Babies, as I understand it, are free to drink vast oceans of beer, so long as it’s weak, second-runnings beer. This is what I’ve been told by Byron, our tour guide at Red Hook and, even though it would probably be generous to describe his advice on child-rearing as “suspect,” or even “outright harmful,” I’m inclined to agree with him on this point.
At the very least, most children are like drunk little adults anyhow: fascinated by things that glitter (strippers) or spin (also strippers) or make unpleasant noises (strippers, or maybe karaoke singers), Continue reading →
Consider the oyster, or the erster, if you will. A bivalve mollusc reminiscent of nothing more than an ancient, gnarled stone, a better fit on the otter’s belly than on your dinner table. And yet we eat him in vast quantities, slurped with Tabasco (better: Cholula) or cocktail sauce, or with mounds of horseradish piled on top. Continue reading →
The Summer road trip is an American tradition: load the car with a case of jerky, six pairs of socks, and however many loved ones you still have room for, and hit the road (along with a hundred thousand other meat-addled iron-jockeys). As we discovered today, though, the secret to a high-speed, low-odor road trip is threefold:
- Swap the jerky for dried pineapple;
- Also bring six pairs of underpants;
- Leave at 7:30 on Sunday morning. Continue reading →
Tasting America, One Beer at a Time
