The Beer Cellar's hurricane
The Beer Cellar's hurricane
Troy Fields

The Beer Cellar

It's Saturday, and I feel like trying a new bar, so I invite a friend over to The Beer Cellar (3140 Richmond, 713-528-6435). "Hey, meet me at the Cellar." 'Where is that?" she asks. "It's on Richmond by that cabaret, you know... " the Pink Pussycat." Why is the Pink Pussycat (now called Diamond Cabaret) such a Houston landmark? I arrive before anyone else... and I mean anyone. The Cellar is completely vacant. After a few moments of debate, bartender Marcus and I agree that a Hurricane is my best bet. As he's making the drink, I grill him about the titty bar next door, which is so close I can hear Aerosmith songs through the wall. I quickly learn that having a strip club next door is no big deal. It's been a while since I was in a bar by myself; I'd forgotten how nice it is truly, one of life's most underrated treats. As the potent drink hits, a chill wraps itself around me, and I really feel like I'm in a cold, dank cellar buried underneath some dark, forgotten piece of Houston. The Cellar door opens, and my faithful companion enters. At last I'm not alone, and I order another round of Hurricanes. As if Marcus just turned on the OPEN sign outside, a group of regulars rolls in, immediately followed by another, and yet another. The bar quickly fills up, and I'm amazed that a fascinating place like this has practically been in my backyard this whole time. I order another Hurricane and ask my date if she would like to go next door. She replies with a yawn.

2 ounces Ron Carlos 151 dark rum
2 ounces Ron Castillo light rum
1 ounce grenadine
3 ounces cranberry juice
Splash of O.J.

Pack a tall glass full of ice and pour all the ingredients in, starting with the two rums and ending with the O.J.


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