I have a thing for hipster bars

If you're a regular reader of this blog, you know that I've been really hard on the DC restaurant scene in the past. Seems to me like they're contrite because they have to appeal to both left (communist) and right (boring) sensibilities in a town like Washington.

So that seems to be the problem with the "nice" restaurants. Every place that's no-frills, or cheap, has been at least decent, and a couple have been really good.

I was in DC this weekend for work. My twin brother, who is much a more talented writer than I, and better looking to boot, lives in DC with his wife Javi. The three of us get along for lots of reasons - a shared mistrust of politicians, a desire for the snow to go away, and a love for food that some would call perverse.

Anyway, they fed me a couple of times and gave me a couch to sleep on one night.

Before I get to the restaurant portion of this blog, I must tell you of one place that's starting to feel like home to me in DC - the Capitol Lounge, at 229 Pennsylvania Ave. SE. We've been a handful of times, and their pub fare is decent, affordable and touts the right amount of grease. Also, they have Dale's Pale Ale on tap, and that makes me feel right at home.

It's apparently a Michigan State bar, and that's okay, because while I might prefer U of M, most of the people inside are nice folks, a welcome relief from the DC bar scene.

Anyway, food. On Sunday night, we ended up at a place called Bar Pilar. Everything about this place screams hip, and when we sat down and had an immediate problem with our waitress, I was thinking, "Here we go, again." After receiving our drinks, the place started to fill up and our waitress went from late to absent. But that's DC, so I won't mention her again. We tipped her well, cause God Bless Her, SHE WAS TRYING SO HARD, but there's only so much of being ignored you can take.

I was pleasantly surprised at the food, though. We all shared plates, and the portions, while small, were reasonably priced. Javi: Cremini mushrooms that reminded me of the county fair and a Shrimp risotto that only I liked. (Andrew said it was too creamy. Javi didn't say much about it at all, which means she just wasn't a big fan.) Andrew: Caramelized Exotic mushrooms that were really earthy and meaty. Duck Confit in a homemade dijon mustard, cooked fantastically with a crispy outside and juicy in. Me: Roasted potatoes with rosemary and a lemon-garlic aioli. The potatoes were cooked well and flash fried in what tasted to me like a thinned down bacon fat. And I also had suckling pig that almost caused me to forget how far I was from home.

They both loved it, and so did I, aside from the minor freakout I had about almost losing my wallet. "The food's probably the best I've had in DC so far," Andrew said.

I second that emotion. It's sort of close to one of the many bad parts of town, and in the middle of being gentrified. Dangerous! But it's worth the drive to NW, and it's worth wading through the scarf-wearing, tight-jeaned, let's-drink-PBR crowd. Lots of times, these people will eat any old thing if it's moderately priced and they hear from their dealer that "it's good," but this time, these hipsters are lucky that the chef of Bar Pilar actually cares about the food he's serving to a bunch of ironic JD Salinger disciples. Me included.

New meaning to the phrase "garbage plate"

On Wednesday, I flew into Rochester, NY with a plan: visit what is known to a lot of foodies (including Jason Sheehan, of Westword fame) as one of the best cheeseburger places in America.

One small problem: we didn't have a rental car.

Three things happen when you don't have a rental car on one of these trips. One, we had to rely on our contact to drive us to where we were doing interviews. Two, no control over what you ate or when you ate. Three, the client probably isn't going to have the patience to drive you all over Rochester looking for said burger joint, especially when you've already spent 12 hours in an old van together over the better part of 36 hours.

So needless to say, I didn't end up at Schaller's Drive-In. Which is a huge disappointment in itself, but then, I had the bad fortunate to be tortured by the rest of the cuisine throughout central New York state.

Listen: Denver is not a mecca of great restaurants in the United States. But we get by. We are positively Paris-effing-France when compared to most of these places.

First, before we even arrived, I was pouring over Yelp on my iPhone looking for a sports bar within walking distance of our hotel (the Nuggets game, which I don't care to discuss). Then I found the Thirsty Turtle. 'Thirsty' implies booze - how could we lose? We went in, and immediately got the feeling that this was maybe not the place for a couple of out-of-towners. We got into an unfriendly conversation about the Red Wings with some unfriendly locals, and were saddened by the desperation you can only smell on those late 20-somethings stuck in Victor, with no prospects to get out. "It's good to get some local flavor," my cameraman would later tell me. 

As for the food, don't bother. As an ode to knowing I probably wasn't going to make it to Schaller's, I had a bacon cheeseburger that tasted like it was from a seriously dirty grill, and we split 10 hot wings that were not great, but at least were meaty.

