Bars and Nightlife

Readers' Choice: Martini Ranch

It has regulars, loud Irish ones, and more than enough traditional Irish and Scottish performers, including an occasional bagpipe player and a group of acoustic guitar wielders on Tuesdays called the Claire Voyants that plays mixed traditional Irish fare with Sarah McLachlan and Live covers. And make no mistake, people here are friendly indeed at the Dubliner.

All of this makes you feel like Tipperary ain't such a long, long way after all.

At Newman's, you're more likely to run into the Barfly types (you know, wizened regulars with wheezy coughs sporting barroom pallor and stringy hair perfumed with the fermented scent of booze and cigarette smoke). Ain't no Norms perched on barstools here -- and we seriously doubt anyone really wants to know your name, either. Maybe because of the divey, live-and-let-live ambiance, we recommend it as a viable atmosphere for uninterrupted confabulating, not to mention bullshitting and crying in your beer.

Readers' Choice for Best Bar for Conversation: Casey Moore's Oyster House

This is the most exciting cocktail we've had the joy of sipping. And we do mean sip -- only someone with no appreciation for beauty would slam a drink like this. No, it's so much better to let the alcohol in slowly, to warm our tummies, our hearts and our heads.

Perhaps the secret's in the Grey Goose vodka. Could be the slender ice shards that slip from the sides of our martini-style glass, bringing pure, ice cold pleasure. Or maybe it's the way Serafino handles the silver shaker, deftly blending the cranberry juice for a liquid that's the palest pink of sunset.

The garnish of dried cranberries floating in the bottom of the glass adds to the experience. But the best part is at the end, when Serafino pours "just a little more" from the shaker, giving us a bonus like the leftovers from a fresh-blended milk shake.

This establishment has a happy weekday-afternoon-early-evening sorta deal. Mondays through Fridays, from 1 to 7 p.m., there is a "two-dollar-you-call-it" special on imported beers, as well as "dollar jumbo domestic" specials. Even this generous beer bonanza is exceeded by Friday's perks, such as an invitation to dine on two-fisted portions of a three-foot sandwich from Hogi Yogi on University Drive and enjoy the acoustic musings of Dead Hot Workshop's Brent Babb from 5 to 8 p.m.

With bonuses like these, it's not hard to imagine people having their mail forwarded to a barstool. Or make that two barstools.

Readers' Choice: Applebee's

We're talking cushy sofas, overstuffed armchairs, a discreet but well-stocked bar and inspiring views of Scottsdale's spectacular sunsets. These are way-above-average bar bites, exquisite eats like potato-and-prosciutto-wrapped scallops with roasted pears and balsamic shallots; and crab-stuffed cannelloni on asparagus with horseradish tomato jam.

Tossed back with some Krug Grande Cuvee Brut champagne, it's the most elegant experience we can imagine, bar none.

And for those who like to temper their libations with hangover deterrents? Basketfuls of seasoned curly fries and fried zucchini go down quite nicely, as do, of course, Long Wong's culinary signature, hellaciously hot chicken wings.

Readers' Choice: Four Peaks Brewing Company

One recent visit included eclectic mealtime platters from David Bowie ("Panic in Detroit"), the Count Five ("Psychotic Reaction") and Bob Dylan ("Stuck in Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again"). Granted, the sonic bill of fare isn't always flawless, as we were also forced to endure a predictably tepid Eagles track ("One of These Nights"). At least that blue-eyed soul stab is better than having to suffer through "Witchy Woman" or the flamenco-ized version of "Hotel California," songs that are sure to disrupt anyone's digestion. Yet despite the occasional bad bite, the bulk of the musical meals here are first rate.

What a wonderful concept -- giving us three different wines, at three-ounce pours each, for one fixed price. It allows us to sample and savor fine new wines we might never have tried otherwise.

The presentation is clever -- a heavy wooden board carved with three nooks for the wineglasses, and three nooks for the mini carafes. A long strip of paper attached to the board with a clip identifies our drinks, describing what we're drinking.

