The Redwood Bar and Grill - 316 W. 2nd St., Los Angeles, CA 90012

SIMON'S TAKE:
There's something depressing and bad about this place, one of those bars that's attempting to be four different things at once in an effort to appeal to all Los Angeles social contingents while actually not appealing to any. It's like a stand-up comedian who's not getting any laughs with his jokes and so he starts desperately dancing and smashing watermelons.

And it really is difficult to say exactly what isn't working here; the bar is dark, well furnished and nice, the booths are comfortable, and our waitress (who gave us her name, like, four times, but no one remembered it) was attentive and knowledgeable, even pointing out the owner to us when he slunk in with his head lowered to drink for free at his own bar.

Maybe it was the shitty house bands, which ranged from loud rock music when we got there, a quiet female singer-songwriter when were eating, to some old white Los Angeles "blues" guy by the time we left, again ensuring that absolutely no one there was happy with the music. Maybe it was the menu, which I would describe as barely adequate for a bar with the word "Grill" in its name. Or maybe it was just the sparse Monday night crowd, with about a 6:1 guy-girl ratio (not that our table of creepy dudes was helping).

I think I would sum it up with my trip to the restroom. I walked the entire length of the bar, had to walk directly in front of the sad, white Los Angeles blues musician as he played his sad, white blues to approximately no one, and as I stepped into the bathroom, I almost collided with a tall guy wearing a dark suit. "Um," he said, "The big toilet's not working." And sure enough, as I stepped into the bathroom, I discovered that its sole toilet was clogged with feces and overflowing onto the floor. This kind of undermined the classy vibe that the Redwood seems to be going for, but, on the other hand, it's nice to think that some things about downtown Los Angeles will never change.

Beers on draft: Bud Light, Pabst, Stella Artois, Boddingtons, Guinness, Bass, Blue Moon, and Craftsman Hefeweizen.
- Simon B.

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EVAN'S TAKE:

“You really shouldn’t have come on Cinco De Mayo” the friendly waitress confided in me several minutes after we stepped inside. She was probably right. Who the hell goes to a nautical/pirate themed bar on Cinco De Mayo? It was my idea, so I’ll take the blame this time.

Finding the Redwood was very easy, and I managed to get parking directly in front of the place. The interior is filled with anchors, nets, and even a series of cool paintings depicting ships being pulled down by lovecraftian like giant squid creatures. I really dug the décor. It was reminiscent of one of my favorite bars, the HMS Bounty… but with a slightly confused modern edge (which might have to do with the designer being responsible for the look of the Los Feliz restaurant Fred 62s). The place is dark, which I always love, and you can get fairly remote seating, so to not be bothered by all of the louder drunks sitting at the bar (or the band). Nobody was there when we arrived at 10:00pm, and it stayed that way for a while. More people began to drift in around 11:30ish. The first band was a truly lousy and much too loud blues/rock band that apparently plays there every Monday. I didn’t mind the later acts as much… and even thought the last one, the “LA White Blues Guy” to be sort of appropriate for the place. Apparently some legitimate musicians (a member of the Tom Waits band) play on different days of the week. The waitress emphatically pushed that beyond it being Cinco De Mayo, we really should have been there on any other day of the week… and she seemed earnest. For all I know on another day the music is much better, and there are more people in the joint.

The clientele was oddly difficult to categorize. A few dyke/punk/indie girls were in and out, and a birthday party seemed to be going on outside. A couple obvious regulars sat at the bar. I spotted a couple girls walking around sort of dressed like pirates… and was informed that it was pirate night. I’d earlier seen a couple guys with dreaded hair, and had mistaken them for just one of those freaky burning man guys, or maybe some peace punk variation, but I guess they were going for a Jack Sparrow look, and failing miserably. This pirate subculture is something that perplexes, and yet surprisingly doesn’t annoy me. I understand why people would want to be a pirate… I just don’t understand why they would want to dress like one in modern times. Maybe I do slightly resent the fact that I even had to type out…”pirate subculture”.

Service was fan-fucking-tastic. There’s an unpretentious bartender would answered any questions, and was very prompt. Our waitress was quite likeable and present. Usually servers have a real bitch-fit when they have to separate a bill, but she even suggested it… which earned her major points in my book. My salmon burger was really good… the spicy French fries were delicious, and the beers were great.

This is definitely a weird bar… and I can’t say that I left feeling 100% about it, but the service is REALLY good, and the place has a cool look going. I do think that if we were there on a different night it would have been closer to a home-run, but regardless I had a good time, and would suggest it to people who want to just shoot the shit in a strange looking place for an hour or two. Not a place to go to meet girls or do anything overly social, but they do try to take care of their customers there, and I place that above most things when it comes to bars.

- Evan K