Houston Food Blog

​Hockey fans, look no further. You've found him. The man who will bring you cold beer and snacks during the Stanley Cup playoffs. No, he's not God. He is Scott Fix, the bartender at the Maple Leaf Pub (514 Elgin Street).

Fix has been bartending for 15 years, two-and-a-half of those at the Maple Leaf. The regulars call him by name. It's like Cheers for hockey fans. And, yes, there are hockey fans in Houston, even though ice is something we usually see in the movies.

Last night, Fix sat down with us at the bar. It's his only break from people calling his name for drink refills. But, he loves it -- even the Stanley Cup playoffs with rowdy hockey fans and free-flowing beer. "It's crazy, but it's fun. We look forward to it all year."

Photo by Troy Fields

​When I eat expensive sushi, it's usually at family dinners honoring special occasions — my little brother coming down from Austin for Mom's birthday, my little brother getting out of city lockup, my little brother beating that misdemeanor drug charge. (Lesson learned: Don't bring weed through the downtown Greyhound station. If the pipsqueak POS security guard there finds it, he'll call the real police faster than you can say nigirizushi.) Cheaper sushi, on the other hand, is used to help absorb all the discounted booze I consume when I go with friends to happy hour at a Japanese joint.

That was the case on Tuesday, when I first tried the lychee-tini at Miyako (3910 Kirby, 713-520-9797). I agree, any drink that ends in "tini" without beginning in "mar" is suspect, but this tropical concoction is delicious and, surprisingly, not too sweet. (You old-school types don't need to worry about your image — in the restaurant's dim light, the drink could easily be mistaken for a Gibson.) After several rounds, the only drawback I noticed was that I found myself vowing to get my life on track by joining the Coast Guard in order to finance a history degree, two things I wasn't even aware I wanted to do before the lychees starting working their magic.

1 1/2 ounces Absolut vodka

1 1/2 ounces lychee juice

splash of triple sec

Shake over ice and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a peeled, de-pitted lychee fruit. Repeat five times and subject your friends to a monologue on the merits of dockside bars.

​When I sit down at the last free seat along the bar at Downing Street, David Mascari wins me over immediately by getting my name and shaking my hand after he takes my drink order. It's obvious he's comfortable behind the bar, and soon I find out why. "I've been here almost 11 years," he says. "We've had a few changes, but overall it's pretty much the same. It's worked for 11 years, so nothing wrong with that."

Photo by Troy Fields

​When I attended University of Houston, the only on-campus watering holes I frequented were the stadium parking lot and the Communication Building. (During one end-of-the-semester newspaper party, a colleague who also went on to write for this very column nearly pissed on my head from a second-story walkway. We're a classy bunch.) But today's UH students have a drinking option not available even at that party school in Austin — a fully-stocked on-campus bar. Jason, one of three owners of The Cougar Den (4800 Calhoun, 713-743-2255), tells me he and two friends opened the place in December because they were tired of other establishments relegating UH games to tiny TVs. "This is our fucking town," he says. And this is clearly their fucking bar.

He mixes me a Cougar Cooler — basically a red Long Island Iced Tea — and shows me around the place. The crowd is eclectic. The drinks, including the 18 beers on tap, are incredibly cheap. The nearly pristine main room is littered with UH memorabilia. The ladies' room — a particular point of pride for the ownership — is nicer than my apartment. And though it's hard to tell at night, Jason insists the view through the bar's large bay windows is spectacular. Pulling a gold spyglass out of a leather pouch, he aims his gaze toward the campus recreation center across the street. He says he's scanning the sidewalk for a species he calls the "North American brown-bellied mattress-thrasher." With skippers like Jason and Co. at the helm, UH students should be well served for some time.

3/4 ounce vodka

3/4 ounce rum

3/4 ounce gin

3/4 ounce triple sec liqueur

splash of sweet & sour, pineapple juice

and cranberry juice

Pour ingredients over ice in a Collins glass.Stir.

