Twinks Bareback Orgy
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Twinks Bareback Orgy
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Best Of Broward-Palm Beach ®
Bars & Clubs
2008
Best Neighborhood Bar — Fort Lauderdale
Kim's Alley Bar
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Bars & Clubs
2008
Best Neighborhood Bar — South Broward
PRL Euro Café
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Bars & Clubs
2008
Best Place to Meet Intelligent Gay Men
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There are two things you cannot school Kilmo on: playing the bass and cooking great bar food. Alligator Alley is Kilmo's joint, and it's his knack for combining freely flowing live music with a southern/Cajun menu that keeps us stopping in for dinner year after year. Ideal bar food must be absorbent, and the Alley has the best selection of fried in town. Kilmo uses a secret batter, but there have been less sober moments late in the night when he's dropped a few clues to its components: buttermilk, specially seasoned breadcrumbs, and "love." Check out their shrimp po' boy: this generous hoagie overflows with shredded lettuce, breaded and deep fried tiger shrimp, and remoulade sauce. It's enough to make Atkins quiver in terror and us squeal in delight. The rest of the menu offers fried gator, fried oysters, gumbo, ribs, and more. Everything is great. To eat a bad dish at this bar, you'd have to phone in an order to another restaurant and have it delivered.
Some smokers like to sit in a dense fog while they imbibe cocktails, absorbing just as much second-hand smoke as they do first-hand. But others, the more enlightened smokers, prefer to toke outdoors. And in the warm South Florida clime, that should spell out lots of options. Except that a surprisingly large number of bars here are hidden inside shopping centers. Then there's Anglesea — which looks like a funky little fishing shack and boasts a relaxed vibe to match. Technically you can't smoke at the bar inside Anglesea Pub. But hardly anyone sits at the actual bar anyhow. That's because the outdoor covered deck, and a few picnic tables near the canal, are where the action (and the occasional breeze) is at.
A room full of beer-swilling pirates swaying to loud AC/DC near the beach would be the best place to take the cool guests you're hosting — that is, folks you want to get drunk with, and set to reminiscing, not people you need to impress. This would be true even if the Pirate Republic were nothing more than a laidback bar across the street from the beach with cheap beer and good-looking girls. But it's a little more than that. Take the décor: Its walls are covered with pirate paraphernalia – skulls, planks, and more black flags than a Henry Rollins scrapbook. Plus, there's a store next door that sells mementoe ss, including "I want your booty" panties and life-size pirate dolls.
Not all DJs feel compelled to overwhelm their audience. And as an audience, we usually prefer they not try. Be content with more muted feedback: a foot tapping to a subtle beat or hips swaying in time with a record's mellow groove. That's the jazzy mood that comes from a Haviken Hayes set. HH consists of DJs Manifesto, JG, and whomever they feel like inviting to a gig. They have old school tastes in hip-hop, which they mix with funk and soul. Though this duo is based in Hollywood, its most recent appearances have been in Miami nightclubs like the White Room and lounges like the one at South Beach's Catalina Hotel. Here's hoping that for the rest of 2008, Haviken Hayes is a more familiar sight on the Broward and Palm Beach nightlife scenes.
Spirits features a wide variety of music from DJs that all know their stuff. That means you aren't just getting Top 40 diversity a la Rihanna and Sean Paul. Expect to hear some of the hottest jams in pop music, period — including hip-hop, Latin, R&B, dance, and electro. With distinct dance rooms, there's always multiple vibes being set by the DJs, and the club tends to draw sexy girls of all ethnicities — and hot guys, too. There's no shortage of skin here on summer nights, and as folks consume their fair share of spirits, the sexual energy in the club grows. Nowhere else does that manifest itself better than on the dance floor. Salsa lovers can get a workout here, as can dancehall fans. As for coolness, folks here seem to be more down to earth than the South Beach crowd. It's not because those with money don't hang; there's just a lack of pretentiousness as everyone parties on the same plane.
Men want her; women want to be her. Wait a sec... Women want her, too. We know, ladies, you're not gay; you just have a girl-crush on Julie. And who doesn't? Her bewitching green eyes. Her hair gelled into a little fauxhawk. An armful of ice cold Polish brews nestled in her glistening bosom. Just because PRL is a beer-and-wine kind of place doesn't mean the bartender doesn't need talent. Instead of memorizing some trendy shot every week, Julie spends hour after patient hour explaining the difference between a stout and a lambic, and she knows which pint glass or snifter to pour them in. Julie can beat you at chess while holding a snappy conversation — and my God, the way she wields a bottle opener! Just as you begin to feel totally intimidated, she'll pull some sweet and dastardly trick, like telling you how much she loves her puppy. Come with lots of tip money.