Six choices on white wine trios are offered, and seven choices on red trios. These aren't your everyday wines, either, but cutting-edge tempters like a '98 Ken Wright Chardonnay Dijon 76 clone from Oregon and a '98 Penfolds shiraz/cabernet blend from Koonunga Vineyard in Australia.

We love to lift a glass -- or three -- at Cowboy Ciao.

It's pure fun. The stage opens every night at 8:30, playing to senior citizens weekdays, then giving way to yuppies on the weekends. Anything goes here, except pretension. Look too serious, and you're likely to be volunteered as the opening act by one of the matronly waitresses who've called Ernie's home for longer than they'll admit.

Go ahead. Choose your poison, step up to the stage and wail with the rest of us. You're among friends -- or at least you are until you segue into "Feelings."

With his bizarre stage introductions, Strangewayes will try to convince you the young hopeful onstage has some fleeting connection with Starcastle and Foghat. In truth, most of the musicians who perform free of charge are members of heavy bands going light for a few songs, musicians passing through town or rock-rap hybrids of the slim or shady variety.

Sure, there's an occasional "earnest" folkie who makes it through the blockade, but to counteract them there's Page the Village Idiot with his self-penned paeans about Joe Arpaio, crystal meth freaks and people with bad hygiene.

One Tuesday night when things were winding down, we caught members of Big Blue Couch backing up a guy named Russel Walton on a free-form William Shatner tone poem called "Fire the Lasers." Beam us down, Scotty -- way, way down!

Filled with marble, gilt statuary and a massive carved wooden bar over which pass some truly serious martinis, its charms now play host to such an ever-widening spectrum of scenesters that on some nights, the uninitiated may well wonder who's gay and who's not. Which, as it turns out, just adds to the fun.

Here, where the women look like reporters from Entertainment Tonight and the men look like they're drinking creatine cocktails, you will find 14,000 square feet of self-conscious decadence -- and, if you're lucky, an occasional bona fide celebrity.

Excuse us -- we're sorry, do we know you?

Readers' Choice: Axis/Radius

Individually, not much. But toss them together in a storefront cocktail lounge and you've got sapphic synergy that just won't quit.

Taking its name from a Billie Holiday lyric, Ain't Nobody's Bizness has been the Valley's premier women's bar since long before anyone heard of lesbian-come-lately Anne Heche. And if history is any indication, Biz will be popular long after that dizzy fence-straddler has publicly exploited yet another alternative lifestyle.

Readers' Choice: Ain't Nobody's Bizness

The cramped, strobe-lighted dance floor is always well-stocked with buff, sweaty bodies pulsating to Latin techno music. A full-length mirror runs the length of one wall for those narcissistic dancers who like to watch. It's a cozy, dark venue, mostly Latino, with a smattering of white boys for you closet Anglo lovers.

The music is popular dance remix, plenty of Jennifer Lopez and Ricky Martin, with some salsa and merengue thrown in for tradition. Paco Paco is the best the Valley has to offer in gay Latino culture, and also a great place for women who like to dance and be left alone.

Ridgely's garnered something close to legend status among East Valley barflies for serving searing barbs in equal proportion to booze. One infamous tale even has him shooting down the free-drink requests of a couple local "rock star" girlfriends with the admonition that performing oral favors on the talent didn't entitle them to complimentary libations.

Ah, yes, Oscar Wilde couldn't have said it any better himself!

What he meant is anyone's guess, but it's a cinch that had he lived in Phoenix, he'd have been a regular at the Ritz-Carlton's cigar lounge. Appropriately called The Club, the darkly masculine room is, well, clubby -- with oak-paneled walls, hunting prints and a selection of high-end smokes that might tempt the surgeon general to light up.

If you're really serious about your tobacco, inquire about the club's private humidors -- climate-controlled stashes that rent for $1,000 a year. So much for the proverbial "good five-cent cigar."

Readers' Choice: The Famous Door

Roscoes has the usual sports-bar amenities: big-screen TVs tuned to various games, pool tables, and a diverse beverage list. But, more important, it's also the only local sports bar where an end-around isn't necessarily a football play, and hitting the rim isn't limited to basketball. And rest assured, at Roscoes, no one will penalize you if your backfield's in motion.