Photo by Sarah Rufka

​Tucked in on an unremarkable stretch of Richmond, Velvet Melvin's isn't the kind of bar you hear a lot about. "When I describe this place to people, I say it's a neighborhood bar. It's kind of a hole in the wall. You could see somebody in pajama pants or you could see a guy in a nice suit," says bartender Katie Statlander. Statlander has been behind the bar here for more than three years, when she's not studying elementary education at the University of Houston. "'Til then I pour drinks!" she laughs. "Actually, bartending definitely gets you ready for standing in front of people and talking. You can't be shy when you're a teacher. You'd be surprised, I have some teaching classes where people stand up and nothing comes out of their mouths. I'm like, how are you going to do this in front of 30 kids?"

Of course, kids aren't the only ones who'll try your patience. An older man in a suit sticks his head in to complain that something is wrong with his Crown and water. After trying and failing to persuade him that he was drinking a perfectly good Crown and water and offering to make him something else, Statlander makes another (identical) drink. She hands it to him with a smile and then shoots me a look that says she's perfectly ready to deal with children of all ages. Nevertheless she has nothing but good things to say about the bar patrons.

​I had been asked to leave establishments for unbecoming conduct, but never for trying to cover a place for the paper. So I was surprised when that happened at Dirt Bar (222 Yale, 713-426-4222), where media types are apparently not welcome -- at least not while on the job. The bartender told me they consider DB more of a private club (as does TABC, I'm sure) and try to keep things low-key. We don't even have a sign, he explained. Well, neither does Lola's, and they don't cop an attitude about it. Of course, comparing those two is like putting an On the Border up against the best taqueria in town.

A little confused and too sober to deal with an Auto-Tuned version of a rock and roll bar, my buddy and I decided to explore the other end of the spectrum with some girly drinks at the Tavern on Gray (1340 W. Gray, 713-522-5152), which is the kind of place that will not let you in if you have knuckle tattoos, even if they say "JAGR BOMB." Bartender Cassie reluctantly suggested Bay Breezes; when a lady is embarrassed to make you a certain drink, you know you've chosen well. At 1 a.m. we were picking the cherries out of our pink cocktails and listening to a karaoke Bonnie Raitt. There's little chance the Tavern is going to make me love it anytime soon, but at least no one's putting on airs.

1 1/4 ounces vodka

1/4 ounce triple sec

1 ounce pineapple juice

2 ounces cranberry juice

splash grenadine

Pour ice and ingredients into a highball glass and stir. Garnish with a lime, orange wedge and maraschino cherries. Drink like a menopausal woman on a bender.

​"No, I'm just a bartender," Thomas Boran assures me for maybe the third time as I watch him deftly handle the early evening crowd in Hotel Derek's new Vin Bar. Nevertheless, there's something in his manner -- thoughtful, precise, capable -- that reminds me of a beverage manager. Maybe it's his academic credentials. "I'm finishing my degree at the University of Houston, the Bauer College; it's the business school, management and finance. I'm just bartending right now as my full time job. I've done it plus school since I was 17," he says. "My favorite thing about being a bartender is the hours. I can work on my degree, and what we get paid for the amount of time we spend here--it's very lucrative. I've done it for a while; it's really all I've done. I'm good at it."

Boran's head for numbers and details is obvious when he talks about the process of opening a bar from scratch. "Vin Bar was open four weeks prior to the grand opening last Thursday. When you start from scratch, you work on getting everything organized, making sure that you're set up for success, that everyone behind you can keep up the pace, and that you have all the necessary tools -- all your glassware, your dishes and where you're keeping them -- making sure it's efficient so you don't have to run to the back to grab an espresso spoon. Everything is set up to minimize going back and forth," says Boran.

Photo by Troy Fields

​Bartender Matt Trimble of Catbird's (1336 West­heimer, 713-523-8000) is an impressive man. Before taking his current job, he undertook a weeks-long bicycle odyssey from Houston to New York, sleeping on the side of the road and surviving on his ability to charm strangers. He dates an exotic journalist who makes a young Christiane Amanpour look like a present-day Helen Thomas. And, most importantly, he made me an outstanding Sunday hangover cure, despite suffering from a long-­running case of poison ivy he acquired while tending a community garden. (He claimed poison ivy isn't contagious after the first day or so. Still no unsightly blisters on my body that weren't there before, so I suspect he's right.)

