[Ordinarily, I don’t put myself in my own reviews, as I don’t think that’s a very professional thing to do. However, this time I cannot separate myself and my experience from the quality of this bar, so I can’t really call this a review. Think of it as kind of a lame Bruni story, if it makes you feel better. I say “lame” because nothing really happens in this story.]
For a while, Skalski has been trying to get me to come out to a place called Bigby’s Pour House in Addison, mostly because he wanted my assistance on trivia night. I am pretty damned good at that kind of thing, and he wanted to ensure that his team won first place, which is $25 off their bar tab. Not a bad prize, if I do say so myself. However, events conspired against me ever coming out, mostly because trivia night is on Wednesdays, and Wednesdays are my biggest writing days of the week. As a result, he kept company with Flemming instead.
Unfortunately, there were lay-offs at my day job lately, and Flemming was one of the fallen. He and Skalski decided to have a get together at Bigby’s on that grim and awful day, and I decided to join them.
The building itself doesn’t look very impressive, but there is a pretty cool cart outside filled with empty bottles and cans, which offers kind of a rustic, cool tone to the place. Once inside, though, it looks like an old fashioned pub, like something you might see in an old Hammer film.
Out front, they have shelves of their available drinks on rotating wooden disks. On one side, it’s all microbrews; on the other, it’s all wine. This is their entire drink menu, and it all looked expensive as fuck. I thought about the $25 trivia prize and didn’t think it would make much of a dent in a bar tab.
The guy in front explained that if you want to let other people know how good a certain selection is, we should put a tiny ball bearing into the bottle. That way, if someone picks up a bottle to inspect it, and they hear a lot of balls rolling around inside, they’ll know that it’s a quality choice.
It’s an interesting gimmick, but I’m a little too old for stupid shit like that. Everyone’s taste is different. A lot of people out there think PBR is a top quality beer. To quote a great comic, “Opinions are like assholes; they stink.” (And yes, I realize that I’m saying that in something that is a review of sorts, to which I say, “And?!” What the fuck do you think reviews are? Ebert, for example, is just a guy with an opinion.)
I’m not much of a beer guy. At five beers, regardless of the brand, I’m a gas bag ready to turn any bar into a concentration camp shower room. Whiskey suits me a lot more. Considering how they didn’t have anything so pedestrian as Bud or Miller, I figured they might have specialty whiskeys, so I asked the guy.
“No, we only serve microbrews and wine,” he said.
Fuck. Well, I also hadn’t eaten anything yet, so I asked if they served food.
“Some. It’s just bar food, though. I’ll bring you a menu.”
We settled down in our chosen corner of the room. The ambiance was very nice. They had a comfortable couch with a nice table in front of it. There was a fish tank nearby with a shelf above it filled with board games. At another table, they had a chessboard set up. There was a dart board attached to the wall above our heads, and it was one of the old fashioned kind, not the stupid electronic ones. All in all, it was a very intimate setting, very comfortable. You could have a conversation in this place without shouting.
Since I was in a microbrewery, I thought I would ask if they had my favorite beer in the world: the Gonzo Imperial. However, I knew the answer would probably be no. If they had any of the Flying Dog line, it would probably be the Classic Pale Ale. I asked about that and was told that they usually had it, but not today. “How about Dead Guy Ale?” I asked. It’s a close second, in my opinion, and places were more likely to have it.
“We only have two in the house,” he said. “However, I think you might like the John John.” He then explained that it was essentially Dead Guy Ale aged in whiskey barrels.
“I’m in.” Only as he walked away did I realize how excellently he’d chosen something for me. He’d taken into account information I’d given him, and he came up with the perfect suggestion. They know their shit at Bigby’s. (And it was delicious, by the way. I tried a few beers the others had ordered, but they weren’t nearly as good as my John John.)
However, even though it’s a very nice place, let’s not mince words: it’s a place for beer snobs and hipsters. Granted, I like top shelf beers a lot more than the usual crap everyone else drinks, but the difference between me and the beer snobs is simple: if someone put a Schlitz in my hand, I wouldn’t complain. I appreciate the finer things in life, but I also settle pretty easily. I got the feeling that 99.9% of the patrons here would sneer at the very idea of sullying their tongues with something so lowly as King Cobra, for example.
Case in point: the guy eventually brought by the menu, and I was shocked. My idea of bar food (his words, remember) is a burger and fries, some mozzarella sticks, wings, nachos, that kind of thing. What is most definitely not bar food? MELTED GOAT CHEESE. Yes, that was one of the menu items in this place, in addition to a cheese platter. Naturally, it was all exorbitantly priced.
The only thing they had on the menu that remotely resembled bar food was the pizza. Even though it’s not a food item I’m supposed to eat, I decided to order that, because I sure as shit wouldn’t be eating melted goat cheese with my beer.
It was, naturally, a gourmet pizza, but it was pretty awesome. It had the perfect mixture of cheeses, as well as garlic. It’s really good stuff, and I do recommend it.
We had a good time in our corner, and we were able to cheer up a couple of our fallen comrades. However, I had a mere three beers and a pizza, and I walked out of there with a tab around sixty bucks.
Like I said, it’s a nice place, and you can have a lot of fun there. (I still wish Tony had taken me up on that game of chess. I haven’t played in a while. Sober, I’ve never lost a game. The only game I’ve ever lost was when I was hammered. That night, I had a buzz on, so he definitely had a chance of taking me.) Don’t let the hipster aspect scare you off. However, I would only advise going there if you had the cash to throw around.
Bigby’s Pour House
1700 W. Lake St.
Addison, IL 60101
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