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Vibe: Unless you already knew that cobber is an Australian word for pal or buddy, then the one word that could sum up the Cobbers Pub experience would be "neighborhoody." OK, maybe that's not actually a word, but there aren't many other ways to adequately capture the charm of this Mount Vernon hole-in-the-wall. It's not nearly big enough to satisfy would-be clubbers, nor is it boisterous or neon enough to compete with the flashy sports bars that have the space, and the money, to put a flat-screen in every booth.
Watching a game at Cobbers means huddling around the downstairs corner big-screen with other Ravens die-hards; dancing at Cobbers means being wasted enough to do a little jig to whatever you cued up on the jukebox. That'll earn you some playful ribbing from the bartenders, who most likely know your name, as well as from the other regulars who watch you dance that same little jig to that same tune every Thursday night. Think of this place as Seinfeld's Monk's Cafe ... for lushes.
Crowd: As motley as a certain '80s hair-metal act, the crew here consists of University of Baltimore law students celebrating an exam well-taken (or commiserating a shared failure), football nuts loading up on the excellent wings and starving artists grasping guitar cases. It is, in other words, a crowd that more or less represents the make-up of the surrounding area. Young and old, working-class and collegiate, loud-mouthed and world-weary -- they're all liable to be here on any given night. And, given the relatively cramped dimensions, you're probably going to meet most of them. (Cobbers also has something of a ventilation issue, so in all likelihood you'll end up sharing some second-hand smoke with your newfound friends, too.)
Libations: Ordering up a Tom Collins probably won't be enough to command cross-eyed stares in your direction, but let it be said now that, booze-wise, Cobbers is a man's-man kinda joint, which makes beer the presiding spirit. This much is reflected in the specials ($5.95 for a burger, fries and domestic brew on Mondays, $1.75 domestic drafts on college-night Thursdays and the occasional PBR pitcher deal). Leave those lovely highball-glass concoctions to the trendier bars down the street -- this is a place where the drinks will put some hair on your chest.
Sound: If you're the type that your friends refer to as "the music Nazi," the siren song of the jukebox might just be too much to resist. Thing is, the machine at Cobbers doesn't afford much in the way of selection, which is kind of strange when you consider that it's one of those newfangled electronic doohickeys. Still, the offered choices are pretty unimpeachable. For example, as everyone knows, there has never been a time in recorded history when it was inappropriate to play "Sultans of Swing." Out of quarters? You might do well to put your faith in the bartender's taste. On a recent night out we were treated to a best-of-'90s-grunge mix CD, which, needless to say, rocked the house mightily.
Service: Unless you've got a problem with friendliness, familiarity and efficiency, the service here leaves very little to be desired. 'Nuff said.
Bottom Line: Just like with movies and music, you've got to judge bars on their own terms. Cobbers isn't the place to go if you've got the jimmy legs and want to grind it out to the latest Lil Jon collabo -- but then it never pretends to be. Cobbers is a place either to start your big weekend night out (pre-gaming, the kids call it) or to work up that buzz nice and slow, in the company of some quality drinking buddies.
Watching a game at Cobbers means huddling around the downstairs corner big-screen with other Ravens die-hards; dancing at Cobbers means being wasted enough to do a little jig to whatever you cued up on the jukebox. That'll earn you some playful ribbing from the bartenders, who most likely know your name, as well as from the other regulars who watch you dance that same little jig to that same tune every Thursday night. Think of this place as Seinfeld's Monk's Cafe ... for lushes.
Crowd: As motley as a certain '80s hair-metal act, the crew here consists of University of Baltimore law students celebrating an exam well-taken (or commiserating a shared failure), football nuts loading up on the excellent wings and starving artists grasping guitar cases. It is, in other words, a crowd that more or less represents the make-up of the surrounding area. Young and old, working-class and collegiate, loud-mouthed and world-weary -- they're all liable to be here on any given night. And, given the relatively cramped dimensions, you're probably going to meet most of them. (Cobbers also has something of a ventilation issue, so in all likelihood you'll end up sharing some second-hand smoke with your newfound friends, too.)
Libations: Ordering up a Tom Collins probably won't be enough to command cross-eyed stares in your direction, but let it be said now that, booze-wise, Cobbers is a man's-man kinda joint, which makes beer the presiding spirit. This much is reflected in the specials ($5.95 for a burger, fries and domestic brew on Mondays, $1.75 domestic drafts on college-night Thursdays and the occasional PBR pitcher deal). Leave those lovely highball-glass concoctions to the trendier bars down the street -- this is a place where the drinks will put some hair on your chest.
Sound: If you're the type that your friends refer to as "the music Nazi," the siren song of the jukebox might just be too much to resist. Thing is, the machine at Cobbers doesn't afford much in the way of selection, which is kind of strange when you consider that it's one of those newfangled electronic doohickeys. Still, the offered choices are pretty unimpeachable. For example, as everyone knows, there has never been a time in recorded history when it was inappropriate to play "Sultans of Swing." Out of quarters? You might do well to put your faith in the bartender's taste. On a recent night out we were treated to a best-of-'90s-grunge mix CD, which, needless to say, rocked the house mightily.
Service: Unless you've got a problem with friendliness, familiarity and efficiency, the service here leaves very little to be desired. 'Nuff said.
Bottom Line: Just like with movies and music, you've got to judge bars on their own terms. Cobbers isn't the place to go if you've got the jimmy legs and want to grind it out to the latest Lil Jon collabo -- but then it never pretends to be. Cobbers is a place either to start your big weekend night out (pre-gaming, the kids call it) or to work up that buzz nice and slow, in the company of some quality drinking buddies.
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