North Woodstock, NH -
While a watering hole review of the Woodstock Station here in North Woodstock, NH is long overdue, I will put it off yet again, but not without a quick cask plug.
Right now at the Station, in the downstairs bar they are featuring a caskfull of last year's Wassail, which has been aging in a barrel with 6 oz. of bourbon infused in cedar chips. I just had one, and I can't imagine there is much left in the cask, so hurry up to NoWo and get some of that sweet, malty goodness.
That's right folks, ON CASK!
Showing posts with label Granite State Watering Holes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Granite State Watering Holes. Show all posts
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Friday, November 23, 2007
Jose's Mexican Restaurant
Plymouth, NH -
**This article marks the continuation of the Granite State Watering Holes series begun in September, a collection describing the places that voters and journalists get their booze on in New Hampshire**
Plymouth, the gateway to the North Country in the foothills of the White Mountains, is a college town without much else to it. The Pemigewasset River flows down its eastern border with the town of Holderness, and building up in every direction outside of town are mountains. It’s the kind of town where you will hear packs of students stumbling around at 9PM on a Friday tying to hit each other in the nuts (true story) and where a drunken merry-maker might puke on your door handle sometime between the hours of 11PM and 1:15AM (also a true story).
Nevertheless, there exists a tight community of professors, skiers, nature lovers and rural pickup drivers with Confederate flag decals on their rigs. The town common sits off of main street between downtown and the college, and two blocks north or south in either direction and you are back in the heights of rural Northern New Hampshire.
But in the center of Main Street, down a flight of stairs and around a dark corner, exists a remarkably good Mexican restaurant. Jose’s Bar is one of those holes in the wall that you always look for in a small town, but more often than not turn away from once you set sights upon it.
I have been into Jose’s about a half dozen times, and it wasn’t until the latest that I actually gained the courage to try their food, and it was probably the most pleasant culinary surprises I’ve had since I’ve been in New Hampshire.
Jose’s looks like a basement crash pad where high school kids get together to have parties, jam out with their beginner guitar skills, and ultimately feel like shit the next morning. Even in the middle of November, cobwebs from the Halloween party still adorned the ceiling above the bar, along with the paper bats that were glued all over the vertical support beams. The corners are dark, the floors seems dirty (even though they aren’t) and the bathrooms are down a long, dim hallway nearly a minute’s walk away from the main room.
Did I mention I like this place?
These are exactly the types of endearing qualities that make it the kind of place where you can feel comfortable. There are a three flatscreen televisions behind the bar, playing whatever the bartender or the drunkards want to watch. I have seen everything from Red Sox playoffs and Celtics games to Jeopardy, sitcoms and Monster Truck rallies.
There is also a stage in the back left section of the main room where a few different bands play every week. The décor is sparse, yet kitchy where it exists, with souvenirs like a Hawaii license plate and a wire cowboy boot sitting on the shelves, and jalapeno novelty lights strung across the liquor cabinets. There is also a locally famous four-foot tall chair in the corner next to the stage.
Jose's Big Chair
But perhaps the bar’s best attribute is it’s owner, Joe Capuzzo, known around these parts as Jose. Capuzzo has been in the business for over twenty years, first running a series of Jose’s bars down in Boston before retiring with his family to a nearby mountain town in 2005. But after a couple years off, Jose started to get restless, and decided to bring his beloved restaurant to Plymouth, although on a much smaller scale.
“Life is boring without good work,” Capuzzo told me. “It keeps you young.”
Jose’s is only open from 5PM-1AM because Capuzzo, who is also the head chef, has two school-aged children and wanted to have a larger role in their life. That role superseded the need for a lunch menu. When he isn’t cooking, Jose can almost always be found hanging out in the bar talking with customers and getting a sense for what they like and don’t like.
He is also constantly singing along with the music, whether it is the Beatles, Creedence, Tom Petty or a mixtape playlist of reggae. Just a few days ago Jose added three folding tables to the bar’s game repertoire, along with a pool table and a game of bubble hockey, so the patrons could play Beirut with water while they drank their beer.