The shot, which Matt and fellow bartender Sean invented, is called a Truck Stop Cappuccino. It tastes uncannily similar to a gas station push-­button blend, so it's good if you prefer alcohol's effects to its flavor. Of course, since this is a neighborhood bar — Sean refers to Catbird's as "the Cheers of Montrose" — the bartenders will be happy to add Bacardi 151 to taste, if you like your coffee breaks a little morepotent.

1/2 ounce Stoli vanilla vodka

1/2 ounce Frangelico liqueur

1/2 ounce Kahlúa liqueur

Splash of Bacardi 151 rum, if desired

Shake over ice. Serve in a Styrofoam cup with a stir stick. If you consider Matt and Sean's concoction the best part of waking up, maybe it's time to cut back.

​Walk into Absinthe, and it's almost guaranteed that Karen Racine will be pouring your drink. Karen, or at least someone she's related to. "I actually own the bar going on six years. My sister and I own this, and she and my brother-in-law own Bowl. We have a staff of five, and it's all pretty much family. It's me and my sister, my brother-in-law works Wednesdays, my cousin cocktails...the only one who isn't family is the guy who makes the pizza. And we're getting a new bartender; he's another one of my cousins. We do hire out, but it seems like it always just comes back to family."

Photo by Option This

Are questionable jars of pickled eggs the most you can hope for at Houston's best dive bars?

​This week's feature is all about Houston's best dive bars. Dive bar food in Houston is a pretty hit-and-miss affair. If you lump icehouses in with the overall class of dive bars, as you must in Houston, you know what to expect: average to great backyard grill fare like hot dogs, burgers, and occasionally steaks. And then there are the roving bands of Mexican tamale ladies and Middle Eastern pizza dudes. We recommend the former heartily and the latter not so much, unless you really like utterly generic pizza or are drunk enough not to notice. Which might well be the case.

Photo by Troy Fields

​"I'd hate to own a bar," says Sergeant B. "I'd have to deal with people like me." He's talking about agitated drinkers, and in this case, the source of the agitation is a Monday Night Football bingo game at Front Porch Pub (217 Gray, 713-571-9571). Bingo and anger normally go together like mascara and the rainy season, but this is different: On these boards, the squares feature events that happen over the course of a football game (from "WR scores TD" to "Useless stat displayed"). You mark off a square only after the judges call it, and if they didn't see that three-and-out, it never happened, Sarge.

Since more booze always serves to calm, I ask fellow bingo player and Poison Girl bartender Evan for a recommendation. He wants to try his bar's signature shot at a different establishment, so we order a round of Poison Girls. I halfway expect the space-time continuum to disintegrate after ordering a Montrose staple in darkest Midtown, but the universe survives, and the drinks come out fine. Evan pronounces them "close enough." Sergeant B. says his "tastes like candy." Better than defeat, buddy.

1/2 ounce bourbon

1/2 ounce DeKuyper Razzmatazz raspberry liqueur

1/2 ounce vodka

splash of sweet and sour

Shake over ice and strain into glass. Do not make fun of the guy who selects a Jägermeister cooler with built-in Red Bull holders as his bingo prize unless you like bar fights.

Photos by Paul Knight

​Arnetta Yardbourgh was sitting on a couch in the lounge at the new Lucky Strike Lanes during Thursday's Grand Opening party, eating barbecue chicken bites and pepperoni pizza, trying to talk to her friends over the mind-numbing techno beats blasting through the speakers.

"The atmosphere is great here," Yardbourgh said, adding that she hadn't checked out the bowling lanes, Lucky Strike's main attraction. That was no big deal, she said, because she was having a great time enjoying the drinks and food. "I'd definitely come back just to hang out."

After talking to Yardbourgh, each time we tried a different food off plates being carried by servers throughout the party, or each time we got a fresh drink, we wondered, "If the best part of a bowling alley is the food and booze, does the bowling alley suck?"

