Terra Brasilis Restaurant – #11 on the Return Tour

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Hermit crabs do not grow their own shells. They find a shell that will fit them and their growth and use their abdomen to stretch out and form a tight bond with the shell. They need to do this because their abdomen is the most vulnerable part of their anatomy, so they need a shell, any shell to protect it. As they get bigger, they must give up their shell and find another, one that isn’t snug and looks good at school. They usually use abandoned sea snail shells, but they will use wood or rock if they must in a pinch. Even cans or cups have been used.

Terra Brasilis is a new restaurant in Worcester. It is a Brazilian restaurant. It is housed  in what for years was Picadilly Pub. It offers authentic Brazillian food and smelled good and on Sunday night there were a good amount of people trying the cuisine.

I was at that Picadilly Pub several times, it was my go to place for food when I couldn’t decide where to go. I even spent time at the bar. So I am familiar with what it was like.

Terra Brasilis changed nothing. They just found the shell and stretched their belly to fit.The pale wood, the odd seating system, everything seamed the same. The bar is the same as well, a large wooden slab. I had a strange moment of vertigo, wondering where I was. Was I in a new Brazilian joint in 2016 or was I getting a boneless buffalo wings and an over salted bowl of old popcorn at the Picadilly in 2003?

This is not the first time I have been at a hermit crab bar. Where the shell is the same though they sing and dance and say how different it all is. It makes sense. Starting a bar or restaurant is a tough thing to do, and if there is a decor already there, then what the hell, let’s keep it and it will all work out. I mean they know we are new and hip and so so so different.

The only thing different at the bar that I could see was that the tvs were showing Soccer rather than football or basketball highlights.

I had a gin and tonic, the gin was Tanqueray and it was a nice drink. I can’t remember what price it was, but it wasn’t a lot. The place was nice, the staff was nice, the people eating seemed happy going up and getting the incredible meats and sides.

I just wished it looked like itself, and not like the place it used to be. It’s like dressing up your current girlfriend to look like your ex.

I wish it well. I hope the people find it and like it. I hope it sheds its old tight shell. ANd find something that fits them well.

Terra Brasilis has other restaurants in Framingham. This is their first in Worcester. It can be found at 480 Shrewsbury Street.

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Antonio’s Pizza – #10 on the Return Tour

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Jeff saw me and asked why I ain’t writing this blog, and so for you, Jeff, here it is.

Last Sunday I hit a few places for Gin and Tonics (a drink so important I capitalized it, like it is a state capital of cocktails) and this was the first one.

Antonio’s is a pizza by the slice place in Amherst, Ma that was great when I was a student there back in the Paleolithic Period. It didn’t have a lot of seats and you waited in an endless line to get your crazed slice. A while later they opened a full restaurant version in Belchertown, and now we have it in Worcester.

I was excited for it. The pizza looks as good as it was when I was drunk and 22 and looking for something greasy to soak up the bad beer I interned in my stomach.

But  I was not here for the pizza, but for the drink. The place is large and confusing. The front is the pizza by the slice and people were bottlenecking there. The rest was the restaurant and there was room to breathe.

Now let me preface this by saying the next day I took my son there for pizza and we had a great time and he really loved it, so did I. I recommend the place, I do.

Just don’t go to the bar for drinking only.

The bar experience, as a place where you go not to eat and drink, but to drink only, like reasonable men do, was lacking. The stools were an abomination. They are weak metal, to give that honky tonk feel, and not comfortable to sit on. But I bring up the stools because they are tight together and to pull them out causes loud, attention causing, screeches to get it so you can sit and order a drink.

Now the gin and tonic was around six fifty and I got a lime with it and that, that is all the good I can say.

Friends, if you order a drink that has a carbonated element, like tonic water, then you hope for them to actually be carbonated. IF they are flat, it is a disaster of drinking.

Yeah, the drink was flat and it was work to finish.

The bartender was nice and the experience was fine and like I said, the pizza is good and that should be enough for every good citizen.

