Our two Grind writers set out for the ultimate hip experience last Wednesday to take a look at Williams & Graham, the Highlands speakeasy renowned for drinks, skilled bartenders and a bookcase entrance.
And essentially, that is exactly what W&G offers up. And not a drop more.
After hearing about W&G for a year and a half and being recommended by every person and their mother, we ventured out on a rainy school night to get our flapper on. We’d been assured by friends and Yelp reviews that W&G was positively impossible to get into, darling. We’d heard it was the bee’s knees and the cat’s whiskers. We’d even heard it was swell.
On the outside, W&G is a kitschy dream; cheesy flickering sconces outside the Williams & Graham “Bookstore” bring out the inner Disneyland giddiness in anyone who assumes they were born in the wrong era. Our Grinders entered with high hopes of fringed dancers, tweed- suited fellows and ‘20s glitz from head to toe.
A hostess waited behind the counter and wrote down names on a small card before sliding it through a hole in the wall. We excitedly waited for a green light to allow us into the glorified speakeasy.
While waiting, we listened to the music and booze-induced laughter from the other side of the bookcase. For a moment, we felt a glimmer of what it must’ve been like to live during Prohibition. Like rebels with the sole cause of getting perfectly tipsy, we made it in and were seated at the bar minutes later.
The dark interior felt authentic, but the roaring ‘20s energy wasn’t there. The man down the bar wore a t-shirt and a baseball cap, instead of double-breasted suit and a bowler, which jolted those hoping for authenticity from overindulged fantasies.
Perhaps the hip expected too much.
While the atmosphere might be lacking, the staff was attentive, knowledgeable and made some of the best, while admittedly pricey, drinks in Denver at around $10 a piece. The dapper, suspender-clad, clean-cut bartenders made a point to memorize our names before we sipped on a complimentary champagne apertif.
We moved onto the harder liquor, which included the notable Blackberry Sage Smash: With 120-proof whiskey. This strange hybrid of delicate blackberry goodness and unapologetic whiskey aftertaste provided the perfect combination of sophistication and prohibition-era grit.
Similarly, the Old Old Fashion, complete with a slowly melting block of ice to dilute the whiskey as it was being enjoyed, was a smooth and delightful nod to the generation who revels in all things “grandpa.”
The bartenders made a real show of making the drinks. The use of a butcher knife to chip giant ice cubes, the pouring of fiery booze from one sconce to the next and the shaking and mixing—all the while looking perfectly cool in their dapper getups. This impressive display made our writers somewhat less resentful about the 10 excessive clams they had dropped on a single beverage.
Taking a cue from the new Gatsby soundtrack, this 1920s bar played a shuffle of Modest Mouse, alternative singer-songwriter jams and some ‘70s blues. The absence of authentic music was offputting, and in a bar which only spans the length of a long, narrow hallway, it’s difficult to maintain conversations unless you score a nearly impossible booth.
Ultimately, with all the hype, W&G failed to impress. Had it been just an accidental wandering into a Highlands bookstore which turned into a revolving bookcase hiding a dimly lit bar of perfectly mixed drinks, then Williams & Graham might have been hip to the jive. However, the high prices, random tunes and low energy made W&G a less than fantastic affair.
However, we might venture back in full flapper gear for a night of whoopee and one-too-many dirty martinis.
Maybe next time (if there is one) we’ll have the guts to get the attractive bartender’s digits.
