make me a more whole and complete person and that it is better to work hard for everything you have rather then have it handed to you. That has been the best lesson I have learned to date. No college course or text book could teach me that...

Here's to you Dad... Cheers...

Mac The Bartender

Fond Memories of an Old Friend

2009-03-24T21:40:00.000-04:00

When I started in this business it was supposed to be a part time job until I could get through college and move onto something which had more stability and paid the bills. I wouldn't have imagined seven years later I would have gone from assistant to my cousin to promotions manager on to bar back through bartender and manager in little bars to a manager for one of the biggest privately owned companies in the world.

Along that road I have met a lot of people. A lot. Some have mattered and done more for me than others. There have been class acts and a few less than reputable. There is one person who sticks with me the most though. Although I only worked with Jason for around a year he has had an immeasurable effect on my life. He was the Doug Coughlin to my Brian Flannigan. (More on the cocktail reference later...)

When I started at The Bar I was nothing more than a wet behind the ears kid looking to make a few extra bucks and get a little more experience so I could move to the neon light capital of Buffalo NY, Chippewa. I remember the first time I met Jason as if it were yesterday. I was 18 years old and a few days short of my nineteenth birthday. I arrived to my first day of work unsure of what I had gotten myself into. I met with the HR woman and was issued my uniform and badge. Jason walked into the "cube city" with a smile that could light up a room.

We were introduced and my nervous anxiety subsided into an unusual comfort. Jason looked me up and down and smiled.

"I think he'll be just fine." He said with what I would grow to know as his characteristic smirk. On the walk to the bank to get my drawer we talked. I explained that the most experience I had was anything and coke, shots of anything straight and whatever bottled beer I could find in the cooler. Jason just smiled. "We'll make a bartender out of you yet." I laughed anxiously and was sent to work. After a week of training (and catching on remarkably quick) I was scheduled to work with the senior bartender. Jason approached me that afternoon when I arrived to give me some advice.

"Don't let her walk all over you. Kay has a way of chewing new people up and spitting them out. “Jason paused for a moment "In fact, she hasn't let a new bartender leave without a verbal tongue lashing and tricking them into closing for her yet." I grimaced; scared about working with someone who would probably run circles around me. Jason let me know that if I survived he would be at Mamoser's in Hamburg and I'd rate a beer on him. He left and wished me good luck.

The night flew. Kay turned out to be a pretty cool chick. She was patient and calm. The end of the night came and went. We retired to the back of the building for a smoke and got to talking. I explained how nervous I was and how scared I was of catching a new ass hole. I remarked that Jason must have been pulling my chain.

"The hell he was man, I'm a bitch!" I just looked at her a blinked. "But for some reason I like you. Probably because you remind me of Jason." She smiled and slapped me on the back "Good game kid." I smiled.

"Thanks..." I said a little unsure how to take it. After I mopped I went to collect my bounty. There was an ice cold Blue Light with my name on it. Jason was admittedly astonished by my story and smiled when I told him what Kay said.

Months went by and Jason took me under his wing teaching me everything I (up to that point) know. I was thankful for the lessons. On the weekends I would drive to the Shamrock in Angola and eat the most amazing wings ever. Jason would be behind the bar holding court. There was something charismatic about him. There were very few people who didn't like him. During one of my many trips to the Shamrock I got to talking with Jason about my new favorite movie. Cocktail. Jason and I about it and within a week I had two copies in my mail box. One for me and one for Jason.

The day I gave it to him I remember a remark he made that day. It haunts me to this day.

"Enjoy pal!" I said tossing it to him. "I hope you choke on it." we both laughed

"I will Irish." Jason smiled.

"The movie kind of reminds me of you. You're like the Doug Coughlin to my Brian Flannigan, except you aren’t' lucky enough to be Irish."

"And I don't plan on meeting that fatal ending they have when the movie is over." We both laughed.

A few weeks later I woke up to my house phone and cell phone ringing off the hook. I was at Bada Bing for the tenth anniversary bash the night before and my head was about twelve sizes too big. I picked up with a fervor, noticing it was one of my friends.

"What the fuck do you want? I've got a hang over the size of the ages."

"Mac, I got some bad news." I sat up, my friend sounded pretty upset. "Jay got in a car wreck last night. he's in ECMC and they don't know if he's gonna make it." I ran to the bathroom and threw up. I remember crying and not much else. I don't remember showering or driving to work. The next thing I clearly remember is flying around the bar on over drive. It was a race night.

Work was a daze that day. At around eleven o'clock the General Manager and the Assistant GM came up to the bar. I knew it was over. Jason had died. We kicked everyone out and closed. We all piled into a couple of cars and proceeded to drink the night away.

I floated through life until the funeral. It was hard. I had seen kid's I went to school with die and watched family die. But this was different. I couldn't comprehend it. I watched everyone listlessly float through the next few weeks.

Jason and I were in the midst of planning a party for the bar when he died. I went to my manager and the GM and told them I still wanted to go through with it. I told them I would finish the plans, make the flyers and do everything else. We printed a poster of Jason and put it up that day. His whole family showed. It was the closure a lot of us needed.

There still isn't a day that goes by where I don't think of Jason. It's hard. I miss my friend and wonder what would have happened if he hadn't been in the accident. But these are questions I try not to think of. Better to remember the times I had with my friend than mourn the times I didn't.

Here's to you Jay, I'll be sure I have a Tanqueray for you. Cheers...

Until next time friends... Don’t drink anything I don't know how to make...

Mac The Bartender

The Parade...

2009-03-16T17:33:00.000-04:00

So I survived another year. We all did. The insanity I would face was clear as soon as my car rolled onto Delaware Avenue. Hordes of drunken idiots with backpacks full of beer. Had it not been for missing my family I would have probably thanked having to work. I should probably apologize to my boss at my real job. He didn't deserve to have to deal with all the whining I did on Sunday before I went to work downtown. But I digress.

