Beth turns 38 today (Tuesday, as you read this), and to celebrate, Monday night we went to a bar in a little town called Utica, about 10 miles west ‘o here. It’s called Black Angus – which sounds pretty swanky, yes? Well, it’s not. Not at all. But it’s good.
I don’t have a camera anymore, so the only pictures I have are from Lloyd’s phone, and the ones in I shall paint for you in word pictures. Wait – more like ‘word coloring pages’:
Imagine a place with old tin ceilings at least 15 feet high. The tables are homemade – just 2x4s screwed together to make tall L-shaped supports for a plywood top. A stained, sealed and edge-routed plywood top, mind you, but a top where you can see the screws holding it to the supports. Mismatched plates, silverware and chairs abound. It’s a place that serves the beverages in pint mason jars. Not the fancy handle-added jars, just plain ol’ jars.
The odd thing about this place is that the ‘party room’ next door has a ….. pizza place in it. And an odd half-formed convenience/tiny grocery store. I guess that makes sense because Utica is a super-tiny town, and if you need to get your canned beans and cold butter quick, this place can help – but you’ll have to ask for the items that will someday be stored in the now-empty cooler. This sign was was taped to it:
Apparently the cooler will also have steaks in it because the menu says “pick a steak from the cooler and we’ll cook it for you”. Kind of like those restaurants where you select your own lobster to murder, only in this case you have no connection to the crime.
The cooler is empty for now, though, so I guess I’ll just have mine ‘medium air‘.
Happy Dirthday, Beth, and Happy 52nd Anniversary to my Mom and Dad!