I will say that it’s good. But it ain’t a bar. A bar is a brilliant beautiful thing, and a good pizza joint doesn’t have to elevate themselves to bar status to be worthwhile.

So there Jeff. I wrote one. Lay off.

Antonio’s Pizza and Bar is located at 286 Chandler Street.

The Sloshed Mailbag

I haven’t done this before, included reader comments in the main part of the blog, but this comment given to me will be in a post from 2 years ago and I think it should be read.

Two years ago this week I went o McDonald’s Tavern that’s in the Worcester Fitness Club and I wrote up kind of a snarky take on the place. Filled with older patrons and smelling of chlorine. It was a long piece about how it made me feel hollow and ready leave.

Crissy wrote in with this and it illustrates the purpose for a bar. It is a place that you feel right in. It doesn’t matter if I feel right in it, just that the people who need it discover and utilize the space. There are good bars that are just not my place, and conversely there are a few stinkers I secretly love.

Anyway, here’s Crissy.

I had to giggle when I read this post….

My dad is one of the older gents you may have seen at the bar. And I had to take the chance to share another perspective about this bar.

My dad is 68 years old and visits the fitness center 6 out of 7 days a week (he golfs on the 7th day😉 Each day he looks forward to his 1.5hr workout and then his hour of socializing by having a beer with his buddies at this bar.

The other hours of his day are filled with being the primary caretaker of my mom who has advanced Alzhiemers. A woman who really should most likely be in a care facility at this point but my dad just won’t allow it….he says it will break his heart to have to leave her there.

His time is extremely limited because of the amount of care mom needs and it’s difficult for him to fit in anytime for himself…..so this situation really works for him!

My main objective in mentioning all this is just to say how thankful I am for this tavern…..it’s the only part of my dads day sometimes where he can find community and connection.

So just another side to consider when people experience the clientele who frequent McDonald’s Tavern


The Oak Barrel Saloon – #9 on the Return Tour

13310563_516407518549753_4322701019953256916_n.0.0.jpg (1310×737)I went to the Oak Barrel Tavern for a gin and tonic. It’s what I do.

This used to be Tweed’s, which I thought was old looking and dull when I visited a few years back. This new version is very whiskey bar and modern restaurant. It had a nice neo bistro feel. The bar was made from strong wood slats, it was nice. The selection of whiskeys was impressive.

It was a Sunday night around eight thirty or so. They had three bartenders working, which felt like overkill, but it’s a new place and things will settle I suppose. I didn’t further my investigation but it looked like one of the bartenders was the same guy who served me back when it was Tweed’s. I don’t know for certain, but it looked like that. The more things change….

The gin and tonic was given and I paid 7.49 (I think, it was two weeks ago and I can’t recall completely) and it was an alright glass, nothing fantastic, but serviceable.

But that’s not what I came to talk to you about.

What I want I talk about is control. More precisely, who is control of a bar? The bartender or the patrons? Who makes the bar what it is?

When I entered, there were three women at the end of the bar drinking and eating and cussing. Cussing a lot. They spoke loudly and the word fuck was in every sentence, because hey sunshine, this is Worcester and this is how we talk.

Wait, sorry. Got that wrong.

This is fucking Worcester and this is how we fucking talk.

There, that’s Worcester.

One of the woman in the swearing bacchanale had her nine year old child with her, who was wandering around the tables, looking bored.

One of the women said, “Yeah, I can fuck that shit up. I can fuck that shit up.” It’s a good thing she only said that mantra twice, because at three times, the Candy Man comes out of the mirror and really fucks shit up.

The swearing and the shouting at this restaurant/bar continued until the women decided it was fucking time to fucking go. And with their departure, the peaceful silence of redemption settled upon the room.

This is not a dive bar. This is not a sports bar where the Patriots are being routed by the Broncos and we have to swear at the tv.. It’s a pseudo whiskey bar with a fine food. Actually, when I was at the scariest bar in the city last year, there was no swearing at all, everyone was too broken to form the words.

