The Brass Door

The Brass Door
152 Madison
901-572-1813

Seamus Loftus, the manager of The Brass Door, has been helping me out with the O35 Women's Soccer League by hosting free soccer clinics at Greenfield Arena and raucous after parties in The Brass Door's Cavern.

When he suggested I bring the monkeys (Satchel, 11, and Jiro, 9) in for a bite, I thought he might be off his rocker. (In my mind The Brass Door = debauchery, but that's only when the O35 ladies are involved!)

As it turns out, there is a very fun AND family-friendly atmosphere in the daylight hours, especially on weekends when the English Premier League soccer games are on.



Warren and I took the monkeys last Sunday for brunch around 11:00, shortly after kick off for the Arsenal v. Manchester United game. When we walked in, the Memphis Gooners had packed the bar. They were all in their jerseys cheering loudly. (Apparently there were also some Man U fans in attendance, but we won't talk about that.)



The hostess directed us upstairs where we could eat in peace, but also still watch the game if we wanted. Every so often the Gooners would scream and holler and the monkeys found it fascinating. "I can't believe people like soccer this much," Satchel marveled. (Considering I spend most of my waking hours thinking about soccer, I took this as proof that I hadn't let my fanatacism get out of hand, at least in the monkeys' eyes.)

There were a couple other kids hanging out upstairs playing on DSes or iPhones or whatever. Clearly they were soccer orphans. One of them greeted us and said, "Don't worry, there's not a riot going on, it's just a soccer game."

Jiro took one look at the menu, knew he wanted the French toast, and then started watching the game downstairs. (That's my boy!)



Satchel, who is always starving, wanted everything on the menu.



He and Warren decided to split an order of fish & chips and the Irish breakfast. I went with the breakfast burger and a beer, naturally. Warren ordered coffe, which I guess was weird with a soccer game on, because they had to brew it special.

Once the orders were in, Satchel and the chatty soccer orphan went over to play darts. I sipped on my beer and fielded Jiro's soccer questions. The bar was loud and fun, and I was happy that Seamus suggested we come in.

The food came out nice and quick and we all dug in. The French toast was a hit, as were the sausages.



Satchel was intrigued by the curry that came with the fish & chips. He always loves a good dipping sauce.



My burger was perfection.



The bun was awesome.



When Jiro saw Satchel's fish & chips and my burger, he looked at me and said accusatorily, "You didn't tell me they had French fries!"

"Help yourself," I told Jiro. And he did. The Brass Door fries are seriously good. It's because of duck fat. French fries and French toast, what could be better?

Ok, now for the Irish Breakfast, which by the way, is served all day everyday.



Satchel immediately wanted to trade with Warren. We had a good time trying to figure out what was what without the help of Google. The breakfast includes: Two eggs any style, rashers, black and white puddings, bangers, baked beans, toasted soda bread and potatoes.

Here is a glossary for you:

Rashers = back bacon
Black pudding = blood sausage
White pudding = oatmeal pudding
Bangers = sausages
Soda bread = quick bread made with baking soda

You're welcome.

I'm not exactly sure what the white pudding is on the plate. The little cup in back with what looks like butter, was actually more cheesy. At the time I guessed it was the white pudding, but it definitely didn't have oatmeal in it. Maybe an Irish reader will set me straight?

Warren was also very crazy about that relish on the side there. I didn't note what the other condiment was, but it was also quite tasty. (But not oatmeal.)

While Warren finsihed up everyone's leftovers, Satchel & Jiro went back to the dart board. By now the game was over (Arsenal lost 1-0, so there was very little after game celebrations), and the bar was relatively quiet. I saw a couple of women come in with small children and sit by the window downstairs. A few others tables had filled up upstairs and everyone's attention turned to American football.

The waitress brought our check, which was a hefty $51.02, but well worth it. We were all stuffed and we'd had a lot of fun. (On our next visit I'll prbably have the monekys share. I couldn't eat my whole burger, so I can share too.)

The Brass Door's regular menu offers even more options that are kid-pleasers (fried pickles, burgers, BLTs, etc.), and rumor has it an actual kids' menu is in the works. I absolutely LOVE the chicken dip. (House made chicken dip with cream cheese, chipolte peppers, green chilies, sour cream and chicken.) Try it!

The bathrooms are clean, but there are no changing tables. (I'd suggest using the lovely leather benches upstairs in a pinch.)

We'll be back. In Arsenal jerseys.