While I was there last week one of the customers, a woman in her 40s who worked at PSU, challenged Jose to a game of Beirut. He humored her for a few shots without drinking and imparted some wisdom while he clanked his ping pong balls wide.
“Never play Beirut with any hard alcohol,” Capuzzo told his opponent with a wry smile. “You know why? Because the liquor commission doesn’t like that.”
A truer statement has never been made. I took over for him and drilled a few shots while I sipped my PBR, the taste of a delightfully sweet and spicy chicken enchilada still on my tongue. Something about the atmosphere made it feel like it was my home court. I missed twice, then hit three more consecutively to win. I’ve never played better in my life.
Jose’s has a full bar, emphasizing Mexican beer and tequila in addition to their food menu.
On Tap is PBR ($2) and Dos XX ($3.50).
Their selection of Mexican cervezas includes Corona, Corona Light, Dos XX, Dos XX Amber, Tecate, Sol, San Lucas, San Lucas Light, Carte Blanca, Cantina, Pacifico Claro, Negra Modelo, Modelo Especial, y Bohemia at $3.50
Domestics: Bud, Bud Light, Miller Lite, Miller Chill, Coors Light, Rolling Rock and Michelob Ultra are $2.75
Imports and Micros are $3.50: Magic Hat #9, Heineken, Amstel Light, Harpoon UFO.
Guinness is $4.
Better still, the beer selections written on a surfboard.
They have eight different tequilas, and sausage on a stick for $1.50.
Jose’s also has the potential for a great conversation with an enthusiastic and convincing businessman. Its they kind of joint you’ll only find in a small college town, and its why I’ll be sure to head up to Plymouth a few more times before I beat trail out of the Granite State.
**This article marks the continuation of the Granite State Watering Holes series begun in September, a collection describing the places that voters and journalists get their booze on in New Hampshire**
Plymouth, the gateway to the North Country in the foothills of the White Mountains, is a college town without much else to it. The Pemigewasset River flows down its eastern border with the town of Holderness, and building up in every direction outside of town are mountains. It’s the kind of town where you will hear packs of students stumbling around at 9PM on a Friday tying to hit each other in the nuts (true story) and where a drunken merry-maker might puke on your door handle sometime between the hours of 11PM and 1:15AM (also a true story).
Nevertheless, there exists a tight community of professors, skiers, nature lovers and rural pickup drivers with Confederate flag decals on their rigs. The town common sits off of main street between downtown and the college, and two blocks north or south in either direction and you are back in the heights of rural Northern New Hampshire.
But in the center of Main Street, down a flight of stairs and around a dark corner, exists a remarkably good Mexican restaurant. Jose’s Bar is one of those holes in the wall that you always look for in a small town, but more often than not turn away from once you set sights upon it.
I have been into Jose’s about a half dozen times, and it wasn’t until the latest that I actually gained the courage to try their food, and it was probably the most pleasant culinary surprises I’ve had since I’ve been in New Hampshire.
Jose’s looks like a basement crash pad where high school kids get together to have parties, jam out with their beginner guitar skills, and ultimately feel like shit the next morning. Even in the middle of November, cobwebs from the Halloween party still adorned the ceiling above the bar, along with the paper bats that were glued all over the vertical support beams. The corners are dark, the floors seems dirty (even though they aren’t) and the bathrooms are down a long, dim hallway nearly a minute’s walk away from the main room.
Did I mention I like this place?
These are exactly the types of endearing qualities that make it the kind of place where you can feel comfortable. There are a three flatscreen televisions behind the bar, playing whatever the bartender or the drunkards want to watch. I have seen everything from Red Sox playoffs and Celtics games to Jeopardy, sitcoms and Monster Truck rallies.
