Kupros, if you haven’t heard, is the new restaurant on 21st Street between Capitol and L. It’s a beautiful update of the building that used to house Cheap Thrills used clothing store. Kupros labels itself as a gastropub, which brings with a it a whole host of connotations. But first, what is a gastropub?
The agreed upon definition of a gastropub is: a pub that specializes in finer than average food. That’s pretty much it, but that’s not really it. Here are some of the connotations, fair or unfair, that come along with the label: beer, wine, European focus, ridiculously good simple food, grease, gravy, low-lighting, wood panelling, classic design, plain paper menus, and edgy chefs with beards and striped aprons.
Wonderfully, Kupros hits on almost every one of the connotations that comes with being a gastropub. The food was pretty darned good, with some homeruns and a few infield singles. The potted rabbit (part of the charcuterie plate) was ridiculously phenomenal. We all made satisfying carnivore noises while crunching it’s meat between our canines. Even the ladies at the table who swore they would never eat a creature so cute inhaled the little bunny like doughnuts at a cop shop. Continue reading “Kupros: What exactly is a “gastropub”?”
Sacramento’s two best kept film secrets activate their Wonder Twin powers tonight to bring you some awesomely campy horror. 
Why do people sometimes put an “e” at the end of “faire”? For me, it conjures up images of Renaissance Faire, artificially sized smoked turkey legs (and other body parts) and overuse of the phrase “ye olde”. Alas, I shouldn’t unnecessarily grouse about it, as it seems appropriate in this context. You can’t get much more olde schoole than wine, cheese and bread. Archaeological evidence indicates that all three predate any known archeological evidence and were among the first staples of both ancient diets and religious ceremonies. Enjoying this trinity of basic foods is at the heart of the modern slowe foode movement, subconsciously awakening palates to flavors of times passed.
The Sac Rag 