Me and a few crew members checked out Hyde Park's latest watering hole Thursday night, which is where Fudrucker's used to be, before it became a Nothing But Noodles then a Wild Bowls. Now it's called the Rusty Bucket.
Hope y'all got your tetanus shots.
I was actually surprised at how different it looks. I guess I thought it'd look like the noodle joint, only with beer instead of pasta. Nope. It's actually a pretty nice, roomy joint. We sat at the big round bar, as we are want to do.
It's been open only since Tuesday though, which kind of explains all the breaking glass. There were no fewer than three plate/glass/tray crashing incidents when we were there, one of which of sprayed glass onto the bar in front of us. A few minutes later I noticed a big shard on my lap. Whatevs. At least the bathrooms were clean. (Though one stall was out of order, as is customary at every bar. Wtf?) Other than spraying glass, the service was excellent.
Jules had some nachos, which she said was "all right." Translation: These aren't very good but I've had a few Miller Lite's, so I'll eat anything. Then the three of us shared a few orders of the Rusty Pail (Rusty Bucket? Rusty Nail? I can't remember what it was called exactly, but it was Rusty something), which was four mini-burgers.
By that time I'd had a few Miller Lite's myself and let me tell ya, Yumee on the Rusty Trail, er Pail, or Nail or whatever. Those mini-burgers, grilled with cheese, onions and pickles, hit the spot. And they came with fries too, so word up to that.
Overall, I'd give it a B. But not an A because, you know, the flying glass and all.
TITLE RELATED: If anyone knows the song lyric from where this blog title came from, I should mention my dad sang it every day throughout my childhood. It's such an awesomely ridiculous chorus I thought he made it up. But it works here because, you know, the bucket had to get rusty somehow. Seems plausible it might have gotten left out in the rain.
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