There is also a stage in the back left section of the main room where a few different bands play every week. The décor is sparse, yet kitchy where it exists, with souvenirs like a Hawaii license plate and a wire cowboy boot sitting on the shelves, and jalapeno novelty lights strung across the liquor cabinets. There is also a locally famous four-foot tall chair in the corner next to the stage.
Jose's Big Chair“Life is boring without good work,” Capuzzo told me. “It keeps you young.”
Jose’s is only open from 5PM-1AM because Capuzzo, who is also the head chef, has two school-aged children and wanted to have a larger role in their life. That role superseded the need for a lunch menu. When he isn’t cooking, Jose can almost always be found hanging out in the bar talking with customers and getting a sense for what they like and don’t like.
He is also constantly singing along with the music, whether it is the Beatles, Creedence, Tom Petty or a mixtape playlist of reggae. Just a few days ago Jose added three folding tables to the bar’s game repertoire, along with a pool table and a game of bubble hockey, so the patrons could play Beirut with water while they drank their beer.
While I was there last week one of the customers, a woman in her 40s who worked at PSU, challenged Jose to a game of Beirut. He humored her for a few shots without drinking and imparted some wisdom while he clanked his ping pong balls wide.
“Never play Beirut with any hard alcohol,” Capuzzo told his opponent with a wry smile. “You know why? Because the liquor commission doesn’t like that.”
A truer statement has never been made. I took over for him and drilled a few shots while I sipped my PBR, the taste of a delightfully sweet and spicy chicken enchilada still on my tongue. Something about the atmosphere made it feel like it was my home court. I missed twice, then hit three more consecutively to win. I’ve never played better in my life.
Jose’s has a full bar, emphasizing Mexican beer and tequila in addition to their food menu.
On Tap is PBR ($2) and Dos XX ($3.50).
Their selection of Mexican cervezas includes Corona, Corona Light, Dos XX, Dos XX Amber, Tecate, Sol, San Lucas, San Lucas Light, Carte Blanca, Cantina, Pacifico Claro, Negra Modelo, Modelo Especial, y Bohemia at $3.50
Domestics: Bud, Bud Light, Miller Lite, Miller Chill, Coors Light, Rolling Rock and Michelob Ultra are $2.75
Imports and Micros are $3.50: Magic Hat #9, Heineken, Amstel Light, Harpoon UFO.
Guinness is $4.
Better still, the beer selections written on a surfboard.
They have eight different tequilas, and sausage on a stick for $1.50.
Jose’s also has the potential for a great conversation with an enthusiastic and convincing businessman. Its they kind of joint you’ll only find in a small college town, and its why I’ll be sure to head up to Plymouth a few more times before I beat trail out of the Granite State.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
I Once Was Lost, But Now Am Found
Tonight, on the recommendation of a new friend of mine here in Concord, I headed down to the Barley House to catch a show with Davy Rothbart, the co-creator of Found Magazine, and his brother Peter, front man for the band Poem Adept.
When I walked down the stairs into the Barley House’s B-Lounge, I was ambushed by the fact that there was a cover charge, always a bitter pill to swallow. Luckily the man at the door promised me it would be “one of the best shows of the year - no, the best show of the year.” So with that vote of confidence I decided to step on into the house. It turns out the man at the door was Peter Rothbart.
It also turns out I was glad to heed his advice. Granted, I haven’t seen too many shows this year (I prefer to just drink and dance to hip-hop, as opposed to listen to live music), but I can honestly say that he was right. It was the best show I have seen all year.
Found Magazine, for those who don’t know, is a concept where people send in letters that they have found on the street to Davy and his cohort Jason who then pick the best of the best and compile them into the anthology that is Found Magazine.
These letters range from love notes to hate mail, shopping lists and to-do lists and not-to-do lists, and even the occasional bored rant and unemployment benefit rejection. Rothbart reads them with gusto and amusement, adding depth to what is already silly, puzzling, or just plain hilarious.
