We did it for the experience

A friend of mine recommended that I visit Los Machetes, a Mexican restaurant in Old Town Midvale and include the experience, a "unique" one as he phrased it, in a blog post. I asked him if it was good Mexican food and he said it wasn’t particularly so but I should just go anyways. Intrigued, I invited him out and several other friends (“The Hippies”, the spa specialist and her date and the Good Midwestern Boy) to see what this was so unique and discover exactly what kind of experience this restaurant delivers. The restaurant is in a run down part of of the west side of town, an area of which I am quite unfamiliar. The ownership is fairly new, having been the third reincarnation of a restaraunt in the building which used to be a bank. That's right, you read correctly; the building used to be a bank and the owners have made no effort to hide that fact. Teller windows still line the walls and a vault in the back stays open and its current use is to store supplies like mops, etc. It wasn’t a particularly nice bank. I’d say one step up from a payday loan center. The best way to describe the dining atmosphere is part of it felt like a Mexican diner. The tables and stools had a vintage flair, and not the cute kind either. I say it partly was a diner because the other part of this facility is a pool hall. It was almost as if there couldn’t be a more strange combination than a group of eight gringos walking into a Mexican restaurant/pool hall/converted bank.

The cuisine was also interesting. The menus are in Spanish with English translation. While we were perusing the offerings, chips (which weren’t fresh) were provided alongside three types of salsa. The salsa was decent and at least two of them were spicy. One I would guess was tomatillo and jalepeños, the other habañero and the third was a mild tomato and pepper salsa. For my main dish, I chose the zucchini flower quesadilla. The Good Midwestern Boy chose something something vegetarian that I could eat, the poblano and potato pepper quesadilla, which I ended up liking better than my dish; it had a smokey taste and mine was simply devoid of flavor. The spa specialist's date ordered steak with mole poblano, a dark Mexican chili sauce. Most of us sampled the mole and I thought was the best tasting item in the place, aside from the Dos Equis Negro cerveza that we were pounding.










One of the hippies ordered the “Sangria” which was nothing like Sangria. The drink consisted of beer mixed with Tapatio sauce and chili and lime dusted on the rim. It was an interesting take on a Bloody Mary. My advice is to stick with Bloody Marys. The same Hippy also didn’t realize that her smothered burrito contained pork. Pork was not mentioned on the menu according to her. Perhaps this important piece of information was lost in translation or maybe just not included on the menu. We chose not to play pool there since we could not get strong drinks which is actually a bit of a travesty that no margaritas are offered. Plus, all six pool tables were in use by locals that seem befuddled by our presence in such a place. We waited for the waitress to come to give us our bill but we never saw her again. Apparently, one needs to pay at the cashier. The meal was priced according to what I would expect but the experience itself... who can put a price on that? The food was not inedible but that’s really all I can say. There is nothing that will pull me back but I would actually recommend going there with a group of friends once. Oddity can certainly be alluring.

One last note on the ambiance. I took a quick glance at the bathrooms and noticed that the handicapped stall did not have a lock nor toilet paper. The women's bathroom was decent but the men's was in lesser shape with a carpet have turned up and gang tags on the wall. Yes, I went in to the men's bathroom. I was curious.

We left one adventurous experience behind only to find another one ahead of us. The Three Alarm Saloon was close by and I just knew that it would fit perfectly with the experience of the night. I did live at Remington Apartments across the street from the Three Alarm Saloon for a year but never ventured inside. Perhaps it was literally “too close to home” for me or maybe because the place makes no effort to hide that it is a dive bar. I cannot imagine that the peppermint style paint job on the building draws in many passersby and the name… it does not take much thought to come to the conclusion that this is not a top tier wet spot. I do admit that I have in recent years developed an appreciation for dive bars and the type of atmosphere entailed. These places deliver an experience that help build character and make one more well-rounded. The second we walked in, we knew this was the type of place that would be entertaining. In fact, it was a bit of sensory overload.



