Let's get right to it . . .
Place Number 15: Midnight Cowboy: The holy grail of bars in Austin. It is a hidden cocktail lounge owned by the masterminds behind Alamo Drafthouse. There is a strict 2 hour time limit, no flash photography, and drinks that will make you wonder what the hell was that swill you've been drinking your entire adult life.
Place Number 15: Midnight Cowboy: The holy grail of bars in Austin. It is a hidden cocktail lounge owned by the masterminds behind Alamo Drafthouse. There is a strict 2 hour time limit, no flash photography, and drinks that will make you wonder what the hell was that swill you've been drinking your entire adult life.
After the brief explanation it was easy to corral the team to Midnight Cowboy. Who can resist the charms of an exclusive, hidden, speakeasy style cocktail bar? Nobody I want to meet, that's for damn sure. Now when I say that Midnight Cowboy is hidden by Jove is it hidden. The brilliance of Midnight Cowboy's location is that it is hidden in the heart of the touristy district known as Dirty 6th. After 15 minutes of searching, we sheepishly slid into the Alamo Drafthouse to ask for directions. In order to protect the sanctity of the establishment I will nay divulge any of the defining characteristic of this magical place, however, even after it was pointed out (literally the helpful young lady at the Alamo took us outside and pointed directly at it) it was still difficult to find. Very sneaky midnight cowboy, very sneaky indeed.
We asked a man on the street if we were in front of the fabled Midnight Cowboy not realizing he was the nonchalant ninja doorman for said establishent. He told us to wait outside for a minute while he checked occupancy. He proceeded to open the steel metal service door and the solid steel security door to have a peek inside. He reemerged a few moments later and said we were cleared to enter.
We entered a dimly lit hallway with mega-highback booths flanking us from both sides. The booths assured absolute privacy for all the patrons and the dim lighting made everything seem . . . more interesting. I had the distinct impression that every person in every booth was a captivating, interesting person. I guess highbacks, a claustrophobic setting, and dim lighting casts an aura of self-importance . . . that and an ever increasing level of intoxication and overactive imagination on my end.
We were led to our booth, took a minute to gawk at the surroundings, and were greeted by our bartender. Bartender seems to miss the mark a bit here . . . these guys were more akin to alcohol sommeliers. He handed us our menus, explained the rules (see above) , and then excused himself for a moment to retrieve his tools of the trade. A moment later he returned with a multi level pushcart with squeeze bottles and a plethora of alcohol then inquired if we were ready to order our first round. I think he could read our mild apprehension and feeling of being mildly outclassed on our faces, because he began asking us each in turn questions about different types of drinks, alcohols, and flavors that we liked.
He didn't exactly make recommendations as much as he made conclusions from our answers, and then said the the names of drinks he was about to make. It felt like our choice in the matter had been rendered null and void. In fact I don't exactly remember ordering anything, he said something (I'm assuming less for my benefit and more for his own) and then started making a drink. A little muddling, shaking, straining, and stirring later we all had a drink in front of us. Each of us lifted our glasses, someone said some amusing words, and we cheersed. We clinked, and I took my first sip. Wow, was the only thought that went through my head. The drink completely relaxed me. It was though I had drank a a glass of post-hot tub relaxation. We hailed the drinks as incredible and gave our heartfelt compliments to our master alchemist.
After a little while we fell back into conversation and went over the rest of our plans for the evening. Brandon, fellow advocate of the old fashioned and bartender at Firehouse had suggested another craft cocktail place called Half Step on the far reaches of Rainey Street. We agreed on a plan to venture to Rainey Street and toasted once again Our cocktail crafter interjected for a moment and asked us if we were heading down to Half Step. Being the attentive reader that you are, you know that we were indeed. He then offered to take 15% off of our bill if we would deliver a new simple syrup they had been developing down to Half Step to get their take on it. The discount was well and good, but we had been entrusted with a task to deliver this Wavy Gravy to Half Step. We had a moral responsibility to get it there safe, it was no longer merely a night out it was a journey, nay, an adventure. From that moment until the safe delivery of simple syrup we had become the Fellowship of the Wavy Gravy.
Our mount of choice for the journey were a couple of ol' Austin three-seater bicycle carriages, a pedicab to those in the know, and a rikshaw to my friends from the east. These man powered vehicles splatter the Austin nightscape and are never more than a block away. They come in varying levels of obnoxiousness ranging from the simple bike and wheeled loveseat to music blaring mobile laser light shows. We opted for for a couple of the more subdued versions and ventured forth towards Rainey Street.
Having successfully evaded the Nazgûl, we dismounted and entered the Half Step. Heads held high, we presented the Wavy Gravy to the barkeep. He turned and added it to table filled with doppelganger squeeze bottles and told us that the two bars did this little exchange quite frequently, and we thought we were special . . . What a buzzkill. Task completed, we ordered a drink and headed outside to enjoy the beautiful Austin night, but before I continue . . .