Whether discussing “the dopest fish I ever saw” or a shopping receipt with eight packs of chicken flavored ramen noodles and a 12-pack of condoms, it is clear that Davy Rothbart is well invested into the intricacies and beauty of the lives of others.
Peter breaks the set up in the middle with a small set of songs based on the letters his brother receives. With his guitar, clever lyrics and strong voice, he really brings the house down with a style that mixes coffeeshop folk and Flight of the Conchords. Tonight’s songs included such titles as Fastest Nissan in the Northwest, the “dickdonculous” Damn, the Booty Don’t Stop and the existentially titled Bus or Beer?
Tonight Davy closed the show with his favorite Found letters and a long piece called “Nibble, Lick, Suck and Feast” that touched on the highlights of his last cross-country road trip and included stories about urinating falcons, a profane Cedric the Entertainer, and a local news anchor’s sultry dreams. In other words, high comedy.
See them for the songs, see them for the voyeurism, just see them. The Brothers Rothbart are beginning a 65-city tour that will more than likely hit your hometown, or a hometown near you. If you have any interest in the human condition, that we all just want someone to relate to and hear our voices, this is the show for you. Or, if that is your overwhelming interest, I recommend you write something bold and intrusive about your life and relationships then throw it on the ground somewhere, ideally around Ann Arbor, MI. You never know what might end up on NPR, or for that matter the basement of a barroom in Concord, NH.
Tour info for the There Goes the Neighborhood Tour 2007! can be found here.
When I walked down the stairs into the Barley House’s B-Lounge, I was ambushed by the fact that there was a cover charge, always a bitter pill to swallow. Luckily the man at the door promised me it would be “one of the best shows of the year - no, the best show of the year.” So with that vote of confidence I decided to step on into the house. It turns out the man at the door was Peter Rothbart.
It also turns out I was glad to heed his advice. Granted, I haven’t seen too many shows this year (I prefer to just drink and dance to hip-hop, as opposed to listen to live music), but I can honestly say that he was right. It was the best show I have seen all year.
Found Magazine, for those who don’t know, is a concept where people send in letters that they have found on the street to Davy and his cohort Jason who then pick the best of the best and compile them into the anthology that is Found Magazine.
These letters range from love notes to hate mail, shopping lists and to-do lists and not-to-do lists, and even the occasional bored rant and unemployment benefit rejection. Rothbart reads them with gusto and amusement, adding depth to what is already silly, puzzling, or just plain hilarious.
Whether discussing “the dopest fish I ever saw” or a shopping receipt with eight packs of chicken flavored ramen noodles and a 12-pack of condoms, it is clear that Davy Rothbart is well invested into the intricacies and beauty of the lives of others.
Peter breaks the set up in the middle with a small set of songs based on the letters his brother receives. With his guitar, clever lyrics and strong voice, he really brings the house down with a style that mixes coffeeshop folk and Flight of the Conchords. Tonight’s songs included such titles as Fastest Nissan in the Northwest, the “dickdonculous” Damn, the Booty Don’t Stop and the existentially titled Bus or Beer?
Tonight Davy closed the show with his favorite Found letters and a long piece called “Nibble, Lick, Suck and Feast” that touched on the highlights of his last cross-country road trip and included stories about urinating falcons, a profane Cedric the Entertainer, and a local news anchor’s sultry dreams. In other words, high comedy.
See them for the songs, see them for the voyeurism, just see them. The Brothers Rothbart are beginning a 65-city tour that will more than likely hit your hometown, or a hometown near you. If you have any interest in the human condition, that we all just want someone to relate to and hear our voices, this is the show for you. Or, if that is your overwhelming interest, I recommend you write something bold and intrusive about your life and relationships then throw it on the ground somewhere, ideally around Ann Arbor, MI. You never know what might end up on NPR, or for that matter the basement of a barroom in Concord, NH.