Dan McGuinness Pub

Dan McGuinness Pub
4698 Spotswood
761-3711

Friday night the monkeys (Satchel, 7, and Jiro, 5) and I joined 3/4 of Team Chockley (Steph, Connor, 6, and Chloe, 3) for a jaunt through the Snowy Nights event being held in the Botanic Garden’s My Big Backyard exhibit. Once the four kids had gotten most of their wiggles out we headed to nearby Dan McGuinness Pub. I had heard lots of raving about their kids’ meals and I needed to see firsthand. It had never once occurred to me to take the kids to Dan McGuinness. It’s a pub! Okay, okay, that’s never really stopped me before, but the fact that it’s an Irish pub makes the "Hey let's eat dinner at a bar!" idea less appealing to me. Besides, I’m not a fan of Irish food. There, I said it.

Friday also happened to be the first night of Hanukah. Traditionally Jews celebrate by eating greasy potato latkes. The oiliness is supposed to be reminiscent of the miracle oil that burned for eight days while the Jews un-defiled the great temple. I figured we could celebrate with some other greasy bar food item and that Dan McGuinness’s proximity to Target would be conducive to the second tenet of Hanuakah--showering children with gifts. (I’m not making this up! Jews know how to party.)

Steph and I separately coached our kids on what sort of behavior we expected in the restaurant and once they were ready to comply, we went inside. It was a little after 6pm and only a few tables were occupied. We were the only two adults who chose to bring kids with us, however. I felt like we were getting the eye--especially after the waitress plopped us down at a table right smack in the middle of the dining room--but it was too late to back out. I turned to Steph, “They wouldn’t have an awesome kids meal if they didn’t want us to come with kids, right?”

There were a few booths with individual flat screen TVs, but our party of six was too big. Steph pointed out that the TV might actually make the meal worse. I agreed. The kids were content to watch soccer out of the corners of their eyes on the surrounding wall mounted flat screens between coloring, chatting, and eating.

Steph and I both immediately started scanning the very impressive beer menu. Newcastle for me and Blue Moon for her. Both on tap!

Now about those kids meals. I scanned the menu and didn’t see them. (I had also scanned the website the night before.) I looked at the paper place mats the kids had been given to color to see if there was a menu printed there. Voila! I asked Satchel read the choices. “Chicken tenders...Oh, I want chicken tenders!” he exclaimed.

I’d been duped! “Read the whole menu,” I said.

“Chicken tenders, grilled chicken, grilled cheese, peanut butter and banana sandwich, corn dog nuggets--” he was interrupted by Jiro who starting shouting for corn dog nuggets. I don’t know exactly what a corn dog nugget is but I do know that I don’t want my kids to eat one.

I turned back to Steph. “What’s so great about these kids' meals?” I asked. She pointed out that the last kid's menu item was a veggie plate and that each meal came with two side items and ice cream and cost only $4.95. The side items list was on the main menu, quite extensive and included a number of vegetables. Clearly having Satchel read the menu out loud was the wrong way to go. We could have merely read the list of side items. Vegetable plates all around!

Steph decided to get Chloe the PB&B and Connor, of course, wanted Chicken Tenders. Steph chose french fries and roasted apples as their side items. She ordered a Roast Beef Au Jus sandwich with fries for herself.

I had started on the adult menu and noticed that they served Scotch Eggs. (Two hard-boiled eggs wrapped in seasoned sausage then fried golden brown and served with a seasoned Dijon mustard.) Hard-boiled eggs and sausage are two of Jiro’s favorites. They also had Satchel’s favorite, potato soup. I commenced swaying them towards the adult menu items and with very little effort was successful. I decided to get the Shepherd’s Pie (uh, maybe I do like Irish food after all!) with a side of steamed broccoli (for Jiro) and spinach casserole (for Satchel).

Once we had ordered everything, I stopped the waitress from leaving the table and added, “I feel compelled to order some fried pickles.”

Steph took Chloe to the bathroom and I played Tic Tac Toe with Jiro. Connor and Satchel were busy giggling and drawing at the other end of the table. Before Steph and Chloe could come back, the fried pickles arrived. I pictured them as spears in my mind, but they were chips. Piping hot and served with a ranch dressing, they totally hit the “Let’s eat grease on Hanukah” spot. I couldn’t convince Connor to try one, but both Jiro and Satchel ate several (minus the ranch).

Chloe and Steph returned and Steph informed me that the bathroom was lovely and that Chloe had a “first”. She went in solo and did her business without assistance. Steph, who doesn't like pickles, also thought they were tasty. Before she could help me finish them off, two waitresses arrived with arms full of gigantic plates of food. Satchel’s soup bowl was at least twelve inches round. The kids’ meals came on gigantic trays (with an addition of carrots and ranch). Steph’s sandwich looked huge and my Shepherd’s pie was definitely hearty--especially with two gigantic bowls of veggies on the side. Jiro’s Scotch Eggs were the only thing that looked relatively normal sized.

