12/24/2023 0 Comments Thunderbird loungeHere is their menu that includes their specials.Here is the Thunderbird KSC Tavern Facebook page, which makes no mention of their upcoming Bar Rescue appearance, and their website.Jenny McCarthy helped Jon Taffer to recon on this episode.The Bar Rescue makeover for Thunderbolt happened in April 2019."Renovations are good and bartenders are the best".But i like the change that was made as well, it's still a cool place to kick it" "I miss mustang sallys to be honest, and mary the bartender she was great."It's a cool place lots of room to play pole.Try the home made mozzarella sticks, fantastic!" Let's take a look at some information, reviews, and updates for Thunderbird KSC Tavern since Bar Rescue came and made all of the changes to the bar (All reviews are post- Bar Rescue): Don will need to change his ways if he wants Jon Taffer to rescue his bar and if he wants Thunderbolt to succeed.ĭuring the Bar Rescue makeover, Jon Taffer decided to change the name of Thunderbolt Bar & Grill to Thunderbird KSC Tavern and the bar has kept the name. While Jon is there, he finds a filthy kitchen and the owner Don is acting like a frat boy in his own bar. To see where Drew Bixby's been drinking, check out this map.On this week's episode of Bar Rescue, Jon Taffer and crew are in Pleasant Valley, Missouri to rescue Thunderbolt Bar & Grill. It's Friday-night family time, and we might as well be at home. When it's gone, we loosen our belts and rub our bellies we clean up after ourselves and compliment the cook like Ma made it herself. When our food comes, we pass plates like family. Joe's son Alex orders "the usual," and Sandy knows what he means. While I drink a bottle of Bud and take everything in, Carey cradles her six-month-old baby, calls the waitresses (Sandy and Kelly) by name, orders special items from the kitchen that aren't on the menu. Computer-printed signs hung with worn-out invisible tape advertise Sunday brunch (Bloody Mary bar!) in bold red letters. Trophies and team pictures from Thunderbird-sponsored golf tournaments and championship bar-league billiards teams litter the walls and dark, dusty corners. On both sides of the bar, flat-screen TVs and an Internet jukebox share real estate with glossies of long-retired stock cars, Broncos and Buffs memorabilia, Budweiser mirrors commemorating fifty years of NASCAR, and black-and-white pictures of Union Station and downtown Denver at the turn of the last century. But they're on borrowed time: No kids on the pool tables after 8 p.m. And in the blue-painted, concrete-walled pool room, a couple of boys roll the cue ball back and forth and rub chalk between their fingers. Three women in pink and black embroidered bowling shirts that read "Dolls With Balls" laugh like sisters and take shots of something chilled. Twenty-somethings crowded into a pink padded booth share pitchers of beer and baskets of Frings (fries and onion rings) while paying haphazard attention to the corner-mounted TVs and making plans for the rest of the night. Over on the T-Bird side, it's more of the same. Everyone seems happy to be here, and by God, so are we. Their elementary-age kin catapult Lord of the Rings action figures over fake poinsettia displays in brown wicker pots, sip soda from plastic cups with lids, and eat popcorn chicken and onion rings out of red plastic baskets lined with checkered waxed paper. Steak knives and pinkish puddles of meat grease - evidence of tonight's prime-rib special - lie abandoned on porcelain plates and tabletops as the parents and grandparents who left them there drink draught beer and wine, tell stories and smile. It helps that Carey and Joe, the friends who brought me here, are longtime regulars, and that when we arrive, we walk straight to a group of tall tables and booths on the side of the bar known as the Spitfire, where three generations of families are already in full Friday-night swing. I've never been here before and know only the people I came with, but walking into the warmly lit, thinly carpeted dive feels a lot like coming home for the holidays, like arriving late to a party where everyone knows my name. Something about the Thunderbird Lounge (721 Quebec Street) makes me want to take off my shoes and get more comfortable, maybe hang my coat in the hallway closet and then grab a bite from the fridge.
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