Trying to park was insane as always. I only had to park four blocks away this year... A personal best. My walk down to the bar was calm and serene. The noise of Irish music and those big green horns street vendors sell filled the air. Head down; I walked through the streets taking my time and watching people as they partied. They were juiced and prime real estate for a lucky slob like me waiting to take their cash hand over fist. I wanted to have to bring a dump truck in to haul my loot away.

I walked up to the Club and stared in amazement. The line was six or seven people wide and streaming down the street to get in. I had an uneasy feeling the first few hours were not going to be fun. I pushed my way through the mass of people, hundreds of them all here to see Jackdaw and drink their faces off. Works for me... I duck under the lifting section of the bar and jumped to work. The bar was so busy, we weren’t even ringing if we didn’t have to. Know the change? NO SALE the drawer and give them their change. We'll do an open liquor charge for whatever is extra in the drawer later.

About fifteen laps in and I realize the bar is slowly drowning. There are too many people and I'm starting to lose my cool. I start to retaliate at the angry drunken idiots.

Snap your fingers at me? Back of the line.

Get an attitude with me? Back of the line.

Don't know what you want, after you spend twenty minutes screaming for me?

Fuck you, get out!

A woman starts screaming at me and pounding on the bar top.

"Are you fucking serious? Hurry the fuck up!" I shoot her my thousand yard Vietnam stare and drop everything I am doing.

"Listen you needy fuck, there are 300 people jamming cash in my face for a drink and you just walked in. So shut the fuck up and wait." I get a round of applause and a few shocked looks from the people around her. I don't care, that type of self entitlement people carry around with them seriously pisses me off.

"Fuck this I'm leaving!" She screams.

"Good, one less asshole in the bar to deal with." I retort.

I'm in the weeds and now I'm yelling at drunken people. This isn’t a good combination. All of a sudden I see a face that calms me down. It's Rick and he's offering to help. He jumps back and goes nuts.

You see, Rick is an old friend. He owns the Electric Avenue, a bar just north of the Central Library. He's a great bartender. He's fast, he's funny and he just doesn’t give a shit.

Now it's Nick, Travis, Rick and Me all working out of the same drawer. I have this new kid, Matt, that I had seen hanging around the Club backing us up running beer, liquor, ice and change. Matt saved my ass. Now I kind of feel bad for making fun of him for teaching himself Java or C++ or something gay like that. Kind of... Time seems to be zipping by. It seems like I just got here and it's already 7:00. Three hours gone in a flash.

I keep running by this guy who looks like a mix of Jim Henson and Quai Gon Jinn from Star Wars... Weird thing is I'm pretty sure I know him. He stops Rick and me and offers to buy us a shot. This guy has already tipped me nearly twenty bucks and given me a pile of pens to use for credit cards. We graciously accept. I could use one right now, it'd probably calm my nerves. I realize this guy is my friend's boss and the Bar Manager at The Left Bank. No wonder he is so friendly. He knows what it's like.

Jackdaw finishes up and the bar thins out a little. Rick rolls over the top of my bar and gives me the finger.

"Fuck off, I quit!" He screams in usual fashion. He smiles and starts hitting on some woman (who bears a striking resemblance to the less two famous girls from Destiny's Child) who was standing next to him. They are making out before I even have a chance to reply. I smile, he saved my ass today and I owe him big.

We start rotating breaks. When it's my turn I stumble out into the warm sunlight. Trav runs and picks us up some hot dogs. Mine are gone before my body had a chance to know they were in my hands. Still not enough. I'm starving. Thank God there are donuts in the office. Back to the grind.

My feet are throbbing. At this point I'm on ten solid hours of work. I'm lucky I have such a solid team behind me... Michael Bly band starts playing and my family shows up. They are all annihilated. I go and snag my big fancy camera from downstairs and snap off some shots of my drunk, dumb family. Blackmail. My family drinks and parties until I call my father to come pick them up. Being sober and watching this I realize why he doesn't come down anymore.

Don't get me wrong. I loved seeing them, it's been too long. But I just don’t have time to play personal bartender for my mom and her family. The bar is still moderately busy and I'm looking to start cutting staff and cleaning. No need for seven bartenders right now. Laura, Mike, Jenna and some new kid who busted his ass are all cut. Laura because she's wasted and acting like an idiot. Mike and Jenna are pretty much playing grab ass and that new kid busted his ass so hard he can't feel his feet.

I ask Jenna to sweep up a little before she leaves and she bitches about Nick pulling her drawer and sending her home. Long story short, she didn’t help with any of the cleaning.

Staples is out shortly after. I still can't get over how much he looks like my friend Charlie. It's fucking uncanny. Even my girlfriend thinks he is somehow cloned or a bastard of one of Charlie's parents. I opt to keep Lisa, Jamie and Matt (who has sworn up and down that after he finishes his current task he is leaving, but just finds something else to do and keeps working.)

Sully shows up talking with an Irish Brogue. Obviously Quote had a good day. I pour shots for his friends and my remaining staff. We shoot the breeze talking about how great it was today and how much the weather helped. We make plans for Tuesday and part ways. I sell a couple more shirts and finally turn up the house lights and call it. It's been a long day and I just want to find a hot dog vendor and a cold beer. Rick shows back up and we all pile into vehicles in search of somewhere that is going to be open this late. We luck out at Staples on Allen. Chris is falling asleep (literally) at the bar. We finish our beers and decide to call it a night.

My bed could not have come soon enough. I passed out somewhere around 5:00 this morning and didn't move for a solid nine hours. I needed it. I iced a few calls and laid around for a little while before returning them. Brian called from work. He is swamped with payroll and the Bar is busy. Guess I'm going in early... Back to the grind... What can I say; I love what I do...

