Saturday, April 19, 2008

New favorite beer


Yesterday, we made a family trip to Rhode Island. We biked a little (had to stop when son, Ethan, 3, kept elbowing Alison, 7 months, in our new bike trailer until she couldn't take it), went to Narragansett Beach, where everyone enjoyed themselves, and then headed to the Mews Tavern. Even though the girl who brought our food out dropped my son's pizza and half of my calzone on the floor and on Alison's stroller, we still had a good time. Main reason: I found a new favorite beer.

Flying Dog Doggy Style Pale Ale

It is described this way on the menu:

"Brilliant amber in color and dry hopped with buckets full of Cascades for an unrivaled hop flavor and aroma... this is a true representation of an American-style pale ale, using the finest ingredients. Flying Dog classic pale ale is a multi-award winning product, and is consistently ranked as one of the best pale ales in the U.S. This is what craft beer is all about."

The stuff is very good. As many know, I love Sam Adams, because it is consistently good and has good flavor. But Flying Dog is more complex, more flavorful. I don't know if I can afford to make it my regular beer - it only comes in 6-packs - but it will definitely have a place reserved in the beer drawer in my fridge.


Sad note: While driving through Wickford yesterday, we noticed that Wickford Gourmet, an EXCELLENT little place to grab a sandwich, chowder and chocolate chip cookie or brownie (in fact, its brownie was featured on Rachel Ray's show) has closed. The reason seems to be a mystery, as the Providence Journal could not get ahold of the new owner. The place had a great back porch which sometimes had entertainment, they had a huge case of cheeses and olives, tasty baked goods, and other cool foods. It was a great place to relax and have a beer and tuna melt. I'm pissed. Hopefully, someone will reopen the place and continue making the same high quality food. The place is a landmark. It needs to be saved.

Friday, April 18, 2008

Reflections of Keeping Old T-shirts

Going to shake things up here a bit, and switch genres... My wife's comment about needing new clothes today made me think of this piece, which was written last year and is one poem in a collection I have tentatively titled Beer at the Ballpark (and Other Poems for Guys). I think it has potential to actually sell - at least that's what some people in my writer's group said - if I could manufacture the energy to write more of them. (Right now, I have about 15.)

My wife said she needed some new tshirts - that last year, she threw out a lot of her old ones. It's not that the old ones didn't fit anyone, they were just old, she said. I believe she called them "ratty" and "yellowing."

It takes a lot for me to throw out an old shirt, especially if at one time it had significant value. I wore a tshirt today, for instance, that has at least three small holes in it. It is probably 10 years old. I am not ready to retire it.

I happen to like gray t-shirts. I may have 15 of them. This is a poem about a hypothetical situation in which a woman starts questioning whether a guy's shirt should be trashed.


“His Gray T-Shirt”

Don’t tell a guy that his favorite
gray t-shirt is getting old and has holes
and should be the rag he uses
to check the oil in his car with because he’s
not stupid, he knows this already,
and is seeking therapy about this one
thing right now. Some shrink is making
$80 an hour just listening to the stories
associated with this shirt – how,
for instance, the Red Sox won their
first World Series in 86 years while he wore it
and other sports superstitions –
and counseling the guy to cope with the fact that
the shirt has no collar, and that dime-
sized holes are becoming quarter-sized holes,
and no sober man wants to show off his nipples.

The man is keeping the shirt because he needs to.

If you want to know how to truly help him, you say
nothing, and just permit the ghastly sight until the shirt
disintegrates in the washing machine, which it will, or
suspiciously becomes lost after months of searching,
which you will help him do. He will recover
after a Ceremony of Loss and a new
gray t-shirt to break in.

Numerous times, you will want to express your
disapproval about it and the others
like it. But the trick is to be passive,
accept his attire, because it’s your guy’s
connection to his past, and if there’s one thing
you shouldn’t do, it’s damage that. There’s a larger
purpose for old, torn tshirts than you can realize - even he
doesn’t completely understand it, so don’t
engage him in a conversation about it.
You wouldn’t want him questioning you
about your purses, now,
would you?