Photos by Katharine Shilcutt

The winning cocktail

​​If the results of Monday night's Manhattan Experience contest are anything to go by, the answer is yes.

It appears -- for now, at least -- that bacon hasn't entirely jumped the shark. The winning entry in the Woodford Reserve Manhattan Experience at the Houston Museum of Natural Science featured a Manhattan augmented with maple syrup and candied bacon, a concoction devised by Derek Black, bartender at The Rockwood Room.

The smokiness of the candied bacon bits that rimmed the martini glass subtly augmented the woodsy flavor of the bacon-infused Woodford Reserve bourbon, with a sweet finish from the similarly woodsy maple syrup (used in place of sweet vermouth), making for an almost irresistable cocktail from top to bottom.

Baklava Manhattan

Other entries in the event were equally impressive, with an emphasis on creatively enhancing the classic Manhattan recipe of bourbon, bitters and sweet vermouth. Dimitra Kriticos of Olympia at Pier 21 (the popular Kriticos family's second restaurant in Galveston) created a baklava-inspired Manhattan that featured cinnamon and nutmeg in a powdered sugar-rimmed glass with a glistening bite of baklava on the side. Joe Le from Aca Sushi created a Japanese-themed Manhattan with green tea liqueur. And our personal favorite Manhattan, in which a whole vanilla bean was reduced in Grand Marnier and infused into the cocktail, was created by Michael Raymond of Reserve 101.

Photo by Troy Fields

​It was dangerously close to Tuesday morning, it was raining and I was combing the gutter outside Lone Star Saloon (1900 Travis, 713-757-1616) for a receipt I shouldn't have thrown away. Bartender Kari was helping me look because a) she's gracious, b) it was the merchant copy, which she needed to prove I'd paid my rather excessive tab, and c) there was no one else in the bar to serve, anyway. Yeah, it was one of those nights. Kari, a heavy-equipment operator, moved to Galena Park after getting laid off in her home state of Oregon. Unable to find work in her field, she started bartending at the downtown dive three months ago.

After hearing her story, I offered to buy her a green drink of her choice in honor of the Beaver State. She had yet to add that hue to her mixological repertoire, so one of my companions suggested a green demon. We improvised a recipe with what the Lone Star had on hand, with mixed results: It tasted like Hi-C Ecto Cooler and, thanks to the bar's tight pour control policy, cost about as much as a steakhouse martini. They were plenty potent, though — I'm usually not one to grab the wrong receipt or litter. Blame it on demonic influence.

1 ounce vodka

1 ounce light rum

1 ounce Midori liqueur

Shake vodka, rum and Midori and pour over ice in a highball glass. Top off with lemonade and a cherry, if such luxuries are available. Repeating this process may result in involuntary exorcism.

​"I don't really work here anymore," says John Stanley at Hans' Bier Haus as he pours me a beer. "I'm hopefully just picking up tonight. This is only the second time I've set foot in here in about a month, as a bartender, at least. I worked here about a year and a half, but I'm just in a different place in my life." Stanley has gone from a life behind the bar to using his music degree--he has a master's from Rice--to give private lessons at several area schools. "I went to Rice, I play bass trombone, I like beer--I'm pretty much a walking stereotype."

"Don't get me wrong, it's a good gig," says Stanley between orders. "It's better than the Tipsy Clover or something where it's fast, fast, fast all the time. No mojitos, no shots, no trendy this or that. People aren't here to get really drunk, they aren't high-stress most of the time. Hardly ever are there fights, and if there are, they break up real easy. We don't get the popped-collar people who want to prove how big their dick is. Not a lot of macho, not a lot of attitude. Just people who want to have a good time and a few drinks."

Photo by Troy Fields

​The new Washington Avenue scene is advancing eastward, and I went to issue a front-line report at Sawyer Park Sports Bar (2412 Washington Ave., 713-398-8442). Upon entering the brightly lit, sterile downstairs area, I began to miss the dirty old days when the Pig Stand used to, uh, stand where this new bar is now located. Too young to be nostalgic, I decided to burn away those memories with booze.

