The Adventures of a 35yo (Alcohol) Virgin

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hit counter At 35 years old, I had never tasted, tried or drank an alcoholic drink of any kind. During 2012 that all changes drink by drink and you get to enjoy the results post by post.

Permalink The sweet burn of fine southern strawberry moonshine as experienced with the No Call No Show Podcast boys - pt.2 

Where we shamelessly discuss the band Creed, the perverse notion of “human clay”, how Michael’s mom actually listens to these shows (much like my own mom) and more general alcohol adventure highjinks. 

Oh and I get slightly introspective and sappy. But fuck that shit, right? Damn moonshine getting me all mushy and crap.

I’m currently (literally) on the road to Ohio where I will be completing about 4 more final drinks on the Adventure so be looking forward to those. I’ll also be posting my special “pregnant” edition of my “The Co-worker” final 10 post… get ready for that one.

Until then enjoy pt.2 of the No Call No Show Podcast: 
http://nocallnoshow.podbean.com/2012/12/19/ncns-episode-68-pt2-strawberry-midnight-moonshine 

Cheers and Happy Holidays!!!
Ben
Permalink Junior Johnson’s Strawberry Midnight Moonshine12.9.2012The No Call No Show PodcastDoes everyone hate their voice on the radio? Yeah? Ok good, then I’m not alone. Auuugh, I hate hearing my wretched voice recorded. Insanely.That aside, feel free to enjoy my husky, squeeky scratch of a voice on my 2nd (and final?) visit with the No Call No Show guys, Daniel and Michael, HERE where we chatter on their podcast on about a dozen or so topics in this Pt.1 of a upcoming 2-parter coming out later this week.  Topics such as my first hangover, what I’ve learned about myself while involved in this insane little drinking project, the shame of knowing Creed songs, how many times I can drop the f-bomb in a conversation and much, much more.Oh, and we tried my very first—but I’m sure not last—taste of moonshine as we drank a little of Junior Johnson’s Strawberry Midnight Moonshine. SIDENOTE: Did you know that Junior Johnson was not only a famous moonshiner, but also one of the pioneers of NASCAR? Did you have any idea that moonshine was even connected to NASCAR? I bet you’re not shocked, but it’s all packed in the podcast. I love hanging out with Daniel and Michael. As one of my final drinks on the Adventure, I just couldn’t pass up another chance to sit down with them. They’re just fantastic guys with a great show and it’s always a pleasure spending time chatting about alcohol, DC and general bullshit with them. So enjoy Pt.1 of the podcast and my eye-watering reaction to some delicious strawberry moonshine. Classy, people. We’re always keeping it fucking classy.Cheers to the final 10…BenPS: Just wrapped my winter drink, “The Co-Worker” with my good buddy Anna at the POV rooftop bar at the W Hotel, overlooking the amazing views of historic DC. I’ll be putting that blog out later this week, as well as Pt.2 of this moonshine blog with the No Call No Show guys.
Permalink Bloody Maria & Eggnog 12.2.2012 No, not at the same time; I had them both a few hours apart. Don’t worry. It’s been a while, but if you’ll recall, my last drink prior to these two were during the massive bar crawl/drunken/hangover event from a few weeks ago. So, while nursing my very first—and terrible—hangover, I was promising God I would never drink again (not my first holy lie…) when Joe reminded me that we were due for brunch with our friends Amanda & Noah where I remembered there would be champagne and tequila. Oh and juices. It is brunch and all… So, I crankily poured myself into some jeans and a sweater and we fuzzy-headed over to brunch. There were pancakes, eggs, a few lbs of bacon, sausage and my first Bloody Maria. If you’re not familiar, a Bloody Maria is a Bloody Mary made with tequila instead of vodka. And between you and me, far better.The tequila adds a little something. A little sweetness, a little richness, a hint of tangy earthiness. I loved it. Noah also stirred in some fantastic spices made for Bloodies that really offered a bit of a peppery punch. Between the pepper and the sweet notes of the tequila, it really created some damn fine balance to offset the rich, creamy salty acidity of the Bloody tomato mixer. Seriously, truly fantastic.If you’ve never ventured to try Mary’s Mexican sister, you need to. At least once. I won’t tell Mary. Either