I was talking to Bartender Brian the week after I went to the Oak Barrel and told him about the swearing and the kid running around and he said, “That’s the problem with a lot of bartenders. They have no control. You have to have control. You can’t have them shouting and swearing, you can’t have them screaming into their cell phone. If you don’t have control, then you give it to the patrons and the place goes to hell. You don’t have to be an asshole to have control, but you got to be the one running the place. You are the bar tender, you tend, you run the bar. I’m sure they will say I’m surpressing their first amendment rights. Nothing in the First Amendment says you can be a rude asshole.”

So is the issue with the bartenders or the patrons. It’s a new place, do they feel they can possibly alienate the clientelle by asking them not say fuck at the top their lungs? If we don’t let them swear then they won’t come back. I am just a pourer of beer, how can I ask the kind people of Worcester to not scream fuck?

I wish them luck. The place looks great, filled with strong wooden bones. Let’s hope the staff grows bones and spines as strong as the bar they stand behind.

The Oak Barrel Saloon is located at 229 Grove Street.

A Tale of Three Whiskeys – Bars 6, 7, and 8 on the Return Tour

Chapter One

The Gin and Tonic meets Whiskey

This is going to be a long piece of reporting. Longer than most. I know that you all check in on this blog to get hard hitting investigative journalism. To get to the heart of the gin and tonic crisis in Worcester bars.

No. You check in because I created a very silly goal for myself. To go to every bar in Worcester and order and drink a gin and tonic. Some people donate their time to running food banks. I give back to the community by drinking at a lot of different places.

I did it faithfully for nineteen months, writing up 144 bars and the gin and tonics I encountered. It was great. I stopped it and then six months later I decided that I wanted to check out the bars I didn’t get to. The new ones, the ones I was too fatigued to do during the first time.

This was in March (three months ago) and I posted that I was to start and that very week I gave myself a Friday night to hit three new bars. They had something in common and I thought grouping them together is a fine idea.

Then I just didn’t write them up. I forgot when I did the blog, that the going to the bars is easy. Writing about them was not. When I did the blog originally, I was very structured on how to write them. On starting up again, I wanted to free the writing form from how I did it. But I couldn’t get it to work.

So a month later I went to another new bar and just started there. Ignoring those three bars. I don’t even know if those bars are still open or if they are still behaving the same way that I saw them. I don’t know, and for this exercise in completeness, I don’t care. .

The three bars I went to all had the same word in their name and I couldn’t resist not going to them all in one go.  

The word is “whiskey.”

Chapter Two

The Word on Everyone’s Lips is Whiskey

Naming your bar after a type of spirit or cocktail is courting ruin.

What if you are named Side Car Saloon and your side car is sub par? How will your customers feel if you can’t deliver what’s in your name? You’re called the Side Car, and this is no respectable side car. Good day sir!

In my initial tour of the bars of Worcester, I went to two places named after drinks: Sake Bomb and Mai Tai. I didn’t see anyone drink a sake bomb at said location, but my opinion is that you shouldn’t set yourself up by having the word bomb in your name. “Sake is not the only thing to bomb here.” I had very bad service there so I felt like it did bomb for me.

At Mai Tai, I did see the eponymous drink made. From pre made ingredients living in a plastic bottle at the well of the bar. That place felt prefabricated as well. From the Asian-Restaurant-Bar-Popular-With-The-Kids kit that you order from the back of a comic book. Some assembly required.

In those 144 bars, none of them had the word Whiskey in the name. Not one.

Then I take a hiatus for six months and we suddenly get Whiskey (a bar on Main Street), Whiskey Tango (on Park Avenue) and Whiskey on Water (which is on Water Street, natch).

Is there any reason why, out of the very veil of nothingness, Worcester has been suddenly graced with three bars all with pretty much the same name?

Why whiskey? Is it the hot new alcoholic thing? Like Zima?

Did three enterprising bar owners all lose bets?

Why not another alcoholic main stay? Couldn’t we have four bars all names Vodka? Martini is a good name for a bunch of bars. How bout a string of roadside dives all named Hooch (which could mean either blinding cheap liquor or the beloved movie dog).

