Food & Drink » Boozehound

SNL at the MSB


As this is the debut Drink column in our hallowed pages, I considered each of my favorite haunts as ideal candidates for review, weighed the number of wine menus available to critique, reminisced about my most memorable martini moments and carefully calculated which establishment would offer fodder well suited to lead an entire army of poignant reviews to come. I settled on an unlikely and unintentional choice, one that did not fall under any of the aforementioned proposed criteria: the Main Street Bistro.

With my meat market cocktail waitressing days in the past, it's a rare occasion I head into the jungle on a weekend night these days. And a night when I'll consider showing face in MSB happens about as often as the Seahawks make it to the Superbowl. But on a whim, I wandered in near midnight on a Saturday—peak time for a peek at what the 'Stro is really all about.

I was overdressed (as in too many clothes, not, unfortunately, as in too formal) in my snazzy black fur-trimmed winter coat. Apparently it's much cooler to snake your way between bars clad in a tank top. I made the obligatory walkabout, relieved not to see anyone I knew and only marginally disappointed to have fallen so far out of the MSB loop that I didn't recognize a single face on a packed night. Two shots of crown, a Beam and coke, and a Cap'n and coke—for which I picked up the tab as an apology to my drinking buddy who was aghast that I'd dragged him into a throng of "plastic people"—had me shelling out 19 plus a tip. Shots down the gullet, we mingled with the sweaty dancers briefly, hung out all awkward by the pool tables and finally settled at a table near the door where we could spy on the bouncers (who deserve a raise and huge kudos for refusing entry to a young lad with a questionable ID, despite his very persistent friends). We got a laugh out of the clientele, surmised that in our martini-loving late-20s we are way too old and snooty for the party-lovin' MSB crowd, and headed off to bend an elbow at an establishment a little less entertaining, but where seven big ones got us that same round poured by a much stiffer hand.

Main Street Bistro, 609 W. Main St., 345-9515