Bartender Courtney obliged my request for a shot, mixing a grape-vodka-based drink that we promptly gave the worst name in the world. After downing my Courtney Cox, I headed to the second-floor patio in search of a little character. The expansive porch was nicer than I expected. I ended up discussing the striking skyline view with a group of gregarious Irishmen on the tail end of a road trip across the South. Paul, a navigator in the "small but feisty" Irish navy, and James, a Galway dairy product salesman, also lamented Houston's lack of respect for history. But the Bayou City's certainly not without its upside. "There are huge knockers here," says James, gesturing toward my writing pad. "Put that in yer booook." Duly noted, mate.

1 ounce Three Olives grape vodka

Splash sweet and sour

Splash Red Bull

Splash 7 Up

Mix with ice in a shaker and strain into a shot glass.

Smooth, but feisty.

Photo by Sarah Rufka

​Who says there's no such thing as loyalty in the world? Walk into the bordello-red bar at Strip House when Erin Carter is working, and you'll see some of the most ardent regulars in town. "I worked for Ibiza for three years, and a lot of these guys are regulars that followed me here," says Carter, before giving me all their names, occupations and where their offices are. It's obvious that if asked, she could rattle off their drinks, the names of their kids and their shoe sizes as well. "I've known them for three years, they're like family. I'm catering a luau for a friend of one next week--we're doing a whole roasted pig. It's gonna be a challenge, but we're going to do it. Seriously, they are great guys."

When Carter says catering, she's not talking about Strip House, she's referring to her own company. "It's called A Time to Dine Catering and Special Events. I usually work here Wednesday, Thursday and Friday all day and maybe every other Saturday, and then I do that on the side and on the weekends. It keeps me pretty busy."

Photo by Sarah Rufka

​The confusing maze of the new CityCentre development on the Westside leaves one totally unprepared for Hotel Sorella's beautiful, modern Monnalisa bar. But if you ask bartender Curtis Weeks, the bar might be just a bit too beautiful.

"A lot of this stuff is art-driven and not functionality-driven. We had really pretty glass doors on here behind the bar, but they aren't here anymore because someone had them open and was bending down, and I walked by and, bam! I hit my head on one, and I cracked the glass. And the funny thing was, the girl who left it open had just said that it was a hazard. I don't know if the designers had designed a bar before, but I'm pretty sure they had never bartended," Weeks says. "But at night we open the doors to the pool, get the fire going, it's a very cool vibe. It's a pretty place to be. It's not a typical Houston neighborhood bar."

Hey, Esquire, stick to covering topics like this and we'll all be happy.

​The venerated Esquire has released its list of the Best Bars in America, compiled after what we imagine was some serious and excessive binge-drinking that had either mind-erasing or mind-altering effects on the editors, because guess what: Not a single Houston bar made the list.

The list dutifully covers all 50 states -- and even made it to Puerto Rico (one pities the poor person who had to travel there and to Hawaii) -- but when it comes to Texas, the wheels just fall right off.

It's insulting enough for our neighbors to the north that the Dallas/Ft. Worth metropolitan area only produced two bars that passed muster -- coming in far, far, far behind such gems as Birmingham and Des Moines -- or that San Antonio only got one bar on the list, but the entire state seems to have been ignored except for that mecca of modsters, Austin. With five bars on the list, Austin appears to be the only city in Texas that has any bars at all. At least any that Esquire was able to locate.

Houston, sadly, doesn't merit a single appearance on the list. Cities that have at least two bars, however, include Indianapolis, Lawrence (yes, in Kansas, with three bars), Portland, Tacoma, Madison (we think that's somewhere in Wisconsin) and Little Rock. Thriving metropolii, all of them.

Photo by Sarah Rufka

​Ask Linda Salinas how she became such a wine guru (or wine nerd, to use her expression), and her answer is, "Actually, a few years ago I fell in love with a piece of mold." Um.... Then she explains: "I used to work for Backstreet Café just as a waiter, and Sean Beck, the sommelier there, every Friday he would do this wine class. He broke down Botrytis, which is a type of mold that grows on grapes that produces this super awesome sweet wine, and so I kind of fell in love with the science and it went from there, and I started gobbling up this knowledge, and the next thing you know it was fate."