Tour info for the There Goes the Neighborhood Tour 2007! can be found here.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Spotlight on: Penuche's
Concord, NH -
I know that I have long since given up my commitment to signing off posts with the name of whatever exotic beer I was drinking in pursuit of my member mug* at the Moan and Dove in Amherst, but that can be entirely attributed to two factors, neither of which have to do with a lost appreciation of beer.
1) The pirated wifi I was getting at the bar was pulled out from under me sometime in the late spring.
2) Once I figured out that I wouldn’t be in Quabbin Qountry next year to enjoy the spoils of the 24-ounce mug, I made an economic decision to stop actively pursuing the mug list. I liken this to a candidate pulling out of the Iowa straw poll in order to better use funds elsewhere on the trail. Call me the Giuliani of the mug club if you want, I don’t care. Just don’t call last call.
Point being, one of the initial purposes of this blog, before it was unabashedly hijacked by the 2008 primary, was to present a stage for some of the better beers out there. Given the passing of Beer Hunter Michael Jackson over the weekend, I figured I ought to return to that hoppy pursuit on occasion. Plus another stated goal of 3Q is to present life in the Granite State during primary season for those of you who can’t be here for whatever reasons might exist, including but not limited to the following:
You have a job, you are a full-fledged economic libertarian, you think politics blow, you have an aversion to ice and blizzards, you want to be able to get a cup of coffee after 5PM, you enjoy going to bars that have more than four women in them at a time.
All of these are valid reasons not to be in New Hampshire. I, however, fit into neither of those categories. Well, all but the last two, but at any rate here I am.
Concord, baby, where the domes are gold and the women are cold.
So to fill the void I am beginning what will become a regular segment on 3Q where I profile a famous New Hampshire watering hole every couple of weeks. The series will be geographically and stylistically diverse, and will entail hours of research. All suggestions will be welcomed and considered, as will complimentary beers.
Tonight we begin the series with: Penuche’s Ale House, Concord.
Tucked back off of Main Street, as it seems like every good bar in New Hampshire is, through a door and down a flight of stairs sits Penuche’s Ale House in Bicentennial Square. It’s the kind of place where the bartenders, all in their late 20s, rip butts while they pour, take breaks to play photo hunt and Golden Tee, and hang out here even when they’re not on shift. In other words, it’s a family place.
Of course, if you get drunk enough, everyone’s family.
The nice thing about NH, having just come from Taxachussets, is that they allow Happy Hour unlike their southern neighbors. Every day at Penuche’s, Happy Hour is 4-6PM and all drafts are $2. We’re not talking some chump ass draft list, either. Tonight’s selections are as follows, from left to right:
Guinness Stout, Woodchuck Cider, Smithwick’s Ale, Bud Light, Long Trail Blackbeary Wheat, Magic Hat #9, Newcastle Brown Ale, Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, Rogue Dead Guy Ale, Bass Ale, Coors Blue Moon Belgian White, Harpoon IPA
And in the guest draft slot: Red Hook Longhammer IPA
This afternoon the bartender told me that the first twelve lines are pretty much always around, and the guest draft switches up every week or so. Last week it was Tuckerman’s Pale Ale. Normally beers are $3, but there is a nightly special for each day of the week.
Monday: Beat the clock. Starting at 9PM, all beers are $1, and prices go up a quarter every half hour.
Tuesday: Kick the Keg. $1.50 drafts of a selected keg until it’s gone.
Wednesday: Hump Day Madness. Pool tournaments and $1.50 aluminum Bud bottles**.
Thursday: $2 You call it. Everything is $2 from 9 to close.
Friday: Promo night. Last week it was $2 Longhammer.
Saturday: Live Music, Happy Hour 9-10PM $2 Drafts.
Sunday: Open Mic Night. Happy Hour 9-10PM $2 Drafts.
The atmosphere is classic ale house. The ceiling is full of air ducts and water pipes, all painted black and highlighted with beer bottle xmas lights. The far wall is plastered with photos from the New Years Eve photos from 2001-2003, presumably at which point they ran out of room, but the funny thing is that I recognize a lot of the people in them just from having been here three times. The only difference is the hair. Nobody (with the possible exception of Bill Simmons) has the same hairdo they had in 2001.