will Maria. We promise.Thanks to Noah for the Bloody and to Amanda for the delicious, headache-curing brunch spread. It was the proper way to continue my weekend-long drinking streak and kick off Sunday just right.So with a little more pep in our walk, we headed back home after brunch, where Joe and I quickly fell into bed, only to take a very long nap. For what it’s worth, you should know that for me, typically, anything less than 2 hours is what I call a “snooze”. A nap implies at least 2-3 hours of blissful, restful dreaming. Don’t give me that look. I’m a hyperactive adult. The world gets a break when I take a nap. I should literally get paid to take naps. They’re good for everyone.So almost 4 hours later, Joe and I awoke only to realize we had kinda slept through the front end of our next drink & meal adventure with our good friends and blog regulars, Courtney & Jordan. You might recall that I’ve had a few drinks with Courtney & Jordan… at least 4-5 of them. Maybe more. They’re great Adventurists. I’m glad they were able to make a post for my final set of drinks. So, in anticipation of spending time with them that evening, I had made a crock-pot of buffalo chicken chili.  Wait. Stop. This is not a food blog. BUT… if it was. I would tell you the exciting tale of how ridiculous amazing this chili was. Dear lord. Hot, steaming, tangy-spicy buffalo chicken chili, complete with creamy blue cheese crumbles, fresh chopped carrots and celery, salty corn chips and cooling, zesty ranch dressing for toppings. But, again. Not a food blog. Sorry.So Jordan was kindly on deck to make homemade eggnog, complete with whiskey. So once we finally go there we were excited to see that Courtney’s sister Emma was there too to enjoy the night with us. Like her sister and brother-in-law, she’s just good, fun people.We ate delicious chili, played Scattergories and kinda sucked at Catchphrase and then we enjoyed some damn fine homemade eggnog.I LOVE eggnog. Always have. Always will. So rich and creamy, spicy and cool. I just can’t get enough. I don’t care about the brand, the time of year, I just want to drink my weight in this stuff. So I had no doubt that Jordan’s would be great, let alone the inclusion of one of my very favorites: whiskey. I was correct. So very correct. You could tell it was homemade, it was so fresh and rather light for being so rich. The whiskey was permeating the smell and the taste in the most fantastic way. It added a warmth I hadn’t anticipated but welcomed. It added some caramely notes that played will with the spices. It was pretty strong and it was a long, boozy weekend, otherwise, I would have asked for more than one glass. My mind was telling me yes, but my body was telling me no. So I only enjoyed one wonderful glass, but (and know this Jordan) I’m going to want more. Soon. Maybe even in the summer. So keep that family recipe handy. You’re not done yet. Sorry. But consider this your fair warning.At this point in the day, in the weekend, even with a 4 hour nap, my body was telling me to fuck myself. My liver has stopped speaking to me for hours now. My head was just fuzz. Fuzzy fuzz fuzz, actually. The hand, my arm, my elbow to my shoulder were all actually sore from all the lifting of drinks to my lips.My lips, actually, was the only one who was fine. Tongue too, I suppose. But the rest of my body had a meeting and overruled those two. Rather quickly. Poor things. Never had a chance.So we headed home and then poured myself out of my clothes into my birthday suit (you’re welcome visual thinkers!) and then back into the loving arms of my bed.The next day at work everyone would ask “How was your weekend!?” And I’d just grunt, smile and say “…far too boozy. thanks. yours?”  Some of them would smile. Some of them would shake their heads as a secret sort of handshake. All of them were amused.I like to amuse others. But my liver seems to hate the limelight. That’s Hollywood for ya.Cheers,BenPS: My final podcast with the No Call No Show boys came out yesterday and I’ll highlight the show and the post sometime tomorrow. Be looking for that.  I also enjoyed a wintery drink with “The Co-Worker” (my friend Anna) as one of my last drinks on the Adventure yesterday at one of the coolest, hottest and most beautiful bars in all of DC. Be looking for that post early next week. Until then…
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Radio Moonshine, Radio Ga Ga.

