Let's all open a bar together
Let's all open a bar together
Come on, let's all go into business and serve alcohol. What could possibly go wrong?
Welcome to Flashlight & A Biscuit, my Southern culture/sports/music/food offshoot of my work at Yahoo Sports. Thanks for reading, and if you’re new around here, why not subscribe? It’s free and all.
Today in the newsletter:
I have a business proposition for you, let’s get rich
A lost classic from a legendary band
Is it possible to make hot dogs even worse for you?
As I write these words, I’m sitting in a quaint former post office that’s now the Given Tufts bookshop, where … oh, wait, let’s do this up proper journalistic style:
PINEHURST, N.C. — As I write these words, I’m sitting in a quaint former post office that’s now the Given Tufts bookshop, where I can see families, golf fans and at least one former major winner wandering among the shelves and enjoying coffee from the in-house shop. (It’s called “The Roast Office,” of course.) This is a bookstore lined with beach reads and golf books, where a handmade sign reads “The books are calling and I must go,” and if you get the reference, you will be right at home here. Come on, look at this:
I’m just off the square in the town of Pinehurst, site of this year’s U.S. Open, and this place is damn near idyllic — tall pines and sandy grass, broad porches and slow-turning ceiling fans. This is Garden & Gun nirvana, the kind of place where you start thinking of chucking it all and retiring here … until you realize a whole lot of other people had that idea before you did, which is why the place is so magnificent, and also so damn expensive.
The bookstore has a perfect complement right around the corner: a pub called Drum & Quill, a lovely little establishment named in honor of one of the first golf writers. Bob Drum was a good friend of Arnold Palmer — the lines between journalist and subject were a little blurrier in the olden days — and the two ran on parallel tracks in the golf world for decades. They apparently came up with the idea of golf’s grand slam — winning all four majors in a year (which no one has done) or a career (which no one has done since Tiger).
There’s even a dedication to all golf writers in the pub, which makes it automatically one of my top 5 pubs of all time:
An old editor of mine back in Memphis used to say that all journalists want to 1. write a book and 2. open a bar. I’ve done 1., so it’s time for 2. After a good four minutes’ worth of thought over beers at Drum & Quill — which is more than enough time to make a life-changing decision, of course — I’ve decided to open a bar of my own. Even better, I’m going to bring YOU in on it! Isn’t that great? We’re going to get rich and be beloved local barkeeps!
Let’s start whipping up a business plan. Here, have a drink, we’ll write it off!
The name: Look, we could go with Flashlight & A Biscuit, but that sounds a bit more like a breakfast joint than a pub. My alternate suggestion comes from a sign I spotted over a table of water bottles when I was in China covering the Olympics:
MEDIA DRINKING SPOT. How perfect is that? The first challenge of any business is getting customers, and if you target it straight at the media, my friend, you have a winner right out of the gate. The only thing The Media likes more than crafting a secret agenda to undermine our country is talking about itself, and so we’ll give them a place to do just that.
The location: This is a tricky one. You need to find the sweet spot between out-of-the-way and heart-of-civilization. You want a place that makes people want to drive to it … but not too far out of the way, like 15-20 minutes max. You want to get a good flow of foot traffic, too, and you want a solid mix of tourists and regulars. In short, you want our bar to be located in … damn, this is tough. We’ll put a pin in this one and figure it out later.
The building: No strip malls or new construction for Media Drinking Spot. We need to find an old brick industrial building with vaulted ceilings, columns strong enough to ward off thermonuclear warheads, and a disturbingly below-code electrical system. Sure, we’ll probably have to clear out a few generations of wildlife living in the building, but that’s a small price to pay for authenticity.
The drinks: I would desperately love to produce my own craft beer, but let’s stick with one unrealistic ambition at a time. While I do adore the craftsmanship involved in whipping up 15-ingredient craft cocktails using whiskey brewed on a remote hilltop in Japan and sugar sourced from a specific tiny farm in Barbados, I do prefer a simpler route to a tailgate-level buzz. We also need to keep a few bottles of ridiculously overpriced bourbon, just to snag the low-lying bourbon-bro fruit. And maybe some paint-stripper-level hooch below the bar for our “special” customers.
The fare: We’ve got to bring the usual bar eats: wings, burgers, fries. But we also need to have some kind of over-the-top challenge food — you know, a burger that you could prop your feet up on, a burrito the size of a newborn baby, a milkshake the size of an in-ground pool. All it takes is a couple influencers to attempt the Media Drinking Spot Hundred-Nugget Challenge and boom, we’re on the cultural map, baby. Oh, and we need to whip up some classic Southern dish not made since 1943 to get those TrueSouth guys to show up, too.
