bar rescue: chef duffy on location at dimples
Here’s a scene for you. You go out with a few buds and you have a few beers. Hey look over there that hot girl is headed up on stage, oh nice she's going to sing. Wow hot and can sing! Now, your buddies pressure you to get up there. You've got beer muscles and a confidence that all this booze has just provided to your ego and vocal cords. Oh by the way, you’re in a karaoke bar! You might make a fool of yourself but it’s still a pretty good time.
That has been the experiences for some people for the last, let's say, 20 years whenever you head into a karaoke bar or shall we say a bar with karaoke as I’ll later be informed by my good buddy Jon Taffer. But, (come on…this is Bar Rescue there is always a but) this is Dimples of Burbank, America's first karaoke bar owned and operated by a bachelor and showman like no other. I hope...
Let me introduce you to Sal, our resident karaoke master and bar owner of Dimples. Might I also mention he's 82 and a hoarder. Dimples opened in 1982 a time of sexual prowess, horrible clothes, bad music and even worse hair. But we are not in 1982 anymore.
Fade to 2013, our new claim to fame in “America's oldest karaoke bar” is now the birthday “blowjob.” A sexually offensive, politically incorrect, generally embarrassing past time of a shot of soda loaded with whipped cream placed in the lap of a guy while his female companion is forced on her knees by an 82 year old man. He grabs her hair and forces her to take the shot as the bar sings happy birthday. Now, I feel uncomfortable and I am just watching this take place.
The original clientele of Dimples had the likes of some of the best names in Hollywood. I see on the clinically obsessive cluttered walls there are autographs of some amazing people, pictures actually glued on top of other pictures of an era that's so far from where we are now, that the average person of our day (unless in the film or TV industry) may not know who they are. This place is almost museum like... for the hoarding TV masses.
I see a property with 1,900 square feet of dusty madness, Edison cameras, editing machines, cameras from so far back that only a true connoisseur of this would appreciate. It also smells stale and old and well, I just feel dirty the second I step into the place.
I now look at the menu and figure there has got to be something good about this place. But as you can probably guess it's not going to be good. I look over the hodge-podge of a menu and determine that the menu is just a hoarded mess of the last 30 years of what at one time could have been good food. But Stephanie then informed me that they 86’d all entrees and 1/2 of the sandwiches, but the fryer is on and the cook can do that. Oh jeez here we go I think to myself.
So to recap so far... Old, hoarding, dirty minded, slightly perverted owner, beautiful fun and energetic wait staff, dirty bar, did I say old and I mean old stuff everywhere! I’ll leave you with those images in your brain. Feel free to sanitize and clean up a bit. I'll see you on Spike tonight and remember this is Bar Rescue not Mr. nice guy comes to say hi.