I’m pretty pumped right now. I’m about to head over to Nanny O’Briens shortly to tape my 2nd and final podcast show over at the No Call No Show with the chatty bartending boys, Michael & Daniel.  This is one of the final 10 I named “The Co-Hosts”.

My first visit was a great one (a 2-parter no less) and they asked me to come by one final time to talk drinking, blogging, and madness over my first taste of moonshine.

Dear lord, please let it be fruit flavored. With a beer back. And a juice chaser.

I’m bringing a toothbrush.

So I’ll let you all know when the podcast drops, but this is a great opportunity to catch up on some of my older posts and to hear my terrible radio voice. And by terrible I mean, not horrible, but I doubt anyone is going to call me to do voice-over or book-on-tape work. *sigh*

Cheers,
Ben

Permalink My first Bar Crawl - My first Public Drunkenness - My first HangoverHey, so please don’t make me recount ALL the drinks. Some, sure. But all 9-10? I just… I just can’t. Partially because I can’t remember and partially because I’m just not strong enough.And come’on, that’s not really why you’re here. You’re here because you probably heard that I not only attended my first pub crawl, and had 11 drinks in one single night—within 3 hours, actually—but… wait for it… a little longer… got drunk and then had my very first hangover.Let’s take a moment. I’m 36 and I got truly, honestly, solidly drunk for the first time and then—for me—thought I was going to kinda die on a Sunday morning. Not die-die, but wanted to kinda die. But let’s back this up a little and start around 6pm last Saturday night. Oh, come’on, indulge me.6:00pm - There I was, all decked out in my tacky Christmas sweater t-shirt (they make those now) and getting ready to walk down with Joe and the cousins to the Annual Official Tacky Christmas Sweater Bar Crawl in the DuPont Circle are of DC. It was a really mild night so I barely even needed a jacket.The night’s set-up is pretty simple: 11 bars and restaurants with drink specials all night for registrants. You get a wristband, a tacky plastic stein, and a map with all the bars and specials to enjoy from 6pm-2am. One fee and then no cover charges, food and drink discounts and hundreds of idiotic patrons wearing their Christmas worst, standing far too close, talking far too loud.7:30pm - Ok, so first we stopped at The Front Page to check in and get our jeery cheer items. Then it was on to James Hoban’s Irish Restaurant for a pint of Coors and their special “Christmas Shot”. The Coors was ok, kinda bland but still nicely cool and malty. It was a nice chugging beer—we had lots of places to hit, you know. And the shot was this weird mix of cranberry and firewater. Smooth but scorching, quick and tasty.Moving on, we then quickly hit up the next bar, DC Bread & Brew. Ok, we were in the basement. A basement that I can only describe as a highschool middle class basement. It smelled kinda musty, was over filled and the music was far, far to loud, albeit very fun to dance to.  It was here that I had drinks #3 & #4. A delightful cinnamon infused whiskey and coke and my first cherry vodka jello shot. The shot just tasted like tangy jello, but that infused cocktail?! Holy crap. SOOO good. So good. Spicy and smooth and rich and almost creamy. I loved that one. It was very Christmasy.Yes, Christmasy.8:30pm - And then it was on to drink #5, place number 3: the Irish Whiskey Public House. Here they had their “Christmas Cocktail”, made with—and don’t quote me—peppermint schnapps, chocolate vodka and Jäger. Just straight alcohol in a full tumbler. It tasted like an Andie’s Mint covered stick of licorice. I loved it. But by this point, I was apparently loving everything. The music, the artwork, that guy’s sweater, the peach smell of the urinal cakes. They smelled like real peaches when you pee’d on them! They were glorious. The night was super glorious. I mean, sure the ground was moving beneath my feet, but that’s normal right?! Woah, that wall just moved. Who cares! I love Tacky Christmas Bar Crawl! Where were we going next? Who cares! What are they serving?! I’m thirsty! So then we stopped into the Black Rooster where we got some mediocre nachos and I had two “shooters” or what I’d like to call, drinks #6 & #7. I remember loudly asking how shooters were different than shots and then just being glad they tasted like caramel apples. Mmmmmm. And what are THEY eating? That looks good over there. This music is great. Wait, this song SUCKS! Ugh. This dj sucks. Oh. I love this song. I have to pee. That bathroom doesn’t smell as nice, let’s get out of here…9:30pm - BOGO donuts and Krispy Kreme on the crawl?! Then let’s all buy 6! Yay! Nat and Chris loved this, Joe seemed indifferent. I want one of each. Oh, right, only 6. Ok. Hey, that guy has the same tacky Christmas sweater t-shirt as me! Lets get a picture! Where are we going now?! There are so many people SO MANY PEOPLE… what time is it, oh look those guys are dressed like Christmas trees… this night is awesome. I love Joe’s beard.DAmn, the Mad Hatter is a HUGE bar. Its all tiny outside and big and loud inside. I’ll take a vodka tonic, please. Drink #8. Mmmm, I love tonic. Ok, I’ll take another. This place is loud and busy. Oh, and the upstairs bar is being closed for a private party?! What?! That’s dumb. We have to leave? Whatever man. it’s cool. it’s cool. Whatevr.10:00pm - Oh my god, we are walking forever and I’m tired. What time is it? Where are we going? Oh, Maddy’s Bar & Grille. Oh fun, we’re meeting Nat & Chris’ friends Mike & Mary. They’re really nice. Are we still drinking? Ugh, they only have beer. I don’t want beer. I want a Tequila Sunrise. I want tequila. I love tequila. and it has a cherry! it’s hot in here. Yeah, I’ll take another. Did we order another? drinks #9 and #10? Maybe just #9? Who cares. ugh. why is it so hot? this t-shirt feels like a sweater. I’m so tired.Joe’s tired too, let’s grab a Uber and head home. I’m so excited to go home and see my bed. I love Joe. I need to tell him a few times. So he knows. So he never forgets. I love him.12:30am - I loooooove my bed. Love. Yay. Yay for my bed.ZZzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz…7:00am - oh. fuck. what. is. happening. to. me. ?I’m dying. So this is it. This is a hangover. Oh dear lord. Your head really does pound. It really, truly does. I always thought it was just a phrase. Oh god, I need to stop thinking about things. It hurts. What will make this end? Prayer? Water? Coffee? More prayer?Does it matter if I wager that “I’ll never do this again, Lord!”? I’ve never done it before. I’ll literally never probably do it again, honestly. What else can I barter to make me less nauseous and for the room to stop spinning? The cats? My first born? My ability to whistle in perfect pitch? I’m game. Make it stop.Make. it. stop. Please. Water, vitamins, Advil, water; repeat. This was my breakfast. I’m not sure what else to say. It was pretty terrible. I felt my age. I mean, look, between my adult acne, my teenage-like swearing, pudgy dimples and hyperactive demeanor I often look like and feel like a much younger man. But that morning I was feeling 36, going on 80. That crap gets into your joints, your brain, and your brain. Oh, and into your brain.It was craptastic. Seriously, never again. NEVER AGAIN. Oh. We’re having brunch in a few hours with friends? Mimosas and Bloody Mary’s you say? Ok, let me get some more water, a Advil chaser and throw on some fresh clothes.I hope there’s pancakes.Cheers,BenNEXT UP: My first brunch Bloody Maria (tequila instead of vodka) and an evening with friends later that night to enjoy my first homemade eggnog w/ whiskey. Nope, I’m not evening kidding.
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The pub crawl into hangover blog is coming… not tonight, but it’s coming. Dear lord, I’m going to re-live it for you. Are you happy now?!  Well, are you?! Huh?!

