Booze Muse

In summer, reasons to linger in the Loop abound. The Plymouth Restaurant and Bar’s rooftop deck is one of them. This fourth-floor patio is the perfect place to go after tangoing at Summerdance or taking in a free concert at the Pritzker Pavilion.

Walk past the Plymouth’s down-home first-floor diner and head for the elevator. Press “R” for roof. The ride to the top is slow and stuffy, but when the doors slide open, you’ll be rewarded with one of the best views in the city.

Gargantuan gargoyles, eerily lit from below, look down on the massive Harold Washington Library. The Fisher and Old Colony buildings—fine and stately examples of late-nineteenth century architecture—loom in the shadows. Shiny El trains rumble as they come and go. Workers hose the day’s dirt off State Street sidewalks. Above, jets of mist spray out from pipes on the deck’s awning, cooling the crowd of onlookers.

The best way to keep cool, though, is with one of the Plymouth’s summer cocktails—from favorites like mojitos and mai tais, to knockouts like the peachy Miami Ice, a deceptively tasty combination of vodka, rum, gin, triple sec, soda, OJ and schnapps, served in a pint glass.

With John Marshall Law School on the same block, you might catch law students sipping the Attorneytini—Southern Comfort, Absolut Vodka, Amaretto, Midori and cranberry juice. All the tenants on the second floor of the building have “Esq.” after their names, so it’s not uncommon to see smartly dressed lawyers toss their attaches on the floor and nod their heads to the house-music beat permeating the heavy, humid air.

The food is solid, reasonably priced bar fare. (The first-floor diner offers a different menu—cure a hangover with breakfast there.) Burgers, including a vegan option, start at $6.25 and come in a basket with crispy waffle fries and a pickle. The signature Plymouth burger is topped with portabella caps, roasted red peppers and a Dijon horseradish sauce. Large platters of deep-fried appetizers, including breaded shrimp and jalapeño poppers, are great for after-work outings.

Up on the roof, it’s easy to think that this is summer in the city as it’s meant to be—best enjoyed through a steamy spray mist and the fog of drink. (Elizabeth Winkowski)

The rooftop deck at the Plymouth Restaurant and Bar, 327 South Plymouth Court, (312)362-1212

While Waveland Avenue is known as a street where you can catch out-of-the-park left-field homers and cool lake-blown breezes, much of what lies east of the excitement has been desolate for quite some time. But the quiet northeast has come to life of late. On a corner just west of Lake Shore Drive at Waveland and Broadway, the authentic Irish pub Finley Mahony’s, named after co-owner/bartender Dominic O’Mahony’s year-old son, just celebrated its one-year anniversary. And according to the outdoor patrons enjoying the newly created brick patio with built-in lake breeze it has become the place for those especially near but also to those from afar.

“I was new to the city and I met people [at Finley’s]. I moved here a few months ago but it already feels like home,” says Matt Schindler, 24.

Joan Montgomery, age 63 and her husband John, age 73 have lived down the street since 1991. They have seen their native blocks go through many changes and struggle to gain a comfortable vibe.

“This area was void of any activity. Then Finley’s opened and it was the birth of a neighborhood,” she says. (Anthony Regan)

Finley Mahony’s, 3701 North Broadway, (773)549-0226

Superstar mixologist Peter Vestino’s summer cocktail menu at Sepia, courtesy of Grapevine PR:

strawberry old fashioned 11
strawberry and peppercorn infused ridgemont reserve 1792 bourbon, house-made rhubarb star anise bitters, muddled cherries

basil fizz 10
grand marnier, apricot liqueur, muddled basil, fresh lime juice, topped with soda water

pimm’s cup 10
pimm’s #1, lemon syrup, cucumber-lime ice cubes, soda water

miss g.g.’s east egg cocktail 10
northshore #6 gin, honey-thyme syrup, chamomile tea, fresh lemon juice, soda splash

french 75 12
hendrick’s gin, fresh lemon sour, orange bitters, topped with bugey cerdon demi-sec sparkling rose

blueberry lemonade 10
veev açaí spirit, muddled blueberries, fresh lemonade, soda splash

the drunk monk 12
old raj gin, yellow chartreuse, lemon juice, orange peel

sepia mule 10
ginger infused vodka, fresh lime juice, ginger beer

right’s ricky 10
right gin, mathilde peach liqueur, fresh lime juice, sugar cane syrup, soda water

honeycomb margarita 12
house-made honeycomb tequila liqueur, partida blanco tequila, fresh lime juice

tangerine nectar 11
tangerine tea infused plymouth gin, organic agave nectar, fresh lemon juice, egg white

