She Drinks Too: The Mystery of a Modern-Day Speakeasy
Part One: The Hunt
“Go through the back door and into the dark alley. Make a right and head toward the glowing light. You’ll see a door with snake coils on it. That’s the place.”
Um, yeah…because this is From Dusk Till Dawn and I’m George Clooney and he’s Quentin Tarantino and we’re walking into vampire headquarters. Right. My thoughts raced beneath a furrowed brow as my husband and I got directions to Bad Luck Bar – a fairly new and very opulent 1920’s inspired speakeasy in downtown Detroit.
Part One: The Hunt
“Go through the back door and into the dark alley. Make a right and head toward the glowing light. You’ll see a door with snake coils on it. That’s the place.”
Um, yeah…because this is From Dusk Till Dawn and I’m George Clooney and he’s Quentin Tarantino and we’re walking into vampire headquarters. Right. My thoughts raced beneath a furrowed brow as my husband and I got directions to Bad Luck Bar – a fairly new and very opulent 1920’s inspired speakeasy in downtown Detroit.
Let me back up. I heard about Bad Luck Bar from my very cool pottery instructor. No, that is not an oxymoron and no, I am not talking about a 60-year-old, retired hippie that still smokes weed every now and then (medicinal, of course). Really, this dude is a 20-something hipster, bartender, and soon-to-be attorney with impeccable taste that just happens to make a mean coffee mug. He tells me I have to check out Bad Luck Bar and while the cocktails are ridiculously expensive, it is really worth it. He says nothing more.
Bad Luck Bar entrance and curtain reveal by Bad Luck Bar
Intrigued, I decide to venture out, dragging my skeptical husband along for the ride. We arrive at Bad Luck Bar, or rather, where Bad Luck Bar should be but quickly learn 1218 Griswold – the establishment’s purported address - does not exist (at least from a street view). Waze, you disappoint me. We drive, and then walk up and down Griswold several times without so much as a whiff of a spirit. Finally, we go into the coffee shop at 1220 defeated and ready to scrap the whole thing. But before we commence stress eating and drowning our sorrows in warm beverages, I decide to give it one more shot. Timidly, I walk up to the barista and ask, “Have you ever heard of Bad Luck Bar?” to which he answers, “Of course.” “Can you please tell us where it is?” I plead.
Ten minutes later, I found myself in a dark and sumptuous room, looking at the cat-eye framed peepers of our very detached, red-lipped hostess. She pulled back a velvet curtain to reveal an extravagant bar that appeared to be plated in gold and owned by Gatsby himself. It was situated amongst a few tables, dim lights, and baroque-like detail to achieve an intimate setting.
Part Two: Inside the Drinkery
“In the main hall a bar with a real brass rail was set up, and stocked with gins and liquors and with cordials so long forgotten that most of his female guests were too young to know one from another.” F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Yep, the gold Gatsby bar was certainly stocked and I was certainly too young to know about much of its merchandise, most notably The Admiral. This $80 shot of rum - served neat, on the rocks, or as a daiquiri depending on the whims of the patron - is from the UK’s rationing to the British Royal Navy in 1952. As I said, I’m clearly too young to appreciate that kind of rarity. For that expense, I wanted the rum to talk and tell me about drunken British sailors, life on a navy ship, and what it’s like to be mixed with Coke. I skipped the rum and opted for The Empress – a lovely little libation made with vodka, pineapple-honey shrub, and honeybush tea soda and served in a pretty flute with lavender-infused pop rocks around the rim! So. Stinking. Cute. My husband ordered Death and honestly, I have no idea what’s in it but the thing arrived at our table on fire. Really…full-on flames. Since then, I’ve also had Past Lives, which was excellent and The Tower, which, because of a chamomile tea bag that is continuously flavoring the cocktail, tastes very different at the last sip then it did at the first. Points for creativity.
Bad Luck Bar and cocktails by Bad Luck Bar
So what’s the verdict? Bad Luck Bar is serving up an experience, not mere booze. The masterminds behind the scenes have taken time and care to wow their guests and everything is curated to that end – from the speakeasy’s mysterious location, to the way the bar is revealed, to the drinks themselves. Is it worth it? Absolutely. Go and enjoy something from the menu at least once, and if you’re on a tight budget, keep in mind they have a full bar that serves just about anything.
Sound worth it to you? Let me know your thoughts. I’d also love to know if you would spring for the rum. :-)
UPDATE: Not surprisingly, the menu has been refreshed since I originally shared this post and, because I clearly have a thing for pop rocks, I’d recommend trying The Alchemist. It’s a vodka cocktail served with house made black tea-dried fruit soda (that’s boogie for pop rocks) on top. Also, the Admiral is now $120 and that’s all I’m going to say about that.