Jerks.

Permalink Try not to be too shocked, but it’s looking like I will be adding a few more pours & pounds to my final 10 drinks, which, if you know anything about math, means it’ll be more than 10 final drinks before this is all over.Stupid math.Yay for you, boo for my liver. In addition, I’ve already made a few adjustments to my final drinks. For one, I’m adding another friend to one of my final drink lists, that I’m now referring to as “The Author & The Artist” - bringing two of my high school friends together for one big drinkfest in my high school hometown of Bumfuck, Ohio. Only they could drag me back. And that’s saying something.Also, I’m adding a final drink with Jamie from the Blue Banana, as he’s been such a huge supporter and good friend. I’m letting him make me one last crazy-ass drink. ...What am I thinking?And there is talk of spiked eggnog this weekend with friends… a drink with some stalkers… drinks with my cousins… so yeah, the math is winning.  Stupid math.Cheers,Ben
Permalink Smirnoff Ice Raspberry BurstThe Final 10 Adventures“The Sibling”With my drinking Adventure coming to a close, it was time to kick off my final ten drinks with my oldest sister, Elizabeth. She’s been a huge fan of the blog and of this project since the very beginning and it had basically been a year since we’d seen each other so sharing a drink over the Thanksgiving weekend was basically going to be both the first and last chance during the year this was going to happen.And so, I bring you… my first drink of Smirnoff Ice Raspberry Burst. Yep. I got my ice’ on. We both just wanted something delicious and fun. We were in a great mood, it was the Saturday after Thanksgiving and it was the evening at a dinner of chili dogs, baked beans and mac&cheese. Wine just didn’t seem right.If you’ll indulge me, let me back it up about 33 years. It was 1979 and I was loving life. I was 2, milk and gas were super cheap, politics were simple… and then she came along. Mess’n everything up and stuff. My stupid sister. I mean, yeah, she was cute and tiny and sweet, and she made me the big brother of the house, but that’s not the point. I mean we had a dog.  I was kinda like a big brother to him, so she was kinda unnecessary. I mean, right? Right.So when life hands you lemons, as they say. So flash forward a couple of years, parents divorce, aunts move in, life gets a little more complicated and it brings my sister and I closer together because in a weird way we only had each other. We learned to cope together and it forever bonded us.Life is sometimes a funny mix of circles. Through the years my sister and I kept falling in and out of friendship, in and out of circles within our lives. Elementary school to high school, college to post-college, in our early 20’s and now in our mid 30’s. We had some rocky years and some great years. In the past decade, we’ve both had exciting, significant changes in our lives and we’ve grown together through them.We’ve both gotten married, we’ve both purchased homes, we’ve both moved out of state and started a series of new personal, educational and career adventures. So much in common, but as my mom likes to point out: Elizabeth beat me to starting a family. However, I still swear my 2 cats are like children minus the back-talk, midnight feedings and diaper changes. All in due time… all in due time…So in a way, my sister is my original best friend, good times and bad, happy times and sad, she’s always been there. So—without a very doubt—she needed to join me on the Adventure. Like most of my family, my sister has always been an avid, unquestioning supporter of my lack of drinking. I never needed to explain anything to her. She was always just cool as hell. Just like when I started this blog, she was super supportive, totally cool about it, big fan.And so it was time for our drink. “What do you want to drink?”“I don’t care, something tasty. Something fun.”“Oh my god, I have some Smirnoff Ice! I have one left!”“Oh yes, this is happening yes! We can share!”Like I said, hotdogs and beans. I poured my sister about an inch worth in her mason jar and enjoyed the rest of the bottle myself. You know, I was totally surprised by this drink. It virtually didn’t have even a hint of alcohol. It tasted like a watery raspberry snowcone. It was pretty badass. I could have drank an entire 6pack and not blinked. It was thirst quenching, highly sweet, nicely fresh and a hint of citrus tartness that really made it quite summery on this cold, post-Thanksgiving Saturday. Would I buy another again? Not proudly, but yeah, probably. Why lie. It was like my first Mike’s Hard Lemonade, super tasty and thereby super re-drinkable.My sister mentioned that the Mango and Raspberry flavors were the best. And I have no doubt. In fact, I’m sure that when my sister, brother-in-law and niece come visit DC this spring, I’ll have at least one 6pack stocked in the fridge.  Get ready, Elizabeth.So cheers to my once yucky, often bratty, and now awesome sister and original best friend, Elizabeth. This drink wasn’t just with you, but for you. Love & Cheers,Ben
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Final 10, a preview

Holy crap! The final 10 drinks on the Adventure have been decided! I’ve reached out to just about everyone and barring any changes in the wind or travels, I present to you in no particular order (but the final drink, #1)…

10. The Author & The Artist-  sharing a drink (or two) with two of my good high school buddies, one a famous author friend and the other a local artist and country lady.