Until next time... Don't do anything I wouldn't...

Mac The Bartender

Workplace Drama...

2009-02-21T10:51:00.000-05:00

A term that puts any good restaurant manager or chef into a catatonic state of fear. Unfortunately, it is a tool used by half assed managers and manipulative staff to get them whatever they want. The downfall of this is that the customer, ultimately, is the one who pays the heaviest price.

After a long and rather arduous day I decided to retire with a little breakfast in my belly. Given the hours I work and the limited selection of decent dining establishments in the area open at said hour, I despondently headed to Denny's. Also known as the place where food goes to die.

The night manager parked sullenly at the terminal, glared as I walked in. I approached asking to place a to-go order. I was greeted with a "yeah, what do you want." very unapologetically unenthusiastic. I can understand, believe me I can! Working late hours and dealing with drunks is not the most pleasant job on the face of the earth. Trust me sweet heart, I know what it's like far better than you probably ever will.

I order up my Super Bird with hash browns. As I'm doing so, the line cook comes to ask for keys to the office, or supply closet or washroom, who knows. The manager doesn't so much as dignify her employee with a response of any type other than to reach in her pocket and hotly throw the keys at her. Despondent and probably fairly embarrassed the poor girl walks away. I was amazed; I honestly couldn't believe it could get any worse for the poor girl.

Just as those words crossed the threshold of my subconscious I'm smacked with a surprise. The over night waiter, a tall portly fellow with poor skin and hair that screams "I love you Conner Oberst!" walks up to the manager giggling like John Waters at a wig convention. The manager and the waiter begin to laugh about how stupid the cook is. She didn't know which key was the one she needed. The cook, probably too embarrassed from having keys thrown in her face in the first place, asked the server if he could help her.

The server in turn saunters over to the manager, in the process of ringing up my meal, and they proceed to lay down a verbal lashing geared towards this poor girl, stating how dumb she is and how they hate her and she must be a retard et cetera et cetera et cetera.

I stood by in horror and slightly bewildered amusement at just how dumb this pair is. To stand by and verbally abuse this poor girl in front of customers was just plain rude.

Much to my dismay I realize I know the server. I went to high school with him. He was an odd kid, who used to drive a hearse to school, wear a powder blue tuxedo he bought at Goodwill, dress up like a woman and take pictures of himself in a coffin. A kid, who through four years of school was beat up, verbally abused, spit on and generally named whipping boy of the graduating class. Someone who has been through everything this kid has, all the abuse he suffered at the hands of his tormentors to turn around and start acting like this to anyone else was amazing. His Calligula-esque transformation from tormented abusee to tormenting abuser made me sick to my stomach.

I couldn't stand being there another second, my skin felt slimy and used. Kind of like the girl who wakes up after a frat party in bed with two guys... I felt like I needed to go home and scrub every inch of my skin with hot water and a brillo pad. My food came up and I bolted before I started to run my mouth and eventually had the cops called on me. I couldn't stand to listen any longer. Knowing what that kid went through and then watching him do it to someone else was just wrong.

Much to my dismay I awoke at 7:30 in the morning. If that wasn’t bad enough, there was a racking, awful, pain in my gut. Doubled over, praying death would come expeditiously and without hesitation, I kick myself for ordering Denny’s. I finally yacked about an hour or so later. I suppose it was Karma biting me in the ass for not intervening last night. I called the General Manager about an hour later and explained the situation.

Flabbergasted by what I told him, the General Manager tried one of my favorite tricks, the old gift certificate bribe. I told him to cram the gift certificates and that I wouldn't be back. He tried explaining the behavior away. I just laughed.

"You're unbelievable" I said. "I run a restaurant not too far from yours. I would fire myself if I ever did that to one of my employees, and if one of my staff tried pulling that shit with me about a coworker I would have canned there asses right there."

The manager gulps hard. Now that he realizes I'm not some late night grifter looking to get a free meal out of him, his attitude changes substantially.

"I'm so sorry," he says "what was your name again; I'd really like to send you a gift certificate or something."

"I didn't offer it" I replied "and I really don’t want your gift certificate. I just want you to know what the mice are doing while the cat is away." I smile to myself, stupid analogy I know.

The manager apologizes again and hangs up... I know nothing is going to happen to the manager or the waiter, and that the poor waiter will catch so much shit she'll either quit or be fired for a bull shit reason, but somehow my conscience feels clearer, fresher. I know nothing will change, but at least I made the effort.

a Nostalgic Rememberance...

2009-02-17T00:39:00.000-05:00

As a young child I would revel in the days where I didn’t have to attend school. I like most children would rather be out playing games of cops and robbers, or walking to the store with my grandfather to buy candy. Unlike most small children I would also look forward to going to the bar with my grandfather after the playground.

You see where and when I was a child growing up this was not something unusual. At least for my family it wasn’t. My grandfather, Jerome Patrick McGloin (or Patrick Andrew McGloin as he was named at birth) was an honest man. He was six foot four inches tall and had the longest lankiest fingers I had ever seen up until I saw the movie E.T. for the first time. He was a kind and gentle man, furiously protective of his family and heritage. He was the stereotype of his generation, blue collar laborer, who worked as a master pipe fitter at General Motors for the better part of his adult life.

His big lanky hands were strong, calloused and rough. I can still to this day remember the feel of them as he held my hand and walked me through the streets of South Buffalo. His glossy polished black shoes, his ferociously creased Levi Strauss blue jeans, his Notre Dame button up sweater and his Magee of Donegal tweed had were all meticulously cared for. He was a strong hearted man who was fiercely intelligent. He read the news paper everyday from front to back, reading every story in between. He was active in the local UAW and had more friends than one could care to imagine.