Love in all things,
April Eileen
She Dines: A Taste of Paris in Detroit
“She wanted to die, but she also wanted to live in Paris.” — Madame Bovary, Gustave Flaubert
Not sure about the whole dying thing but I certainly would love to live in Paris! If Paris were a person, it would be a she - an exquisite she - a woman of effortless style, cultural awareness, and an ability to create sheer loveliness. She is clearly the esteemed patroness of the latest eatery in Detroit’s West Village - La Bohéme. This cutie pie of a café is perfect for getting my French fix until Madame Paris and I are officially besties.
“She wanted to die, but she also wanted to live in Paris.”
Not sure about the whole dying thing but I certainly would love to live in Paris! If Paris were a person, it would be a she - an exquisite she - a woman of effortless style, cultural awareness, and an ability to create sheer loveliness. She is clearly the esteemed patroness of the latest eatery in Detroit’s West Village - La Bohéme. This cutie pie of a café is perfect for getting my French fix until Madame Paris and I are officially besties.
Salad, china, pastry and art gallery at La Bohéme by April Eileen
I had the pleasure of meeting one of the proprieters, Jean Jeannot, when I stumbled in after grabbing tea from Sister Pie. “La Bo-em!” I exclaimed. “I’ve been meaning to get here!” Jean congratulated me on my near-perfect pronunciation before telling me that the café was closed and directing me to the hours on the door. I grimaced but was delighted. I hadn’t been rebuffed by a Frenchman since I asked for an English menu at a restaurant in the 5th arrondissement. #menudenied #figureditout #foodwasfantastic
What kind of foodie would I be if I let a little thing like shop hours stop me from partaking of la nourriture? I vowed to return and return I did and this time, I didn’t even have to use my 2nd grade French speaking skills to have a great experience. I soon noticed all of the details that make La Bohéme so quaint and charming - flower-shaped smoked salmon, ornate teacups and silverware, and two clocks on the wall to ensure that guests know the time in Detroit and Paris. They have a light breakfast and lunch menu with yummy French fare, a solid tea selection, and several pretty pastries (I couldn’t resist the Marie Antoinette). Also, if you take a peek downstairs, there is a small gallery (surprise!) that’s currently displaying Emmy Perryman’s photography.
La Bohéme’s got a little something for everyone so if you’re ever in Detroit and up for a little taste of Paris, check it out and tell me what you think.
UPDATE: Sadly, La Bohéme is no more. C’est dommage. Mark Kurlyandchik of the Detroit Free Press has speculated that the notoriously competitive restaurant market may have reached a saturation point in Detroit. Over the past several years, fellow foodies have watched with delight as the Detroit food scene expanded at light speed. Unfortunately, many restaurants have not been able to sustain themselves in the frenzy and have had to close their doors. Perhaps this is the story of La Bohéme. Regardless, it will join other formidable establishments in the annals of Detroit’s restaurant renaissance history.
Love in all things,
April Eileen
Quotes from the Classics: March
I often hurry March in my desire to get to Spring, overlooking the quiet beauty and rising energy of this month. It is a month of transition, of endings and new beginnings. It holds both melancholy and anticipation and suspends them together in wonder. It’s gifts come slowly in whispers at first and then all at once in celebratory cheers. It is a time of nuance and subtlety, begging us to tune-in and be surprised and delighted. I love how these writers capture the essence of this special moment in the year. Enjoy!
I often hurry March in my desire to get to Spring, overlooking the quiet beauty and rising energy of this month. It is a month of transition, of endings and new beginnings. It holds both melancholy and anticipation and suspends them together in wonder. It’s gifts come slowly in whispers at first and then all at once in celebratory cheers. It is a time of nuance and subtlety, begging us to tune-in and be surprised and delighted. I love how these writers capture the essence of this special moment in the year. Enjoy!
Snow on flowers by Facundo Sosa
“The Dandelion’s pallid tube
Astonishes the Grass,
And Winter instantly becomes
An infinite Alas”
“Daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty.”
“After that hard winter, one could not get enough of the nimble air. Every morning I wakened with a fresh consciousness that winter was over. There were none of the signs of spring for which I used to watch in Virginia, no budding woods or blooming gardens. There was only—spring itself; the throb of it, the light restlessness, the vital essence of it everywhere: in the sky, in the swift clouds, in the pale sunshine, and in the warm, high wind—rising suddenly, sinking suddenly, impulsive and playful like a big puppy that pawed you and then lay down to be petted. If I had been tossed down blindfold on that red prairie, I should have known that it was spring.”
“With so many trees in the city, you could see the spring coming each day until a night of warm wind would bring it suddenly in one morning. Sometimes the heavy cold rains would beat it back so that it would seem that it would never come and that you were losing a season out of your life. This was the only truly sad time in Paris because it was unnatural. You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason. In those days, though, the spring always came finally but it was frightening that it had nearly failed.”
“Spring drew on...and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps.”
“And the Spring arose on the garden fair,Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;And each flower and herb on Earth’s dark breastRose from the dreams of its wintry rest.”
“It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.”
Love in all things,
April Eileen