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Customers gather at the bar and tables inside Thunderbolt.<\/p>\n
Photo by Merrill Shindler<\/p>\n
Echo Park\u2014There are 11 pages of drinks at Thunderbolt<\/a>. And one page of food. And not a lot of food either \u2013 nine plates, six sides and two desserts. There\u2019s also no big screen showing the Dodgers just a few blocks away at the Stadium. The cultlike following of Thunderbolt would be a mystery, were it not for our Eastside love of the louche life found in our bars. \u201cLouche,\u201d in case you\u2019re not familiar with it, is a wonderfully descriptive word. It speaks of a place that\u2019s both loose and maybe even a tad shady, yet stylish and alluring at the same time.<\/p>\n
If Thunderbolt were only a bit shadier, it might qualify as a dive. But though it dances around the edges, it never really immerses itself in the genre so perfectly defined by the late, great Charles Bukowski. Bukowski was described by Time Magazine as \u201cThe Laureate of Lowlife.\u201d He was a poet who celebrated the joys of being down and out. He drank. And he wrote poetry. And he drank some more. Lots more.<\/p>\n Thunderbolt\u2019s fried green tomatoes are served with ranch dressing.<\/p>\n Photo by Merrill Shindler<\/p>\n His dive bar of choice was the King Eddy Saloon on the edge of Skid Row, closed for more than a decade now, but immortalized along with Bukowski in the Mickey Rourke movie Barfly. Where Cheers in Boston is a bar in which \u201ceverybody knows your name,\u201d King Eddy was a bar in which \u201cnobody knows your name.\u201d And that\u2019s how, blessedly, you can feel at Thunderbolt. A neighborhood joint with a menu of more drinks than seem within reason. And a menu of dishes with roots south of the Mason-Dixon Line. And on top of that, the menu offers recipes for all the drinks.<\/p>\n With its somewhat befuddling name, Thunderbolt (is it a racehorse?) shouldn\u2019t make any sense. And yet, it does. It\u2019s easy to hang with a buncha pals on the shaded front patio, hidden from busy Temple Street. There\u2019s a bevy of small tables inside. And lotsa room at the bar for those who\u2019d rather spend an evening watching the barkeep precisely mix an Echo Park Trash Can #3 \u2013 from bottom to top, Pecan Bitters, Mezcal, Apple-Miso Distillate and Clarified Green Apple Cordial \u2013 \u201ccrystal clear, tart, mezcal & green apple soda with violent carbonation.\u201d The tech details are worthy of the lab in Pluribus.<\/p>\n Thunderbolt offers a compact selection of craft beer alongside its extensive cocktail menu.<\/p>\n Photo by Merrill Shindler<\/p>\n The beer section is crafty but short. Which is fine. A choice between a lager, an ale, an IPA and a stout does me just fine. And works well with the menu of Deep South curiosities like the Crispy Hoppin\u2019 John Rolls, a mix of Carolina Gold rice and Sea Island red peas. Rice \u2018n peas \u2013 as downhome as you could wish. I couldn\u2019t resist the fried green tomatoes \u2013 both the name of a movie and a dish \u2013 which came with ranch dressing.<\/p>\n Green tomatoes fry up so much better than expected. And indeed, \u201cfried\u201d is a defining word here \u2013 fried chicken thighs, French fries, fried chicken drumettes, a fried Big Chicken Biscuit, fried toast with chilled shrimp salad. The Cheesy Grits aren\u2019t fried. They make me wonder, as ever, why we Northerners don\u2019t eat more grits. Grits are something they serve at Thunderbolt. And it\u2019s something in the air. Charles Bukowski drank Schlitz. He ate candy bars. Thunderbolt would have left him in a stupor.<\/p>\n
Crispy fried chicken thighs are served with sauce on the side.<\/p>\n Photo by Merrill Shindler<\/p>\n Rating:\u00a0\u2b50\u2b50<\/p>\n \u2b50\u2b50\u2b50\u2b50\u00a0Beyond Sublime\u2b50\u2b50\u2b50\u00a0Worth Every Penny\u2b50\u2b50A Good Neighborhood Destination\u2b50\u00a0Might As Well Stay At HomeThunderbolt<\/a><\/p>\n Food Writer Merrill Shindler has bent his elbow many times over the years. But along with a foamy draft, he likes something properly bar-friendly to chew on. And fried green tomatoes with chicken thighs, in a joint where, contrary to Cheers, \u201dnobody knows your name,\u201d fits the bill.<\/p>\n
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