First of all, we were greeted by a likely return patron, Crazy Mike (pictured above). He asked from whence we had come, well, not quite in those exact words. In short, we were clearly not the regular coral. Crazy Mike was a bit alarming (no pun intended) and we quickly brushed past him to tour the place. The layout is a bit cozy with room to spread out a bit. The group saddled up to the bar and took note that drink selection was not the most wide ranging but they had whiskey so it would appease this crowd. A shot of Hennesy at room temperature was my way of breaking into this joint. We found a table in the back which is devoted to karaoke and dancing. Unfortunately for us, Karaoke is held on Thursdays and this was a Friday. There was a jukebox though. In fact, there were a lot entertainment devices like a “test your strength” grip machine which told me I was basically weak (using only one hand), a virtual bowling alley (don’t know how that is suppose to work nor did I venture to try), a pinball machine, a hunting game similar to duck hunt, a real legitimate poker game taking place in the corner with a tough looking crowd, mainly the elderly cleaning lady who meant business, and three pool tables. The Hippy and I put in some dollars and picked out tunes on the Internet wired Jukebox. We selected Shakira, Duran Duran and Bob Dylan but were scared away by Crazy Mike, who came up to us to seek our approval for his taste in Led Zepplin. We ran from him and he literally chased us back to our table to ask which artists we chose on the music machine. If it is not obvious by now, we were not interested in conversing with this character who is well-deserving of his self-assumed moniker. He was somehow cerebral enough through his non sequitor, drunken state, that I assume he has been in for a long time, to pick up on our disinterest and he disappeared, yet, his unbearable body odor still lingered.

But do not fret, that was not the last of Crazy Mike. He sought our friendship another time when we moved over to the pool table section. Mike knew that neither myself or the Hippy was interested in him so he introduced himself to Amber, who in turn introduced him to her husband, Jerome. Jerome played the part and told Crazy Mike that he was going to “Tap that Amber's ass later tonight”. Jerome kept up the gig and starting rapping about how he likes to wear chains and hit up on the dames. For those of you not in on the joke, Jerome’s name is not Jerome and he is not married. Nor is he a rapper. This was a bit of a rouse from a white boy from Alabama. Perhaps Jerome felt emboldened by the flavored shots that the waitress brought to us at the pool table. The selection she offered included jello shooters and concoctions named the likes of “wet pussy”. What the hell… we embraced the “experience” and each ordered a shot. The shots tasted like otter pops and was lacking in alcohol content. The Jello Shooters, I hear, had a stronger taste. Fortunately, I had another warm Hennesy to use as a chaser. We all would have liked Chivas Regal but this bar does not stock it. There was an OK beer selection which included Cut Throat, a Cherny, Murphys and I'm sure it had the other beers like Coors, Bud that I do not even consider drinking. I am not one for Irish beer so Cut Throat it was; it's a good local "go to" beer put out by Uinta brewing company. The DJ took over the Jukebox at 9 and we played a few rounds of pool. The shot lady came by again hoping to get more money out of us and we gave in one more time.

What could I ask for… a night our on the cheap with good friends. I definitely had a an experience and a fun one at that. It was not high class but some of the best nights are in places that are the least sumptuous.

Out of Key on Main

Tosha needed a night out desperately. We had already planned to see the short-lived 3 performance/ 2day Broadway touring stint of Spring Awakening at Kingsbury hall on Saturday. We arrived looking like a hot pair and speaking of hot, the theater was blazing warm so I started the night's drinking escapade with a two dollar bottled water being sold at the entry. I had to see this musical because it was a favorite of my uncle, who was a talented musician with perfect pitch and could play at least 5 different instruments and speak 3 languages. He would have liked this agenda so here’s a glass raised in his honor.

Diverging for just a moment, the musical itself is an modern adaptation of the 1890 banned play The Awakening of Spring: A childhood tragedy. It was written by Frank Wedekind and the topics range from suicide to abortion and honestly, these are topics that have been present since since Adam and Even first realized they were naked. The concepts posed by Wedekind are those that ask what is the origin of shame... is it not taught to us? Sexual origin is natural and therefore should not be a shameful act. It was very much a kid vs adults story. The music written by Dunkan Sheik is extremely catchy and the poetic lyrics by Steven Sater are piercing.

We had a desire to keep in the theme of theatrics and proceed over to Keys on Main, a dueling piano bar that opened after the success of the original Salt Lake dueling piano bar, The Tavernacle. The concept, in case you are unaware, is two talented musicians can either play against each other or with each other with tunes that range from the nightly tautological performance of Billy Joel’s "The Piano Man" to current pieces like any hit from Lady Gaga or the hilarious rendition of  the SNL skit “I’m on a boat”. Requests come in from bar patrons attached with a tip. Depending on the amount of the tip, your song could be a top priority and will continue to play out to the end unless someone approaches a pianist demanding the current song be ceased and trumped with theirs... naturally a larger tip is required. This can go back and forth between people who have to hear their song played and is also can end up being a saving face battle.

