Dot Tavern

840 DOT. AVE, DORCHESTER. 617.288.6288

By BARRY THOMPSON | Photo By Derek Kouyoumjian

del.ico.us | digg it! | reddit!

print | email | 0 Comments

A patron I'll christen The Historian tells me 650,000 people have written about the Dot, including Steven Spielberg. I am dubious. Alchemist Lounge bartender Carrie Hirshberg picked this place for her encore Five Drink cameo. [We visited the Alchemist last fall.—Ed.] The Dot's a humble, utilitarian joint she affectionately calls a dive. "This is our last late-night stop if we're coming home and need to grab a drink," she says. Habitually nocturnal, Hirshberg finds herself here often, I'll wager. She was a longtime set-designer at Avalon, the former "director of all things fabulous" at dbar and has worked at multiple haunted houses. Her lesson for the day: Don't ask your bartender what their tattoos mean, especially if it's her. That shit is played out.

Drink 1: Draft Beer ($2). Speaking of bartenders, this one says draft beer is his favorite thing to make, then claims to be kidding. We're sold on the idea anyway. I neglect to ask which beer we've purchased, but it's served in a frosted pint glass, and boy-howdy it's inexpensive, so who cares? Photography wizard Derek arrives and detects camera-shyness from the clientele. A dude stops by our table, asks "What the fuck is going on here?" then walks away before anyone can answer. Amazing.

Drink 2: Old Thompson ($3.50). Everyone in sight is drinking beer, rendering the "What he's having" assignment gratuitous. We jump to the "Bang for buck." There's a handful of like-priced shots, and predictably, I opt for Thompson. Because Jesus loves me, it's nearly twice the average serving size. According to Hirshberg, delinquents impersonating Dig writers recently tried to fleece dbar for five drinks. Let it be known—if we find those rotten little shits, they'll know new kinds of pain.

Drink 3: Slippery Nipple ($4.25). Hirshberg chats up the bartender a bit. He remains perplexed as to why the alt-weekly community is suddenly interested in "one of the few neighborhood bars left." The Dot's too traditional to peddle drinks with cute names, but Slippery Nipple is a splendid, fun-to-say staple. You wouldn't think Bailey's and butterscotch schnapps would taste like chocolate, but it deliciously does.

Drink 4: Bottle of Budweiser ($2.75). A few revelers behind us are singing. No idea what song, but they consent to being photographed, so croon on, good sirs. "From now on, you are all Dot Tavern people!" proclaims The Historian. "You will all walk with a limp!" Have I truly been blessed with the Dot's acceptance? Hirshberg's 'fiancé Matt shows up, and points out they have scratch-ticket dispensers in supermarkets. This puts my mind at ease.

Drink 5: Creamsicle ($3.75). Hirshberg displayed some foresight by passing on the Old Thompson. She suspects her Creamsicle is 90 percent vodka, 10 percent O.J. and 1 percent soda. After downing half of it, she regales me with an anecdote of a whimsical encounter with Sharon Osbourne and an Ozzfest tour accountant. I'd recite her story, but I fear litigation and/or a savage beating from Mrs. Ozzy. Sometime around now, Matt drives us to a soiree in JP, where our quest to fry brain cells continues unabated.