My grandfather was also trapped, like so many of our family before and after him in the oppressive dusk of addiction. But at the ripe old age of four I was too young to realize that I didn’t belong in a bar with a highly intoxicated family member. Being young and impressionable, hearing the stories and laughter of my grandfather and all of the other old men in the bar at eleven in the morning, I fell in love with these places. The dilapidated smell of cigarette stained ceiling tiles and the stale odor of warm, flat, draft beer which permeated out of the drain were beautiful things to me.

When I was with Popsi (which is what we called my grandfather, due to his insistence that he was too young to be a grandfather) I had full reign of the place. I could have all of the pop and chips I wanted, play darts, pool (both off of a chair I had to pull over so I could see of course) and the juke box as much as I wanted. My grandfather would sit me on his knee and show everyone how smart I was. He would pull out his wallet and pocket change and would have me name every president on every note and coin.

We would take our pilgrimages all over and whenever we could. Stankey’s on Dash and Abbott, Hopper’s Rush Inn on Seneca and Kamper and my grandfather’s favorite, The Melrose on Seneca and Melrose.

My grandfather, with the fresh smell of Old Grandad and OV Splits on his breath, would dress me and get me ready for our day. We’d eat breakfast and take a walk up to the corner store. From there it was the playground on Mineral Springs and after that off to whatever tavern he could take me. I enjoyed these days and relished in these moments. But like all good things, it had to come to an end.

In 1991 my Grandfather finally had succumb to a life of hard drinking. Looking back on it now, and being as young as I was, I don’t think I ever really was able to really grieve his loss. I also never was able to fully comprehend the unhealthy side of something that seemed so innocent to me at the time.

My family had a tradition which was far older than my self. My grandfather would take his six children, himself and his wife to meet the rest of his family Ray Flynn’s on Main Street and Virginia Street for the Saint Patrick’s Day Parade. To give you an idea of how long ago my family started this tradition, the Saint Patrick’s Day parade route was moved off of Main Street in 1981 so the route could accommodate a larger number of spectators.

Ray Flynn’s was known for almost fifty years as a “newspaper bar." Much of their business and many of their regulars came from the Morning Courier-Express, a Buffalo news paper which ran from 1926 until 1982. Ray Flynn’s stayed in business (much to the chagrin and amazement of his Main Street competitors) for another eighteen years, becoming quickly adopted by the theatre crowd.

As a child and through to my early teens I relished in the yearly adventure to Ray Flynn’s. I can picture the bar in my head as if it were right in front of me. It's giant hand laid brick facade, with its fading hand painted Coca Cola advertisement on the outisde wall. Only the "YN" in the neon sign which at one point illuminated Ray Flynn's in neon red still functioned. The inside showed the wear and tear of a bar which had spanned three generations of Buffalonians and was in desperate need of a few coats of paint.

The walls and ceiling tiles were stained an off yellow from years of billowing cigarette smoke. The restrooms were crude at best. Cast iron toilets which had probably been there since it opened in 1933 were firmly bolted to the cement floor and peeling paint which probably contained lethal ammounts of lead peeled from the walls, falling like snowfloakes to the floor.

To me, it was a palace and probably would be to this day; had It lived long enough for me to enjoy as an adult.

“Our” spot in the bar was right in front of the glass block window along Main Street.

I remember having piles of candy and popcorn, pitchers of soda and more importantly my birthday gifts from my family heaped around our table. The juke box was full of Celtic Ballads and big band music, and my family and I would spend hours monopolizing the pinball machine and the shuffleboard bowling machine. I remember Tommy Flynn, the owner of the establishment being there through much of my youth.

My grandfather grew up with Tommy Flynn, they had seen presidents, mayors, wars and recessions come and go. They had been life long friends.

In 1999 when they announced that Flynn's would be closing, we spent our final Saint Patrick’s Day at Ray Flynn’s Golden Dollar Bar. It was an upsetting and happily nostalgic experience all at once. I realized that at this point in my life that things would irrepairably change forever.

Having moved out of South Buffalo as a child, I had seen the playground I spent many a day enjoying with my grandfather leveled and rebuilt. The legendary Melrose razed to the ground only to have a Rite Aid built in it’s stead, I knew that the last tangible elements I had which would bring up happier times and evoke nostalgic memories of my earlier and far simpler life, were gone.

Any physical connection to my grandfather were now nothing more than a over glorified image in my mind. All that I was left with were photographs and distant memories.

Trips to the Saint Patrick’s Day parade continued, and I have only missed one in the 22 years of my life. Braving cold, snow storms and rain I have stood in front of the old Knights of Columbus on Delaware and Virginia, with my family and friends. Graduating from pitchers of soda to coolers of beer has been like a right of passage.

We met years after at Buffalo's oldest bar, Ulrich’s Tavern on Ellicott and Virginia a few short blocks away from where Ray flynns once stood.

Ray Flynn’s, which shortly after it closed, was turned into a parking lot for the Buffalo Catholic Diocese.

Walking down Virginia Street every year I stop and gaze in awestruck amazement that a seemingly important time of my life was destroyed and paved over. I ponder how such a piece of history, a former speakeasy during prohibition with such a long and rich history that spanned sixty-six years could disappear just like that.

Although my family still partakes in the parade every year it just doesn’t seem the same. In the years after Flynn’s demise we bounced from Ulrich’s to D’Arcy McGee’s to McCarthy’s Bar and Grill on Pearl street. Finally settling upon not having any of us meet at any set place but our collective corner from which we gaze admirably at the people who walk the parade rout every year. Out of town family who would come home religiously seemed to have moved on, coming more sporadically now as their lives become busier and more hectic.