I have a summer crush and I am finally making my move.

For months now I’ve passed my crush during weekly grocery shopping trips, but it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I was aware it was even there. Maybe it was the hint of summer love that made me fall, but I’m taking a chance and it’s time to pay my first visit to the Waterhouse Tavern and Grill and hope that it’s crushing on me as much as I am on it.

My summer crush is bold and doesn’t care who it bothers. I first noticed the Waterhouse when they began putting up the patio on the spacious—by city standards—sidewalk. But my crush doesn’t care how spacious it is because it likes to take up every last inch. Too bad for pedestrians. At least my crush takes care of me and knows I’ll be too drunk to be sitting on top of some other drunk on a sweaty summer day.

My summer crush and I have the same hobby. Besides an outdoor patio, my crush also takes advantage of people-watching. The Waterhouse is conveniently located right by the Brown Line Paulina stop and while you can get in some good people-watching just about anywhere, there is something special about going there around the time when people are getting off work and watching them watch you not in a suit, without a briefcase and on your third round. And with my crush there is always a third round.

My summer crush knows just what I like. It serves four different flavors of mojitos. Please take a moment to digest this. While most bars have trouble making just the standard mojito, my crush pushes the limits on my favorite summer drink. The flavors consist of regular, watermelon, raspberry and orange. How did my crush know my weakness? I have always had a thing for anything orange. I know you’re maybe thinking that it’ll just taste like orange soda, which I believe is the nectar of the gods, but other people without refined palates aren’t crazy about. But this drink is lighter and not so sugary. It’s hard to tell what they did, but I write it off as the pure magic of alcohol and orange combined. The other flavors are just as unexpectedly good. And by the way, my crush likes people to drink as much as possible so it’s likely that if you stay long enough you’ll get extra-special deals.
My summer crush also knows what I don’t like. Outdoor patios in the summer open the door to babies or, worse yet, children who whine and take over all the dartboards. I have yet to see either hanging out at my crush. There must be some unspoken rule about no one shorter than four feet being allowed there.

While my summer crush seems just about perfect, I’m aware summer is almost over and with that comes the beginning of football and eventually basketball season. My crush supports the Wisconsin Badgers, yet I went to school in Iowa and am by default a Hawkeye girl. This difference is just something my crush and I cannot overcome, no matter how many orange mojitos I’m handed. We’ll always have the summer, though. (Molly Sullivan)

Waterhouse Tavern and Grill, 3407 North Paulina, (773)871-1200

While many Chicagoans are enjoying the mild summer drinking “al fresco,” you can have your booze, throw in a rooftop view and gourmet Greek appetizers and spend the evening drinking “al Greco.”
The best known of the Grecian rooftop vistas is brought to you by the Pegasus Restaurant, at 130 South Halsted. While sipping your favorite beverage, you are afforded the type of urban view that brings to mind the storied vistas of a luxury Manhattan veranda. But instead of the East River and towers of Gotham, the black sheen of the Sears Tower and the West Loop developments either glow in the setting sun or sparkle with white lights. As you shift your view to the street below, you can spy on the hustle and bustle of late-night Greektown. The late-night crowd usually includes interesting combinations of gals in low-cut dresses and guys trying their best to bring back the days of Miami Vice. The wine list includes more than fifty selections from Greece, Australia, France and the United States, but they can be pricey. House wines or Greek favorites like retsina, however, can be sipped for $5 a glass. Though logistical problems have eliminated Pegasus’ full dinner menu from the third-story patio, you can still munch on appetizers like Mezedakia (baby lamb chops), Kavourokeftedes (oven-baked crab cakes), Saganaki (flaming cheese) and Kalamarako Yemisto (stuffed squid with spinach, feta cheese, herbs in a tomato wine sauce), as well as standbys like gyros, taramasalata and baklava. All of these dishes are less than ten dollars and they beat the hell out of wings, frozen pizza, chili and mini-burgers.

