Armed with a cheesesteak from Pat’s (conveniently located only one block away), we entered Ray’s in our sweats and slippers (remember, it was 7am), followed closely by several friends looking to share in the wonder of this early morning event.

breakfast of champions

To start the day off on a fairly unbearable yet amazing note, we toasted with our cans of Schlitz and then raced to finish them, which was a highly unsuccessful endeavor.  (Jimmy put us all to shame, but I’m happy to say that I kicked his ass in round two.)

the most disgusting chug of all

As we continued to get our drink on (which included “Jager bombs” that were just glasses full of Jager and ginger ale), the owner – Ray’s son, Lou – brought us over a bottle of champagne, free t-shirts and a birthday Schlitz, which was a can dressed up with two candles taped to it.  Classy.

who needs cake?

The drinking continued, which led to dancing, which led to free drinks and more dancing.  It was a vicious, drunken cycle of awesome.

this is how we always dance

Turning 30 is a milestone that many a woman dreads.  For them, it’s a sign that they have passed their prime, no longer the partying, easy going young thing that gets picked up at the bar on a Saturday night.  30 is like the ushering in of a new era for these ladies, one in which they are ready to shrivel up and waste away with 12 cats and a basketful of yarn and knitting needles.  What they need is a drunken dose of Ray’s while playing hookey from work.  And who knows?  They may just see me there.

The City Tap House is located on Walnut between 39th and 40th in the Radian, that brand new residential + shopping + eating complex that Penn built, which I personally feel looks like an homage to 80s tape decks.  The door was a little hard to find, sandwiched next to Capogiro, and most of the parking around there costs money, although all the meters have been replaced with kiosks.  The El would be the easiest option, SEPTA-wise, since the 40th street stop is only a few blocks away.  Once you enter, you immediately take an elevator to the restaurant, which is two or three floors up (it was hard to tell).  The look is very sleek and modern, and they have taken full advantage of being located on the second floor–the entire wall facing south is windows, and about half the place is outdoor seating.  There were the fire-pits, as advertised, with cushy bench seating around them–I saw people ordering food, but many people were choosing to just lounge around them and drink.  There was even a field of wildflowers next to the patio tables.  I suppose this was to help with drainage and make the building more green; I liked it–it made it feel like we weren’t in the middle of the city.  The view was great, too, looking out at Penn’s campus and beyond that, the city skyline.

Overall the prices seemed moderate–my Scottish Salmon BLT was $10, and most of the other “craftwiches,” salads, and appetizers were around the $10-12 range.  They also have daily specials and mussels that you can get as entrees.  The entrees were a little more, maybe around $15-20.  The beer ranged from $4-7; there’s a wine list, but with 60 beers on tap (the most in the city) I didn’t pay it any attention.

So about that salmon BLT…first, it was the size of my head, and the size was mostly salmon.  There was nothing skimpy about it.  It was also cooked to order (I got rare, and it was amazing). I had to eat it with a knife and fork because I couldn’t figure out how to pick it up, and it was fantastic.  I only managed half.  My dining partner got the mussels in a saffron sauce, and she said they were delicious.  We also got the vegetable bruschetta–you only get 4 little squares, but it was very good; however, dinner was so good that I think next time I wouldn’t bother with an appetizer.  I also got fries with my BLT; they were shoestring style, crisp and tasty.

Finally: THE BEER.  One great thing that the Tap House does is give you a card to take notes on your beer; you put your name at the bottom and they save the card for you so that when you come back, you can see what beers you tried already, and what you thought of them. For a place that sells itself on the amount of beer it has, this is a fabulous idea.  Some people are just able to remember the names of every beer they drink; while I like beer, I am not that good.  They also sorted their draft list by type of beer and gave helpful descriptions about the beer, which I also appreciate.  Their beer list changes daily, so you are not guaranteed that the beer you have one day will be there the next, but included in the list they tell you what kegs are next to be tapped in case you want to come back for one.  The draft list is also on the website; I’m guessing it is updated fairly regularly because when I went to look up what beer I had, it wasn’t listed there anymore (all I know is, I had a brown ale and then a Japanese coffee stout, and they were both great).