Chapter Three

What’s in a Name?

When I say a bar is named Whiskey, do you not think then that it is a whiskey bar? I do. So the question then is, what is a whiskey bar?

Let me hazard an uninformed opinion (as all my opinions are).

The bar is tony, with hardwood, comfortable chairs and stools. If one could smoke there would be ornamental ash trays ready to take any stoogie. Their would be a menu of opulently priced examples and fine glasses to drink them in. The conversation is muted and I imagine jazz being played.

Let me put it another way, a whiskey bar is the kind of place a Bond villain drinks at.

That’s what you imagine. Not just me. When i told people I went to three bars named Whiskey everyone asked about them in regard to it being a place where you can drink expensive liquors in a comfortable environment.

And I then I said, “No, none of them were whiskey bars. Not a one.”

Chapter Four

How the Evening Went (an Overview)

At a little after nine in the evening I went to Whiskey, which is on Main Street. I was there for no more than ten minutes.I was the only person in the bar. I then arrived at Whiskey Tango on Park Avenue at 9:35 where I was the only person in the bar. I talked to the bartender for forty minutes or so. It was after ten when I made it to Whiskey on Water, on Water Street. It was busy in there and getting more packed by the minute. They were setting up the velvet rope outside when I left twenty minutes later.

Only Whiskey on Water had a whiskey menu. But no one I saw was drinking one, and I was looking. The bartender from Whiskey Tango and I were talking about whiskey bars and he was dismissive about Whiskey on Water. The story he told was a friend of his who loves good scotch went as soon as Whiskey on Water opened and got the pretty bartender’s attention and asked her some detailed questions about the whiskey they had. She rolled her eyes, gave him the menu and said, “Just look at the menu.” She then turned and left him. He left the bar without ordering.

This is just the story from a guy working at a rival bar with Whiskey in its name. But my impression of Whiskey on Water allows me to believe it.

So the thing they all three had in common was that none of them were whiskey bars and the cups.

Chapter Five

The Common Denominator (the Cups)

All of three of the bars with whiskey in the name served me my (not inexpensive) gin and tonics in plastic cups. All three. I was beginning to wonder if the bartenders were calling ahead and telling the next stop I was coming and I was not deserving of glassware.

Going through my notes of the first 144 bars, I can only find four bars wear I was served in plastic cups: Cisero’s, , Pleasant Cafe, City Lights and Azteca. The rates of plastic cup appearances are very low. But then I come back and hit three in a row and get my seven dollar drink in a plastic cup.

If this sounds like I am being a snob, then you have been paying attention. I am being a snob. Listen, I have gone to 150 plus bars and in most cases have had subpar gin and tonics, the least I want is a comfortable, solid piece of glass to hold onto. Like an anchor.

Also, the plastic cup can tell a little bit about the place. Dive bar. College bar. Bar where they don’t know any better. What is this thing called a dish washer?

Chapter Six

What is the Proper Hunting Season for Bars?

For those that have read this blog, you know that I have been dogged by the fact that I can’t seem to get to a bar when it is busy and full of its proper element.

This is me. I have a family and going out at ten on Friday or Saturday is not something I can swing often. I would go in the middle of the day, on a Sunday perhaps. Or Wednesdays or other times when the hunting is thin.

My response was always, you go to 144 bars You see if you can swing prime bar time for all of them. And when is that really? I remember going to one bar and they said that every other Thursday is the time to be here, every other Thursday when they have the karaoke machine going. That’s when I should be there. Mark you calendar.

The truth is, every bar is an odd eco system where only luck, and knowledge will allow you to discover when the good times to go to the bar are.

Or maybe the bar is just a raft on a large sea, floating far away from any of known shipping lanes and it is only just some time before the next big storm will topple it over.

Chapter Seven

The First Bar Named Whiskey

It tries mightily to look like a whiskey bar, but the place is more open than I would expect. Maybe I think that because it is empty.

