Seltzer Review – PapaSweenBean’s Friday Night

PapaSweenBean’s Friday Night – Seltzer Review – by Liam Sweeny.

It’s seven at night and I’m in Troy, the one and only, the Collar City, only no one’s wearing collars ‘cause it’s sweet as fuck outside right now. Also, it’s Friday. I am in search of an effervescent bliss that only comes spiked with a wedge of lemon of lime. I’m talking, of course, about seltzer. The elixir of bar-bound sobriety. I am in search of the bubble and fizz, and in a stroke of good fortune, Troy is filled with bars who keep it on tap. Or in a can. Or maybe even a trough, but I doubt I’ll see that.

I’m on Fourth Street. Right near the Red Front, a pizza restaurant, if you will, whose aromatic cologne of tomato, onion, and garlic would waft up to my back porch when I lived a block below on Third. But Fourth Street, bracketed on either end by Prism Glass and Alias Coffee is Jo’s Joint, my first, and southernmost stop.

Getting out of the car, I can’t help but lament that I’ll have to walk from there to the downtown, but then I remember: seltzer. And add to that: I don’t drink.

The seltzer at Jo’s joint is full bodied, just a tiny bit of sting to the tongue, the kind of tonic that welcomes you right at first step in the door. It is a quality you expect to find in a place with regulars that come off a hard day’s work and want nothing more to do than to enjoy a friendly shot in spacious patio that in any other building on the block would be a common backyard. This seltzer has notes of a family business that offers that familial bond to it’s patrons, an easy and open dialog between sparkle and spray.

So far, so good.

As toil never ends, my drive takes me to an actual place I will be walking from on account of parking. State, off Fourth. I’m bound for the city of golden taps and tonic goodness of El Dorado. See now, the seltzer in this establishment is the very kind of beverage I expect a distinguished former Xperience alum to serve. It’s invigorating essence is as timeless as lacquered mahogany (maybe) and the ethereal merriment of factory workers in a city that once served as nursemaid to an infant steel industry. I’m drinking a seltzer that I will gladly drink at an impromptu show in the back, should the El Dorado be keeping one there for just such an occasion.

Mighty fine palate cleanser.

My thirst for Troy nightlife takes me to Whiskey Pickle, which proudly proclaims itself the “second best bar in Troy” on a sandwich board out front. The seltzer here is quiet, understated, yet bursting with a passionate spirit that will lend a hand to any worthy cause, a warrior monk of seltzers. This carbonated concoction will accept anybody with a hankering for something off the standard menu.

What a satisfying, bubbly experience, that seltzer.

I should make mention that next to Whiskey Pickle is Herbie’s Burgers, a joint that stays open till 2 a.m. and serves up fare that is simply too good for the pickled palates it satiates at, say, 1:30.

On to Footsy Magoo’s. This will be the first of two Magoos I’ll visit for spicy hydration. The seltzer here is a warm hug from a friend and a dedication to the fun and entertainment of all. It is the seltzer of the center of the bar scene that doesn’t need to hawk its wares with a big gaudy neon sign, because come later that night it’ll be packed to the tubing.

Deer Park, that’s good seltzer.

After a stop off to the Twisted Fiddler to catch a band I’ve caught before, so dare speak its true name, but give you Google Latin instead, “Via Lucida” which the lead singer will surely laugh at should she read this, because she probably knows Latin. Or Google.

I couldn’t get seltzer. They were slammed; I wasn’t going to trouble them. But from past experience, the seltzer evokes notes of Doc Watson.

On to the last stop in my seltzer review, if not my night. No Fun. This is a very invigorating seltzer. It makes me feel young again, It has the taste of a surge of a crowd bathed in the pastel glow of a stage bringing in a pantheon of music, old and new. This seltzer plays games in the times that a crush of bodies isn’t there to prevent it.

Mmmm, Mmmm…. Great seltzer.

And, of course, capping up with the seltzer of the home team, Matty D and karaoke. (I didn’t actually get seltzer, for it too was slammed. But I can tell you it tastes like it knows my name.)

A few of the bartenders agree to take badass bartender pics. Their names are withheld to discourage sloppy drunks from using it over and over again ad nauseum or ad vomitus.

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