Score!

Readers' Choice for Best Bar to Watch the Game: McDuffy's

And that's just what the Emerald Lounge's old war-horse provides: old, battered 45s teeming with distortion and surface noise. Even rappers factor in vinyl pops and clicks -- crackles spell comfort. While a 45 jukebox has fewer selections than a CD, you still can't beat a machine that has Aretha, George Jones and Tommy James and the Shondells all jamming its gears.

The H&H is also the place for enthusiasts of the wildly popular Golden Tee golf video games -- the Hound features Golden Tee 2000 on a big-screen monitor, as well as the brand-new Golden Tee Fore!, which contains some amazing 3-D action. Be the ball.

The Hound's got a great selection of other options for those of us who like to play while imbibing: pool tables, car-racing video games and even shuffleboard (of the tabletop variety, not The Love Boat kind).

Readers' Choice for Best Pool Hall: Pink E's

What the lounge does offer is cheap booze served up by genial drink-slingers in an unaffected atmosphere that's equal parts Bukowskian watering hole and trendy Silverlake lounge. On any given night, a live rock band or DJ booms the gamut of punk rock to hip-hop for an unusual mix of off-duty strippers, hot rodders, professional drunks, working-class stiffs, and the usual cadre of artists, writers and musicians. One of the lounge's bartenders -- the ever-charming Miss Cary -- is a woman who's been pouring drinks in the Phoenix underbelly for the past 50 years and still takes to using words like "baby" when greeting you.

With its smoke-stained, Prussian red and black interior, Mondrian motifs and pool tables, this dingy den is a hip hellhole to some and a glorious old-man bar to others. But no matter how it's perceived, Phoenix's sole bastion of boho can never be accused of taking itself too seriously.

Darkly lighted with gilded walls, ersatz foliage and inconspicuous patrons who strangely keep to themselves while focusing scrupulously on the sinewy and zaftig dancers, Bailey's has a subtle feel that's straight off the pages of a John O'Brien novel. It's an ambiance dissimilar to any other "cabaret" in town. It's at once strident and discreet, a contradiction that makes it the city's optimal spot for stripper buffs to consort discreetly.

We'll drink to that.

And given our druthers, we'll be doing it in the understated elegance (Southwestern chandeliers, ornate wooden columns, a tuxedoed jazz pianist) of the cocktail lounge at Harris' Restaurant, where martini protocol amounts to religious ceremony -- right down to a signature crystal carafe nestled in an ice-filled mini-barrel. God forbid that one's last drop of martini be anything but properly chilled.

Readers' Choice: Martini Ranch

Rim shot -- the consistency! The Improv has mastered the perfectly blended daiquiri -- not too fruity, not too bland, and, most important, not too slushy. And while it's not traditional, and it's certainly not necessary, we also relish the whipped cream topping, itself topped with a maraschino cherry, skewered by a tiny sword.

The Improv? Take its daiquiri, please.

Despite the metal and marble bar's proximity to the Easyriders Tattoo Parlor, most of the marked men who come in for a drink are under the age of 29 and are too smarting from being under the needle to spike the "Born to Be Mild" set. But don't you make the mistake of writing off these geezers as two tires short of a wheelchair -- they're old enough to remember how to have a good time; they punch up mostly agreeable dinosaur rock selections on the corner "Jukebox-zilla," as it is affectionately known; they drink responsibly; and on Thursday ladies' nights, they usually have a fortysomething hottie in tow.

Can your old man pull off any of this without getting clocked in the head with a fryer by your Mom? Nah, didn't think so.

Readers' Choice: Clicks Billiards

A separate building in back is home to the members-only cigar club (membership is $175 a year). There's a salon fully equipped with a pool table, dart room, plush leather couches, a conference room and more. Members receive discounts on cigars and special events like televised fights. The real flavor to this place is here, in an atmosphere that allows you to enjoy your tobacco with other like-minded individuals.

Readers' Choice: Ritz-Carlton

Yes sir! Only one place in the Valley can serve up these requirements and keep them coming -- Amsterdam. Enjoy martinis and a manicure (on Mondays) or just come every day of the week for an abundance of eye candy. Is it a coincidence that this ultra-hip bar is named after the unofficial gay capital of the world? We don't think so.