Place Number 16: Half Step: A craft cocktail place that occupies a place in the pantheon of Austin craft cocktail bars. Bartenders rave about it across the city and it is . . . good. Just good in my opinion. It is in an old gutted house much like its neighbors on Rainey Street. Every place on Rainey Street looks like a 3 bedroom family house and it is one of the most unique streets in all of the Austin.
Across from the bar there was a decidedly Austin sight: the food truck park. We perused the fare and I decided on a miniature bag of donuts that were made through a Rune Goldberg type miniature frying device. How fun. With the night quickly waning, we had just enough time to grab two of my favorite, incredibly alcoholic drinks on Rainey Street. Perhaps not the smartest decision at this point in the night, but definitely necessary.
First up . . .
Place Number 17: The Blackheart: A New Orleans themed rockabilly whiskey bar. The inside has the feel of a wild west brothel with the walls adorned with vintage (as in first photograph era vintage) black and sepia erotica. This place has an incredible back patio, which is one of the best places to catch a band in Austin. The whiskey selection is extensive and it has the best non-brandy (sacrilege!) and most expensive old fashioned in Austin.
We made the visit a quick one, we were on a timetable you see. We grabbed some drinks, did a quick tour of the inside and outside and guzzled down our drinks. The Blackheart definitely deserves a longer linger than we had time for, but we had one last stop on the trek.
Place Number 18: Icenhauer's: An outdoor oriented Rainey Street meeting spot. The drinks are strong and the backyard fire pit is the perfect place to meet new friends and engage in awkward conversations.
Ah, Icenhauer's: home of the Emily. Who is Emily? She is the most dangerous drink in the city. Emily is muddled strawberries, basil infused syrup, a dash of lime juice, and a whole lot of Tito's. No joke, this drink is 80% vodka, but it tastes like a basil sprinkled strawberry. Emily is the perfect drink to end a night. Let me rephrase that, Emily will end your night. It did, we drank it and then (I'm assuming, my memory is a little hazy on the specifics . . . ) time warped to the next morning.
The next morning Dave, Andrew, and I groggily emerged from our bunks and did a quick recap of the previous night. Andrew and I said farewell to Dave as he left to continue his own journey. I dropped Andrew off at the airport and we sealed the end of the Austin experience with a bro-hug.
. . . And that's a wrap for Austin. I feel honor bound to state that all of the events in the Austin experience took place on a Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. This was Austin during the week, during the weekend this city gets even livelier and even more vibrant. This is one of the many, many reasons why I love Austin, it is always alive any time, any day. The people are great, the bars are inventive and unique, and the food is great and plentiful. To be honest, the only thing Austin is lacking is a brewpub/distillery scene, but it has started to make an effort. However, that is one very small demerit, and it's trying bless its heart.
If you haven't been to Austin go . . . soon. It's changing so quick that this guide may already be irrelevant, but Austin will always be great. The places will still be there but the crowd may have changed. So, saddle up, fasten your belt buckle and mosey on down to the best dang place in all of God's green Earth.
We asked a man on the street if we were in front of the fabled Midnight Cowboy not realizing he was the nonchalant ninja doorman for said establishent. He told us to wait outside for a minute while he checked occupancy. He proceeded to open the steel metal service door and the solid steel security door to have a peek inside. He reemerged a few moments later and said we were cleared to enter.
We entered a dimly lit hallway with mega-highback booths flanking us from both sides. The booths assured absolute privacy for all the patrons and the dim lighting made everything seem . . . more interesting. I had the distinct impression that every person in every booth was a captivating, interesting person. I guess highbacks, a claustrophobic setting, and dim lighting casts an aura of self-importance . . . that and an ever increasing level of intoxication and overactive imagination on my end.
We were led to our booth, took a minute to gawk at the surroundings, and were greeted by our bartender. Bartender seems to miss the mark a bit here . . . these guys were more akin to alcohol sommeliers. He handed us our menus, explained the rules (see above) , and then excused himself for a moment to retrieve his tools of the trade. A moment later he returned with a multi level pushcart with squeeze bottles and a plethora of alcohol then inquired if we were ready to order our first round. I think he could read our mild apprehension and feeling of being mildly outclassed on our faces, because he began asking us each in turn questions about different types of drinks, alcohols, and flavors that we liked.