Dress code was fairly casual; I wore jeans and so did most of the servers, although there were several tables around us with dressed up folks.  The beauty about a restaurant near a university is that there were also tables of people all in scrubs, or workout clothes, or business suits.  They also do live acoustic music fairly regularly, although that appears to mostly happen indoors, and with this place, outdoors is where you want to be.

My summary: good food, good beer, great atmosphere–perfect for escaping the city on a summer evening, when you can’t actually get out of town. I will definitely be going back to sit by the fire pit and fill out more note cards about their beer!

There were only two people inside when we arrived and parked ourselves on stools at the ornately beautiful, wood bar.  We ordered draughts (Newcastle and Smithwick’s) and food (seasoned waffle fries with cheese) and began talking amongst ourselves.  In walked an overly friendly man (late 30′s, maybe?) in a baja poncho, who proceeded to ruin our evening.  As we tried to ignore him during his continuous questions firing our way, it got increasingly more awkward and uncomfortable.  We got the check, and, apparently, it was right on time.

Man: J, do you dance?

J: No.

Man: Not even at junior prom or senior prom?

J: Nope.

Man: Kellie, how about you?  Do you dance?

Me: Nope.  I don’t dance either.

Man: Are you guys best friends?

J and me: *choking laughter*

Me: Not best friends, no.  Just friends.

Man: Can I come hang out with you tonight?

Me: No.  I think we’re just going to head home.

Man: Can I come with you guys?

J and me: (emphatically) No.

The turn that the conversation took, starting with the best friends comment, led us to believe that he thought we were going home together and had a different type of relationship than we do.  A type that he wanted to be a part of. Definitely more than I was expecting during a Monday happy hour.

Modeling my Three Wolves Howling at the Moon T-Shirt

Of course, I allowed Kellie to be the lead investigator and cultural broker for this experiment, given her familiarity with the study site (South Philly) and her clear-cut uber-coolness, as evidenced by her hot-orange, vintage hunting jacket and low-top Chuck Taylors.

For those of you who don’t know, parts of South Philly have been undergoing a “hipster” renaissance of sorts.  Gone are the old-world days of green awnings, fake flowers, and Virgin Mary statues (well, that’s not completely true, as Kellie and I discovered during our brief walk through the neighborhood).

Neoclassical Architecture in the Heart of South Philly

Nowadays, you are more likely to experience its uncomfortable juxtaposition with skinny jeans, coffee shops, and post-modernist thought than the Mafioso that made South Philly notorious.  East Passyunk Ave. is the ultimate example of this renaissance and was the site for at least half of our jaunt into the somewhat unknown.

Kellie and I started out at 1601 at 10^th and Tasker – a cozy local pub offering updated versions of various comfort food classics.  I, of course, choose a PBR pounder as my drink of choice (I was trying to fit in with the locals, after all)

Pabst Blue Ribbon: Hipster Water

and went with the fish tacos, which were pretty disappointing and bland.  (note from Kellie – I’ve had the fish tacos twice before, and they’re usually quite tasty.)  Kellie tried to enjoy her Bacon, Lettuce, Avocado and Fried Tomato (BLAT) sandwich sans mayo; however, it came out with mayo and had to be sent back.  The delicious Parmesan pomme frittes and free stout for the mayo mix-up more than made up for these small missteps, though.  While Kellie and I dined, drank, and discussed socialism (again, we didn’t want to stick out too conspicuously), we studied the sociological mashing of old and new:  the weathered old man donning Nike and playing Megatouch; two hipsters waxing philosophical over “the nostalgia of analog recordings” (a direct quote); and, Nick Drake playing faintly in the background while March Madness dominated the flat screens over the bar.  As our own conversation devolved into more tawdry subjects (not to be shared here), so did the conversations of the natives.  (Did I really hear je ne sais quoi and the f-bomb in the same sentence?)   Seeing all there was to see, we decided to take our study to the next level and travel down the street to the what many would deem hipster Mecca right here in Philadelphia – Pub on Passyunk East aka “Pope.”  I learned quickly, though, never, ever to actually call it by its real name as that is as sure a social death as leprosy.

