PBR & PB&J Wednesdays at Ravenna Alehouse

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The Place: Ravenna Alehouse, 2258 N.E. 65th St., 729-9083

The Hours: Wednesdays, "All Day and All Night"

The Digs: Once known as the Ravenna Tavern

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PBR & PB&J Wednesdays at Ravenna Alehouse

  • PBR & PB&J Wednesdays at Ravenna Alehouse

  • ">

    The Place: Ravenna Alehouse, 2258 N.E. 65th St., 729-9083

    The Hours: Wednesdays, "All Day and All Night"

    The Digs: Once known as the Ravenna Tavern (aka "Rav Tav"), I have it on good authority that not so long ago the Rav Tav was first and foremost home to an array of mentally ill patrons. But with the "alehouse" name came a cleaned up image that pushed the neighborhood favorite just out of the realm of "dive." While it still hosts an eclectic crowd--with just a few of whom looking like they may be a little worse for the wear and posters advertising "motorcycles welcome"--the watering hole also hosts a tolerably clean interior, playable pool table and a jukebox that's good for a taste of Ram Jam's "Black Betty" or Elvis's "Burning Love." It might not be glamorous, but this bar is the perfect mix of ridiculously friendly service, cheap drinks and good (or at least interesting) company.

    The Deal: A PBR/PB&J combo for $4--and like the sign says, "Your mom is here, so we aren't cutting off the crusts." While the humor of a special like this might be lost on some (or dissuade others), it seemed worth a try at the very least; and though I misread the sign and came in on an off day the cook was nice enough to piece one together for me anyway. Beyond the fact that, as the bartender so sagely reminded me, the PB&J isn't fried unlike most other typical bar fare, it was quite honestly brilliant in its simplicity. There was nothing special about this sandwich: no grilled artisan bread, no fresh berry preserves, no organic roasted peanut butter. It was just plain white bread, generic peanut butter, and jelly garnished with a pickle spear--in short, not too many steps up from the summer lunch I made myself at age 12. But it was good, and somehow it matched up perfectly with the equally cheap and uncomplicated taste of Pabst.

    The Verdict: Just as my colleague Julien Perry so eloquently wrote last week about Rob Roy, this isn't a culinary destination. But for $4, you really can't go wrong with tastes you just can't mess up. You might not have been able to chase your PB&J with beer as a kid, but in this case it did the job just as well as a tall glass of milk.

     
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