Category Archives: Tributes

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The Usual, North Texas’ pioneering craft cocktail bar, marks 15 years of serving up ‘all manner of slightly esoteric libation’

It’s almost hard to believe there was a time when you couldn’t find a decent Manhattan in Fort Worth, but when I moved to Dallas in 2010, North Texas was still largely a craft cocktail wasteland. Sure, Knox-Henderson restaurant Victor Tangos had gone all-in on what was already a national craft renaissance, and a handful of bartenders hip to the revival were doing crafty things behind the bar at places like Windmill Lounge near Uptown, Bolsa in Bishop Arts and The Mansion at Turtle Creek, but no drink establishments that I could find had yet put craft cocktails front and center.

Eventually, I made my way over to Fort Worth, where I found a bar called The Usual, an unassuming beacon of craft know-how on Magnolia Avenue that on Wednesday will mark its 15th anniversary, making it – by just six months – the second oldest craft-cocktail bar in Texas, a remarkable milestone for a notoriously unforgiving industry in a place that doesn’t always get its due.

The Usual was the genie in the bottle for all the cocktail wishes I’d brought with me from Seattle, where the ongoing renaissance was already in full force. Its office-park exterior belied the sleek and sexy space inside and a level of creativity behind the bar that Fort Worth didn’t yet know it wanted. At the same time, it was welcoming and unpretentious, the vision of Brad Hensarling, who’d been with the nearby Chat Room Pub before making what was then a radical choice – to open a bar focused on craft cocktails – or, as its menu states, “all manner of slightly esoteric libation” – with then-co-owners Jon Carney and Juan Solis.

In Texas, The Usual’s opening was preceded only by Houston’s Anvil, which opened in early 2009.

The mirror adjoining the bar at The Usual offers a glimpse of the cozy environs within. Texas’ second-oldest craft cocktail bar marks its 15th anniversary this week.

“The original architecture, with mirrors on the ceilings of the booths, all the elements of intention of that space are still intact,” says Pam Moncrief, who was among The Usual’s early crew of bartenders and worked there on and off over an eight-year span. “All that wood in there – white American oak, intentionally chosen, because that’s what whiskey barrels are made of. It still breathes that same purpose in being there.”

Among the bar’s early clientele was Jason Pollard, who in 2009 had visited New Orleans, sipped his first Sazerac and was bitten by the craft cocktail bug. The Usual was like a library of libations in which he could research his new fascination. “I started hanging out at the Usual, and finally they were like, ‘Do you want to work here?’” he remembers. “I started in 2011.”

By that time, Dallas’ Cedars Social and Denton’s Paschall Bar were on board the craft cocktail train.

“We were very aware of the fact this was something Fort Worth hadn’t seen before,” recalls Pollard, who would eventually become lead bartender and is now a co-owner. “There was a lot of explaining ourselves in the early days, that we didn’t carry big domestic beers or have 17 flavored vodkas; that we were doing something different.”

While slower weekdays were shared with patrons interested in learning more from bartenders eager to share the history of and riffs on classics like the Aviation, the Negroni, the Last Word or the New York Sour, high-energy weekends were approached with patience for people’s frustrations.

“We were coming in against a city that had a firm drinking culture already, and here we are saying we’re using all fresh ingredients or that we don’t carry Malibu,” Moncrief says. “But it was really cool when you could say to people who wanted Fireball, ‘Well, we don’t have Fireball but I can make you something like that or better.’ It blew their minds to see us use all natural ingredients and create something dazzling. And eventually a lot of people caught on.”

Bars of the Year 2013
The Usual’s wry, loose attitude has been a trademark of this consistently good spot on Fort Worth’s Magnolia Avenue, which marks its 15th anniversary on Nov. 20, 2024.

Moncrief had started at The Usual as a server and after a year was told by co-owner Solis that if she was going to keep working there, she would have to do time behind the bar as well.

“I was really intimidated,” she says. “I didn’t think I had what it took.” But her experience there, she says, would lay the foundation of her current livelihood as catering operations manager for GUSTOS Burger Bar and owner of a pop-up bar business for special events.