For a tastier, full menu of food, cheaper drinks, but a less-spectacular view you can head northwest to the Veranda Char House at 5700 West Irving Park. The third-story rooftop affords a laid-back view of Portage Park bungalows and Irving Park traffic. Still, there is nothing better than gazing at the sky and watching the city lights while the cool evening breeze wafts gently past. The alcohol only makes the experience more relaxing and vivid.

Catering to the Portage Park crowd, the Veranda features Polish (Zywiec and Okocim) beers as well as Heineken, Becks and the usual Buds and Millers. The wine list includes American and Greek selections, but the price list, at $4.25 a glass, affords less sipping and more drinking. For the summer-drink lovers and those who are still trying to relive spring break, the Veranda serves an assortment of “fu fu” drinks including frozen daiquiris, margaritas, mudslides and pina coladas. Most importantly, the rooftop area offers a full menu. The owner is a former Greektown cook, so items like saganaki, grilled calamari, tzatziki and souvlaki have Greektown taste at neighborhood prices. If you are really hungry, they offer steaks, chops and seafood, but why fill yourself up on the roof? Instead, sip, drink, nibble, look at the lights, try to find a star or two and come home feeling that you have experienced yet another outdoor joy of summer. Before you know it, you’ll be waiting for a bus in a snowstorm. (David Witter)

Pegasus Restaurant, 130 South Halsted, (312)226-3377; Veranda Char House, 5700 West Irving Park

When I was a kid, and summer announced its presence by suctioning my legs to the vinyl upholstery of the red Toyota, my parents took us to see B movies. I vividly remember a matinee of “Mom and Dad Save the World” in July of 1992. Ten years later, when my sister got her license, we took refuge at “The Master of Disguise,” a Dana Carvey trainwreck that we would have walked out of had it not simmered around 100 degrees outside.

When I left the idyllic landscape of Mystic, Connecticut, and came to Chicago to live among people my age, the tradition changed. As soon as the digital mercury began to rise it seemed that everyone opted to hit the bars.

Cut to me at age 22. I’m clutching a vodka tonic and futilely avoiding the attentions of a middle-aged man with a Lolita complex while my friends and I dance in a bar with a twenty-minute wait outside. I wistfully wonder what Mr. Carvey’s been up to lately.

Brew and View at the Vic provides people like me—the semi-antisocial cinephiles—with the perfect alternative to hanging with the Chads and Trixies. You don’t need to choose one tradition over the other. At Brew and View, you can get some escapism without eschewing your right to a liquor-laden summer evening.

One night, when the humidity plasters my legs to the seat of my boyfriend’s car, we join our friends for a viewing of “Hot Fuzz,” part of a double feature including “Shaun of the Dead” (certainly not your average B flicks).

I slap a mere $5 on the admissions counter and hold out my arm for a wristband, which lets the bartenders know I can drink, dammit. We enter the opulent interior, where vaudeville dominated a century ago. The Vic is not technically a movie palace, but aside from the people milling around in cargo shorts and tank tops, it feels like we’re back in the days of Balaban and Katz.

I order a vodka tonic from the bar in the back. We take a seat at one of the tables scattered throughout the interior and glance around at the clusters of friends holding cups of beer and laughing. Any scheming Humbert Humbert who might be present has his eyes glued to the screen, reveling in the witty British humor.

