Commentist Beer Barrel: Boots On The Ground – Texas Edition

Note to self:  Next time I take a picture for use as a banner, make sure to turn the damned phone sideways as profile pics don’t upload so good.  Oh well, kill me for having to scroll a bit.

I know I’ve taken a break from Midweek Rations, but I just got home from a very nice evening out so I thought I’d throw a quick post together to share my pleasant mood.  Actually, I surrendered the remote to Dame Nobyl as there isn’t A GODDAMN ON THING WORTH WATCHING ON A SUNDAY UNTIL SEPTEMBER!!!! SO SHE (oops, capslock) so she gets to watch her PBS how-to stuff on the DVR machine for now.  Therefore I’m actually kinda bored and thought I’d share the boredom with you fine folks.

The day started by sleeping my ass in, which is the absolute best way to start any day all opposing opinions are invalid so don’t even try.  The Dame got up earlier and took her dad to breakfast, then called me to ask if she should bring some breakfast tacos home.

He’ll yeah!

Fired up a pot of Kona coffee which finished just in time for my egg, potato and chorizo taco (x2) delivery.  She also brought a couple home for The Boy, I just threw the bag into his room and closed the door and listened to the carnage from a safe, secure distance.

The Boy finally made an appearance, we had a father/son bonding day planned by working on his car.  It was due an oil change and tire rotation, something I can do in my sleep but he has yet to master.  I don’t force my children to follow some path I created inspired by my abilities, they need to forge ahead in the direction that fits their strengths.  It worked for my older stepson, who is doing very well and just made me a step-grandpa.  Glad he did follow my lead in that direction and waited until he was 30 before spawning, I only hope his little brother does the same as he is now 20 years old and is a gland with two legs.  I remember those days all too well.

Long story short, we got the job done despite the heinous heat and humidity.  I was impressed by The Boy’s tenacity, he left his phone in the house and did almost all the work.  When I tell him how much this would have cost at a garage he gains a second wind.  He works hard as a waiter at a nearby restaurant, a really nice locally-owned Asian joint, and is also going for a useful degree at a local college, so I have no problem with him still living at home.  That’s a good thing because I’ll have a hard time letting go when that day comes.  I also live through him vicariously at times.  He’s tall, slim and a good-looking kid even though he surprisingly looks a lot like me.  We call it the Liv Tyler syndrome, I’m sure you can figure the rest out from there.  As a result, while at work he attracts more cougar attention than a wounded rabbit, and has collected more than a few receipts with a phone number scrawled under the tip amount.  He has a girlfriend, so I’m at a loss on what advice to give.

I worked in a fucking pet store at that age, if I only knew…

By now I’m sure you’re asking – What the fuck does this have to do with beer barrel?  Calm your ass down, I’m getting there.  The Boy gave the car a test drive then ran off to join his hoodlum friends for basketball and Whataburger.  I took a much needed shower while the Dame made dinner plans.  We decided to keep it simple and take the 5 minute drive to our fave pizza dive.  Another local joint that serves a spectacular pizza along with a beer wall, there own custom brews as well as many of the local microbrews on tap.  As you can imagine, I’m quite the regular.

We ordered our usual, a large Jack’s Special.  Pepperoni, Italian sausage, onion and chopped fresh garlic, all piled up on a crust that seals the deal.  This place has three sizes and one crust, none of that stuffed-deep dish-hand tossed-cheeseburger on the edge crap.  Yes, that exists.

I’m sure that’s what the Italian immigrants had in mind when they landed on Ellis Island all those years ago.

This pizza is so damned good we even eat the bones (edge crust for the uninitiated), it’s all perfectly chewy and just burned enough to be interesting.  We’ve had pizza all over the country, even a few fancy pies made famous on various Food Network programs, but nothing beats our local joint…with one exception.  We took a Mediterranean cruise on our honeymoon countless years ago (she remembers how many) with a stop in Florence, Italy.  There we got a genuine magherita pizza from a little roadside stand.

It was dirt simple.  Crust, tomatoes sliced paper thin, sliced cheese and fresh basil.  That bar will never be reached again, I won’t even try.

Oh yeah, beer.  I didn’t forget.  As I mentioned, this place serves local microbrews on tap, including some from my absolute favorite place.  The banner pic is actually from a sign from near their restrooms.  They didn’t have the Hefeweizen that I like so much, instead they carried a summer porter.  I’m usually not a big porter fan, especially with food as I find them rather heavy; I’d rather not have a meal to drink with my meal. The bartender said this wasn’t as thick as most porters and worth a try, so I ordered the comely bar wench to draw me a tankard forthwith!   Actually, I politely asked the nice young lady to please serve me a glass as she suggested.  I mean my wife was with me you know, as if that would have made a difference.

WOW…I mean, wow!  This beer was realllly good, not at all as heavy as the usual porter.  It had strong coffee notes and a tiny hint of chocolate, but was served cold and remarkably refreshing.  I don’t get as twerpy as so many so-called beer aficionados as far as judging goes, but I do have one requirement that isn’t negotiable, and that’s the beer’s finish.  A nasty aftertaste will ruin an otherwise pretty good brew, and this porter nailed it.  I just wish I could finish as well as this simple beverage.

Oh, you want proof?

That’s the pizza, and that’s what is left of my beer.

In a nutshell, it was a great way to spend a Sunday.  Not to get too political, but as messed up as this country can be at times, we all too often forget that there are some pretty good things that we take for granted.  I live in a medium sized city, but I have access to the culture, namely the food, of countless nationalities.  This is the type of diversity anyone can truly get behind, I feel bad for the folks who refuse to expand their horizons beyond their own self-imposed restrictions.  It’s a big world and I’ve had the opportunity to see a lot of it, but believe it or not I’ve yet to find a country that is as culturally open minded as the good old USA.  All this noise about MAGA only makes me think of one thing.  Perfect?  Hell no, there is still a lot of work to do.  But like it or not, it can still be pretty great.

Hope you all had a wonderful Sunday too.