09. The Roommate - sharing a drink with my first college roommate, who tried many many times to get me to drink.

08. The Sibling - sharing a drink with my sister, my original best friend.

07. The Co-Worker - sharing a drink with a former co-worker, and deep-thinking, fun loving DC friend.

06. The Co-Hosts - sharing a final drink with the No Call No Show drinking DC podcast boys for another riveting installment of comedic conversation.

05. The Sweetness - sharing a drink with one of the sweetest, kindest, funniest friends I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

04. The Father - sharing a drink with my father, the man from whose loins I was borne.

03. The Buddy Crush - sharing a drink with a good buddy who I used to have a major crush on back before we were both happily married men.

02. The Mystery Guest - sharing a drink with someone that will even be a mystery to me until the moment it happens.

01.  The Husband - sharing my final drink for the blog with my husband & best friend; it’s a repeat, but of the finest of qualities to say goodbye to the Adventure.

I hope you’ll join me for the final 10 posts; the drinking countdown begins this Thanksgiving. It’s going to be quite the crazy bubbly wrap-up. I think I’m actually going to welcome getting a little buzzed from some of these upcoming posts, no lie.

Cheers,
Ben

Permalink 10 To Go: The Final Countdown…”They speak of my drinking, but never think of my thirst.”  ~Scottish ProverbSelf promotion is kinda gross. I’m not going to lie to you and suggest this year-long drinking adventure was exclusively about the alcohol itself. I was a unique, fun vehicle to support my desire to write and connect with others while doing something noteworthy and hopefully entertaining. “Are you done with writing the blog? I really liked reading it.” A frequent, mixed company question these days. On one hand the question is jarring. People are really reading this? On the other, it’s flattering. People are really reading this.I was fully invested. 100+ drinks in, I was a machine. Drink, write, post; repeat. And then I was writing about scotch. And I hit a wall. I can’t quite explain it. The drink was decidedly different than others, but I felt like I was writing about the same damn thing. Over and over. And fucking over. And it caught up with me, this writing new things about a very similar subject matter, week after week, drink after drink, post after post.A good writing friend of mine, Virginia (a well-known published author), had applauded me early on with a forewarning, suggesting that taking on the challenge of writing about the same subject over and over can become mind-numbing. Virginia - I thank you for this not only because when it happened, I felt comforted by knowing I wasn’t just losing a battle with myself, but because when I started to feel the numbing set in, I felt prepared. Now look, that is not to say I was not fully interested and invested in trying to finish this thing. I most certainly was. am. will? Anyway… But given the grand appeal alcohol has with the general public everyone (but apparently not me for so many, many years), the Adventures of a 35yo Alcohol Virgin was an opportunity wrapped in an experience and then fried in public interest. Mmmmm.And apparently the oil is still hot, and the opportunity still ample, but I’ve run out of batter. Wait. No, yeah, I’ll use that. I’m going with batter. Smirk and wince as you may.I fancy myself a writer, you see. I’ve been writing for many many years, but quietly, painstakingly and sometimes with regrets. I’ve been writing/re-writing/editing the same novel for 16 years, I’ve worked on penning and developing half a dozen children’s books, sketched notes for a few screenplays, have written scores of poetry, short stories, and I’ve even been known to write comedic headlines and pop-cultural jokes on occasion… but all in a private little fog.Why am I sharing this? I’m weird about my writing. I’m proud of much of it, but scared to show it. It’s become almost too personal. I’m too attached. I’m worried about what you’ll think. Exercising my inner alcohol virgin has helped changed that.Forcing myself to turn a blog around in less than 24 hours most of the time was life-changing. No, seriously. I’m a toiler with my writings, my art.  I write then edit, then write then edit, then edit, then re-write, then edit. Then completely start over with the same concept in a 3rd person or with a new tone or a brand new composition… and then edit again.This was forcing me to be real-time-oriented. To be real and raw and honest in a very different way knowing that I was doing something new, but knowing you were going to read this forced me to be real and raw and honest because this information wasn’t new to you. Bourbon tastes caramely, like burnt cola, the sweetest of burns but packs a punch in your sinuses that hints a cherry, tobacco and copper, but then it’s gone like a whisper.YOU know this. I’m just learning, sharing. I had to trust myself and write what was really happening and not make up a story from my head. And for me, that’s hard.Anyway.“Are you done with writing the blog? No. There will be 10 new, final drinks between now and January 1st, 2013. Ten final drinks with 10 people. Friends, family and maybe even a stranger or two. Who knows. I’m already planning a few specific ones. But these final 10 will be drinks I have not had yet and they will be written by me, sharing the drink but also a few notes about who I’m having them with, our mutual experience and the bond this drink is creating.The final 10. The final countdown. 126 drinks in total. And then it’s on to something different. I don’t know what. School for sure, maybe a new writing project. Hell, maybe I’ll finally finish my children’s book The Underground Flower. I don’t know. And quit giving me that look. Back off. I’m thinking…So, they’re coming—the final 10. I have a month and a half to get this done. Lordy. I hope you’ll join me for the final few. I’m excited to do this and happy to end this in all the right ways.Cheers,Ben
