A part of you—way deep down—has always been a bit of a hustler.
First, maybe we should clarify. Not the Keanu Reeves-in-My Own Private Idaho kind of hustler. More like the Paul Newman-in-The Hustler kind of hustler. You know, the fun kind.
Suffice it to say you have a lot in common with the newest Small Bar, slated to open in the former Fullerton Avenue pool hall where Newman taught Cruise a thing or two on the set of The Color of Money. In a few days it begins life as your other favorite kind of hall: beer.
Those rickety billiards tables are gone—along with the drop ceilings, nicotine-stained overhead lamps and scent of cue chalk mingling with eau de cheap beer. It's been reborn as a polished, high-ceilinged spot, with pendant lights and stained glass salvaged from an old church, big booths, and a nook under the stairs with your own personal flat-screen.
As you sink into Small Bar's sweet-smoky Bacon Jam burger or the jalapeño-and-sriracha-laced Hellfire, and sample your way through 180 beers (from local Half Acre and Bells to exotics like Rauchbier, a smoked-malt brew with hints of bacon), you'll find yourself thinking that even Fast Eddie would approve of the change.
We mean the guy from The Color of Money, not the guy from the City Council.
First, maybe we should clarify. Not the Keanu Reeves-in-My Own Private Idaho kind of hustler. More like the Paul Newman-in-The Hustler kind of hustler. You know, the fun kind.
Suffice it to say you have a lot in common with the newest Small Bar, slated to open in the former Fullerton Avenue pool hall where Newman taught Cruise a thing or two on the set of The Color of Money. In a few days it begins life as your other favorite kind of hall: beer.
Those rickety billiards tables are gone—along with the drop ceilings, nicotine-stained overhead lamps and scent of cue chalk mingling with eau de cheap beer. It's been reborn as a polished, high-ceilinged spot, with pendant lights and stained glass salvaged from an old church, big booths, and a nook under the stairs with your own personal flat-screen.
As you sink into Small Bar's sweet-smoky Bacon Jam burger or the jalapeño-and-sriracha-laced Hellfire, and sample your way through 180 beers (from local Half Acre and Bells to exotics like Rauchbier, a smoked-malt brew with hints of bacon), you'll find yourself thinking that even Fast Eddie would approve of the change.
We mean the guy from The Color of Money, not the guy from the City Council.
