Rose Garden
You won’t get me to admit that I haven’t been to many bars around town. I’ve been there and drank that in the shadiest to the swankiest spots in Houston. Yet here I am, cohorts with Stephan who happens to be a huge proponent of The Rose Garden and I’ve yet to set foot in and open a tab at the Czech bar. Call me crazy.
- Paul
In 7 Words: Waratahs, Bombardier, Steins, Dark, Scuffed, Bountiful, Pub
After a night teeming with crowds, cookers and everything endearing and annoying about Texas – the World Championship Barbeque Contest – my batteries were in need of recharging. The idea of some good, old fashioned pub therapy sounded like the perfect jolt. So, Paul and I decide to head for a pint or four at the cozy confines of the Stag’s Head Pub. We quickly pull into our parking space after turning into the lot off Portsmouth Street. The slight chill in the air that was comforting among the deep crowds of the rodeo is keeping the bar’s patrons from using of the large patio making the pub seem misleadingly desolate.