A gay bar is not to be confused with a gay club. A club is a very different matter — bright lights, hot bodies grinding against each other, cute underage boys shoving ecstasy tablets up their bums in the bathroom. Bars are for something else: for sitting there and drinking your beer and minding your business until some totally wasted freak ambles over and strikes up a conversation. This happens all the time at Monkey Business, but it's not oppressive — most nights, you can sit with a friend or three and be left in peace while the aging, bearish regulars and one strange old lady from the apartment complex across the street catch up on the gossip at the next table. Granted, plenty of people don't think a great bar is necessarily a peaceful one, but there are lots of places for those folks: Scandals, Sidelines, Georgie's, etc. Basically, nearly every gay bar in existence ever. But if you're one of those who want to get serenely blotto among good, unassuming folk, Monkey Business is for you.
Too often, happy hour means watery macro-brews and insipid appetizers. It's cheap, but you get what you pay for. The Grape on Las Olas gives this pub standard a sophisticated twist, offering discounts on its stock of over 100 wines, available by the glass for $4 to $7. Between sips, spread gourmet cheese across the pita chips, or munch on the sweet tomato bruschetta. Sounds a little more palatable than Bud Light and buffalo wings, doesn't it?
It's not blowing smoke to say the most appealing part of an evening at the Funky Buddha Lounge is the list of microbrews — there are more than 50 and they come from all over the country, brewed from all manner of fruit and vegetation. There are also almost 50 wines and more than 40 different kinds of teas. You can drink beer, wine, and tea in a lot of places, but you'd be hard-pressed to find another establishment with that and 40 flavors of shisha like the Funky Buddha. Have some cider before you start pulling on a bowl of some of the original house mixes like California Dream. Check out the freaky, nipple-centric art on the walls and listen to some acoustic tunes. Bonus if you can impress your friends with your ability to blow smoke rings.
Whereas many drink-slingers say they're only working the clubs until they land that modeling contract, win the Nobel Prize, or meet a sugar mama across the counter, Don Singleton treats his job like a profession and a craft. Even when he's off duty, he has kind words for his co-workers and gets people psyched about the bar. He can always be counted on for a Hawaiian shirt and a sly smile that intimates he's in on a secret. He deftly helps customers navigate a complex beer selection, and he never runs out of drink suggestions, which may include his secret-recipe Mango Madness. Request some obscure, show-offy drink and ask "Can you make that?" and Don will just chuckle. Of course he can.
This is not your mother's Chippendales. But it might be your father's kind of testosterone parade. The boys at Boardwalk dance in briefs, for an almost entirely male clientele. And, oh, the variety! Boardwalk employs buff guys, twinks, even bears — all young and tender. Buzz-kill alert for the male patrons: Many of the dancers like women as much as, or more than, men. Females have to sign a waiver promising not to have physical contact with the dancers — although maybe it should be the other way around, 'cause these boys are frisky! They'll slap a girl on her ass, pin her against the wall during a grind session, even give her a peek at their packages. Like any strip club, the drinks are overpriced, but what entertainment! And each night has its own theme, like Wednesday's "Spring Break Amateur Strip Contest." Yowza!
Hunting for the best margarita is a fun job. Aside from getting drunk in the name of research, you can learn a lot about what goes into making a quality margarita. While on the quest, you'll notice that size does not matter. Some restaurants serve margaritas big enough to dive into while some upscale haunts will dish them out in a martini glass. What's important is quality, and the folks at Azteca Real know how to make a quality margarita. Starting with a stellar tequila selection and fresh juices instead of simple margarita mix, the result isn't your average cocktail. Unfortunately, there is an intangible cost: The service at Azteca is borderline comical. But while some of the bartenders may lack tact, they make up for it tenfold when it comes to mixing.
For martini-drinking ambience, head for the lounge at Fort Lauderdale's St. Regis Hotel, where a jazzy score rolls across a vaulted ceiling of blond wood. But the St. Regis, like so many other upscale joints in South Florida, has an unexotic array of gins, and that's bound to rankle the true martini snob. He's liable to follow the scent of juniper berries a few blocks north along A1A to the Trina lounge, inside the Atlantic Hotel. Here one can find Martin Miller's, a brand whose British makers followed their gin obsession all the way to Iceland for glacial waters that are the world's purest. This is perhaps the deft touch of mixology and hospitality guru Nick Mautone, a consultant to the bar and restaurant. Mautone seems to have also imparted a few lessons to the bartending staff, who are wise to the subtle ways of martini creation.
It's dark, dank, and delightfully drunken. The old-timey wooden bar and chatty bartenders say, "Come in and spill your guts. We won't spill a drop of beer." The shadows and TVs constantly playing sports say, "Just have a beer and relax. Life isn't as bad as you think." And even if it is, what's better than a nice neighborhood bar to forget about who said what to whom. So your real next-door neighbors don't like you, and you're not about to stop playing Pantera at top volume when the mood strikes. Come down to Mickey's and meet your new neighbors: the doctor on the next stool who wishes he hadn't married young, the recent divorcee who wishes she'd fought for a bigger settlement, the Red Sox fan who won't shut up about how much he hates A-rod. It's like an episode of Cheers — with better nuts.