“It really taught me so much,” Moncrief says. “The crew was a fantastic group of people and we all strived to be the best we could be. We pushed each other and called each other out on things. It made you believe in the magic of a bar, and of hospitality and the service industry. So many of us now reference those times as an example of what a bar can be.”

Megan McClinton, previously with Thompson’s Bookstore in downtown Fort Worth, remembers frequenting The Usual before joining the crew for several years in 2017.

“We went there to taste classic cocktails done the right way,” says McClinton, who eventually left for a general manager role at Blackland Distillery and now owns Tricks of the Trade, a boutique bottle shop on South Main. “We knew that’s who was doing it and doing it right. We were all trying to figure out what this craft thing was and that was the place to go in Fort Worth to discover that.”

Despite its limited space behind the bar, The Usual has always wielded an arsenal of adventurous spirits and liqueurs often at the forefront of DFW’s craft-cocktail curve. I made the rounds often in those early days but could always count on glimpsing a bottle at The Usual that I’d never seen before, then asking someone to make something with it.

“It just goes back to us being cocktail nerds and genuinely geeking out about it ourselves,” Pollard said. “When we find something new and interesting, we want to share it with people.”

And unlike some craft bars where you had to time your request or visit with the presence of a specific bartender to have magic happen, The Usual crew to a person was always up to the task. In other words, creativity and experimentation seemed to be part of the bar’s staff expectations. (So, too, apparently, was adequate staffing – I have never been there and found available service lacking.)

Side note: The Usual was responsible for two top-ten finishes in my annual ranking of my favorite cocktails of the year, listings I composed from 2011 to 2020 when the scene was more manageable in size and I had way more freedom to imbibe. In 2014, I gave a nod to Moncrief’s One Million in Unmarked Bills, an herbaceous blend of Ransom Old Tom gin, herbal Zwack liqueur, Dolin Blanc vermouth and Benedictine; in 2018 it was Pollard’s Autumn in Brazil, a luscious mix of sherry and sweet vermouth built atop aged cachaca.

Jason Pollard’s Autumn in Brazil featured Brazilian Avua Amburana cachaca.

The Usual’s upscale date-spot atmosphere has always featured an undercurrent of ease. Those who’ve worked there preach of its family-like and family-oriented camaraderie, one sensitive to work-life balance.

“They were very concerned about your family life and looked at everyone as a whole person,” McClinton says.

The bar has set consistently high standards, with a modest, amusingly composed, brochure-like house menu featuring variations on familiar libations with a wild card or two thrown in.

“You have to balance between what people are going to instantly know they want and things that are going to push people into flavors they haven’t necessarily experienced before,” Pollard says.  

Adds McClinton: “It was about not just making an espresso martini because it’s popular but making something adjacent and outside the box. Not just following the trends, but being inspired by them or even setting them.”

The Usual has seen its share of marriage proposals and once even hosted a wedding, a true community institution that adhered to its craft philosophy even through the strain of the pandemic. Wednesday’s celebration, which kicks off at 5 p.m., will feature a throwback menu and, what’s even more fun – throwback bartenders.

“We have always believed that Fort Worth deserves and needs a space like The Usual,” Pollard says. “Even in the leanest times, we just refused to give up.”

THE USUAL, 1408 West Magnolia, Fort Worth.

Bars, Bartenders, Dallas, Downtown, Drinks around the world, Exotic tales of adventure, Fancydranks, Follow the bouncing ball, Hotel bars, Most excellent ideas, People, Pop-Up Bars, Tributes

With latest pop-up, Peruvian bartender brothers honor their motherland — and mom too

Ever since leaving their native Peru to come to Dallas 15 years ago, bartenders Armando and Daniel Guillen have never stopped paying tribute to their motherland – or their mother. Recalling the struggles she overcame as a divorced single mom to see them prosper in adulthood helps put the strain of the pandemic in perspective.

