Houstonist had a staff meeting last night at a fairly new bar called Saint Danes, located in the old gas station where the original Late Nite Pie once lived. Houstonist World Headquarters is located in the Montrose and we'd been meaning to check out this neighborhood bar since it's well within stumbling distance.
They do offer a basket of friend crap, yes. Including fried Oreos, which were actually quite tasty. One Houstonist staffer referred to them as being like an Oreo wrapped in a beignet, covered with vanilla ice cream. But there was something unsettling about Saint Danes, something Houstonist is still struggling to put our finger on.
Last weekend we stopped inside our friendly neighborhood convenience store, Hyde Park Supermarket, to buy a bottle of Mexican Coke. Hyde Park Supermarket is open late, within walking distance, and they sell St. Arnold's by the six-pack, so it's become a regular stop. But on this visit we noticed the shelves were nearly bare. We asked the guy at the counter what was up and he replied that the shop was closing. The property has been sold. What will be built there next we can only guess.
A year ago construction began on a trio of new condos on Mason between Hyde Park and Stratford. Houstonist found out that these condos, which were constructed in less than six months and which have neither a front nor back yard, were selling for half a million dollars. Half a million dollars to share a wall with your neighbor.
Not long ago we heard a rumor that Numbers nightclub had been sold and was slated for demolition. The news-bearer could not quote a source, but swore he'd heard the land had already been designated for condos. We later learned that "Numbers was sold" rumors ebb and flow in this city like water in the bayous, but it still hasn't settled the uneasy feeling in our stomach.
Lately, when Houstonist describes our address to someone who doesn't live in the loop, we're often asked the same question: "Oh, is that in Midtown?" And therein lies the rub. The personality of Montrose — the dingy restaurants, the tacky murals, the questionable characters wandering sidewalks at all hours of the day — is giving way to the sterility and sameness of Midtown. Encroachment at it's finest.
If Late Nite Pie was the embodiment of Montrose, with it's graffiti-scrawled bathrooms and pot-smoking delivery drivers, then Saint Danes, with it's poker in the back room and 14 big-screen televisions blaring sports, is the embodiment of Midtown.
Photo: flickr user .imelda
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