On Friday I went out for drinks after work with a couple of work friends to Local 188 on Congress Street. We had a grand time, sitting at the bar and chatting about life. I was drinking a lovely red wine, Perquita I think that's how you spell it), and we had a few tapas as well.

A note about Local. Prior to their move to their new location this summer, we went there very frequently, often for brunch on the weekends. Then, during their closure over the summer, we got out of the habit. And after the reopening, a few friends of ours had horrible experiences-- mostly in the service arena. I always loved the waitstaff at the old location. They were sometimes sort of out of it, but always really sweet and thoughtful. Unfortunately, our reporters (who shall remain anonymous for their own protection) told us that their experiences involved extreme bitchiness, long waits, and, on one occasion, complete lack of food. (Evidently the waitress never put in the order.) As a result of these stories, we've been a bit reluctant to dine at the new location. Then, we tried to go for dinner a couple of weeks ago, and it was closed for a private party.

I have been to the bar on a few occasions, through. It's a gorgeous space, and really lovely to sit in.

Anyway, the original plan for Friday was for me to have a few drinks with my friends, and then pick up some thai food on my way home for Otis. However, the Dreaded Lazy Wine Drunk&trade: struck and I found myself still at Local with Monique, still sitting at the bar, and still chatting. So instead of trying to get my shit together, I just called Otis and had him meet us at the restaurant.

I should interject here that our bartenders were absolutely lovely. The first one, a woman who looked awfully familiar (maybe she also/used to work at the White Heart?) was very attentive, and thoughtful-- when Monique said she was very hungry, even though the kitchen wasn't open yet, she scrounged up a dollop of olive tapenade and some bread. Later, our second bartender, a man with very impressive mustaches (think Daniel Day-Lewis in Gangs of New York), was also great.

Before Otis arrived we had some tapas. Did I mention that already? If this post seems disjointed, it's because the three glasses of wine I had really went to my head, so my memories of the evening are somewhat disjointed as well. The combination of the wine and not enough food turned out really badly for me.

So. Tapas. Shrimp in garlic, and chourico. Both dishes were delicious, although I would like to complain that the shrimp, instead of the lovely little sweet Maine shrimp we used to get at the old Local, were big 'ol prawns. Still delicious, but I think the little ones are superior for soaking up the buttery garlic sauce. The chourico was perfect. The bread and olive tapenade I mentioned earlier was tasty, although the bread was not as good as the pile of shredded bread they used to give you-- this had a much more tender crumb and less body.

Then for dinner, I made the cardinal sin of not ordering enough food. I got a spinach salad, which was delicious, with calabrese chese and nuts... but it wasn't enough to soak up the wine, and I woke up at 5 in the morning with a hideous headache.

Those who did order enough had a very tasty meal; Otis loved his penne with romesco sauce, and Monique's roast chicken with white beans looked and smelled divine. She loved it.

All in all, it was a fun evening, and I'm once again jazzed on Local. But next time: more food, l less wine.