I take a sip of my drink and put my feet up on a neighboring chair. It isn’t “Mom and Dad Save the World,” but it’ll do. (Brenna Ehrlich)

Brew and View, 3145 North Sheffield, (773)929-6713

As our canoe emerged from the tranquil Fox River, the reeds parted before our eyes to reveal what appeared to be a tropical island in the middle of Grass Lake. As we paddled forward to investigate, we found ourselves enveloped in a school of speedboats, and the air became charged with the twang of amplified guitars.
We pulled up our wobbly aluminum vessel to the dock and tied up in a slip between two glimmering yachts. I scrabbled out of our low, rented canoe onto the wooden platform. We were in Antioch, Illinois for a weekend of camping at Chain O’ Lakes State Park, but I felt as if we had just entered the Bermuda Triangle. Palm trees and thatched roofs swayed gently in the breeze, and women strode about the decks wearing bikini tops and Daisy Dukes.
We had come upon a floating bar called Blarney Island, hidden among the lakes that snake through northeast Illinois. Dubbed the “Key West of the Midwest,” Blarney Island is a Parrothead paradise and perpetual party, serving up frozen fru-fru drinks, cold beer and classic-rock bands in a tropical atmosphere. The bar is open from the beginning of May through the last weekend in September. The signature drink is the Blarney Stone, a dazzling emerald-toned concoction made with honeydew melon liqueur.
“Leave all your worries on shore,” says Blarney Island president John Haley, who’s been involved with the floating tavern since 1971. Haley describes the island as a haven where people can “relax, let their hair down and have a good time.”
Rock and country cover bands are on deck every weekend. We sipped our margaritas to an acoustic duo playing standards by John Mellencamp, Journey and, of course, Jimmy Buffet. Upcoming highlights at the island include Fantasy Fest Weekend, August 3–5, which will feature a crew of body painters flown in from Key West.
No blarney, there’s a frat vibe to the island, drawing suburban partygoers from far afield. But if you stay long enough, you probably won’t care.
If you drive to Antioch, Blarney Island operates a shuttle between the “Port of Blarney” and Blarney Island, which runs on the hour. If you’re carless, you can reach Blarney Island through a charming combination of Metra, bicycle and canoe, making a real event of your visit. Take the Metra North Central line to Antioch (which unfortunately runs weekdays only), bringing your bike on board. After cycling to Chain O’ Lakes State Park, you’ll be able to rent a canoe at the concession stand for $12. Follow the sound of speedboats and REO Speedwagon. (Elizabeth Winkowski)

Blarney Island/Port of Blarney, 27843 West Grass Lake Road, Antioch, Illinois, (847)395-4122.

By David Witter

Sitting on a bar stool, air conditioning blasting, a game on the big screen, music on the PA, colorful decorations and a line of taps as far as the eye can see. A beautiful sight to behold, no doubt. But for many summertime revelers, the ideal way to enjoy a beer involves playing Frisbee, sipping a cool one and watching bikini or boxer bottoms bouncing in the surf.

Drinking is illegal and strictly enforced on all Chicago beaches, and, with limited exceptions, the only way to see the beach from a Chicago bar is with binoculars. As for the northern suburbs, alcohol is not only outlawed on the beaches, but in many of the towns as well. Yet there are still some Chicago locations where you can enjoy a clandestine six-pack or a romantic bottle of wine. Also, nearby spots in Wisconsin and Indiana offer beaches with unlimited free parking and lakefront lounges, so you can have a cooler/beach party just like they have on “One Tree Hill” and “The OC.”

The closest thing we have to Margaritaville may be the North Beach Oasis, off Highway 20 at Harborview Drive in Racine, Wisconsin. Sitting along a half-mile stretch of beach a hundred feet from the water, you can sip your drink in rhythm with the sound of the surf. The drink menu includes the standard domestic and imported beers. But for the real beach feel, why not try one of the many ice-machine “slurpee” drinks like blue or strawberry daiquiris, Bahama Mamas, margaritas, Green Machines or Liquid Haze. On many nights you can hear live entertainment, usually oldies bands or reggae. Don’t be scared by the one-hour drive. There is almost unlimited free parking twenty feet away, so if you include the Chicago beach experience of crowds, parking and walking, it comes out about even.