PS: Oh! And I’m going back to adding photos of me drinking the drink for the final 10. It’s the least I can do. I know you miss seeing my ruddy fucking face.
Permalink Oh lord, I’ve just been identified in a post… Ok, ok, heading to an awesome Oktoberfest at a friend’s for the weekend were I will have tried a few new beers for the blog and I’m 2 posts behind on a Bud Lime post (what, no one’s begging for that one?!) and one on a bourbon drink at the last Yappy Hour.  I’m slacking, forgive me.See you all on Sunday… (PS: my Birthday is Sunday… and no, I’m not changing my blog to the Adventures of a 36yo Alcohol Virgin…)
Permalink 12 year Scotch(clears throat) Webster’s Online Dictionary defines “sophisticated” as of a person, ideas, tastes, manners, etc. altered by education, experience, etc., so as to be worldly-wise; not naive.Uh huh.And yet 100+ drinks into this project and I would still argue I don’t feel sophisticated.  I could chalk it up to my love for fruity drinks, perhaps. But also I think it’s because I’m a little afraid of the drinks on the more, adult side of the spectrum. You’ll note I haven’t had a proper Martini yet. Nor a Manhattan. Nor some of the stodgier wines. And while I feel fancy enough to use words like “nor”, I’ve been pretty quick to avoid items like Scotch, Brandy and Gin.On one hand, I could tell you “It’s like any other drinking; I’m working my way up, building an appreciation, trying to develop a sense of maturity and climax commonly associated with traditional drinkers about my age. This is all part of the plan.”But that would be a convenient lie.Would look great on paper. Would make me seem like I’m really building some method to my madness, but nope. Its not at all the truth. The truth is, I’m really intimated by these drinks. I’m deeply afraid I’ll hate them. And rooted in that fear is the anxiety that it’ll be a weird, uncomfortable reflection of my lack of maturity and sophistication in the form of alcoholic-preference.I know this sounds kinda dumb.  I’m well known for liking more than my fair share of fart jokes, reality television, kitten memes, cool ranch Doritos, and generic pop songs. So why care about this?But deep in my soul I sometimes want to connect deeply with things that perplex me. I spent 35 years actively avoiding this stuff. So now that I’m actively pursuing it, I want to really connect with it. Not down the rabbit hole, mind you. But from both an academic and engagement perspective I want to explore it and understand it and feel smart about it.And the fear that I might hate it—or worse—hate it because I can’t relate to it, kinda freaks me out. So. Here we are, and I’ve decided to really take this project to the next level and start to drink and explore a little more sophistication. A little more couth. Drinks that make me want to wear a monocle, smoke a pipe and train a monkey—who I call a butler—to fetch my dry cleaning and caviar. Look, I can’t get TOO sophisticated. I am me for fuck sake.So anyway, I started this next level in the Adventure by leaping forward and trying my first Scotch. Joe and I were out to a nice family dinner with our cousins Natalie & Chris at Againn. An upscale British restaurant, Againn had a really fantastic Scotch menu and I knew I needed to take full advantage.I asked our Waitress for a great, solid “starter Scotch”. Nothing too crazy, nothing too expensive. I wanted a proper freshman experience, of the college kind, not the high school variety.So I received a Macallan 12 year single malt Scotch. The smell was a delight. Fragrant, sharp, burnt caramel and pungent like gasoline, the Scotch had a sweet caramel, earthy smell—but I knew it wouldn’t be sweet.Pow! Right in the kisser! Shrewdly sharp on the forefront, it just slaps you like an open fist. Strong caramel, coffee, earthy fire in the middle, it ends beautifully with a leathery-smooth finish. There were touches of moss, and the lightest note of copper or tin in its wake, giving you one more reason to wince nicely. When I first saw the single finger in the glass, I was thinking I was getting ripped off. Nope. This is as manly as you can apparently feel while sipping a drink. Trust this. Granted, I’m still the virgin, but it lasted my entire meal.And I really like it. Really liked it. Had a bourbon/whiskey feel but with a few more layers, a few more beats. The alcohol had a more sturdy story to tell, not just a statement to make. It’s not an everyday drink, but it’s a celebration drink. Maybe a damn-this-was-a-long-ass week, drink.And it made me feel a little sophisticated. Slightly refined. But above all else, it made me feel confident. And it helped set the tone for a new leg of my journey. A chance to see how 35 years of age translates in both directions.That said, I mean look, I’m not giving up my kool-aide, milkshakes and Mountain Dew Code Red. I mean, come’on people. I’m growing, not dying.Cheers to adulthood, n’ stuff.Ben