The clientele: Well, YOU, of course, and also your friends and family. Beyond that, we’ve got to develop a retinue of regulars, but not the kind of regulars who scare off tourists. Any local who asks a newbie “You want to see my scab that looks like George Clooney?” — gone. But then again, we don’t want a bunch of delicate one-star-Yelp-leaving dilettantes, either. That’s not sand in your glass, ma’am, it’s what we call cultural authenticity. Kids are welcome, but only after they run two miles’ worth of laps in the parking lot.
The atmosphere: I’m generally a no-TVs-in-bars kind of guy — the whole purpose of places like these is to spur conversation, and TVs kill that. But I will admit that there is nothing quite like a communal viewing experience for an important cultural moment — a hometown championship game, the United States in the World Cup, the season finale of Love Island, literally every SEC football Saturday — so I will reserve the right to bring in TVs as needed. But no TouchTunes. Old-school jukebox only.
The entertainment: I’m pretty good at trivia, so I’m going to go in for some home cooking and host trivia nights. But I will absolutely NOT have trivia where you can be leading the entire bar all game and lose on one mega-point last question, just to make a perfectly hypothetical example that hasn’t happened at all the last three times I’ve played bar trivia. Plus, guitarists who can reinterpolate ‘80s hair metal and ‘90s hip-hop into gentle acoustic tunes are always fun. And karaoke singers must abide by a four-shot pre-song minimum. Beyond that, I’m open to suggestions.
Friends, if we nail all these elements, I feel safe in saying that Media Drinking Spot will become the greatest pub in [whatever location we choose]. And hey, if it fails, we’ll just pivot and open a bookstore. Those joints print money.
So. Your turn. What do you want to see in Media Drinking Spot? All-you-can-eat chicken wings? Sanctioned parking lot fistfights? Lots of drink concoctions involving fire? Let us know!
Song of the Week: “Mystery Song,” Drive-By Truckers
We don’t have many rules around these parts, but one of them is: Any time the Drive-By Truckers release new music, we spotlight that music. This doesn’t actually qualify as “new,” since the DBT boys found it while compiling a massive reissue of their landmark Southern Rock Opera album. Apparently they have no recollection of recording it at all, which is pretty wild, but hey — rock n’ roll does strange things to your brain. This is grinding and epic and sinister and unrelenting and soulful, like all the best Truckers tracks, and if I had any idea what the hell they’re singing, I’d probably love it even more.
A reminder: You can find “Mystery Song” and all our other favorites we’ve highlighted (highlit?) here at the official Flashlight & A Biscuit Spotify playlist. Accept no cheap imitations:
Stunt Food of the Week: Intergalactic Hot Dogs
Look, I know nothing about New Mexico United, the soccer club, or Urban Hot Dogs, the food truck that created these beasts. All I know is that they apparently gave them away for free, and if you’re looking for a quick way to paint the bowels of an entire fanbase in Day-Glo colors, well, free hot dogs would be the way to go. May God have mercy on your gut, New Mexico.
If you’ve seen some stunt food we need to promote here, if only because sunlight is the best disinfectant, message me or tag me on any of the socials at @jaybusbee. Proper credit — or blame — will be assigned.
That’ll do it for this week, friends. Hey, if you’re a fan of the golf, why, check out what I’ve written so far from Pinehurst for my day job:
For Rory McIlroy, numbers are no longer the focus
Scottie Scheffler’s fame is catching up to his game
Phil Mickelson’s long walk into the sunset
The high school biology teacher playing in the U.S. Open
Brooks Koepka wants the media to ask more creative questions. I have a few.
Oh, and Happy Father’s Day to all you dads. Best job in the world.
See you soon!
—Jay
Pinehurst, NC
This is issue #121 of Flashlight & A Biscuit. Check out all the past issues right here. Feel free to email me with your thoughts, tips and advice. If you’re new around here, jump right to our most-read stories, or check out some of our recent hits:
Our first documentary, on the famous Rama Jama’s diner in Tuscaloosa, Alabama:
A story of good dogs and a great book
Y’all want some hockey?
The Black Crowes and the groove vs. the rut
What does “Flashlight & A Biscuit” mean, anyway?
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Not a big bar guy (probably never found the right one like Drum and Quill) but I love the vibe at certain craft breweries and, even more so, the English and Irish pubs I’ve been fortunate enough to visit. Before we open, I think onsite research is in order across the pond to learn what it is that makes these places so charming and, of course, successful. You’re in luck — I volunteer. Please let me know where to submit my receipts.
I think a wall dedicated to dollar bills signed by our patrons is a good way to go. Not only will people want theirs up there, every time the wall fills up, you get to start cashing those older bills at the bank. I’ve got a few on a bar wall in St. Augustine and I’ve never seen an old one that I previously left, so it must be a good idea.