“She taught us to fight, to go on,” said Armando, who along with older brother Daniel ultimately rose to become part of the forefront of Dallas’ craft-cocktail scene over the last decade. “Anytime I thought about how bad we had it…. She had it 10 times worse.”

Over the last two weeks, the Guillens have devoted their energies to Rosario, which besides being their mother’s name is also the name of the speakeasy-style South American pop-up they’ve created at Bourbon and Banter, in downtown’s Statler Hotel. In the process, they’ve briefly infused life and Latin verve into the subterranean cocktail lounge, which has been closed since the shutdown began.

Forgiveness Before Permission: The mezcal- based cocktail, featuring passion fruit and aji amarillo –a Peruvian yellow pepper — is among a half-dozen South-American-influenced drinks on the pop-up menu.

The brothers had mere days to design their theme and menu, which they hammered out in typically heated fashion, or what Armando describes “the usual dynamic arguments between Peruvian A and Peruvian B.”

But the biggest battle, he said, was what to call the pop-up. The two considered Peruvian heroes or other South American figures, but none of the names seemed right (“It’s like naming your son,” Armando says) until Armando finally stepped back and said to Daniel: Well, why not Rosario?

“I thought, ‘If you gonna fight me over your mother’s name, I’m gonna punch you,’” he said.

And so, Rosario the pop-up was born. The event is into its final three days, but it’s proved so popular that an extension may be imminent.

Five years have passed since the brothers first slung drinks together behind a bar – that was at a Jameson Black Barrel event at Uptown’s Standard Pour, in 2015 – and it’s great to see them practicing their cocktail handicraft again. Even at that event, their mother played a role, with Daniel’s DeRosario cocktail rounding out its Irish whiskey base with sweet vermouth and a pair of Italian bitter liqueurs.

The Chicha Tu Madre’s sangria-like vibrancy comes from its namesake chicha morada, a beverage made from Peruvian purple corn.

Their ongoing pop-up is into its third week, and among its standout drinks is the luscious Chicha Tu Madre, whose name mischievously plays off a Spanish-language insult but actually references the housemade chicha morada within.

Slightly sweet with the spice of mulled wine, chicha morada – made from Peruvian purple corn – is among the bottled or jarred products the Guillens now offer as part of their just-launched product line, under the brand name El Cantinero. (Yes, they’ve kept themselves busy in spite of the shutdown.)

The cocktail is built on a base of Maker’s Mark bourbon, along with pineapple, lime and barrenwort (otherwise known as horny goat weed). A garnish of salted canchita – a corn-nut like snack made from chulpe corn – lounges on a banana-leaf carpet. “It has very humble roots,” Armando says. “Bourbon and chicha are both made from corn, so this is trying to form that bonding bridge between North and South America.”

The Buenos Aires Menyul – a phonetic spelling of a South American Spanish speaker’s pronunciation of “mint julep” — is another gem, playing off Argentina’s obsession with the Italian bitter Fernet. “They love Fernet and Coke in Argentina,” Armando notes. “They love bitter.”

Don’t cry for me: The Buenos Aires Menyul is a brilliantly bitter bit of cultural cocktail homage.

The foundation of this delicious julep is Cynar, an Italian bitter less aggressive than Fernet, along with the Guillens’ own grapefruit cordial and Peruvian chuncho bitters.

Along with bar bites like grilled octopus and an aged steak with chimichurri sauce, the Guillens have outfitted Bourbon and Banter with South American touches and a Latin music soundtrack. “It’s fun to work with your brother for a night,” Daniel quipped. “But to be in close (quarters) for nearly a month…” He play-rolled his eyes and then was off into the speakeasy darkness, to whip up another drink.

It’s clear that the brothers’ current effort comes from the heart. No doubt Mom would be proud.

“We have to give a little bit of ourselves in everything we do,” Armando said. “So why not just give it our all?”

Reservations for the event can be made here.

Cocktails and cinema, Exotic tales of adventure, Ice, Old Fashioned, Tributes, Whiskey, Whiskey

Skull Island: Call me mold-fashioned

With the proper skull set, you can do most anything.