I was intimidated and nervous as we entered into the lair –  would I be fingered as an imposter?  A sell-out working for “the man” who is as removed from my “activist” days as Sarah Palin is from reality?  With Kellie by my side sipping on her “WTF” porter (even the beer names had the air of cool superiority) and a “G&T” in hand  (Gin and Tonic, folks…a required hipster drink), we settled into a dark corner and tried to blend into our surroundings.  Thankfully, those surroundings included a jukebox, which I was sure would be my redemption (one thing I know is good music) but even I was sad to learn that my musical lexicon was not nearly as eclectic as the jukebox offerings.  The best we could collectively muster was Metallica’s “Fade to Black”, some Al Green, Gang of Four, the Beach Boys and The Pixies, among others. (note from Kellie – the jukebox was a bit too sparse and indie, a dangerous combination.)

With our social experiment nearing it’s end and both of us still starving, Kellie and I decided to venture to the bright lights of cheesesteak row at 9^th and Passyunk.  Being Pat’s girls through and through (Geno’s is so 2000 and late), we chowed down on a “Wiz Wit,” Lady and the Tramp style, while enjoying the early-90’s musical stylings coming from the nearby South Philly Bar and Grill. (Rhythm is totally a dancer!)

A Wiz Wit: Heaven and a Heart-attack on a Roll

Ultimately, my quest to understand this often misunderstood species and enjoy some good food along the way re-awakened that little voice deep, down inside that whispers ”Damn, the Man!” and yearns for the day that little yuppy boys and girls can coexist peacefully with their hipster brethren.  Can I get an amen?!

Exhibit A: We were one of the first tags on APO's wall

APO’s specialties are its creative, hand-made drinks, which are both time-consuming to construct and wallet-busters but worth the wait and the money, nonetheless.  Kellie, at the great recommendation of our barkeep (who, by the way, were named 2008′s Best Bartenders by Citysearch and it was easy to see why), started off with the Drury Flip – a play on classic egg nog, combining stout, rum, orange marmalade, nutmeg and egg (um, delicious!) – and it went on (and on, and on) from there.  By the end of the night (or around 10 – we started drinking early), we had plowed through most of the noteworthy drinks on the menu: the Booty Collins (green tea infused gin, passion fruit, agave nectar, lemon juice, cayenne, yohimbe, valerian root, house made seltzer and brandied cherries);

The Booty Collins

the Moroccan Fashion (bourbon, Fernet, mint tea, chocolate, and barrel aged bitters);

The Moroccan Fashion

and, the Roaring Inverno (cachaca, amaretto, Cynar, kumquats, lime, brown sugar, cinnamon).

Our great barkeep putting the finishing touches on the Roaring Inverno...not to be confused with the Roaring Inferno...my bad!

The well-stocked bar was even able to support one of my favorite drinks, a Pimm’s Cup, which helped elucidate the fact that Kellie actually is the other half of my brain when we both exclaimed in unison, “The Pimm’s Cup is to Wimbledon like the Mint Julep is to the Kentucky Derby!!” My favorite drink of the night was the Immunity Idol (gin, elderflower liqueur, champagne, pineapple and orange juices, orange bitters, echinacea, hawthorn root and liniment) with its “inebriated berries,” giving us a great Halloween costume idea for next year (getting drunk in a strawberry costume).  Kellie ended the night with the Desert Rose (anejo tequila, Aperol, Italian red vermouth, rose-water, bitters) – a painfully strong drink, even after the dulling that 6 other drinks brings to the palate.  In all, we consumed 13 different drinks (with no hang over to speak of in the morning), spent over $200,

Proof of the damage

and, had it not been for the complimentary soft pretzel crosses, would probably have been carried out of the place.  Unfortunately, food is not on the menu (supposedly it’s coming soon) so caution to all considering a trip to APO:  you will have to eat something beforehand unless you plan on taking the lush-honors, which on this night, Kellie and I were more than happy to do.

After it had been determined that we blew our entire bi-weekly food budget on drinks (all in the name of research, people!), we ventured down the block to what we thought, at the time, was heaven (or its closest approximate):  the open-late, $9.99 Indian buffet, New Samosa.   Now, we quickly determined that this was by no means the best Indian food either of us had ever had but the warm naan, greasy chana masala, and tender tandoori chicken was enough to get us through our late-night, drunken munchies and send us on our merry ways.

The Aftermath

Overall, our night out to APO was just the right cure for my post-gyno distress and it certainly merits another visit on another pay day — at the very least so Kellie and I can win that bet!