I sit at the bar. The girl behind the bar gives me my plastic cup. She is setting up for the night when people might show up to go crazy. The bar manager is there asking the girl where the other bartender is, shouldn’t she be here already? She gives an excuse or two and the bar manager doesn’t believe it.

The drink is seven dollars and alright at best. The emptiness of the place is exhausting.

I look and the the bar has a small shelf of high end whiskeys but that is clearly ornamental. On either side of the bar are sets of spirits but on inspection, each side has the same spirits, so the selection looks big, but is pretty small.

I ask the bartender when it gets busy, she says at eleven or later, it can get pretty crazy.

There is something off about a place that only is alive for a few hours a week. With some places you can tell its going to get busy and alive later, I felt this place was questionable. Maybe people will come. Maybe.

The bartender said to me, “Sorry, you came too early, you missed all the craziness.” Thanks, I will be fine.

Chapter Eight

The Second Bar Named Whiskey (Whiskey Tango)

No one but me and the bartender. Great, another bust. It had no special whiskeys. Just a name that was more about some vague military fetish than a desire for fine spirits. The place used to be Nuff Sed, and then it was Micky O’Neils and now it was Whiskey Tango and it looked exactly the same as the last iteration. The gin and tonic was six bucks in a plastic cup and the plastic improved the flavor.

Luckily, the bartender, who told me he was the bar manager, liked my Star Wars tee shirt and we chatted for a while. I got the skinny.

The bar started up with the plan of being a high end location for good spirits and wines. That didn’t happen. If people were coming in, they weren’t coming in for high end wines. As a matter of fact, most days were as anemic as this night.  Then they hired this kid from Worcester State to tend bar and like magic, Whiskey Tango became a Worcester State Bar.

The issue is, when you are a Worcester Bar, you full of life and excitedment…for seven and half hours a week. Thursday thru Saturday from eleven to one thirty. There is no whiskey drinking, but a lot of beer.  The place is hopping, but at all other times it is empty.

The bar manager told me tales of other bars and living the bartender life. They were fun to hear. I wished him well after forty five minutes and I figured it was time for me to move on.

Two months later, I went to the new restaurant Dead Horse Hill, and that same bartender was there. He told me he moved on. Whiskey Tango still had no action. He was happier at the new place.

As I said earlier, I really don’t know if it is still in business. Now that Worcester State is mostly empty with Summer vacation who knows who will come. That stretch of Park Avenue is known for hosting college bars. Its nice that someone was trying to create something new, but what if your potential customer base will not accept change?

There is something to be said for a quiet nearly empty bar, it can be fun. But not all the time.

Chapter Nine

We Finally Get to Whiskey on Water

When I first heard of Whiskey on Water the article mentioned that the concept was to have food trucks in the back parking lot and you can use an app to order food and it will be delivered to you. Some friends think that’s an awesome idea. I don’t know if that really happens. I didn’t see anyone with food. I just saw beer and fruity happy drinks.

Whiskey on Water is a very popular place. Scores of people were there and more we coming. Women out for a night. Guys ready to try to get some action from said groups of women. The second floor was a dance floor. Too early for dancing so a lot of High School Gym dance behavior with people congregating on the edges, waiting for critical mass for the boogying to explode.

There is nothing wrong with this type of place. It’s not the kind of place I like. There is definitely a need for a dance club because people were lining up and excited to come.

The bar is beautiful and has lovely bottles. Bottles guarded by bartenders who are more intent on looking fine and pouring Budweiser.

My one complaint was watching the men my age sitting at the bar wolf eyeing all the young women. I guess that’s part of the deal, but ick.

On the ground floor a woman was singing popular hits, accompanied by a thing young dude with guitar. She said she got a request for a song she didn’t know, so she sang it while reading the lyrics on her phone.

The gin and tonic was seven dollars and it was actually a very nice drink.

Fifteen minutes

And then, the night of bars with whiskey in their names was over.