Something that would be an all day event starting at ten in the morning Sunday and ending in the early hours of Monday has seemingly disappeared. As my aunts and uncles have children and jobs to worry about the next morning. Becoming too old to really party as they had in their more lively days. I have become victim to that plague as well, usually taking a time when I would party and whoop it up with the best, now usually resigned to my place behind the bar once the parade has ended.

I’m reminded of a lyric in the Bob Dylan song “Restless Farewell” based on a traditional Irish Ballad called “The Parting Glass” that seems to sum up my life and that of the friends, family and places closest to me.

“…But the bottles are done, we’ve killed each one and the tables full and overflowed, and the corner sign, says it closing time, so I’ll bid farewell and be down the road…”

Maybe with time and for the benefit my quickly growing niece I can begin to rebuild those traditions and memories. But until I can I will reflect softly in those quiet moments, on a time in my life before the pressure of bills and the worries of the life I lead. Until that time, I will pray that I can be half the man my grandfather was. And finally, until that time, ensure I treat every day with the reverence and respect it deserves, because you never know when it will drastically and radically change forever.

Until next time my friends… Don’t drink anything I wouldn’t…

Mac the Bartender

Russell's Steaks, Chops & More

2009-02-09T14:54:00.001-05:00

Steak. Nothing makes modern man's mouth water quite as much. A perfectly cooked blood red steak with a beautiful charbroil on it. Juicy, succulent and vibrantly tasteful. Now one would presume with a name like Russell's Steaks, Chops & more that you would be more than satisfied here. You would be correct my friends.

The restaurant is decorated in a modern twist on the 1940's supper club. Dark cherry wood works it's way around the elegant dining rooms, reds and whites in different splashes and blue accent lighting in the recessed ceiling. Red velvet drapes adorn the wall and the areas around the view out booths inset into the walls, which over look the room. Modern art seemingly hovers on the walls.

An experience which trust me, was an unexpected departure from Salvatore's former over the top establishments.

Over the top? Yes.

Russell Salvatore over the over the top? No.

The elegant interior of the lobby, Bar room and Dining room reminded me much of the Wynn in Las Vegas. Reminiscent of Harry's Bar in Venice or a modern Tuscan villa. The ambiance set by the low lighting along with the dark woodwork and wrought iron railings were unbelievable. Mark Croce will have a run for his money at the Chophouse.

The large leather menus feel heavy in the hand. Inside were some exciting possibilities for my gastronomical delight. We began as one usually would with an appetizer. It was a toss up between Oysters on the Half Shell and Fried Calamari. As it often times usually happens the Fried Calamari won out.

I have had the pleasant experience of having Calamari in numerous places. However it has never been cooked as delicately and perfect as this. Fried Calamari is a difficult thing to cook. You see squid cooks like pasta. It continues to cook even after being removed from the heat. Normally one would submerge cooked squid into an ice bath to arrest the cooking process, preventing it from becoming rubbery and tough. Hard to do when you deep fry and bread something. Mmmm soggy bread... you get the point...

This however was something magnificent and soft. The squid melted like butter in my mouth. Touched with a squeeze of lemon and one of our two sauces it made for a wonderful treat. The remoulade was your standard variety but the red sauce was something different. The diavolo sauce let me know that my mouth would be in a for a nice spicy kick. It was a nice departure from the typical marinara you see served as a garnish.

A nice airy crusty Italian bread arrived next with offerings of roasted garlic, fresh whipped cream butter and a home made whipped honey butter. The bread was airy and soft but the crust was unfortunately too hard making it difficult and at times painful to eat.

Our servers (and trust me there was an army of them) rushed around silently like stealthy assassins. Refilling glasses seemingly every time we took a sip.

The Caesar salads arrived next. Fresh romaine hearts tossed in what tasted to be nothing more than mayonnaise. A lone crouton hid beneath my bed of greens and fresh grated parmigiana with two very fresh very sweet cherry tomatoes.

Finally the piece de resistance. A two inch thick, masterfully cooked NY Strip steak. Now the menu said this was a 12 ounce steak. I would honestly be willing to say that it was more in the neighborhood of 16-18 ounces. Easily. My beautiful medium rare steak had an amazing charbroil to it. This my friends is an art. It is the perfect combination of a hot flame and excellent timing.

The monster steak stood towering over the bountiful portions of mashed sweet potatoes and snap peas with carrots sauteed in a simple butter sauce. The steak was knowingly and intelligently rested by the cook before being plated as to avoid the loss of juices when the steak was cut. Every bite was full of flavor. The peppercorn sauce was artfully constructed and used as a compliment for the natural flavor of the aged steak.

having left nothing but what little sauce I couldn't manage to mop up with my remaining bread we gazed in wonderment at our desert options. Canoli Foster garnished with caramelized bananas, a trio of creme brulees (made fresh to the chefs flavor mood every day I'm told) a variety of gellatos and sorbets all garnished with fresh berries.

Deciding on the fresh Mango Sorbet was a great choice. A light sweet desert garnished with fresh (yes, fresh!) strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, whipped cream and a wheel of ribbon cookie. This was certainly the best possible choice after such a rich filling meal.

This subtle desert allowed me to relax and unwind while not filling myself up. The tart acidic berries worked well with the sweet sorbet. The ribbon cookie had the distinct flavor of butterscotch and the whipped cream was fresh.

All in all the restaurant was a pleasant and amazing experience. The food was artfully cooked and as skillfully served. Without a doubt Russell Salvatore at the prime age of 75 years old has made yet another successful interlude and contribution to an industry he has been at the forefront of for a better part of his life. Not only should Russell Salvatore receive credit for what he has done, he deserves credit.

Russell Salvatore is a humble Buffalo legend. He started with humble beginnings. He took a gamble and turned an unsure investment of a hot dog stand into an iconic Buffalo establishment; known for its needless to say, over the top decoration. From there his second business opened up with that same lavish Russell Salvatore style. What we wound up with are Salvatore's Italian Gardens and the Garden Place Hotel.

