Popination Remuneration
a series of unhinged personal essays disguised as pub reviews. Today: Joe’s Friendly. Part deux. The original, this time.
Also, what I’m calling the Purgatory Pub.
I was in Michigan all last week, ostensibly for vacation, but also to visit an ailing family member. As such, we did some of the same things we’d done during last year’s visit, and some things differently. For example:
Traverse City
…was positively teeming the afternoon we went to explore the downtown and an Irish pub we’d heard of, called The Pub. Inside, it was a large Irish themed pub n grill type place, but we’d been sitting for about a half hour before we got served. Then another 20 minutes to get our drinks. Then even longer to get our food order in. Then…. You get the picture.
But at least we were sitting at window seats, Partner, his two kids, and me. We watched the (throngs! of) people flow by. My younger stepkid and I counted 20 redheads between that visit and the following morning in Empire.* So obviously it was terrible service but I was so sad as it wasn’t anyone’s fault—I felt so bad for our server who obviously knew what she was doing, just couldn’t get the kitchen to keep up. I wonder if the huge population of downtown was that unusual for them, they weren’t used to needing to serve that much business. I had been hearing from those accustomed to the area that the crowdedness was not normal. But the food was quite good when it finally came, and the Guinness was perfectly poured when it finally came, too.
My beer of choice in Empire is Two Hearted IPA and I had it everywhere I went, pub or restaurant. And I always had some at my in-laws’ place, too, where we were staying and visiting. So, even though The Pub was an Irish bar, I had Two Hearted instead of Guinness. And anyway, they were out of Guinness when we first arrived anyway. (I mean, seriously?! But the server handled the issues with such grace and wit. I really felt bad for her.)
*Why were we counting redheads? I actually don’t know. It was the kid’s idea. We didn’t count his dad, both because he goes with a shaved head these days, but also we figured (I guess) that the ginger in our own party shouldn’t count.
Joe’s Friendly, Part Deux
Last time I went to Joe’s Friendly, last year, I didn’t venture past the open air beachside version into the dark divey original pub next door, and this year I was determined to do so.
Joe’s Friendly, the original dark cavernlike dive bar, has apparently been around for a long time, and rumor has it it’s got the old guy regulars and the dark interior and the coolth and the old smelly decor that you’d expect from an old Michigan dive. I did mean to visit this side of Joe’s during my visit, I really did, but they’d opened up a twin tavern, attached but separate, with a limited menu and a big outdoor seating area with beach umbrellas and cornhole, as well as an airy and open outdoor bar and warehouse-like indoor seating, albeit with wide open windows. During a summer vacation? I couldn’t resist. … This beach vibe and the open yard was why we stayed on the sunny side of Joe’s and didn’t venture into the cavern next door, not one time that we patronized them.
The OG Joe’s Friendly, as I mentioned in last year’s post above, is the indoor cave-divey place we never went to last time because it was just too too nice in the beach half. It still was this time, but I was adamant I’d experience the indoor original at least once before it got sold and maybe, but hopefully not, closed. And as long as we’re still regularly going back, which for various and private reasons may not happen as often and regularly starting soon. So. As Partner and Youngest went to get ice cream (post-antiquing which was also lovely), I went into the dark deeps of the ‘real’ Joe’s Friendly.
Drink at Joe’s
So the real live actual dark dive version of Joe’s had a comfy old patina* about it and was dim and old and musty but clean(ish) and good and their menu looked pretty big, actually, including brunch on weekends. So does that make it a diner, or a dive? Doesn’t matter—it was nice, and I imagine it’s the place to be in the Empire winter. I sipped on my Two Hearted and was able to breathe a bit but I was ready to go back to the beach side because that’s really where it’s at when it’s July. Even though they didn’t have the Glen Lake IPA (or even Two Hearted) on that side this year.
The night before, Dad-in-Law was chatting about how it was going to be sold soon, and was worried it would close, or change irreparably, because of it. What I would hope is that the new owners would honor its storied history and at least keep the vibe the same, even if they feel the need to refurbish it. But that might be a naïve hope. But still. Empire is a small place, and an intimate, and a gentle. As far as I understand, anyway. Maybe there’s hope. Maybe not.
*I’m really really sorry but I could not, COULD not get the song ‘Funky Cold Medina’ out of my head as I wrote that phrase. So I had to share my pain with you. Thanks for being here during this trying time.
O Joe We Hardly Knew Ye
It was nice to go back to Joe’s—last time we went it was a place to take a breath from all the family activities. This year? We still needed a break, actually maybe especially this time, and as much as we only went twice this trip, it was plenty. It was good timing, and good to absorb just a little more vitamin D and talk together, just my partner and I, to debrief and breathe fresh air and. Support each other. You know?
Plus—how pleasant it was to hang out outside when it’s not utterly brutal (like it is back home). The moment we got back home and experienced the chaotic and violent traffic, the sharp dryness of the air, and the unhealthy temperatures (in Michigan it was consistently in the 70s; back home, it’s been between 90 and 100 each day since we’ve returned). It’s a harsher place, and it’s funny: we were chatting with a strange couple at Joe’s beachside bar and they marveled at the fact that Partner’s dad had retired to Empire from Colorado. They were like, why on earth would anyone do such a thing? and I realized that their idea of Colorado was idyllic. Colorado is a fantasy land, impossibly beautiful and so much cooler than the boring Midwest. But, as the younger kid and the rest of us noticed, our stress level, head- and belly-ache propensity, and all around mood shifted immediately once home. Once we landed from the plane, actually. The bucolic nature of the Midwest was a vacation in itself, mental-health-wise at the very least, an elbow room and a yoga pose for the mind. And now that we’re home we’re wondering (well, the two adults of the household are wondering) how to temper this heightened harshness. It’s not like we can up and move. Something to contemplate. Something to meditate on. Anyway.
Cheers.
CLOSING NOTE: As a gift, and to cheer you up, I must share with you this clip from phenomenal acting training series Playing Shakespeare, which is literally what I (and my partner) think of every time I/we hear the word ‘remuneration.’ You’re very welcome.