He didn't exactly make recommendations as much as he made conclusions from our answers, and then said the the names of drinks he was about to make. It felt like our choice in the matter had been rendered null and void. In fact I don't exactly remember ordering anything, he said something (I'm assuming less for my benefit and more for his own) and then started making a drink. A little muddling, shaking, straining, and stirring later we all had a drink in front of us. Each of us lifted our glasses, someone said some amusing words, and we cheersed. We clinked, and I took my first sip. Wow, was the only thought that went through my head. The drink completely relaxed me. It was though I had drank a a glass of post-hot tub relaxation. We hailed the drinks as incredible and gave our heartfelt compliments to our master alchemist.
 |
| This is a picture of your imagination. Midnight Cowboy is better than that. It is better than you can imagine, punk. |
After a little while we fell back into conversation and went over the rest of our plans for the evening. Brandon, fellow advocate of the old fashioned and bartender at Firehouse had suggested another craft cocktail place called Half Step on the far reaches of Rainey Street. We agreed on a plan to venture to Rainey Street and toasted once again Our cocktail crafter interjected for a moment and asked us if we were heading down to Half Step. Being the attentive reader that you are, you know that we were indeed. He then offered to take 15% off of our bill if we would deliver a new simple syrup they had been developing down to Half Step to get their take on it. The discount was well and good, but we had been entrusted with a task to deliver this Wavy Gravy to Half Step. We had a moral responsibility to get it there safe, it was no longer merely a night out it was a journey, nay, an adventure. From that moment until the safe delivery of simple syrup we had become the Fellowship of the Wavy Gravy.
Our mount of choice for the journey were a couple of ol' Austin three-seater bicycle carriages, a pedicab to those in the know, and a rikshaw to my friends from the east. These man powered vehicles splatter the Austin nightscape and are never more than a block away. They come in varying levels of obnoxiousness ranging from the simple bike and wheeled loveseat to music blaring mobile laser light shows. We opted for for a couple of the more subdued versions and ventured forth towards Rainey Street.
Having successfully evaded the Nazgûl, we dismounted and entered the Half Step. Heads held high, we presented the Wavy Gravy to the barkeep. He turned and added it to table filled with doppelganger squeeze bottles and told us that the two bars did this little exchange quite frequently, and we thought we were special . . . What a buzzkill. Task completed, we ordered a drink and headed outside to enjoy the beautiful Austin night, but before I continue . . .
Place Number 16: Half Step: A craft cocktail place that occupies a place in the pantheon of Austin craft cocktail bars. Bartenders rave about it across the city and it is . . . good. Just good in my opinion. It is in an old gutted house much like its neighbors on Rainey Street. Every place on Rainey Street looks like a 3 bedroom family house and it is one of the most unique streets in all of the Austin.
Across from the bar there was a decidedly Austin sight: the food truck park. We perused the fare and I decided on a miniature bag of donuts that were made through a Rune Goldberg type miniature frying device. How fun. With the night quickly waning, we had just enough time to grab two of my favorite, incredibly alcoholic drinks on Rainey Street. Perhaps not the smartest decision at this point in the night, but definitely necessary.
First up . . .
Place Number 17: The Blackheart: A New Orleans themed rockabilly whiskey bar. The inside has the feel of a wild west brothel with the walls adorned with vintage (as in first photograph era vintage) black and sepia erotica. This place has an incredible back patio, which is one of the best places to catch a band in Austin. The whiskey selection is extensive and it has the best non-brandy (sacrilege!) and most expensive old fashioned in Austin.
We made the visit a quick one, we were on a timetable you see. We grabbed some drinks, did a quick tour of the inside and outside and guzzled down our drinks. The Blackheart definitely deserves a longer linger than we had time for, but we had one last stop on the trek.
Place Number 18: Icenhauer's: An outdoor oriented Rainey Street meeting spot. The drinks are strong and the backyard fire pit is the perfect place to meet new friends and engage in awkward conversations.
Ah, Icenhauer's: home of the Emily. Who is Emily? She is the most dangerous drink in the city. Emily is muddled strawberries, basil infused syrup, a dash of lime juice, and a whole lot of Tito's. No joke, this drink is 80% vodka, but it tastes like a basil sprinkled strawberry. Emily is the perfect drink to end a night. Let me rephrase that, Emily will end your night. It did, we drank it and then (I'm assuming, my memory is a little hazy on the specifics . . . ) time warped to the next morning.
 |
| This is a picture of Emily and a knee. Disregard the knee, but be wary of Emily. She is amazing, but dangerous. As Taylor Swift says, " . . . the high is worth the pain." Don't say I didn't warn you. |
The next morning Dave, Andrew, and I groggily emerged from our bunks and did a quick recap of the previous night. Andrew and I said farewell to Dave as he left to continue his own journey. I dropped Andrew off at the airport and we sealed the end of the Austin experience with a bro-hug.
. . . And that's a wrap for Austin. I feel honor bound to state that all of the events in the Austin experience took place on a Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. This was Austin during the week, during the weekend this city gets even livelier and even more vibrant. This is one of the many, many reasons why I love Austin, it is always alive any time, any day. The people are great, the bars are inventive and unique, and the food is great and plentiful. To be honest, the only thing Austin is lacking is a brewpub/distillery scene, but it has started to make an effort. However, that is one very small demerit, and it's trying bless its heart.
If you haven't been to Austin go . . . soon. It's changing so quick that this guide may already be irrelevant, but Austin will always be great. The places will still be there but the crowd may have changed. So, saddle up, fasten your belt buckle and mosey on down to the best dang place in all of God's green Earth.
BRAVO, SON!
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