I took pictures of everything, but it was fairly dark and I hate using a flash, so none of my pictures is worth sharing.

Of all the food gracing our table, the chicken tenders and fries were the most popular. Steph traded a handful of fries for half of a Scotch Egg and Connor was generously sharing his chicken and fries with both Satchel and Chloe. Jiro eventually ate half of one Scotch Egg and three bites of broccoli under much duress. Satchel picked at his soup for thirty minutes and managed to eat about half of it. (I had asked if it came with green onions and they said no, but I didn’t think to ask if it was made with celery. I believe the green chunks prevented Satchel from wolfing it down.) Satchel also reported that he was not a fan of the spinach casserole.

I can only surmise that Satchel and Jiro simply weren’t hungry. We’d had a hearty snack of edamame on our way to the Gardens and hot chocolate while there. That may have done it.

My Shepherd’s pie was delicious and I’d definitely order it again. (It came with a wonderfully greasy donut on the side that both Steph and I were scared to eat for fear of never buttoning our pants again.) The sandwich also seemed to be a winner.

The kids had managed to behave really well the entire meal which is a true testament to the power of practice makes perfect. It isn’t easy to go out to dinner with other kids and stay out of trouble, but they did. We had very little squirming, only a burst or two of loud talking, and not a single spill! The latter, no doubt due to the fact that all of the kids received their waters in cups with cone shaped lids with only a small opening for a straw. 100% spill proof!

The waitress came over and Steph and I expected the bill, but instead she asked, “Are you ready for the kids’ ice cream?” We didn’t have to answer because the kids did. I worried what was going to happen when only Connor and Chloe received the ice cream that was free with the kids meals, but before I could formulate an explanation the speedy waitresses (who I’m know guessing are also moms) came out with four saucers of vanilla ice cream. Oh but that’s not all. They had a small basket with chocolate sauce, caramel, raspberry, and sprinkles. They left it on the table for the kids to have free reign.

OMG!

Amazingly, all four kids took appropriate amounts of topping and ate dessert while pleasantly carrying on conversation.

“That’s a damn fine kids meal,” I said to Steph.

What I forgot to say was, "Let's do this more often!" Thanks for a great evening, Steph!

Celtic Crossing

Celtic Crossing
903 South Cooper St.
901.274.5151

After mingling with hipsters and rockstars at Goner Records, we found ourselves in need of some dinner. As we walked towards Cooper we started naming off places...Cafe Ole, Young Avenue Deli, Square Foods, etc. My plan was to wait until we got in front of Jasmine and say, "Hey, let's go to Jasmine!" and try to get the kids (Satchel, 4, and Jiro, 2) really excited about it so Warren couldn't say no.

The plan failed.

Warren had his eyes set on Celtic Crossing. "Wanna go there?" he asked. Having never actually eaten there, I wasn't really sure.

"What would the kids eat?" I asked.

"Fish and chips," he said.

I looked at the inviting patio, felt the breeze in my hair, and said, "Okay."

As we jaywalked across Cooper, I started to have second thoughts. It was after seven and I was pretty sure that we'd be the only people with kids at the Celtic Crossing, which is really very bar like. Despite my reservations, we soldiered on.

Apparently Warren started having second thoughts too. "Do they even let kids in here?" he asked.

"Of course," I said confidently. They may not want kids, but they can't ban them. (Not yet anyway.)

"Should we go inside?" he asked looking at all of the beautiful child-free people enjoying their beers and cigarettes on the patio.

"I would think inside would be worse," I said thinking of the drakness, smoke, and televisions.

We did go in just briefly to check with a waitress about a table (and to gauge her reaction to the monkeys). Everything appeared fine and we were cleared to "sit anywhere you want" outside. Warren headed for a dark corner table on the crowded side of the patio.

"What are you doing?" I asked motioning to the nice open side of the patio. "Don't you think it would be better if we were as far away from other people as possible?"

He couldn't argue with my logic.

We sat down at a nice iron table near the fence and the waitress came right over to get our drink orders. Remembering that we were at a bar, I said, "What do you have on tap?"

"Guinness, Harp, Stella--"

"Stella!" Satchel said excitedly after having just left his friend Stella at Goner Records. "I want a Stella!"

I smiled at him and got back to business. "I'll take a Harp," I said.

"Guiness," Warren said, getting on board the beer train.