Salvatore was rumored to have been forced out of his business after he turned over ownership to his son Joe nearly three years ago for estate purposes. Although Salvatore denies this he has admitted in an interview with the Buffalo News that perhaps he was too hasty in walking away from a business he built 40 years ago.

The true story may never be known.

What is known however, is that despite what Salvatore may claim, He will be in direct competition with his son and in some ways himself. Going head to head with the historical establishments he pioneered into empires only a few miles down the road.

Russell Salvatore is known as a hardworking entrepreneur with a business mind that would rival J.P. Morgan himself, Salvatore is a testament to the iconic "American Dream," proving that hard work is truly rewarded.

At 75 years old to be greeting guests, supervising his own dining room (yes, from what I was able to notice he was there for almost all of the dinner service... This was a Sunday!) and ensuring every bit of quality he expects from an establishment bearing his name is not only admirable but amazing. A firm force proving that despite what anyone may have thought, Russell Salvatore still has it and probably always will.

Finally the ultimate proof that this will be Russell's legacy is the name; Russell's Steaks, Chops & More. This is not a family business. This is Russell's, and he deserves it.

Until next time my friends... Dont drink anything I wouldn't...

Mac the Bartender

Fuji Grill

2009-01-29T21:04:00.000-05:00

Hibachi is defined by Webster's Dictionary as a traditional Japanese heating device. Made of a round, cylindrical or box-shaped open-topped container made from or lined with a heatproof material and designed to hold burning charcoal.

Bastardized by Americans and most of the western world it has come to replace the term Tepanyaki. Tepanyaki is thought by most Americans to be a Japanese delicacy; however it is just something that dumb, dirty, stinking Gaijins like me seem to love. It is the perfect mix of food and entertainment. Skill and showmanship. Style and taste.

I mean for the love of God, anyone who can juggle an uncracked raw egg, cook a medium rare steak and shoot warm sake into my mouth while telling jokes is more than ok in my book.

I can cook. This is not a mealy mouthed statement. I can take a pile of ingredients and make something tasty while drinking wine or beer with friends and bullshitting my way through polite conversation. But let's face it. I am lucky if I can get my fried potatoes to finish at the same time as my steak to send it all out on a plate hot. So for anyone to cook 10 different things while juggling a chef’s knife and a spatula and lighting a grill on fire is probably my new favorite person.

But I digress. Back to the food.

This evening I had the distinct opportunity to try a new restaurant in the area. Fuji Grill. A Hibachi (Tepanyaki! Remember we're culture and word bastardizing Gaijins!) and Sushi Bar. We started with our drinks.

I blindly decided on a nice light citrusy Japanese Lager called Sapporo. Light bodied and refreshing. This beer paired quite well with my appetizer of Octopus Sashimi and pretty much my entire meal.

The Octopus Sashimi, seasoned with a small squeeze of lemon. Served with a side of fresh grated ginger and fresh grated wasabi. Forgoing the mouth burning Wasabi and overpoweringly strong ginger, I decided to keep it simple.

Octopus has a delicate flavor, covering that up with much more than a complimentary citrus seemed presumptuous. Plainly put, it was fantastic. Chewy, tart, sweet and tied together nicely with a piece of black seaweed. I ate it like one should with fresh, quality sushi, in one bite, immediately and with no more dressing than necessary.

Next up was the soup portion of our meal. A simple Miso soup with scallions and mushrooms and a basic chicken stock. Simple fresh ingredients combined to make something fantastic. The soup was so elegantly understated it was seemingly difficult not to love. Next...

A salad of greens consisting of iceberg lettuce, cucumber and a sliced tomato. I may as well be Italian, because I am very picky about my tomato. If it is too soft and not fresh enough it can kill a dish for me. I knew seeing the tomato on the salad that it would be spoiled. The dressing was a little off as well. It was almost like an orange French dressing overloaded with onion salt and garlic powder. What can I say? You can't please someone every time.

Finally the main event, the whole reason we went to a Hibachi Restaurant. The main course. The choreography, the skill, the entertainment and the amazing food.

Our Chef started out by lighting the grill up with Sake and oil making the fire dance like a gorgeous cirque du soleil dancer. Swaying, jumping, twisting and turning. The fire jumped with every choreographed twirl of the spatula. Clanging and smacking on the Grill in a cleverly designed way of keeping us entranced and ignorant to the fact that we hadn’t eaten much today...

With the Grill seasoned the Chef moved on to our vegetables. A mix of carrots, mushrooms, zucchini, broccoli and onion. Chopping our vegetables and beginning to sauté them in butter and sake. allowing them to cook (as they will take the longest...)

Building the famed Tepanyaki Volcano out of Onion and filling it with oil, the grill exploded with the beautiful dancing fire once again. Next went on our rice, seasoned in soy sauce and sake (I love the way these people cook, trans fats and liquor!)

Before the rice can even start to brown I see an egg spinning through the air being juggled off of a spatula, tossed upsides, downsides and everywhere in between. Back flipping and spinning and rolling like a circus tumbler, finally tossed high into the air and dropped down on the sideways turned spatula. The egg, split clean in half, was then scrambled then added to our frying rice.

Steaks cooked with soy sauce and teriyaki to a beautiful, blood red, medium rare along with tantalizing pink and opaquely white shrimp. Everything then arranged lovingly on our plates by our brilliant Chef. Mind you this was all in between our quick handed host shooting sake out of a squeeze bottle into our mouths (like I said, I love these people!)

The shrimp, the steak, the vegetables and the rice were all cooked immaculately.

