This place had been on my radar for a long time. Way back when I first moved to town I was given a tour of the bar scene. Just driving by and making mental notes about where the places were and what diving opportunities existed. I remember seeing the Dawg House for the first time, it is smack in the middle of a residential neighborhood, a small place built from cement blocks. There is no sign out front proclaiming the place as a watering hole in garish neon splendor, only a single lighted beer sign in the window. There is an ice machine out front, a good sign given the number of drinks we have had recently served with home made ice.  When we arrived we were waiting on another member of our party who was driving separately. We decided to have a smoke before going in and loitered in the gloaming twilight of a Saturday evening chatting and enjoying our cigarettes. There was a small group of folks doing the same thing a few feet away, they were laughing and having a good time in each others company. One of them warned us mockingly that everyone in the bar was crazy and we should leave now. Fortified with nicotine we went in and found one small room, a bar along one wall and tables set up around the edge of the building. There were game consoles and a T.V. What struck me immediately was how clean the place was. This bar was truly immaculate, with only a hint of pine-sol in the air. The back bar was frugal, but all the main brands of liquor were there and the upright coolers were well stocked with a variety of beers.

Tending the long Formica bar was an attractive young lady who instantly developed a rapport with us strangers seated at her bar. The place was not crowded and we were served with a great deal of attention. I ordered a Crown and Coke and bought one for my companion. I jokingly said I wanted to taste the liquor and watched her free pour a perfect shot into a real live rocks glass. Finally, a genuine rocks glass for my mixed drink! The frosty drink landed on my coaster and the price was very reasonable for Crown, $4.25 if I recall and I find that to be a steal these days. Our bartender chatted us up and smiled, she moved with a certain professionalism with just a hint of flirty swagger. I could tell right off she didn’t learn to tend bar in our small town. When I asked her about it, she confirmed that she had big city bar experience. I can always tell, a good woman bartender flaunts her stuff just enough to keep the bar dwellers interested. She sells the illusion of availability, the notion that maybe she would really like to take you home after last call. This is of course just an illusion, the girl is working and trying to get tips and keep the old men at the bar drinking and spending money. This is her job, but done well it is also very entertaining for the guests. I know she got my tips and I did stay a drink or two longer than I would have. Many of the locally trained bartenders, male and female, do not take the time to be your friend. It takes experience in a larger setting to cultivate those skills.

I have been privileged to have been served by all types of bartenders, busy ones, slow ones, bad ones, great ones, the very best are the bartenders that make you think they are your best friend. They share in inside joke, they pour a bit more for you if you are spending well, and if you are a regular you get to talk and they listen. All of these things end up making money for the bar, however many a bar owner is so afraid of losing a penny on a drink that they imprison their bartenders and dampen the very skills that will make them money.  Sometimes the bar is just too busy for much interaction, but there should always be the feeling that you are the reason they are there.

The place was nearly empty while we were there on a Saturday night, the music from the jukebox was too loud but we didn’t care. I was advised by the bartender that the place is normally packed but because of some large party that night many of the usual patrons stayed away. There were two old men at the corner of the bar. I wondered about them, what they were thinking while nursing their Old Milwaukee an quietly talking to each other. The classic neighborhood bar is just like that, many ages, many types all from a few blocks away.

There was a menu posted above the bar as well as an array of snacks. There seemed to be a small kitchen in back as well. The cheese burger looked good but I didnt eat. Sometimes the burger fried up in a small bar kitchen tastes like heaven, at 1am. It had to beat driving to White Castle, but that is another post.

So I will go back to this place, a true neighborhood bar. I would like to see what kind of revelry happens on a good busy night.  We drove by on an earlier excursion but it was after 1am and the place was shutting down. That night there appeared to be a good crowd.  Our bartender said she works one night on and one night off in 12 hour shifts. She probably won’t really remember us when we go back, but I bet money she will make us believe she remembers us well.

Ratings (scale of one to five)

Dive rating:3

Drink Quality: 5

Atmosphere: 4

Cleanliness: 5

Picking up a “date”: 3

Scenery:4