Chapter Ten

All Good Things

So that’s it. I spent a little over seventy five minutes in three bars three months ago and I have now spent four hours writing about it. I couldn’t find a way to write this. I am not sure if I wrote about it well here, but at least it is written.
Maybe my issue is that these three bars named whiskey really solidified my feeling on finding the right bar in Worcester. Two places were completely empty, but in one I had a great conversation. The guy who I had the nice talk with isn’t there anymore so why go? The last place was packed and I was completely not where I would like to be. The last place was alive and crazy and thumping and in two years it will probably be empty with the owners by themselves drinking cocktails from plastic cups, wondering why they were forsaken for the next thing, the next big bar with Whiskey in its name.

Whiskey is located at 316 Main Street

Whiskey Tango is located at 377 Park Avenue

Whiskey on Water is located at 97 Water Street


El Patron Mexican Restaurant – #5 on the Return Tour

This is not fair. Why would anyone go to a restaurant proudly stating they make authentic mexican food and order a gin and tonic. There is something perverse and unpleasant about the concept.

But that’s what  I do. I go to every place with a bar and get a gin and tonic. It’s really a dumb thing when you consider it.

The place is open and airy and filled with the kind of folk art you expect in a Mexican joint. It was two on a Saturday afternoon and the place was half full. The food looked great.

The guy greeted me and I asked for a gin and tonic, but really fast, like I ask for it all the time, so it came out like “ginandtonicplease.” The guy blinked and said, “Uhm, is that with Vodka.” I shook my head. “Gin” He gave me a puzzled look and went away for a minute.

He returned and made me a drink. I saw him pour from a gin bottle, I saw the lime go in. I saw him squirt from the fountain nozzle. I paid seven forty four. And then I took a sip.


Let’s try that again.

Yeah. Huh.

It was sweet, almost like Seven Up. But no, it was tonic. But where was the gin. I think I could taste it. I have had many gin and tonics. Some good. Some bad. Some odd. This was the first one that tasted like a gin inspired soft drink.

But then the bartender gave me the complimentary chips and salsa and all was forgiven. In 150 plus bars, this was the first time I got free food. And the salsa was excellent.

There are places that are bars where you drink and there are places that have bars where you eat and have a drink. This is the latter.

I hear they make amazing margueritas. Their selection of tequilas was good. I have planned to get here for the food, and those plans have not changed.

A friendly open place. Do come. Don’t order the gin and tonic.

You can find El Patron at 192 Harding Street

Lock 50 – #4 on the Return Tour

This is a handsome place. There is a lovely espresso bar on one side and down below in a restaurant bar. The bar is two small with only space for eight, but it’s a good looking marble bar and I would be proud to fall over drunk upon it.

The time was nine on a Wednesday and there were seven or eight at the bar, some clustered together around a bar stool nucleus like there were errant electrons.

On one side of me were two women talking about the troubles of finding day care and can they really expect their mothers to baby sit their kids if they move to Rhode Island.

The gin and tonic came in at 7.50 in a thin high ball glass. The bartender measured out the gin, which is never my favorite thing to see. It was a good glass. It had flavor that was balanced with the tonic. Tad too much ice, but still, it was alright for a Worcester Wednesday.

Sitting on the other side of me on my perch were three or four men talking with volume and inconsequnce. Another guy came over and greeted his old friends. A handshake for the first. A high five for the next. For the third he participated in a fake fist fight.

The Fake Bar Fight Greeting – noun – an annoying greeting among schmuckwad individuals that mimics an actual fisticuff event, but meant to be a greeting. Seen mostly in hipster bars and at monkey houses at city zoos.

I asked a friend later about the fake bar fight and he said, “It’s just them saying, look at me, I’m wicked fun. I’m wicked cool. I’m full of masculine intensity but I’m a really wicked nice guy. Oh god, I’m so lonely.”

So basically the fake bar fight greeting is just the Worcester version of Existential Angst. If Satre and Camus were Wormtown pissas, this is how they would express their shouts against a lonely unwelcoming Universe.

Perhaps I just got to the bar at a bad moment. It was a good looking joint and could be a good place to hang out and read your well worn copy of the Stranger or Myth of Syssiphus.

Lock 50 is located on 50 Water Street.