My brother Michael, for all of his unreadable stoicism, has a knack for giving Christmas gifts with staying power. So when he gave me a set of skull-shaped ice molds this last holiday season, I was pretty sure they’d be conscripted into duty eventually. 

Not that I really needed ice molds – as a longtime cocktail enthusiast, my freezer is well stocked with cube molds large and small, including a set of Buffalo Trace-branded ones with protruding buffalo images on one side. But ice in the actual shape of skulls – that was a fresh addition to the collection. And since I had also given Michael a skull-shaped shot glass at the same Christmas exchange, it turned out to be a heady coincidence. I let them the ice molds sit until the right idea took hold.

I’m nine years older than Michael, who we called changuito – Spanish for “little monkey” – when he was little for his boundless, off-the-wall energy, cheery smile and his love for Curious George, the famous cartoon monkey. (No doubt he would be mortified to know I was sharing this fact.)  He and I were also both into monster movies and science fiction, and I remember taking him to see Star Wars for the first time when it was re-released for the premiere of The Empire Strikes Back. That was on my mind when I recently realized that I had never actually gotten around to seeing Kong: Skull Island, the lauded 2017 semi-reboot of the classic giant gorilla franchise.

Inspired, I searched for it in my Netflix and Amazon Primate – I mean, Prime – libraries, but the cheapskate in me was put off by the rental price when there were so many free movies awaiting in my watch queue. I picked one of those for the time being, but still let the inspiration ride: If I couldn’t actually watch Skull Island, I figured, I would come up with a drink using one of those skull ice cubes instead.

My Skull Island cocktail is basically a tropical Old Fashioned, packed with nods to the whole Kong vibe – gorillas, jungles, exotic islands. Naturally, I built it on Monkey Shoulder blended malt Scotch – not just for its fruity, buttery notes but its malt brawn, which would go toe-to-toe with the tropical sweetness that would come: First, a roar of banana liqueur, then a dash of tiki bitters. And finally, I poured the whole mixture over that toothsome skull ice cube… which offered one last creepy grin before tilting wayward in the Scotchy surf.

Skulls are spineless and cannot stay upright in liquid. Otherwise, the Skull Island is not monkeying around.

While I haven’t yet gotten around to seeing that movie, here’s a drink in the meantime that, while deliciously tropical sweet, will still put hair on your chest.

SKULL ISLAND

  • 2¼ oz Monkey Shoulder blended malt Scotch
  • ¾ oz Giffard’s Banane du Bresil
  • 1 generous dash Bitterman’s Elemakule tiki bitters

Combine ingredients in a mixing glass, add ice and stir. Pour into an Old Fashioned or short rocks glass over one large ice cube, ideally one shaped like a skull. Sip and periodically pound chest.

Barmoire, Events, General revelry, People, Seasonal, Tequila, Tributes

For this tequila rep, Dia de los Muertos is a time to celebrate spirits both here and gone

Partida tequila, Sofia Partida, Ruins, Deep Ellum
Partida’s Sofia Partida enjoying a flight of the eponymous brand’s various expressions at Ruins, in Dallas’ Deep Ellum neighborhood.

On Friday, not long after she returns home to Northern California, Sofia Partida will make one last run to the store to pick up some roses and Mexican sweet bread.

Those were among the items cherished by her late mother and father, who were among the farming families who settled the agricultural region around Yuba City, Calif. The items will be placed alongside candles, photos and other items in honor of them and other passed-on loved ones for Dia De Los Muertos, the Mexican holiday celebrating the dead, which Partida has celebrated as long as she can remember. 

“All the things they loved go on the altar,” says Partida, national brand ambassador for Partida Tequila, who visited the Dallas area this week. The items are meant to both guide and welcome their spirits back to the land of the living, a tradition that dates back to Aztec times. Naturally, a bottle of tequila adorns Partida’s altar, too, in honor of both her father, who loved the spirit, and her uncle Enrique, whose time-honored agave production gave rise to what would become one of the category’s most beloved brands.