As the acting beverage director at Hotel Icon's VOICE, Salinas is currently prepping fall wine and cocktail lists. "I'm rolling out a really cool wine list. It'll be somewhat focused on biodynamics, which is the study of the sun, the moon, the stars, just everything in alignment to grow the grape and basically to love the vine. People that do biodynamics are not playing around. They dedicate their lives, and yeah, it gets a little hokey every once in a while, but they have a true passion for their vineyards. I'm a person of passion, so I connect with that," Salinas says.

​Houston isn't my hometown, but I've lived here for 10 years now. And yet, horror of horrors, until recently I'd never been to Lola's Depot (2327 Grant St., 713-528-8342). Hey, jerks! I can see you all shaking your heads. Gimme a break. It's not like the place is real easy to find or anything. There's not even a sign. But I will concede that its subtlety is its charm. According to the clock above the cash register, Lola's is the Home of Reality. It's also the home of all-day happy hour, including $1.75 Lone Stars, on Tuesdays. The world needs more of this kind of reality.

Lola's opened in '82, and it has been home to bartenders Kenny, Danny and Jaime for a combined 50 years. Like any great dive bar, it's home to exposed duct-work, black walls, some scary-ass artwork and a stuffed baboon. It's home to Kenny's "travel wall" - a repository for postcards sent "home" to Lola's from all over the world, even some place called "Alaska." I asked Jaime to mix a shot for me, and we took a Georgia Peach together. Then I remembered I had some veerrryy important bidness in the A.M., so I had one more Lone Star and headed to my humble abode, home of your mild-mannered drinks reporter....until now. That's right: Someone else will be taking over this column. So until next time, W.H., out.

2 ounces Crown Royal whiskey
1 ounce peach schnapps liqueur
Splash of pineapple juice

Shake with ice and strain into a shot glass. Lola's is "cash only," and "some wines may contain sulfites."

Photo by Sarah Rufka

​"I'm very shy. That's where the drinks come in," says Geneva Gordon. No matter what Geneva says, though, shy she is not. Working behind the busy bar of Under the Volcano, she's not overly gregarious, but she has the art of conversation down, chit-chatting about subjects ranging from crazy lawsuits to the contestants on VH1's Real Chance at Love (she's a fan of Pocahontas).

Photo by Troy Fields

​Saturday was one of those drinking marathons that cause me to wake up the next day and ask myself questions like, "How old am I, again?," "Why is my wallet in the toilet?" and "How did I break my pants?" Anything worth doing is worth doing to irresponsible excess, right? My booze-fueled Bataan death march began with vodka and OJ at breakfast, beers over lunch and more cocktails in the afternoon. Then it got dark and everything got fuzzy. I have only mental postcards from anything after, oh, about 8:30 p.m. I lay most of the blame for my "rolling brownouts" on Björn, the bartender on duty at The Davenport (2117 Richmond, 713-520-1140) this particular afternoon. Through dogged effort and some mad-scientist experimentation, he came up with the Pistolera — a sour, spicy flavor riot that left a nice burn well after my last sip. After a few of those, my head was practically on fire. Better my head than my pants, I guess.

2 ounces Cruzan Pineapple Rum

1 ounce pineapple schnapps liqueur

1 ounce pineapple juice

½ lime wedge

Sliced fresh jalapeño pepper

Combine rum, schnapps and juice in a shaker with ice; shake and strain into martini glass; squeeze lime and pepper into glass; garnish with jalapeño slices. When things get blurry, don't rub your eyes.

Photos by Katharine Shilcutt

Pimm's Cup, No. 68 on Anvil's 100 List

​Although only one page long, the list is daunting. Satan's Whiskers, Monkey Gland, Blood & Sand, Corpse Reviver #2, Death in the Afternoon, Widow's Kiss, El Diablo: one could almost mistake the cocktail names for santería ingredients. And the sheer breadth of the different cocktails is mesmerizing; some with egg, some with absinthe, some with champagne, some with rum. And each of them a classic cocktail, in the truest sense of the phrase.