Better yet, the wall behind the bar is stuck with all kinds of bumper stickers ranging from witty to lame to rude. Highlights include:
Bush is a Tyrant!; Attention Republicans: Go Fuck Yourself; Pokey for President; Eat Shit & Die, Yankees!; Ani DiFranco Crew; and Sex is a Weapon.
Boy howdy, is it!
If you are ever bored on a dead Tuesday or whatever, you can always read the Guinness Book of World Records (they have three different copies), or play board games like Taboo, Scattergories and Pictionary. All are available at the left hand corner of the bar.
If you are feeling a little more active there is erotic photo hunt, one pool table, a foosball table, Golden Tee and two dart boards. They sell t-shirts for $10 and softball hats for $20.
Penuche’s is the kind of place where tie-dyed meets Harley-Davidson meets NASCAR; where sleeveless t-shirts meet facial hair meets dreadlocks. In other words, it’s a Man Bar, but an eclectic Man Bar. It is also a cheap bar, and yet sill a high quality bar. I mean, Dead Guy for a buck? How much cheaper can you get? The answer is none. None more cheap.
Penuche’s is located at 16 Bicentennial Square, Concord, NH.
*The Moan & Dove mug club involved drinking the entirety of their vast collection of beer bottles, some 165 of them ranging in price from 4 dollars up to 25, within a one year span. This feat entitles you to an engraved 24-ounce mug, out of which you may drink drafts at normal pint prices for life. I made it to about 110 in seven months, thanks in part to a strong late spring surge intended to set myself up for a late summer finish for full fall mug enjoyment, before I redirected.
**Granted, aluminum Bud bottles are fuckin’ weak, but anybody worth a shit drinks Budweiser out of a bottle. Penuche’s realizes this and doesn’t even offer it on draught.
I know that I have long since given up my commitment to signing off posts with the name of whatever exotic beer I was drinking in pursuit of my member mug* at the Moan and Dove in Amherst, but that can be entirely attributed to two factors, neither of which have to do with a lost appreciation of beer.
1) The pirated wifi I was getting at the bar was pulled out from under me sometime in the late spring.
2) Once I figured out that I wouldn’t be in Quabbin Qountry next year to enjoy the spoils of the 24-ounce mug, I made an economic decision to stop actively pursuing the mug list. I liken this to a candidate pulling out of the Iowa straw poll in order to better use funds elsewhere on the trail. Call me the Giuliani of the mug club if you want, I don’t care. Just don’t call last call.
Point being, one of the initial purposes of this blog, before it was unabashedly hijacked by the 2008 primary, was to present a stage for some of the better beers out there. Given the passing of Beer Hunter Michael Jackson over the weekend, I figured I ought to return to that hoppy pursuit on occasion. Plus another stated goal of 3Q is to present life in the Granite State during primary season for those of you who can’t be here for whatever reasons might exist, including but not limited to the following:
You have a job, you are a full-fledged economic libertarian, you think politics blow, you have an aversion to ice and blizzards, you want to be able to get a cup of coffee after 5PM, you enjoy going to bars that have more than four women in them at a time.
All of these are valid reasons not to be in New Hampshire. I, however, fit into neither of those categories. Well, all but the last two, but at any rate here I am.
Concord, baby, where the domes are gold and the women are cold.
So to fill the void I am beginning what will become a regular segment on 3Q where I profile a famous New Hampshire watering hole every couple of weeks. The series will be geographically and stylistically diverse, and will entail hours of research. All suggestions will be welcomed and considered, as will complimentary beers.
Tonight we begin the series with: Penuche’s Ale House, Concord.
