Bay City, VNO, Lumber Barons

Parts of Bay City were somewhat of a ghost town, even on a Saturday. Walking around on Midland, we didn’t see many people. Those we did see, passed on the other side of the street. There were some folks sitting at tables in the middle of the road. Areas had been blocked-off like there was a street fair going on, but it was just that restaurants had moved outdoors for covid. 

VNO, Bay City

We went into VNO—sort of a restaurant, craft beer, wine store, bar, and tasting room. The place was huge. Three attached store fronts, open on the inside, so one could pass from the store to the bar or restaurant. We were the only people inside beside one visible staff member.  

There were cases and cases of wine. The bar was long. It was stocked with dozens of various spirits, many of which were collectible bottles I had never seen, much less tasted. Covid had pretty much put the nix on wine tasting but the server was willing to let us sample a few wines that were already open. 

My tongue isn’t privy to all the nuanced flavors of wine. At times, wines are bold and spicy, but often, the notes come through like the beauty of a watercolor painting—soft, delicate—not loud or vivid, and not to be discerned by the unsophisticated brute swishing grape juice around his hole like mouthwash. Alas, this is me. But, I do know a good wine when I taste it. 

When the server poured “Red Schooner,” it hit the spot. It’s a Californian Malbec made from South American grapes. It’s dry and bold and full of oak and plum flavor. Schooner is an interesting brand because the bottles forgo vintage dates in favor of “voyage” dates since the grapes used in it are shipped to California, chilled, straight from the Andes. “Voyage 6,” for instance, is the 2014 vintage. The one I tried was Voyage 8. I took a bottle to go. 

Then, the server placed a bottle of 19 Crimes, Cali Red, on the bar—the one with a pic of Snoop Dogg on the label. She pulled out her phone and lined up the bottle of wine in her camera sight. A special app—Living Wine Labels—brought the label to life. Snoop blinked. He turned his head slightly and announced, “Glasses up! Let’s make a toast. To success, and nothing less! Yes, sir.” (Check out my Instagram for a peek at this: https://instagram.com/p/CDXRmhzpOhM/)

We went out and headed east. Closer to the river we found Lumber Barons Pub. I wanted to taste beer since Baron’s is on the Tagabrew list. But the tastings had been stopped and some sections of the building were closed. Inside, we stayed in the area that is designated as Stables Martini and Cigar Bar. 

Lumber Baron’s

The building has historical charm, mostly because it’s an old horse barn. There’s a wide-open space upon entering, with some seating, and a small boxed-in area surrounded by chairs. That was the bar, and behind it, a server leaned back against the liquor display. One old-timer in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt sat on a bar stool, puffing on a stogie. He looked over, smiled, and nodded. The rest of the place was empty. Even with the barn doors open, it seemed dark inside, much of the interior painted flat black. 

There was a nicer, “fire bar” located somewhere in the building. I was hoping to have a look at it since that was the more “upscale” venue, but that section was closed. 

Eight horse stalls were still here, doors rolled back, and iron bars still covered their windows. Each of these new “stable lounges” was outfitted with leather couches, a coffee table, and an ashtray. Old cigar boxes adorned the cinderblock walls. I had a beer, I played a round of billiards, I fired-up a Java and reclined in stall number eight, right next to the pool table. But, for some reason, I couldn’t get into it. I’m one of those people who’s mood is really affected by color and light. The lounge felt more like a dungeon; the atmosphere just wasn’t lively. I put the cigar out. 

We paid our tab and walked back toward the car, dodging any passerby’s. The wife and I started making plans for dinner. 

“What do you feel like eating?”

“Anything. What do you want?”

“I don’t care. What do you want?”

“I don’t care. What do you want?”

Ten minutes later, we had it narrowed down to “a restaurant” as we made our way back to Uptown and the hotel.