The Brown Lantern

There is nothing better than having a bar or pub nearby.  The English seem to have piloted this urban planning and then refined it over the centuries. American cities, often crippled with periods of enforced sobriety and bullying zoning laws, saw the loss of the neighborhood bar in suburbia.  

Luckily, our town has three or four places that can stand in for that role although they aren't in our neighborhood per se.  Our downtown historical district is a mere five minutes away.  Tucked in the old town between two high rent restaurants sits the "Brown".  The Brown Lantern fancies itself a sports bar with the accoutrements of a bar from the thirties.  The subway tile and the use of kitsch mirrors is kept to a minimum.

The fare is American Pub.  Although this is common to the places we frequent, we fall for the ones that make an effort to switch gears and take the road less traveled. For instance, the habanero chicken sandwich is consistent, time-honored selection that we have difficulty not selecting.  The other difficulty is the fries.  They are those double-battered, perfectly done types that don't require anything.  However, the Englishman in the group required malt vinegar which we determined was only a system to keep people away from his food.  We are not sure if he likes it or not though.

The staff is effusive with their interactions with the patrons.  Service is always at an extremely high level.  This may be due to our somewhat regular patronage.  

Of note - the men's bathroom, which from the outward appearance of the age of the bar, should be a horror of damp floors, sophomoric graffiti, poorly cleaned porcelain, but turns out to be clean, modern and well lit.  Every single time we have been there. We are deeply confused by this.

Due to plethora of offerings, eating at the Brown can be a challenge in other areas.  One item is probably enough.  With its attendant fries and additional beer, the calories count probably is in the range of thousand calories.  However, the appetizer list, which probably deserves its own review, can surreptitiously add another thousand.  And then the second beer adds another hundred plus on top.  

This leads to the unfortunate condition called "meat sweats".  It's more than likely accumulative calories finding no outlet and then turned our internal systems up to "burn".  Waking in the middle of the night with your sheets stuck to your oily sweat-soaked skin is to be avoided, but an unfortunate side-effect of the love of eating.  

Score - four b's