A Round of Serious Drinking at the New Kids On Market Square
"To cold beer, and hot chicks," the bar chanted in unison, glasses raised high in solidarity. The bartender had just bought everyone another round of shots, after a recent Monday happy hour had ended. The glass drew closer, and the overwhelming smell of black licorice hit our nose.
Photos by Angelica Leicht The Pastry War's tequila list is not to be taken lightly.
It became apparent that we are about to shoot bitters at the Little Dipper Lounge (304 Main). Somewhere along the way we came to believe that Fernet Branca, the strong-smelling herbal liquor sitting in our shot glass, was only to be used as an emergency hangover remedy.
According to Robert, our server, it also exists to be shot time and again. That kind of knowledge about liquor is common among Market Square bartenders. There are no novices around these parts.
Little Dipper is the newest addition to the Poison Girl/Black Hole/Antidote family, opening in October amid the square's already-bustling bar scene. The lounge feels little like its famous eldest sibling, Poison Girl, though; you won't find much in the way of kitsch except a creepy doll head or two.
Smack-dab in the middle of downtown's historic district, Market Square was ringed with bouncer-inhabited nightclubs and young, pretty patrons not that long ago. But in the footsteps of standbys like Warren's (307 Travis) and La Carafe (813 Congress), and spurred by the late-2012 opening of OKRA Charity Saloon (924 Congress), the newer bars here focus on the art of well-formulated cocktails rather than loud dance music and bottle service, a strategy that's drawing a more professional, mature crowd.
But it's also a drinking crowd.
There are only about ten of us scattered around Little Dipper's massive bar, but we're downing enough Fernet Branca to fuel an Italian army, becoming louder and less sophisticated with each round. The bitters shots are downed with gusto, and we move on to the fantastic Old Fashioneds for which Robert has so painstakingly grated orange peels. Really, it's way out of our drinking league.
Making our way through the other nearby bars, it's quickly apparent how much there is to learn about the art of the cocktail. Even Clutch City Squire (410 Main), Market Square's dive-y come-one-come-all tavern since March of this year, has an intimidating and impressive cocktail menu to enjoy as punk rock blares and the guy behind the bar wearing a Misfits shirt dances like nobody's watching.
Meanwhile, decorated with animated murals of Mexican folklore, The Pastry War (310 Main) opened this past August with a sizable list of exotic tequilas we had no idea existed. At least we weren't the only ones overwhelmed. Seated to our right at the overcrowded bar, Maria Rodriguez looked intimidated not only by the sheer magnitude of the tequila list, but the margarita accoutrements.
A Pastry War margarita: don't let the berries fool you.
"What's good?" she asked.
"No clue," we responded.
As newbies, we decided it only practical to try all of them (for science, you see). The stout, sour slush of the Pomegranate Margarita ultimately won, with its pops of red berries. After all the licorice-black bitters at Little Dipper, we welcomed the color.
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