In Fort Lauderdale, you'll be hard pressed to find a bar as deeply connected to one neighborhood as Kim's Alley Bar is to Victoria Park. The pub is also a staple for a lot of city residents regardless of neighborhood — there's an allure to Kim's that is stronger than a zip code — but the folks of Victoria Park still love it the best. Everyday from 4:30 p.m. onward, you see locals headed there on foot. That's the best way to go because you can get blind drunk and not need to drive afterward. Kim's has pool, darts, ping-pong, and a killer jukebox, which makes it easy to lose track of time in this watering hole. The friendly bar staff treats everyone like Norm from Cheers , which isn't easy to achieve in today's rushed society. Kim's is a throwback. They're celebrating their 60th year in business for a reason — they know how to treat their customers right.
You want three things from the perfect bar. 1.) You must be able to smoke inside. 2.) Your fellow drinkers should be fun, interesting, approachable, and represent all neighborhoods and backgrounds. 3.) They've gotta have a lot of beer — like, over 100 varieties. In Hollywood, there's only one place that does all this right: PRL Euro Café. No matter what time you show up during business hours, from 5 p.m. to 2 a.m., you'll be pleased. During happy hour, from 5 to 7, you get two-for-one drinks. We're not talking just domestic Rocky Mountain swill, either. Think Old Speckled Hen, Belzebuth, and other tasty treats from far-off lands. Pop by in the evening and the long, narrow space is shoulder-to-shoulder with other Euro-brew aficionados. It's an easy environment for mingling since you all share a love of good beer and a loathing for shitty domestic draft. On the weekend, walk into (and stumble out of) underground art shows and drum 'n' bass DJ sets — all with a lit cigarette in hand. PRL might be heaven on Earth. It's definitely the perfect bar.
Sporting events are a drunkard's paradise in every respect but two: The tickets make a vicious cover charge, and getting a round means either waiting for the beer guy or waiting in a beer line, the last place you want to be when the game's big play goes down. You won't find those obstacles at Dania Beach Jai-Alai. You get the same vicarious, hop-induced ecstasy from athletic competition as you do at the football game, but without ticket charges or long lines. Jai-Alai being a European game, a certain amount of hooliganism is tolerated if not encouraged. So boo lustily, good sir! The more pickled you become, the more this bizarre sport seems to make sense. Soon you'll summon the courage to lay a wager on that boy in the yellow jersey, just because you can pronounce his name. And remember: All it takes is two friends to start a wave.
Your boy toy left you. Your momma yelled at you. Or you gave your phone number to a hottie who never called — and you scribbled it on the backside of your winning Powerball ticket. There is only one thing left to do: throw your worries in the fuck-it bucket and get totally schnockered. It has to be someplace where you won't run into the boss. A place where there is a decent chance you could end up playing tonsil hockey with a good-lookin' stranger. It's imperative that the dress code allow you to wear a revealing tank top. At Mr. G's, fun-loving bartenders and a friendly crowd will support you in turning your frown upside down. Start off with a game of Beer Pong (on Tuesdays) or by observing the college-aged eye candy. Wash down those sorrows with a Jager bomb and keep your stomach in check with the Axl Rose egg salad sandwich (or just nachos). On a good night, the band will be loud enough to drown out your whine, the bar will be clear enough to dance on top of, and by the time G's closes at 5 a.m., a slew of silicone-enhanced dancers will have stopped in after their shift to help you refine your moves on the five stripper poles. If you need anything at all, darlin' (a cab, maybe?), just ask the manager: his name is Bubba and he's totally got your back.
Once upon a time, gold digging was an art form. You had to master that "No, I'm not just into you for your money" look and not cringe when grandpa swooped in for a tongue kiss. But nowadays it's part of a mutually convenient, publicly acceptable arrangement. For validation, see Larry King and his string of ladies; Anna Nicole Smith and that really old rich dude; or former GE CEO Jack Welch and his 30-years-younger wife — who have been spotted at Seasons 52. If a man's there eating the filet mignon with veggies in a thyme-shallot reduction, he can afford to buy you a drink. And maybe later, a new wardrobe. And a penthouse in Manhattan. In return, you're expected to step up the appearance a notch: heels, manicure, short dress. Boys, you're in luck, too: A young male spy who was once scooped up by four European women and spoiled all over Palm Beach adds, "There's a lot of cougars there, too — a lot of women looking for young beefcake."
New Times has visited the Naked Grape thrice. The first time, we got into a long conversation with a toned fortysomething stud about the relative virtues of Renata Tebaldi and Maria Callas. The second time, we met a queeny young thing who had very interesting things to say about why Wilton Manors would instantly become a bastion of heterosexuality if ever viewed through a Hegelian dialectical lens (we had our doubts about that one, but it's what the man said). The third time, one of the Grape's crack sommeliers effused to us about Schopenhauer's Essays and Aphorisms . This is not the kind of track record you accrue in any old gay bar — and probably not even in most gay wine bars, of which the Naked Grape is one. Nay: this is a weird, weird confluence of forces. Comers to the Naked Grape should bring cleared palates, a desire to socialize, and big brains.
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