Readers' Choice: Amsterdam

At Radius you will find the top DJs spinning the hottest dance music under an extraordinary light show. If you're having problems finding your groove thang, look to one of the sultry go-go dancers for it. Whichever side you are on, there will be plenty of bodies to grind; the dance floors are always packed. So get up on the dance floor (or both) and move that body to the pounding beats.

Readers' Choice for Best Dance Club: Axis/Radius

Readers' Choice for Best Place to Drown Your Sorrows: Clicks Billiards

This is the Valley's most oddly inspirational rest-room break.

But why break up at Freedom? Maybe because its very name suggests to people it's a great place for declaring independence, whether it's from Tempe's predictable music scene or from the predictable mate they came to hear it with. Maybe it's the club's proximity to ASU and the Holiday Inn that makes for a volatile mix of patrons. The indoor fireworks seem especially incendiary on the club's hottest night, Kind Fridays, which winds from 9 p.m. to 4 a.m., leaving plenty of time for those who haven't quite found the time to call it quits in public.

Just a tip: When using the rest rooms, remember to lock the door (they'll fog up). Otherwise, the entire bar will get a free peep show. And that's something you don't want to be seen.

Readers' Choice: SIX

Readers' Choice for Best Bar Food: Bar Nun

Unfortunately, most bars around here serve it cold, in a frosty glass, with no head. But we stumbled upon the Friendly Irish Pub quite by accident -- and much to our delight. Not only are the people quite friendly at the Friendly, but they know how to pour and serve the nectar of the white and pasty, for a shocking $2 a pint.

No, we're not kidding. Sit down at the long oak bar, light up a cigarette (one of the few smoker-friendly establishments in Mesa) and imbibe the dark liquid, or order anything from the staggeringly complete selection of libations. The pub has more cowboy hats than any Irish bar in the universe, but the happy hour is hopping, the beer is perfect, the food is good, and the pool sharks are ready to take your money after you drink too much.

Readers' Choice for Best Bar for Conversation: Copper Canyon Brewing & Ale House

Readers' Choice for Best Happy Hour: Applebee's Neighborhood Grill & Bar

Afro-Cuban salsa jammers Cascabel (that's "rattle" to you) liven the atmosphere for the drinkers -- and themselves -- with their unique blend (for Phoenix, anyway) of Latin jazz, samba and Gypsy swing. Their stage sits literally outside of the club, acting as a sort of musical barker to Washington Street cruisers.

Upstairs, the place is pure salsa nirvana. The balcony is great for breathers and the back bar is jammed with cool alter-Latinos. The room routinely rocks, but not until 1 a.m., when DJs spin nonstop Latin techno-pop and rock en español for a packed and sweaty dance floor. If there's no room, and that's usually a given, people just make their own dance floors wherever they are. People walk, stop to dance, then keep on cruising.

Until that after-hours scene explodes, the night belongs to salsa and chicks -- lots of them. They're the prize that longhaired Mexican rockeros and Pan American salseros compete over for the honor of an electrifying dance.

Readers' Choice for Best Club for Latin: Pepin

Readers' Choice for Best Beer Selection: Timber Wolf Pub

Readers' Choice for Best Brew Pub: Four Peaks Brewing Company

Readers' Choice for Best Sports Bar and Best Bar to Watch the Game: McDuffy's

But just how British is the place? Last year, Morrissey fans chose the Dragon as their after-concert meeting place to punctuate the evening's fun and drive everyone else to drink to the Smiths' canon of wonderfully miserable hits.

Readers' Choice for Best English Pub and Best English Restaurant: George and Dragon English Restaurant and Pub

Readers' Choice: Chez Nous

Readers' Choice: Ain't Nobody's Bizness

The Buzz is perfect for the schizophrenic dancer who's not really sure what groove to follow. The maze of bars and themed rooms surround a large dance floor lighted by hypnotic lasers and energized by scratch-happy DJs who spin everything from house to funk to hip-hop.