Permalink LemondropAh, Friday night. So, to kick off the weekend, Joe and I were having a “couples night out” with several of his office work friends and their significant others. Most of the group were completely new to me—outside of the occasional brief introduction at prior work events. We started the night by heading over to Poste at the Hotel Monaco. But several of the folks were concerned the drinks would be too expensive, the atmosphere too fancy, the place too upscale hipster. Totally a fair assessment.Ok, no problem, right?  So where next?…35minutes later after naming every bar in a 1 mile radius followed by a “eh.” or “meh.” or “no…” we all decided cheap drinks were key, low noise was a plus and someplace close was necessary.Joe and I—kinda as a joke in consideration of all the requests—asked “What about McCormick & Schmick’s?” And they all said yes.You are correct, we are to blame. I know this now.Oh, are you familiar with M&S? It’s fine. Honestly. Its a much nicer chain than Red Lobster—but not half as fun. But they’re still pretty hit or miss. And they over-charge and often under-deliver on portions and quality. But again, it’s fine.And as a mid-up-level chain, it was pretty dead on a Friday night in downtown DC. We were seated all together and it was quit, but those were the highlights. They run a end of the night “happy hour” featuring food and drinks so hopes were high for cheap too, but… well…Ok, so first things first. Their drink & cocktail menu is odd. On one hand they don’t seem to really feature classics. Instead they seem to feature classics with a house-twist. But as it’s a chain and not it’s own unique place, each house drink was something like HoneyRita® - Made with Jose Cuervo® tequila, SueBee® honey-flavored vodka and a splash of soda water, you’re going to be buzzing about it. Wait, what?Everything was just a bit off. Where it just wasn’t an odd mixture, it was an terrible sounding one. They also had loads of standard and upscale liquors and mixers, but that’s not a shock.The table ordered a round of drinks and a few things to munch on. But not before the Waitress—who, lord help her, was taking care of our entire section alone—mentioned that one of the bartenders was a trainee.A trainee on a Friday night? Then again, its not like the place was hopping. But alright, at least we were warned.In retrospect, that warning helped save her credibility.Half of the drinks that came to the table looked off. And apparently tasted off. Joe’s and a few others experienced drinks they called “tasteless.”, “weak.” and “literally like nothing.”  There were several returns, re-orders and new orders placed. I kept it simple and ordered my first Lemondrop martini. Simply made with vodka, tripple sec, superfine sugar and fresh lemon, it’s a classic. This one pushed the lemon envelope a bit and had Citron vodka as its base. Smart.It was straight lemon fruit juiciness—even with a touch of pulp. Bright, tart, sweet and slightly sharp, it had a nice burn from the vodka heightened by the fresh lemon zing. It was really refreshing, nicely upscale and adult, nothing dramatic but very pleasant. It was an adult lemonade, more class and sass than a Mike’s Hard Lemonade, but admittedly less fun. Rimmed with sugar and served with a lemon wedge, it was just shy of great and bordered on pedestrian. But I enjoyed it nonetheless. I’m starting to realize that I’m craving balance from my drinks. I like sweet over not, but I need depth. I’m relating to alcohol like I relate to hot sauce: I need flavor and heat. And I’ll take flavor over sting every time, but their marriage is my sweetspot. I like the brown and yellow liquors because they have something more to offer: flavor, depth, layers, personality. The clearer the liquid, the more boring the beast, I’m afraid.[note: also, this is not necessarily a political statement.] The reminder of the experience was just as run of the mill. The bartender never seemed to find his footing—each drink ordered by the same people looked different from one another and the alcohol levels and mixers were consistently off.Adding to that people still getting a bit drunker, louder, more impatient and it starts to get increasingly awkward for everyone. Thankfully, we had decided to head over to another bar before things got too tense.  We all agreed we paid too much and were underwhelmed. But I clearly got enough to keep the blog moving and for what it’s worth, that’s perfectly good for me. ha. So sorry, M&S, you were pretty substandard, even for a chain. But thanks for a perfectly solid Lemondrop. And while everyone else felt cheated by their swill, mine gets immortalized.Oh life. What a wonder, am I right?Cheers, Ben