This is Anvil's 100 List, a compilation of cocktails that everyone should try at least once in their lives. Bobby Heugel and Justin Burrows, the master mixologists behind Anvil Bar & Refuge, created the list as a means of educating their customers on the long, fascinating history of cocktails. The list itself is printed on a yellowed piece of legal-size paper, with this admonition at the top: "We at Anvil would be remiss in our duties if we did not mention that there are certain libations we feel you should try at least once in you life...for better or worse."

The list launches straight into the first cocktail -- an Absinthe Drip (just absinthe and water over sugar) -- and doesn't let up until the Zombie (which tastes better than it sounds, made with Jamaican rum, lime, lemon, pineapple, passion fruit syrup, brown sugar and angostura bitters). Along the way, you cross over 400 years of history from drinks like the Port Flip (No. 73) -- which dates back to at least 1887, although Flips themselves date to the 17th century -- and the Toddy (No. 92), which dates to the 18th century.

Photo by Sarah Rufka

​To watch Norman Daughtery make a martini is a beautiful thing. The head bartender at Bailey's American Grille in Seabrook, he pours his ingredients slowly and precisely before furiously going to town with the cocktail shaker, whipping the ingredients until the strong drinks have the thinnest layer of ice on top and the sweet drinks have a hint of foam. It's not hard to tell he's a martini drinker himself. "I have to make you a chocolate martini," he says. "I have a couple that come in all the time and order them, and they told me, 'Your chocolate martinis, they make you go home and get naked and jump in the pool!'" It's clearly a compliment.

Get him started, and Daughtery can't help but show off his favorite on- and off-menu creations, from a frothy white key lime martini to a sweet-but-not-too sweet-drink inspired by banana nut bread. "I just come up with a flavor I want to recreate, and then I experiment," says Daughtery. It's obviously working, because the key lime martini tastes just like the pie. Norman smiles. "Scary, isn't it?" The dangerous ingredient is the Firefly Sweet Tea vodka, a liquor so remarkable Daughtery insists we taste it. Filling a Collins glass with half tea vodka, half water and a slice of lemon, the result looks and tastes just like sweet tea. "That's actually 70 proof," says Daughtery, "I don't keep it in my house -- it's too easy to drink the whole glass before you even realize it."

Photo by Troy Fields

​Friday night is karaoke night at Christian's Tailgate (2000 Bagby, 713-527-0261), which can only mean one thing: drunken idiots. To stand up and belt it out in front of a room full of people, most of us need to be seriously soused. Spectators, in order to endure the aural assault, must also be sufficiently desensitized. In the other corner stands the bartender. In addition to being adept at tuning out the interminable racket, these paragons of patience must get very good at lubricating the singing and non-singing masses.

So consider Marcus at Christian's. Now here's a guy who obviously knows what's up. When I ask if he has any recommendations for quick pain relief, he quickly volunteers three different shots of varying potencies, including the Lunch Box. He doesn't complain when the shitfaced Neil Diamond wannabes order 13 Jaeger bombs and then massacre "Sweet Caroline." He just puts on his hard hat, punches the clock and goes to work like a true pro. Tip this man.

¼ pint beer

¼ pint orange juice

2 ounces Disaronno Amaretto liqueur

Fill pint glass with beer and OJ. Drop shot glass full of amaretto into pint glass. But why wait until lunch? Enjoy any time of day.

Photo by Sarah Rufka

​Seeing Reid McGraff at the Alden-Houston's a+ bar and grille -- an affable and friendly bartender, but with a certain polished bearing -- you'd never guess he'd ever tended a less elegant bar. Asked about his past positions, he mentions Hotel ZaZa, House of Blues, Warren's Inn and City Streets. Wait, what?