Save the last dance until you've perused the rest of the two-story fun bar. The Rat Pack Lounge offers a little Sinatra-inspired R&R -- perfect for rejuvenating yourself -- and the rooftop patio is essential for airing out those sweat-soaked digs of yours. Don't lounge around too long, however. The Buzz is best experienced by dancing yourself dizzy. Readers' Choice: Axis/Radius

Don't bother asking for a "facial." It's not that kind of place. Readers' Choice: Amsterdam

The atmosphere is kick-back, with huge Easter Island-style heads, glowing blowfish bodies, and Gilligan's Island torches. And then there's the big, glass-topped bar that wraps around a large aquarium, with two big TV screens playing Hawaii Five-O or surfing videos up above it all. The music's an eclectic mix of hip-hop, funky electronica and Top 40, and there are plenty of circular booths to chill with friends and scope the crowd. The food's tasty, the drinks are frosty, and the booties are bouncy, so put on that shiny shirt and be there, fool!

Just a brief stroll from the corporate cornucopia of Mill Avenue, Casey's is camouflaged among quaint houses in a small neighborhood on Ninth Street and Ash Avenue. Not only is the place worth singing about (see lyrics in Jimmy Eat World's "If You Don't, Don't"), the laid-back bar has a knack for rousing the most intellectual, conversational side of us all.

There's something about the seating -- wooden picnic-style tables and benches, and a comfy bar area -- that cries for a good conversation. Don't get us wrong; this is still a college bar with plenty of college antics and cheap pickup lines. But here, you're more likely to find the alternative, vintage-happy academic referencing Confucius than cunnilingus.

It doesn't matter whether your topic of choice is philosophy or procreation, however. Casey's is the optimal venue for raising your Guinness -- along with your point of view. Readers' Choice: Merc Bar

Okay, maybe there's a little of that, but what could beat chowing down on a half-pound hot dog while hearing the crack of a D-Back's bat just below you? The best part -- you don't need a ticket to the game to get in, and while some avoid the bar in fear of a packed house, the 14,000-square-foot joint serves up to 1,000 people, so your chances of missing out on a seat are slim.

Even during baseball's off-season, this Friday's is a fully equipped sports bar, with 40 screens to satisfy every sports fan's fancy. Readers' Choice: Zipps Sports Grill

And, of course, hookahs for rent. The hookah is a smoking pipe designed with a long tube and an urn of water that cools the smoke. Don't forget the shisha: smooth, flavorful tobacco; we recommend apricot or strawberry.

Friendly conversation or a plate of hummus is the perfect complement to a session of hookah smoking, but Oasis doesn't stop there. Belly dancers hypnotize crowds every Friday night, and televisions in the restaurant are tuned to the Dubai network out of the United Arab Emirates.

That's a little deep for us. All we can say is, that's one hell of a buzz!

If only we had a gong. Wait, we do, at Hamburger Mary's. On Tuesday nights, friends and foes alike pack the popular gay and lesbian establishment, and pay a buck for the privilege of banging the silver saucer-shaped instrument. Whichever musically impaired maestro is cattily caterwauling at that moment then gets a 30-second countdown to double the donation or be cut off. Usually the victim will plop down the money, only to get even louder in defiance, because usually it's not about talent, but enthusiasm. The stakes get higher and higher as non-fans continue to drop in dollars, and this dance repeats itself long into the night. By the time last call is shouted, the till is overflowing and will be donated to charity.

Just don't tell Dad.

Only a 10-minute walk from Sun Devil Stadium, which comes in handy for brewski-packing bargoers who need to sober up on the way back to the car, McDuffy's has been a favorite refuge for avid sports fans since it opened in 1988. It's got off-track betting on horse and greyhound races, and the bar boasts more than 30 beers and a reverse happy hour after 10 p.m. for those post-game munchies. With 12 giant screens and more than 70 additional televisions, it's no wonder McDuffy's is able to show every available NFL and NCAA tournament game, in addition to most match-ups in baseball, hockey, golf, boxing, water polo, wrestling, skiing, log rolling . . . need we go on?

See you there. Readers' Choice: Zipps Sports Grill