Last Saturday, the wifey and I thought we’d grab a quick glass of wine and some snacks at a newly opened bar by our house.
I was in the mood for a big red wine. Luckily, this intimate bar focuses on wine, charcuterie, cheese, and has a smattering of carefully selected craft beer and a couple signature cocktails.
Apparently, everyone else wanted to do the same thing, at the same bar, at the same time. It was going to be at least a 30-minute wait to get a seat at the bar or a table.
Instead of waiting, we decided to go to another bar that had no wait, where we could get some dinner. There was a good chance we would return to our original spot afterwards for a late-night glass of wine.
At the pub, I put down some mediocre fish and chips with a cab/shiraz blend. Not the greatest pairing, but damnit I wanted some red wine.
Like many places, this Chicago pub had no real personality and could have just as easily been in Pittsburg. It wasn’t bad, but I would honestly forget the place ever existed if I hadn’t written this blog post.