This was Tosha's first experience at a dueling piano bar and it was my first time at this particular bar. I used to really like going out to The Tavernacle with friends until the crowd was infiltrated with pale-pink-popped-collar-polo shirts adorned with sideways ball caps covering the frosted spikey hair of horny twenty-something-year-old guys. The other half of the customer base consists of augmented and enhanced women of all ages, particularly cougars or unattractive lesbians who also wanted to be part of the entertainment and put sex toys in their mouth. Not my idea of a piano bar but maybe what I would envision as a feature attraction on the HBO's Real Sex. After hearing that scene was becoming an increasing occurrence, I just have not been back in over two years. Plus, I was tired of hearing Tenacious D's "Fuck Me Sweetly" each time I went. I thought Keys on Main might be a little classier, but after tonight, I have to report that am not convinced. I would say the better part of Keys is that the view is better and it's a larger space. But The Tavernacle does feel more personable and like you're really a part of the fun.

I determined that I was in a Gin mood and this is not uncommon since Gin is one of my favorite beverage of choice. The juniper is a great flavor and it goes down smooth, not too dry. I ordered a Hendricks Gin and Tonic and Tosha, a Cape Cod. Tosha and I spotted an opening at the bar, only one, so we shared a seat. Neither one of us had eaten and were pleased to find that some pub type food is served until one in the morning. I ordered a Caesar salad which filled the hunger and Tosha ordered a Caesar chick wrap. I have to point out that our bartender stood out and not for good reason. He asked if he could have a chip from Tosha's plate. Is that a weird way of hitting on us? Excuse me, but that’s just a bartender faux paus just beneath the no-no of drinking my drink and surely you can come up with a better pick up line than that. There were other men who approached Tosha and me dripping with desperation. I think I may have heard the worst pick up line ever from a patron… “I do blow… you should be afraid of me”. I responded “trust me, I am” and made it clear that he was not getting anywhere with me by turning my back to him. He then followed suit to the girls next to us and starting spouting Russian poetry, I'm sure.

I needed more to drink… a lot more to get through this. I ordered a sweet gin martini. The bartender, who made a note of saying earlier that he had been a bartender for ten years, asked me how to make it. I informed him to use sweet vermouth instead of dry. He didn’t ask which gin I wanted – at least he chose Bombay instead of Sapphire. It was a good martini though. I am not really a fan of dirty martinis and especially not ones made with vodka. He seemed to like me since I was “a girl who knew exactly what she wanted”. At that point, someone had too much to drink and made the party foul of throwing up in the bar. Sometime around that momentous occasion, one of the smug piano players decided to have a shot at Tosha and strike up a conversation. Tosha, unknowingly, dissed him, which I find funny because he just seemed cocky and he also seemed disinterested in her interest of Celine Dion. We nonetheless put in a request but put in a back up of Dire Straits which I thought he would play instead and the outcome was as predicted, we were soon swaying back and forth to the melodies of “Juliet” and “Money for Nothing”.

Tosha was picking up a number of men and a Swede visiting on business was twirling her around the dance floor. Meanwhile, I had my new friend, the hungry bartender, requesting that I kiss the girl next to me. I looked at her...the poor young thing, eager to please and gain attention of anyone and anything nearby. She encouraged me to press my lips to hers. I looked back in dismay at her and the bartender and told him if he kissed one of his male bar tending buddies, we might have a deal. He did a poor job of convincing his friend that this spectacle was worth them sacrificing anything and I told him he didn’t have a bargain. The girls proceeded to kiss themselves and the bartender and everyone seemed rather proud of themselves for this seemingly big accomplishment. The other bartenders at the other bar was looked to me to be more fun and less harassing. I will sit on the left side if I come back again.

I needed some more gin at this point. I asked for a Negroni. My hungry bartender of ten years said “hey, is this test the bartender night?” I informed him he was the one who had the long career of mixology, not me. He asked if there was Campari – bingo. I also told him there was bitters and gin. He said they did not have Compari so it was a no-go. He suggested a Greyhound and I was not keen on that idea… I would have to think on this. What was another drink with Gin that I liked… I decided on a Long Island Iced Tea. It was strong and I think it was too late in the night to enjoy it. I entertained the Swede for a bit and Tosha and I left as the lights turned on and the pianists were making their exit. The talent and showmanship is what one would expect, the food was convenient and the scene...painstanking yet amusing to some point. The night started on the high end of the scale and ended on a lower note. At least I left with the hottest girl in the bar. Keys on Main is a far cry from a place like Yoshi's in San Francisco and Oakland or even Brandy’s, a quaint, small gay piano bar which carols show tunes. Brandy’s has character and Yoshi’s class. I am still looking for a place like that in this town.

Drum Roll Please

I know all of the readers have been anxiously awaiting the results for the "best of the cheap beer" poll. The results have been posted and the winner is...



This crisp and refreshing light beer has been a good option to please a wide audience on the cheap since 1844, although the recipe may have been altered since then. It surely beats the alternative(s).