The food and show were definitely both well worth the hunger pangs I felt from saving my voracious appetite all day at work and the dent it created in our wallet. You see I'm the kind of guy who walks away from situations like this with his swirling head cleared.

Enjoying a little chilled sake with a hot meal and a cold beer. What could be a much more gratifying experience? I mean seriously let’s break my afternoon down for you. I have spent my day dealing with some intensely negative people.

There's my staff who doesn't want to be there, my Director who doesn’t want to deal with me and my Manager who wants to be at home dealing with his 5 week old daughter, my customers who don't want to deal with facing their downfalls or addictions and a facility full of coworkers who don't want to deal with a company who can't afford to give them raises this year because; well let's face it, we're pretty much in the biggest economic crisis our country has seen in the last 80 years, if not ever.

And then there is me who doesn't want to go home because he doesn't want to deal with the fact that his home is shrinking... quickly... All of that massive negativity around me, inside me and in my future.

All of this unbridled disappointment and something as simple as dinner and a show were able to calm me, make me smile and at least get my mind off all of the garbage that runs marathons through my head every day. Food has proven to be something that can evoke strong memories in one's subconscious.

Food can call to mind the thoughts of a first kiss, the feelings of the first time you camped out, the time you finally summed up the courage to eat a raw oyster. It can recall the best and or worst days of your existence. Food is something that can create lasting bonds of friendship and stories to tell your grandchildren (although these stories usually involve you imbibing in something a little more than food.)

Food has also proven to be the one thing that can mellow me out and cause enough excitement to continue on with my bleak day. How many times have you had a miserable exacerbating day at work, hated being everywhere you had to; only to have a meal at your favorite restaurant or a favored dish your mother or loved on makes as the one thing that can get you through until you arrive at home?

I think it would be safe to say that it's a lot.

That's all I have for now friends. Just remember that it isn't what you cook or eat, it's the feeling you get when you do.

Until next time, don't drink anything I don't know how to make...

Mac The Bartender

Bar talk...

2009-01-26T20:31:00.000-05:00

The other night I had the distinct pleasure of sitting with a very good friend of mine on the eve of his Hunter S. Thompsonesque trip across the great terra firma of the United States.

Instead of being a guided by a briefcase of uppers, downers and inbetweeners it would be guided more by his love for adventure, his thirst to write and most importantly his need for a purpose... and ok let's face it, one or two sips of Jameson will more than likely be involved as well.

Sitting around the club sipping some Ellicottville Chocolate Cherry Stout, which we enjoyed very much, we got to talking.

Now it's hard not to like my friend Charlie... Wait a minute, who the fuck am I kidding?

Charlie is one of the most sarcastic, smart assed people you will ever meet. Either you love the kid or you want to strangle him in the first ten seconds you spend with him.

But on the flipside he is also one of the most intelligent, responsible, articulate and witty people you will ever come across. Charlie had an odd life and honestly has had the worst luck out of anyone I have ever met. Especially on the job front.

That’s not to say he gets shit canned a lot. You see, Charlie has two college degrees English is one and I forget the other. He is an astoundingly talented author and probably the best bartender I have met in a long time. He has worked in collections, restaurants, financial consulting firms and for a few smaller newspapers in the 5 or so years I have known him.

However with all of Charlie's outstanding talent, articulate whit and charming personality, he has been passed over for every last thing he has deserved. Positions within a company he has worked at for almost 10 years.

10 years, two degrees, outstanding qualifications and a line of people giving glowing references and recommendations and yet, nothing to show for it.

Enter: disillusionment. Enter: resentment. Enter: depression.

Enter: Buffalo, New York.

Charlie, like most people I know, is a Buffalo native. He spends his free time working on various articles for local publications, drawing, painting, playing guitar, working out and enjoying an adult beverage whenever possible.

He spends his work time bartending for me, he is without a doubt the best I have ever employed and one of the best friends I will ever have.

But unfortunately like most Buffalonians, Charlie is cursed.

We have the stink of a city who lost four consecutive Super Bowls. A city who lost the
Stanley Cup in triple overtime and who's main claim to fame is being "where Niagara Falls is." Even though the damn things are nearly 30 miles away.

Most people either think were in Canada or near New York City (although I could probably spit and hit our neighbors to the north in some spots of Buffalo.)

So Charlie, like so many other young up and coming, intelligent, valuable commodities of our youthful and exuberant generation must leave Buffalo in search of his millions. A sad testament to a City, who until around 1957 when the St. Lawrence Seaway opened was one of the biggest industrialized cities on the face of the earth. Hosting one of the biggest populations in the United States which topped out at almost 590,000 people.

Johnny Rzeznik, of the famed Buffalo band the Goo Goo Dolls, put it best in the band's hit song "Broadway" (a song about a street running through what used to be a heavily Polish neighborhood which Rzeznik grew up in) "Young men sitting in an old man's bar waiting for his turn to die."

Put equally as well by a local sculptor, Zach Boehler was something like this, "Buffalo is a city where young men inherit their father's seat at the corner bar and pray for the mircale that never comes."

Sadly enough both statements are inevitably true. The horror and power of an image where an entire city of people have become so depressed and complacent (with a metropolis that is crumbling from a morally and financially bankrupt infrastructure) that they wait for death or a miracle.

Over the years I have seen much of my family and friends leave the area for what they hope will be greener pastures. They have relocated, like many Buffalonians to North Carolina, South Carolina, LA, Boston and Miami. The list goes on and on. Unbelievably I have found that I can not go anywhere in this country and not find someone from here.

You would think in a country with a population of 305,595,000 you would be hard pressed to go somewhere without a Buffalo connection. Especially when you come from a city whom accounts for as minute as one half of one percent of the national population. It unfortunately show the depravity of a society of desperation.

The one thing about Buffalo is this. We are fiercely defensive of our roots and heritages. Especially in the different neighborhoods of the area.