"You know where 610 and Richmond meet, right across the street from Best Buy? Back when I started about 20, 25 years ago there was a nightclub there called Cooter's, and then later when it closed down it reopened as City Streets," he says. City Streets, for anyone who did not attend a bachelorette party in the 1990s, was a club so large it had several themed mini-clubs inside. "I was over there for a long, long, time. One night I was there until six in the morning, with a long checkout, inventory, and then we had to practice the dance routines that we'd all do two to three times during the evening. Once they put all that into one shift, I was done."

Before we can get our minds around the choreographed dance routines, McGrath sets a perfectly pink watermelon margarita in front of us. A sip brings a veritable explosion of sweet, tart flavor. "The watermelon puree was made fresh today by Chef Hight," says McGrath. "He'll bring me all sorts of items. Just whatever he has that is seasonal, whatever inspires him. There's nothing like having those fresh ingredients."

Photo by Troy Fields

​Alissa, the lovely GM at Cava Bistro (301 Main, 713-223-4068) came up with the idea for the Southern Belle one lazy Sunday afternoon by the pool. See, she and her girlfriends were just chillaxin', catching some rays, and they needed a poolside thirst-quencher. So our hero combined two great Southern traditions: sweet tea and whiskey. Then she mixed in a little mint and honey she had lying around, and voilà — manna from heaven, Dixie style. So the girls whiled away the afternoon, drank plenty of Alissa's newfangled automatic summer refresher and then they all fired off their bikini tops, jumped in the water and had insane, GGW-style chicken fights, which eventually led to a marathon pillow fight back at their sorority house...or so I imagined anyway. Yes, I've been watching too much late-night TV. So what? I never let the truth stand in the way of a good story.

2 ounces Gentleman Jack

1 ounce iced tea

Fresh mint

Honey

Simple syrup

Muddle mint in shaker tin; add a few drops of honey and dash of syrup; add whiskey, tea and ice; shake and serve over crushed ice in a highball glass.

Photo by Vu Banh

​Isang Undoinyang is one of those guys who started waiting tables in college, thinking it was a temporary gig, and just never stopped. After more than five years on the floor and behind the bar at Two Rows, he's bounced to Bar Boheme (307 Fairview St., 713-529-1099), an eclectic wine bar in the heart of Montrose. What inspired the change? "Working at Two Rows was so easy, and it allowed me to not do anything else," says Undoinyang. "You get used to it. You wake up at nine or 10, you go to work at six and work for six or seven hours and your bills get paid. You can go out drinking and partying or whatever for as long as you want. But eventually you turn 30 and it starts to get old, and you're just like, 'I gotta do something else.' For me it was more of a change of milieu than anything else." If that's true, Isang sure is precocious -- he's still a couple years shy of his 30th birthday.

Photo by Troy Fields

​I don't love the taste of Absinthe, but I do love Absinthe Brasserie (609 Richmond, 713-528-7575). This gig sends me to a lot of bars, but if this isn't the coolest, coziest, most comfortable cocktail lounge in town, I don't know what is. From the dim candlelight and all-around warm vibe to the knowledgeable bartenders and tasteful music selection, this place fits my definition of what a great bar should be.

The Vinyl Sunset — fantastic name, by the way — caught my eye on the drinks menu during my last visit. Given my previous unpleasant experiences with straight absinthe, my expectations for this absinthe-based cocktail were low. But the drink, like the bar itself, won me over immediately. This, dear reader, is a great adult beverage. Subtle licorice blends surprisingly well with the flavor of lemonade and raspberry liqueur. The bright citrus colors gradually fade into blood-red cassis like sunlight in the gloaming, while the straw-pierced cross-section of an orange floats atop the ice like a 45" spinning on your older sister's hi-fi.

The drink's name itself drips with golden sentimentality. I don't own a turntable anymore, but if I did, I would put on a classic rec­ord and keep one of these cocktails within reach as the hot Houston sun disappeared from view.

1 ounce Pernod absinthe

1/2 ounce Cassis Raspberry liqueur

Fresh lemonade

Pour cassis into tumbler; add ice, then add absinthe; fill with lemonade; top with orange slice. No, you won't hallucinate. Please stop asking.