Growing up, Partida recalled her uncle traveling up from his home in Amatitan, Jalisco, to help during her family farm’s busy season. As an adult, after her father had passed away, she wanted to get to know Enrique better, so she traveled to Amatitan, where he introduced her to the rich culture of the Tequila Valley.

“It’s a living, breathing tequila lifestyle,” Partida says. “Like a step back in time. The whole region is based on that.”

Amatitan is just down the road from the town of Tequila, from which the agave-based spirit gets its name. The entire valley thrives with tequila distilleries and fields of blue agave, the variety from which all tequila is derived. Partida was entranced. Together with a marketing guru who wanted to get into the spirits business, she co-founded the Partida Tequila brand, which launched in 2005-06 and whose blanco, reposado and anejo expressions have gone on to earn numerous awards.

The brand is rooted in the agave growing methods practiced by Partida’s uncle, among the loved ones she honors on Dia de los Muertos. Here she holds the brand’s premium expression, Elegante.

She knows she wouldn’t be here without Enrique, which is why she still honors him every year on the Mexican holiday. It heartens her to see that the joyful celebration has entered the American mainstream, overcoming its morbid associations with the help of major cultural landmarks like Disney-Pixar’s Coco.

The yearly celebration, which adopted elements of Catholicism with the Spanish conquest of Mexico, starts Oct. 31 and continues through Nov. 2. Along with her parents, Partida’s home altar also commemorates a niece who died of cancer, “and my husband’s mom, even though she was Mormon. I hope she doesn’t get mad at me.”

Like her mother did years before, she’ll share her memories of those who have passed on. And then probably sip some tequila.

“Death is not sterile in Mexico,” Partida says. “People in Amatitan really do mourn and wear black for 30 days. And then” – she gestures, as if quickly dusting off her hands – “it’s done. They grieve – and then they honor the person’s life.”

Bars, Bartenders, Cocktail history, Cocktail Legends, Community, Tributes

Cocktail community remembers legendary bar man in nationwide “Milk & Honey Hour”

Milk and Honey
Milk and Honey’s Sasha Petraske, in a still shot from the documentary Hey Bartender.

With coupes raised high, members of Dallas’ craft-cocktails community paid tribute last night to Sasha Petraske, the influential bar man who pioneered or popularized many of the elements linked with the culture today.

Petraske, who launched Milk & Honey in a quiet residential area of New York’s Lower East Side in 1999, died August 21 of unknown causes. A sartorially polished sort whose exactitude and attention to proper form inspired the way many craft cocktail establishments comport themselves today, he was also instrumental in the development of San Antonio’s cocktail scene and a beloved mentor to many in the industry nationwide.

Midnight Rambler
Aleeza Gordon, of Greenwich Village’s Little Branch, delivers the memorial toast.

Bartenders across the country were invited to salute the 42-year-old legend on Monday evening at 9 p.m., the hour at which Milk & Honey would open its speakeasy-style doors. In Dallas, that went down at Midnight Rambler, whose owners, Chad Solomon and Christy Pope, both worked at Milk & Honey more than a decade ago and went on to partner with Petraske in a bar consulting business called Cuffs and Buttons.

Aleeza Gordon of Little Branch, the bar Petraske started in Greenwich Village, led the Midnight Rambler toast for the 30 or so people in attendance.

“He cared about the way that he looked,” Gordon said from her perch atop the bar. “No matter how crazy and interesting the night got, he seemed to be a gentle man. He cared about the way things were done; I think that’s why all of you came to honor him, because you feel the impact of his caring.”

Midnight Rambler
At Midnight Rambler, Petraske’s favorite cocktail, the Daiquiri.

She recalled Petraske’s frequent visits to Little Branch, as well as her occasionally nervous execution of the “ridiculously simple” drinks he would order, such was his presence. “He wanted things to be done right,” she said. “But he did it in a way that made you feel good.”

And with that, a covey of daiquiris – Petraske’s favorite cocktail – rose skyward. Glasses clinked and a group bid farewell to the friend, a mentor and colleague who’d helped shape the world they now inhabited.