Booze Pig’s off on a jaunt to Tallyho! Cocktail Lounge

I have totally forgotten that my arm is a raging minefield of itching bumps. Is it the booze or is it Lace and her intoxicating smile?

The giant round bar made of solid wood and classy old brass rails (for barking dogs) really makes a statement. It's, hands down, the biggest oval bar I've ever slumped over. It really makes you feel as though you're all communing together at some big feast, some medieval celebration, everyone laughing at and with and near each other. Sharon, the lone barkeep, orchestrates the show in her mandatory regal tuxedo-top uniform and red cummerbund. This place may be a dive, but it's got class and charm. The uniform really gets me in the heart. I love that they take drink-making so seriously!

The martinis come in real, honest-to-God three-ounce martini glasses, as if they were originally made back in the time of the three-martini lunch. Like everything in America, we screwed up the martini and made it bigger, just as we did giant fake tits. Sharon concocts for me a Bombay Sapphire, with a lemon twist. It's small but delicious for $6.50. She goes on to tell me that they even have real ginger ale on tap, but I'm not happy to see O.J. come out of the same gun. If you order a screwdriver, you are getting screwed.

Tallyho! is a must for any booze lover. As far as barkeeps go, it doesn't get much better than Sharon. She loves her job, and she even remembered me a year after I'd been there last: "Yes, you are the guy who asked me for mayonnaise."

Yeah.

That was me, and you know what? They fucking had some mayonnaise. This place rocks. Maybe I'll order some of that mayo and slather up my arm.