The city of Kenosha and its many beaches are even closer. The largest and coolest is Simmons Island Beach. Located nearby are trolleys, museums and a strip of bars and restaurants along Sixth Avenue, a short walk over the bridge from the beach itself. The closest and wildest of these is Captain Mike’s at 5118 6^th Avenue. Adorned with paintings of nude mermaids and brass fittings from old lake barges, Captain Mike’s features “happy hour,” or all mixed drinks and beers for $1.50, from noon until 7pm.

As for the beaches themselves, drinking is technically illegal, but remember—this is Wisconsin, beer capital of the world. If you bring a cooler (cans only) and mind your own business you will probably be okay. If you act like an idiot you deserve to be kicked out anyway. Either way, you’re on your own with this one.

Heading into Indiana, the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore offers a set of beaches that could almost double for Southern California. The west side of Lake Street Beach, just east of Gary in Miller, Indiana (Route 20 to Lake Street to the lake) is technically part of the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore. It offers $10 parking, and allows everything from jet skis to kayaks. There are no lifeguards or rangers so this may be one of the ideal places to have your beach cooler party. Heading east, there is a string of sand spots in the Dunes area, including Wells Street Beach in Miller and Central Beach near Michigan City. Drinking is not encouraged but as long as you do not have bottles it is not illegal either. In fact, drinking is allowed at all beaches in the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore with the exception of West Beach and Porter Beach.

In Chicago, there are still areas where you can enjoy limited amounts of clandestine alcohol, but do so at your own risk. Stay away from the big downtown beaches—North Avenue, Oak Street etc. The rocks between Belmont and Irving are a bit of a hike but the areas behind the bird sanctuary and the Waveland Golf Course are still no man’s lands. Many of the smaller street-end beaches in Rogers Park, including Pratt Beach, are small enough so that they are not usually patrolled. Going south, the rocky areas between McCormick Place and the Museum of Science and Industry offer a nice view of the lake and skyline. But discretion is always advised, since drinking is illegal on Chicago beaches except in licensed establishments.

Maybe the best way to enjoy alcohol “Thoreau style” is in the Chicago Forest Preserves. Patterned after the “emerald rings” surrounding many German cities, they were basically incorporated as outdoor beer gardens so that German and Irish immigrants could let off steam. Drinking (no bottles) is completely legal as long as you are 100 feet from the parking lots. Some advice—stay away from the groves and large fields which often feature loud family picnics and ethnic soccer outings. Instead, hike a ways into the woods. There are many areas along the North Branch of the Chicago River. Perhaps the best is Indian Boundary, off of Cicero near Peterson. There aren’t a lot of singles there, but the deer that almost always come around are as cute as anything you’ll see in a bar.

By Brian Hieggelke

My imaginary summer postcard always features a beach and a beverage. No other season elicits such a flight of fancy, perhaps because no other season interests me much; all are just time’s obstacles to summer.

I honestly have no idea where this comes from; perhaps it’s my family’s Nordic origins run amok. I only know it’s been there as long as I can remember, and I’m too old to blame it on “The OC.” In college at the University of Chicago, my pals and I equated future success not so much with career accomplishment but with time spent on the beach, always with a cocktail, of course. Too many tales of related carnage take up space on my brain’s hard drive, whether it’s the time one guy got laid on a backyard beach we constructed for an island party, or another when dozens of us got our rights read to us by park rangers in Indiana where we’d been having an apparently illegal beach party before we were thrown out of the state. They kept our beer.

My roommate and I spent far too much time each spring waiting for beach weather. At the first sign of sunshine, we’d conspire to skip Friday classes and head to the heathen wonder of Oak Street Beach, which was then what North Avenue Beach is now. One such time, we actually went through with plans and headed north, making a pit stop to buy a bottle of Night Train for the day’s libation. The Night Train came through but the weather did not so we headed to Evanston to bother a friend of mine at Northwestern, where we somehow locked ourselves in a courtyard in the engineering building. Endless summer, postponed again.

