We're not sure who Casey Moore is, but we sure do like hanging out at his house. In fact, all historic homes should be this happening: 13 beers on tap, jocular bartenders who do handstands on the bar, and decidedly un-bar-like dinner specials. And should you find yourself eating in one of the second-story dining rooms, there's no need to order spirits: The home, built in 1910, is reputedly haunted.

Mr./Mrs. Moore's front porch and side yard are strewn with tables and benches where the laid-back and liquored-up can lounge. The crowd encompasses all kinds, from hard-drinking hippies to hot NFL has-beens, but the overall vibe is one of ease and unpretentiousness.

We are positively mesmerized by the crowds at Barcelona. The location in Chandler is pretty neat, throbbing with fine young things looking beautiful and looking to get lucky. But the outpost in Scottsdale is a much older, much more interesting group. Just look to the headliner, the Zowie Bowie Band, a punk-retro completely camp act with takeoffs of classic lounge-lizard songs like Sinatra's "My Way." This is a clientele that's not bothered by pricey cocktails and even pricier snacks. These are guys with slicked-back hair and sans-a-belt pants, women with high top hair and fancy dress clothes that remind us of the days of disco. Plus, the setting is sublime: The signature domed ceiling with hand-painted dancing cherubs appears to float over the main dining room, which later transforms into the dance floor. It's 25,000 square feet of old fart fun!

Comely ladies, accommodating bar staff, sharp-looking men, and a charming atmosphere are the ingredients necessary for beguiling a client. And the Merc Bar is just classy enough to show that you have taste, but cozy enough to avoid pretension. You can call it a refined hole in the wall. And Troy, the energetic general manager, will even make you his specialty, Caipirinha, which earned last year's Best Cocktail award from New Times.