Aspen Bartini

When I saw their sign out front, "Where beautiful women instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano." ...I immediately thought of one thing, the French are assholes.

What genius said to himself, "Hey, we should open a piano bar/restaurant/lounge after Lloyd Christmas and Harry Dunne." ...And a genius he was. I instinctively knew this would be a treat for the senses. The parking lot is a nightmare, one side is free and the other side is $5. No one in their right mind would pay for parking to come here. 

Once inside, good luck finding a host at the stand because there isn't one. Excuse me, Flo? You kinda just wait around for a server to point you to a table or something like cattle. If you get a table that's not wobbly, you're ahead of the game already but unfortunately I got a table that could withstand a magnitude 9 earthquake. The manager/partner/whatever whom I thought was a customer because he was hanging out at the bar the entire night was nice enough to get me a shim to offset the punching bag sway of the table. After 10 minutes, a server with a lovely accent came by to take the drink order, I think she was from New Jersey.

The decor is not as gaudy as it looks or sounds but it reminded me of some place familiar... When I spied around the room, I knew then where I was... Holy shit! I'm at Johnny's Hideaway little brother's cougar den. The place was full of cougars,  sabertooths and wooly mammoths. And with that, the prey of old rich men instinctively flock to Aspen, California. The act for the night, every night, is this well-seasoned four man band of one singing bad cover songs. The piano is behind the bar... The bar is actually cut out in the shape of the piano like some guido puzzle piece. Who the fuck puts a full size piano behind the bar? I'm baffled as a blind kid with a headless bird. Pretty bird. Polly want a cracker? Speaking of food, let's just get to the grub... I'm exhausted already and haven't even had a drink yet.

Crisfield Crab Cakes, Brown butter caper red pepper roumelade. These tasteless crab pucks looked like it was pushed out of a toilet paper cardboard roll. Cold in the middle was a sure sign these babies were pre-cooked and sat on some hotel pan above the icemaker. Send this back up the river.

Habenero Fish Tacos Napa cabbage slaw, tomato relish. When you see a wire taco holder on a plate, you know you're in for a treat. You can use the wire and stick it down your throat afterwards for 100% evacuation. Better than the two finger diet. This specimen was neither spicy nor hot in the temperature sense. I had no clue what kinda fish it was, coulda been Sea Bass but it was salty as hell and I didn't want to insult the chef and get my ass kicked. Stick this in a bucket and use it as chum next time you go fishing. Chattahoochee's finest. 

Aspen Wings. Hot, mild or Aspen flavor... C'mon, that's a no brainer, it's not like landing on the moon. When in California, do as the Californians do, get the Aspen. It's basically a super sweetened thinned out version of teriyaki sauce. Decent medium size wings and under this lighting they seem undercooked. I hope I don't get worms. Nothing special about these wings, come to think of it, I think they were from a mock ing bird, yeah.

The food on the limited menu was suspect and the classic cocktails were not properly prepared but the most amusing part was when the "chef" with a giant toque paraded around the joint patting himself on the back about how good his food was.

Man, you are one pathetic loser. No offense.


322 East Paces Ferry Road
Atlanta, GA 30305
404-549-8700
http://www.aspenbartini.com/