Piratz Tavern, last seen getting some un-helpful aid from reality TV show Bar Rescue, is shutting down for good this weekend. Having eventually made good on my promise to give it another shot, I'm not too disappointed by that news, even if my second visit proved more pleasant that my first. The place was cleaner, service was quicker, the server remembered my orders (that seems like a low bar, but I was sitting at a table with fourteen other people, all working off separate checks), and the pirate-y banter was kept to a minimum. It may not have made for a great night out, but I didn't leave wondering what the hell I had just experienced, either.
The "if you don't like it, you can leave" arguments have persisted, among both staff and regular patrons. It's not a good look to cavil at this stage but self-restraint is not my strong suit and I'll never get this chance again: you shouldn't have to "just know" that most of the menu is best left ignored. And while a person may have a better time if they're willing to go with the flow until there's enough booze in their bloodstream that they can ignore the awkward interactions with the crew, it's not fair to expect anyone to know that going in. That is, you shouldn't have to show up tipsy in order to have a chance at a better time--it's not your cousin's dry wedding.
Lastly, the origin of "grog" is less appropriate than one might assume. It was named for a substance first brewed by the British Royal Navy (mortal enemies of pirates, basically) and introduced by Vice Admiral Edward Vernon, nicknamed "Old Grog" for the grogam coat he wore. Vernon started cutting his men's rum rations with water and lime juice to prevent spoilage as well as ongoing discipline problems among the men (and it was later found to prevent scurvy). Men who remembered the older, purer (and no doubt more satisfying) ration took to calling it "grog" and the name stuck long after those men were replaced by younger sailors with no memory of how good things used to be (scurvy-resistant though those new men were). Grog, then, is a slur for watered-down rum introduced by a well-meaning British naval officer. Not something I'd be eager to drink, but to each their own.
All that said, Piratz has gotten enough crap for wanting nothing more than to be a fun place to gather, with Bar Rescue being just its most public chapter. Looking back on that episode, I'm still not sure whether Jon Taffer was trolling the Piratz crew or whether, in attempting to air out the piratey-ness that he never quite comprehended, he had concocted the worst possible idea to turn the bar around. It's especially confounding when you watch other episodes of the show and see Taffer competently (if loudly) remaking bars without lurching from one gimmick to another. Or maybe having personal experience allows me a level of insight that I'll never be able to have with the few dozen other establish Bar Rescue has profiled. Corporate Bar was a thoroughly terrible idea--at least a Pirate gimmick is vaguely appealing.
Taffer sees bars as a money-making venture, full stop. Tracy Rebelo and her staff--along with their most faithful patrons--saw it as a place for fun. No gimmick was going to make the two sides understand one another. Cue reality television.
For my part, I'll never understand why a bar needs a gimmick at all. Its neighbor across the street never did, unless "noisy but with a good beer list" counts as a gimmick. But even if Quarry House never opens its doors again (and you can support them here), downtown Silver Spring is not losing its status as a bar haven. Because it never was one. It's a late-to-bed suburb with aspirations toward to an upscale nighttime destination. When its residents want to drink out, we take the minutes-long trip into the District. The bars lucky enough to survive here make a lot of coin as twenty-somethings become thirty-somethings and want to have their cake and eat it, too.
Goodbye, Piratz Tavern. You were never for me, but you never tried to be. You knew what you were and what you wanted to be, save for one brief, strange experiment. There's something admirable in that. I'll have a glass of (undiluted) rum in memory of that. And try to not remember all the other stuff.
