Risking and Receiving

A new spot opens in the neighborhood, of course I'm going to go.

I've watched the renovation as I pass The Rogue Gentleman on my daily walk for months now, but nothing  I had seen there was resembling the "professor's study-meets-cocktail bar" look the owners were touting nine months ago.

So when a bartender friend recently moved to the Ward and I made plans to hang out tonight, my suggestion was naturally to check out the new kid on the block.

Twenty minutes before meeting him, I got an e-mail from a good friend who prides himself on always being right.

Should have e-mailed you earlier. Thought about it. Didn't. We are at Rogue Gentleman. Last minute decision. Sure you have some other plans.

It's the exception that proves the rule this time, friend.

I walked in to find all three of them already at the bar surrounded by a lively crowd.

Mr. Always Right kissed me on the cheek, part of his 2014 resolution to try to be more sensitive and less cynical.

But checking out the interior, we had to wonder. Nowhere in sight was anything professorial-looking and it was much brighter and more open than any of us had expected for a pre-prohibition era cocktail bar.

Ah, well, the best laid plans of mice and men and all that rot.

Since I'm not a cocktail drinker, I allowed myself to be wooed by Fernet Branca on tap despite never having tasted the bitter, aromatic spirit.

Perhaps the bartender sensed that I was a Fernet virgin because after ordering, he strongly suggested a ginger chaser.

It must not have been obvious to him that my only spirits are absinthe and tequila, both sans chasers and accoutrements.

Never mind, I sipped the digestif and nibbled on Pecorino gougeres while my friends tried a variety of cocktails. Then I had a second Fernet to make sure my first impression was correct.

A charcuterie board featured Olli salame and bresola, chicken liver mousse, pistachio-studded pate, Pecorino and a triple creme along with mustards and pickled veggies and must have been a popular item on the menu because we saw it going out to a lot of tables.

The vintage glassware was a highlight, unique and attractive, right down to the punch cups used for the spicy island rum punch on tap.

There were so many people there and so much gabbing going on that we were probably two plus hours into our evening before we ever heard the first note of music.

Hopefully, that will change, too.

I give the bartenders credit, though, they kept up a smiling facade even when it was close to a madhouse in there, no easy job.

Finally managing to convince my friends to join me for music at Balliceaux, we left in separate cars, me with the Jackson Ward contingent, for another kind of crowd.

The kind where a guy is wearing a t-shirt saying, "Risk and you shall receive" and a girl is wearing a sleeveless, backless top despite tit being 19 degrees outside.

You know, the pretty people.

My first order of business after arrival was ordering skewered roasted pork belly over cranberries and pears, a welcome, fatty and piquant snack to fortify myself.

In the back room, R & B legend the Hi-Steps were getting set up so we found a spot near the bar.

A steady stream of people kept arriving, which I hope means that word is out that these guys put on a good show.

After the first couple of soulful songs, bandleader Jason leaned into the microphone, exhorting the crowd to come closer, to come into the light nearest the stage.

"My friend Karen always asks me if I told the crowd we're a dancing band," he announced to the room. "So you should move up and start dancing."

It took about ten seconds of "Signed, Sealed and Delivered" for my girlfriend to start dancing in front of me. And not because of what he said I'd said, either.

It took even less for my bartender friend to grab her hand and lead her to the dance floor, saying over his shoulder, "Someone's got to."

Meanwhile, I kept her boyfriend company as he stood next to me alternately grooving and yawning. To be fair, he had been up about four hours earlier than I had this morning.

I think it was some time after "Soul Man" or maybe "Move On Up" that the dancing friends rejoined us, the bartender saying, "I have four dance moves and she exhausted them all in the first minute."

I'm sure he was exaggerating.

The crowd kept growing and since they all had to pass me to get to the bar, I had a chance to say hi to the violinist, the handsome server, the percussionist, the biker as the room continued to heat up.

And while I stayed over by the bar with the newly-sensitive one, there was definitely some in-place dancing going on the whole time.

Someone's got to. Because they definitely are a dancing band.