South Buffalo (as the south of almost any city in the North Eastern portion of the country) is predominately Irish. Street signs appearing in both English and Gaelic.

North Buffalo being predominately Italian home of Pizzerias and some of the finest gourmet restaurants in the city.

The West Side being a mix of Puerto Rican and other Hispanic cultures having some of the best ethnic markets in the city.

Finally the East Side consisting of a predominate mix of Polish and African American heritage is the home of Buffalo's Famous Broadway Market and the sight of the yearly Dyngus Day festivities.

A struggling Buffalo economy is one of the reasons that proportionately we have a far higher crime rate than New York City. Most of the East and West side being a harbor for a lot of the financially strapped citizens of the community they are the constant target of crime and drug sales.

Unfortunately like anywhere else, desperation leads to people doing what they have to do to survive. Theft is prevalent and unfortunately drugs have become a rampantly controlling part of our society. Both legal and illegal. Bars and crack dealers alike thrive in the area. Unfortunately proving that everyone here wants to forget their mounting debt and current societal status.

However, believe it or not, things are appearing to be on the up turn. Information Technology, Collections and a mounting appreciation for Gourmet food are starting to cause this once great city to employ and become more attractive to its more youthful and exuberant citizens.

The main problem however is the lack of educated youthful people in an area with one of the best employment areas in the country.

You see as I mentioned before, most of them have all left. Buffalo is in short supply of these gems of youth. What we are in high supply of are Blue Collared men and women who have for their entire lives toiled and earned from their sweat in a place that at one point housed one of the biggest steel making industries in the world and formerly on the biggest employers of US auto workers outside of Detroit. These companies have become either closed their doors or moved on.
And sadly for Buffalo's youth, these companies which are starting to develop in Buffalo (while growing considerably in the past 10 years) are not growing fast enough. With the country's latest bout of economic woes it appears that if things continue on the way they are we will all be running to somewhere else and looking for something that may not actually be there...

I hope that for my friend there is a sliver lining in his clouds. If nothing else his trip which will take him through much of the south, Midwest and West Coast will do him some good. Refuel his batteries and recharge his spirit. Things always look darkest just before the light, and thankfully for Buffalo it can not get much darker.

Through all of this you probably have gotten the gist that our conversation about Buffalo wasn't the happiest of our lives. It may, at times even sound brutally harsh. I will agree. You see us also, like many other Buffalonians are fiercely protective of our homes.

We are a city filled with pride. Even though we are one of the most disparaged places around we are fiercely proud of who we are. Proud of a city filled with hard working salt of the earth people. We have in our opinions some of the best food on the face of the earth. Home of The Anchor Bar (The originator of chicken wings, referred every where else as Buffalo Wings,) La Nova Pizzeria, Mothers, Schweble's, Louie's and the best Fish Fry you will ever have.

Buffalo New York and the surrounding areas are also filled with some of the most beautiful landscape and architecture. We have three buildings designed by renowned architect Frank Lloyd Wright, countless state parks with some of the most scenic beauty in the country. One of the most powerful and awe inspiring feats of nature in the world (Niagara Falls, I know not in Buffalo, but I did say surrounding area as well!)

We have a world renowned art Museum, two professional sports teams (who will both have it next year! At least what we keep telling ourselves.) We are the North American home base of the world's biggest beer company; InBev. Home base of one of the world's largest concession companies in Delaware North Companies; the owner of which, Jeremy Jacobs is a Buffalo Native and one of the biggest philanthropists in the USA and one of the biggest employers in the world.

Unfortunately we are at least 15 years off from being able to hold our own sons and daughters in our neighborhoods. Maybe when my two and a half year old niece is my age things will look mroe promising.

Until then I will pray. Pray things look up. Pray we can keep our youngl and employ them. Pray as many do that I will see the Bills win a Super Bowl, and that they will still be a Buffalo team the day it finally happens.

Finally I will pray that I never have to follow my friend Charlie out of the city that I love. That my prospects become so sad and downtrodden that I have to leave the only place I have known as home. The place my roots and family are.

I hope for my old friend that he finds what he is in search of and that he can someday ride into town and tout what a success he is. I just wish that he and all of Buffalo's ex-patriot sons and daughters could have done it here.

Until the next time friends, don’t drink anything I wouldn't.

Mac The Bartender

An introduction of sorts... I suppose...

2009-01-17T00:34:00.000-05:00

Well, here is the thing. I like food... Any food. I also like Vodka... But only good Vodka. You see I have spent so much time in restaurants and bars both working and socializing that they seem to be the only real places I actually feel comfortable. Especially behind a bar.

The only thing I can liken being a Bartender to (a good one at least) is being a Chef. I'm the guy who with near encyclopedic knowledge can not only make you nearly any drink, but do it well. I can look at a stocked bar an instantly start formulating recipes in my head, knowing what will go with each and how well it will taste. Which brings me to food.

You see to me food was (like alcohol) a comfort thing. Something I could enjoy and relish in. Spicy, sweet, salty and sour. Fatty and lean cuts of meat. All of which provide you with different flavors. They mix well, they pair well and most importantly they make you feel well...

You can spend nearly your whole life in search of the perfect meal or the perfect drink or the perfect restaurant. But I am here to tell you it is all subjective. What may be your perfect cocktail or meal today may be completely different tomorrow.

What happens when you find that perfect meal? Does life cease to hold meaning?

Or like me, do you eat it so often you become sick of it and have to find something else that seems "perfect?"

I'd be willing to wager that it's the latter of the two.

That's how the search for a perfect anything can hold so many answers, variations and torments. Because no matter how hard you look and how hard you try it is never going to be complete...

Until next time kids... Don't drink anything I wouldn't.

Mac the Bartender