Irish Car Bombs at the Uptown

Irish Car Bombs. The kind you drink, dumbass. 2/3 pint of Guinness, and you drop in a shot glass that is half full of Jameson Whiskey, half Bailey’s Irish Cream. Sounds disgusting, tastes divine. You drink it in one long draught as fast as you can, which is, unfortunately, way too easy. I downed one last night, and am proud to say that I did not lose in a drinking game that I myself suggested.

Okay, so I decide to check out Oakland’s newest bar and club, the Uptown (Telegraph between 19th and 20th). This place is the shit. A big, gorgeous bar, and a whole separate room for bands, dancing, whatever. Even a huge outdoor smoking/lounging area. The main room is outfitted with the most amazing old bar and accoutrements you could ever wish for. Huge carved wood edifice against the back wall, about twelve feet high. Brass lion’s heads hold the bar rail in place. Big arched mirrors all over. Fresh flower arrangements. Soft lighting, red velvet curtains, well, you get the picture. They did things right, and it shows. Just opened three months ago, and they have the best damned neon sign I have ever seen. It’s the upper part of a guitar (the neck, frets and headstock), with “UPTOWN” spelled vertically down the neck. There is no way to drive past it and not notice. Talked to the owner for awhile, and it turns out that all of the wooden bar fixtures came from the Old Spaghetti Factory that used to be in Jack London Square. At least something good came of that place, cuz god knows that no good food ever came out of their kitchens. Lawd have mercy, they are a big step below Olive Garden, and that ain’t Italian food either. So the Uptown has this great vibe. It’s classy, but you could walk in scruffy, talk too loud, and they would still be nice to you in a genuine, nonjudgmental way. There was a weird mix of people there last night, which is always a good sign. A bar has to appeal to lots of groups of people if it is going to earn its keep. It’s a crazy nice space for bands to perform, that’s for sure (rock, blues, and jazz). Old rock posters on the walls. The live music room is painted black. Seriously old school. I like it. The fact that the bar sits across from the gorgeous, much beloved old Fox Theater is a big selling point. Last night the Fox’s neon was a’flashin’ and the Uptown sign was a’glowin’ and I couldn’t help but feel festive in the cold winter air.

All right, so I meet a friend there, we hang out, have a good time, laugh a lot. We see the guy next to us having an Irish car bomb with the bartender. We all get to talking, and this guy happily buys us a couple of bombs. Well, of course I can’t just drink the drink, cuz I’m a spaz. I challenge my buddy to see who can slam it first. Well, dear reader, it was Game On. Shot glasses dropped, Guinness foamed, and gullets opened wide. I have a talent for drinking very fast, and I held my own. But dangit if those pint glasses didn’t hit the bar at exactly the same instant! My friend was, quite frankly, surprised that he did not win. But he took it well, and a tie was agreed upon.

It is criminal that an Irish Car Bomb is so fucking tasty. Criminal. Dangerous. Diabolical. And oh so delicious. Mother’s milk for the thirsty soul. I wanted about three more, all in quick succession, but bloody hell, I had to drive. I drank not one more, sadly. But I sense more of those wicked concoctions in my future, and yes, I’ll be swinging by the Uptown to get ‘em.

So to all my East Bay homies: Please to be frequenting the gorgeous Uptown, where the drinks are big and well-mixed, the bartenders are smiley, the owner (Bobby) is happy to chat with ya, and there’s lots of pretty details to look at as you pound bad-ass drinks with scary names. Prices aren’t too bad either. Plus, they are just a block from Van Cleef’s so you can wander down there if you feel the need for kitsch and close quarters.