Kate and I joined several friends last night to celebrate our friend Doug Snyder's successful completion of his second PhD exam and entrance into candidacy. Doug selected the Boulder Draft House, which opened this week after replacing Redfish Brewery. Aesthetically, it's pleasing. The room's open and they moved the main bar up front. Previously, the primary bar split the restaurant and, in my opinion, made it somewhat segmented. A new coat of paint and a wagon wheel or two can go a long way in offering a more welcoming feeling than a dark, cave-like atmosphere, which is what Redfish was like.
It was the opening week--if I remember correctly--and they were out of several beers. The room was packed and it's not a surprise that we had four or five choices. I selected the imperial chocolate porter to start and later grabbed an pale ale. The porter was tasty and just right for an afternoon that was turning a bit crisper. The pale ale wasn't bad, but nothing too captivating. I felt the same way about the golden kolsch style ale Kate ordered. Kate and I grabbed a pretzel for an appetizer. It was standard with some decent sweet house mustard. For dinner Kate selected the artichoke po' boy, and I the pitts-burgher. Doug ordered it too, and we were both surprised me with how good it was. It was a simple sandwich comprised of shaved prime-rib with provolone and coleslaw on a decent bun. It was almost good enough to make me want to return to grab another and sample a few more beers, but dessert canceled any gains.
Kate and I wanted something sweet and the cupcake milkshake leapt off the page. Mistake. The restaurant was busy, but I noticed that it took a while to get our shake along with two cheesecake slices, the latter of which I thought was okay but hardly memorable. When the waitress delivered the shake I noticed that it didn't look right at first glance. The first sip confirmed that reaction: it was like sweetened and chilled milk with some sprinkles. It was passed around and several others agreed that it wasn't the correct consistency. When the waitress stopped by, I asked her if they could do something about the fact that it wasn't a shake at all and it was watery. I was polite and she said maybe we can add some ice cream to it and reblend it. I meekly said OK because I wanted to give it a shot. Mistake #2.
After waiting a bit longer to get it back, it was worse than before. They simply added some ice cream and reblended it, but the consistency was still way off and hardly a milk shake. There was a clump of ice cream floating and added sprinkles, but, other than that, it even tasted grainy like a thickening agent (a flour or starch) was added. Kate and I miscommunicated and sent the waitress mixed signals. Even though we might have consumed a bit more than the first time, it was barely touched and the waitress should have noticed a nearly full pint glass on an otherwise empty table. It was merely five dollars, but the experience left a bad taste in my mouth (literally and figuratively) and I don't think Kate and I will travel out of our way to eat there while in Boulder or to recommend the restaurant.
The beer, while good, was hardly memorable and Kate wasn't floored with her food. I didn't hear anyone else at the table raving about their food, but Rhea (Esposito) said she enjoyed the deviled eggs with crab. Despite my complaints, we had a wonderful time chatting with everyone and sharing a few beers to celebrate with Doug for a hard-fought and well deserved accomplishment.
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