Tucked back off of Main Street, as it seems like every good bar in New Hampshire is, through a door and down a flight of stairs sits Penuche’s Ale House in Bicentennial Square. It’s the kind of place where the bartenders, all in their late 20s, rip butts while they pour, take breaks to play photo hunt and Golden Tee, and hang out here even when they’re not on shift. In other words, it’s a family place.
Of course, if you get drunk enough, everyone’s family.
The nice thing about NH, having just come from Taxachussets, is that they allow Happy Hour unlike their southern neighbors. Every day at Penuche’s, Happy Hour is 4-6PM and all drafts are $2. We’re not talking some chump ass draft list, either. Tonight’s selections are as follows, from left to right:
Guinness Stout, Woodchuck Cider, Smithwick’s Ale, Bud Light, Long Trail Blackbeary Wheat, Magic Hat #9, Newcastle Brown Ale, Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, Rogue Dead Guy Ale, Bass Ale, Coors Blue Moon Belgian White, Harpoon IPA
And in the guest draft slot: Red Hook Longhammer IPA
This afternoon the bartender told me that the first twelve lines are pretty much always around, and the guest draft switches up every week or so. Last week it was Tuckerman’s Pale Ale. Normally beers are $3, but there is a nightly special for each day of the week.
Monday: Beat the clock. Starting at 9PM, all beers are $1, and prices go up a quarter every half hour.
Tuesday: Kick the Keg. $1.50 drafts of a selected keg until it’s gone.
Wednesday: Hump Day Madness. Pool tournaments and $1.50 aluminum Bud bottles**.
Thursday: $2 You call it. Everything is $2 from 9 to close.
Friday: Promo night. Last week it was $2 Longhammer.
Saturday: Live Music, Happy Hour 9-10PM $2 Drafts.
Sunday: Open Mic Night. Happy Hour 9-10PM $2 Drafts.
The atmosphere is classic ale house. The ceiling is full of air ducts and water pipes, all painted black and highlighted with beer bottle xmas lights. The far wall is plastered with photos from the New Years Eve photos from 2001-2003, presumably at which point they ran out of room, but the funny thing is that I recognize a lot of the people in them just from having been here three times. The only difference is the hair. Nobody (with the possible exception of Bill Simmons) has the same hairdo they had in 2001.
Better yet, the wall behind the bar is stuck with all kinds of bumper stickers ranging from witty to lame to rude. Highlights include:
Bush is a Tyrant!; Attention Republicans: Go Fuck Yourself; Pokey for President; Eat Shit & Die, Yankees!; Ani DiFranco Crew; and Sex is a Weapon.
Boy howdy, is it!
If you are ever bored on a dead Tuesday or whatever, you can always read the Guinness Book of World Records (they have three different copies), or play board games like Taboo, Scattergories and Pictionary. All are available at the left hand corner of the bar.
If you are feeling a little more active there is erotic photo hunt, one pool table, a foosball table, Golden Tee and two dart boards. They sell t-shirts for $10 and softball hats for $20.
Penuche’s is the kind of place where tie-dyed meets Harley-Davidson meets NASCAR; where sleeveless t-shirts meet facial hair meets dreadlocks. In other words, it’s a Man Bar, but an eclectic Man Bar. It is also a cheap bar, and yet sill a high quality bar. I mean, Dead Guy for a buck? How much cheaper can you get? The answer is none. None more cheap.
Penuche’s is located at 16 Bicentennial Square, Concord, NH.
*The Moan & Dove mug club involved drinking the entirety of their vast collection of beer bottles, some 165 of them ranging in price from 4 dollars up to 25, within a one year span. This feat entitles you to an engraved 24-ounce mug, out of which you may drink drafts at normal pint prices for life. I made it to about 110 in seven months, thanks in part to a strong late spring surge intended to set myself up for a late summer finish for full fall mug enjoyment, before I redirected.
**Granted, aluminum Bud bottles are fuckin’ weak, but anybody worth a shit drinks Budweiser out of a bottle. Penuche’s realizes this and doesn’t even offer it on draught.
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