A Brief Roast of Travis Kelce and Patrick Mahomes' $33 Martini
What can $33 get you in today’s economy? An Uber downtown? A month of Hulu with no ads? 1/100th of a Coachella ticket? Well, if you’re in Kansas City, Missouri, $33 can get you a shitty martini that takes 45 minutes. Sold!
This week, a TikTok of a woman sharing her dining experience at Travis Kelce and Patrick Mahomes’s restaurant, 1587 Prime, went viral, where a martini runs you $33 and takes nearly an hour to come out. For 33 bucks, I’m expecting a show. At the very least, I’m expecting Kelce to personally hand it to me and share an anecdote about his mom’s home renovation, or an update on Taylor Swift’s bridesmaids, or something! Anything!
1587 Prime opened in Kansas City in September, and if you’re savvy or well-versed in football, you may notice the name is just their jersey numbers shoved together. Creative! But never mind that. I’m still stuck on the martini. If it doesn’t come with the elixir of life, then what the fuck is actually going on?
Thankfully, TikToker Nicole Rose shared her experience, which involved a bartender wheeling over a bar cart over to make the drink tableside—a $10 upcharge she was not made aware of. Plus, it took 45 minutes for the bartender to get there, bringing the grand total to $33 and an hour of drinkless time. It’s unclear what exactly is supposed to happen during the elusive martini ~experience~, but the current menu describes the martini as a mix of Ketel One or Bombay Sapphire, an apertivo, fino sherry, and roasted fennel. I don’t know how or in what ways the roasted fennel ends up in there, but it’s costly.
The martini was just the tip of the very expensive iceberg. The fried chicken, which costs $25, came out before the martini and wasn’t even that good. The guest also ordered $15 sauces for her $100 steak, which, when it arrived, was not cooked to order, and they forgot the sauces. The $15 sauces!!!!
“Couldn’t even tell the server, because I couldn’t find her,” she said in the TikTok. The server was probably in the walk-in freezer crying because this sounds like the worst job at the worst restaurant, with creepy line cooks and a host who oversat her section, but of course, nowhere else is hiring because the economy sucks! Or something like that…The final total for the bill was $650.
If you come into a tremendous amount of money and do find yourself at Kelce and Mahomes’s restaurant, get the broccolini, she says. It was fine.
Why is Kelce—who’s about to marry the richest person in the universe, I think—trying to rob my already suffering wallet over some gin and vermouth? But sigh, I’m still at the restaurant, waiting on this damn $33 martini, growing thirstier and thirstier by the second.