The culinary abominations continued the next day. After a 3 1/2 hour drive to Walton, NY and a 2 hour shoot, we decided to stop at Papa's Diner. My cameraman, originally from Wayne, NJ, said he misses diners like this now that he lives in Colorado. I had the Walton Melt, which was chicken and peppers with some sort of (American? Swiss? I couldn't tell, which is a bad sign) cheese. There was also a lot of Elvis crap on the walls, which should have caused us to turn tail and run the second we walked in, but I'm an idiot and convinced us to "stay and try a little local flavor." Take that, cameraman.

That night, with no car and no energy, we walked the 1/2 mile to Chili's by the hotel, where we proceeded to eat basically none of our food (I picked at my disgusting Fajita Quesdillas) but drink a little bit (okay, a lot) too much.

Did I mention that was my birthday? Yep.

Finally, Friday we had another long drive to Angelica, NY (1 1/2 hours), where we built up an appetite shooting a landfill gas to electricity plant (yes, thank you for asking. The smell was incredibly appetizing). The food of central NY was almost vindicated when we stopped in Geneseo, NY for a burger at a bar called The Statesmen. Despite having one of those moments where you walk in and everyone stares at you for about 10 minutes. ("Not me," I plead with my eyes. "The cameraman looks like he'd be a lot better lay than me.") I had another bacon cheeseburger, which was actually very good. I maintain: you find the best cheeseburgers in America in dive bars.

Which brings me to the title of this blog: The garbage plate. Our gracious host told us about a place in Rochester called Nick Tahou Hots that serves what is called a "Garbage Plate", basically a big plate of hamburgers, hot dogs, macaroni, and the like. Why it's called a garbage plate, you got me, but it doesn't sound very good. I guess a lot of restaurants around Rochester have something like it nowadays. 

All that talk about what exactly goes into garbage plates was a fitting end to an underwhelming food trip in Rochester. Guess they slipped me the garbage plate the whole time I was there.

Rain ruins potentially awesome blog post, and other misadventures

What we planned to do in Montrose:

• Hike in the Box Canyon in Ouray with my favorite baby, Castelle. (Photo is of Cas and Brooke, his mom, at the Black Canyon)
• Go garage sale-ing.
• Go for a nice long bike ride toward Gunnison.
• Go to the naked hot springs, Orvis, in Ridgeway.
• Have a picnic.
• Hang out at the pool at the Best Western Red Arrow, my favorite hotel in the world (disclosure: it is managed by Castelle's mom and dad).

What actually happened in Montrose:

• It rained.
  
• A lot.
• Wtf.
  

So stay tuned for a real blog post about the loveliness that is Montrose, CO. Beyond the meth addicts and crime problem, it's really quite a nice area. Of course, I really like deserts; to each his own.

Three things I can write about in spite of inclement weather:

• Pollux. I miss shopping so much. Glenwood has, um, Target (which I love, you know that, Target) but I haven't found a store here that caters to my personal style, if you will. Luckily for me, I have Pollux (there's also a location in Grand Junction). Last time, I spent an amount I am embarrassed about. This time, I kept it to a hat that looks sort of like this. Cute. Go me, with the willpower.
• Belly. In addition to being my favorite word, this is also a new-ish restaurant in Montrose. Excellent Friday night specials for the ladies ($1 wells), good live music Saturday nights. Food: average, though I hear the coconut shrimp are pretty great. BLT had lots of bacon, which made me happy enough. Oh, and apparently Justin Timberlake and Jessica Beale ate there once when they were in Telluride. So it's kind of like I'm famous now.
  
• 
• Suds. Sure, it may not be the best bar in town, but it's home. They don't serve food. Unless you count hot pockets as food. They don't have a patio. Unless you count the back alley. BUT: colorful characters abound, it's worthwhile to get to know the bartenders, and sometimes there is karaoke. Plus sometimes the bartenders jump over the bar to break up fights. So it's kind of like Roadhouse. You can also smoke in the bar, which may be good or bad, depending on your habits.

Smart? Drink on a Weeknight.

Because apparently I'm the lush of the group...

I highly recommend Scruffy Murphy's in Denver between 20th and 21st on Larimer St, especially on a Wednesday night during Geeks Who Drink. John Murphy and his Irish accent are very nice, the decor is interesting, they have Strongbow Hard Cider on tap and it's not overly crowded like some trivia events. The trivia is eight rounds of random, including audio and visual rounds.

Just be forewarned that team Angela Lansbury's Brass Knuckles doesn't mess around and we also operate incognito (notice no picture of us). We perform especially strong in goth Linkin Park Covers, Inside the Actor's Studio Clips and Wham! Lyrics "these guilty feet have got no rhythm."