Over the last decade, a couple of beachfront establishments have opened in Chicago tailor-made for people like me. Castaways, the bar on top of the boat-shaped beach house at North Avenue Beach, is the perfect mate for the beach it serves: packed body-to-body with the young and barely dressed throwing back beers sold in tubs while live cover bands soundtrack the sand with hits from a classic-rock songbook. The bar’s north side offers a somewhat more laidback experience with tables and food, which I’ve eaten, I think. Down on the beach, bodies line up towel to towel, except for the exhibitionistic jocks working out at the beachside gym or holding court at one of the precious volleyball nets. The whole thing is “MTV Spring Break” come to life, and when you’re in the mood for that—and who isn’t always in the mood for that?—Castaways and NAB won’t let you down.

South six blocks or so, Oak Street Beachstro serves food and cocktails in a spectacular setting on a lively but much mellower beach. Kick back in a chaise in the lounge and sip on an ice-cold beer, with the lake just yards away. You’ll swear you see palm trees. (Actually, they do have palm trees, mounted in sturdy giant wooden pots.) Food holds up well at the Beachstro, with seafood, grilled sandwiches, appetizers and salads that generally uphold the light touch the setting demands. But the frozen cocktails are the real showstoppers, including pina coladas, vodka lemonades and fruity daiquiris. Time passes pleasantly at the Beachstro where you’ll be reminded favorably of an oceanfront restaurant in Southern California.

Many years and many sunburns later, I’m still chasing the dream. I still don’t understand why, but I’ve gotten better at catching it, once in a while. Meanwhile, pass me a Mai Tai.

Castaways Bar & Grill, on the beach at 1603 North Lake Shore Drive, (773)281-1200;  Oak Street Beachstro, on the beach at 1000 North Lake Shore Drive, (312)915-4100.

Go east, and it’s summer on the beach. Right here, it’s summer on the street.

A drunken parade every time. The art punks and the sandaled sirens, the transplant khaki crew and tattooed industry. Wicker Park’s Pontiac Café, in all its glory, is a window into the neighborhood itself, as all mingle and burn under the heavy sun and the rays that reflect off the Damen Street cement. Under the roof, the bar’s empty—the outdoor patio houses the mayhem, enclosed by a two-foot fence to keep the animals from wildly escaping into the street. The Blue Line train barrels and shrieks overhead, the night’s act at Double Door pours equipment inside. It’s 2pm on a Saturday and this morning’s hangover is long gone. Eat a sandwich, have another Bitburger, chances are you’re here for awhile.

You head to Lake Michigan on a ninety-degree day in July, plop yourself on the sand and close your eyes, and you could be in California for all you know. At the Pontiac it truly is the summer in the city, a great big Lovin’ Spoonful of screeching brakes, CTA announcements and the occasional drift of the smell of garbage. The spot was once a gas station—nothing could be more appropriate—the grand pusher of all things urban. Suddenly, a whiff of meat, another half-pound burger served.

The Lincoln Park professionals go to Pontiac to have some brews with their bros, the Carrie Bradshaws soak up the sun, the bartenders and servers from other bars in the neighborhood have a bite and quick drink with some friends before they start their shifts and the hipsters just want to be seen, by those they know, those they don’t know and those they met last night at Rainbo. Not quite the meat market that’s Nick’s Beer Garden or Estelle’s, both just around the corner, you’re not embarrassed to be there while the sky’s still a rich blue. The Pontiac’s a street fest every day, most of the food under ten bucks, the beer no cheaper than $4.

Nighttime’s a different story. Though it’s easy to imagine that those that parade in the day are still at it at night, it still seems like a different crowd. Weekend live-band karaoke draws in hoards—you can feel the inexperience in your bones as you walk down neighboring Milwaukee Avenue. It’s just not the same. The sun is as important as the booze. The Pontiac dominates the afternoon-drink market—it’s a sun-beer saloon.

“But I can see you/Your brown skin shinin’ in the sun/You got your hair combed back and your sunglasses on, baby/And I can tell you my love for you will still be strong/After the boys of summer have gone.” Love for you will still be strong? It better be. (Tom Lynch)

The Pontiac Café & Bar, 1531 North Damen, (773)252-7767.