"Water is fine for the kids," I said.

"Do you want that in styrofoam cups?" the waitress asked nicely as if children hung out on the patio on Friday nights all the time.

"That would be great," I said.

Once she was off, we got busy deciding what to order. I perused the menu but didn't really see anything really exciting to order. (Exciting as in something I've never had or heard of before.) Well there was one vegetarian crepe thing, the Boxty Crepe--a thin potato scallion pankcake filled with vegetable green curry, but it quickly lost out to the Cooper Young Gouda Burger. Mmmmeat. (Perusing the menu for this write-up, I see that I missed the Shepherd's Pie. Maybe next time...)

When I told Warren what I was getting, he was visibly disappointed. "Now, what am I going to get?" he said.

"What about the Boxty Crepe?" I said. "If you get that, I'll split my burger with you."

Not one to fall for my forced adventuresomeness he said, "I think I'll get the Prime Rib sandwich."

Just when I thought we were all ready to order, Warren said, "We could get the kids Beer Battered Chicken and Chips. Jiro would like that."

"Sounds like a glorified chicken nugget," I said while scanning the menu for something else monkey friendly. "What about the "Classic" American Potato Skins? It's potatoes, cheese, and bacon. Can't go wrong with that." I said.

Satchel's ears immediately perked up. "I want that!"

"Potato skins it is," I said.

The waitress returned with the drinks and took our order. Someone (the waitress?) had drawn faces on the monkeys' styrofoam cups featured with ball point pen. "Look!" they pointed excitedly. I thought it was a very nice touch and felt a little less crazy being there in the first place.

Satchel tried to squirm out of his chair several times while we waited for our food, but I was able to achieve a tone of voice when saying "Keep your butt on your seat" that actually made him comply with my wishes. Jiro, who was obviously starving, was kept in place by Warren saying, "Do you want to eat? Okay, then stay in your seat."

As the minutes dragged on, we did our best to keep the monkeys entertained. We named the faces on their cups, we played spelling games, we looked at the moon, counted motorcycles going down the street, you name it. After a half hour or so, I asked the waitress what was taking so long.

"Half's up and half's not," she said with a shrug.

"Can we have the half that's up?" I asked hopefully.

"I like to do it that way, but the kitchen doesn't," she said. Then she looked at the monkeys and said, "Let me check."

A minute later she returned with the potato skins. Once we removed the giant scallions, the monkeys jumped right in. "This is my most favorite dinner ever!" Satchel announced as he took a big bite. Jiro, who was less vocal, seemed just as happy.

The rest of our food arrived soon after. My burger was good, but nothing exceptional. The was a little overcooked and the carmelized onions were kind of gooey. The gouda didn't really pop out and say, "Hey! Look at me! I'm fancy cheese!" like I thought it would. The prime rib sandwich was most impressive and nearly spanned Warren's entire plate. I don't know why, but I was surprised to see Warren eat every single bite of it save one hunk of fat that he saved for the dogs. The monkeys alternated between their potato skins and our french fries, excuse me, chips.



Satchel continued to sing the praises of the potato skins throughout the meal much to our amusement. Jiro and I had a quick run to the restroom (of course) where we encountered another employee who was most friendly and helpful to us when it was pointed out (by Jiro) that there were no paper towels with which to dry our hands. As we left the bathroom I watched in amazement as Jiro maneuvered through the crowd like a pro and went straight for the front door as if he had been in the Celtic Crossing a million times.

Back at the table with all of our food eaten, I began to get a little antsy for the check. We had held the monkeys at bay for over an hour and I knew our time was limited. The waitress was so focused on serving the other bazillion diners and drinkers that had filled the patio that she could not see my polite, yet somewhat gestures, for her to bring us our check. Even my less polite gestures were ineffective. After ten minutes of being ignored/unseen and then watching the waitress go inside, I hit my limit. "I'm going in," I announced.

"I want to come!" said Satchel.

"Me too," said Jiro.

"Fine," I said too tired to argue.

We all held hands and went ins earch of someone to take our money. We walked through the whole bar/restaurant and found no one. In a huff, we headed back outside and ran into the waitress as she was coming in. "I was right behind you," she said sweetly.

"I'm sorry," I said gesturing to the monkeys. "They're getting restless and we really need to go." I handed her my card and headed back to the table where Warren was enjoying a moment of solace.

"I tried calling after you," he said as though I was the most obnoxious person ever.

"Sorry," I said and took a deep breath.

The waitress quickly brought the slip for me to sign. I left a big tip, and we once again held hands as we jaywalked across Cooper.