Permalink [ _______________ ]One of the greater pleasures in spending a certain amount of time at the Blue Banana is owner Jamie’s interest in my drinking journey. This interest spans from being the gracious host to my charity events to friendship, having an alcohol-insider to talk shop with and without-a-doubt: trying new-fangled drinks. Jamie is always presenting me a idea he’s kicking around or inviting me to try something we just concoct right on the spot. Some of my very original favorite drinks have come from Jamie’s mind and out of the Blue Banana’s bar: The Puptail, Stinger and the Georgia Avenue Punch to name a few. All crafty little drink blessings that if you ever visit my favorite DC drinking haunt, you need to check them out (ask for 2 Stingers, you’re going to order a second anyway…)So, Joe and I were catching up with our cousins and their dog Maybee, hanging out on the back patio of the bar this past Thursday when Jamie asked me what I’d like to drink. Just recently back from my August hiatus, I wanted something fun and original. Something that kinda bridged the gap between summer and fall. We talked through a couple of options and then Jamie’s inspiration caught fire: he mixed some Hubert’s Lemonade brand Cherry Limeade, some fresh lime and some housemade cherry infused Southern Comfort. SIDENOTE: So, did you know that Southern Comfort isn’t actually whiskey? Yeah, no, it’s actually an American liqueur made from natural spirits with fruit, spice and whiskey flavorings. Hm. I found that interesting. Also, the lowest proof you can get is 70 US proof. Or 35% alcohol. I mention this, because I want to accurately describe the flavor of this drink Jamie made. Have you ever had a cherry limeade. A really good one, homemade, strong lime bite, rich cherry flavor, sweet while also tart. Cool, refreshing, summery but grounded?  Yeah, well exactly.No. See, that was it. That was this drink. Exactly. A really good, really tasty cherry limeade. Cold, crisp, sweet, delicious… but that was it.Sorry, let me explain. I watched Jamie add the cherry-infused SoCo. It was at least a 2 finger pour. A double shot. And then the juice. And then the fresh lime.It tasted only/just like a cherry limeade.So. At first I thought, “oh, damn. too bad, I wanted to taste some whiskey.” And then the drink was so nice otherwise, I didn’t really care. And on the first few sips, I had thought about going back to joke with Jamie that someone’s been watering down his SoCo.But you see, work has been really busy, and when it’s busy I don’t always remember to eat lunch. So I hadn’t really had anything since my breakfast shake 12 hours earlier.So halfway through the drink I didn’t need to wonder any longer if those two fingers of SoCo were potent enough. They were presenting themselves as so all on their own rather nicely. I was getting slightly light headed and I could feel the fuzzy, amusing onslaught of 70 proof on an empty stomach. All to the tastebuded tune of an unassuming fresh squeezed cherry flavored limeade.That shit is dangerous. So here is the thing. This drink needs a proper name. Jamie didn’t have one off hand and I’m struggling to come up with one. Cherry Bomb already exists, otherwise it would be a contender, trust you me. So I’m asking you for help. You’re welcome to visit the Blue Banana and ask to try one yourself, or by all means I’m sure you’ve had a cherry limeade on your own and can create a taste-related mental picture. This drink is a straight ninja. And it needs a proper name.So please let me know if you have one here. If we pick yours and you’re local, I’ll even toss in a prize. This drink needs to go on their menu and for once I’d like to contribute to the local cannon of the drinking world—even if I get to exploit my readers a bit. This is your chance to take a moment to ride my strange little coat tails to get a little fame yourself. Help me name this drink. Cheers,Ben
Permalink Four LokoI’m a social creature. I like my alone time and using the bathroom with the door closed and listening to my ipod via headphones, but 98% of the time, I’m a very social creature. This is the appeal of the blog, twitter and certainly facebook. Tools I like to use to joke with, interact with and get feedback on the fly.  So, you know… when I ask a question on twitter like “hey what should I drink now that I’m back off the wagon?” and I don’t get any responses?  I make bad decisions. And you’re to blame. Yes, you. You are to blame for Four Loko. You. Not me. You. You know, I remember the scuttlebutt around Four Loko a while back with it’s apparent appeal to kids and it’s fun fruit flavors and bright colors and tall, fun can. They were billing themselves more as energy drinks than alcoholic drinks, apparently. So they were sued and had to change everything. And by everything they put “contains alcohol” in 16pt bold font and removed the caffeine. Oh yes, I can see where this fixed everything. It’s very adult now. I totally see that.So as I was in Lion’s Liquor & Spirits deciding between lemonade, blue raspberry and fruit punch, I was also trying to figure out where but at a paintball park their hypercolor camouflage cans would blend. Maybe a clown murder scene? Yeah, that seems right.    I settled on watermelon. Again, you are to blame. 24oz of light pink liquid, 12% alcohol. So, yes, it’s not a kid’s drink. It’s barely a responsiblie adult’s drink. Oh wait. Are you a Juggalo or a pedophile or a 42yo recently divorced guy that’s trying to wear skinny jeans and impress his teenage kids with the drinks in his fridge?  Then, I’m sorry. My apologies. This drink is totally for you. This drink was damn near made for you. It smelled like someone poured gasoline into a watermelon. But in a good way? The watermelon flavor was like Hubba-Bubba gum watermelon: sweet, lush, fake, syrupy and delicious. The alcohol sneaks up on you. It’s highly malty, tangy and bold in it’s yeasty finish. Just shy of refreshing if it didn’t have that karate chop to the throat. As I was drinking it, at home, just chilling with the husband, Joe suggested to keep our eyes peeled for NBC Dateline’s Chris Hansen to show up at our side door, compete with tv crew, asking me why I was here and if my parents were home.No such entertaining luck. Just a quickly warming can and a slight buzz brewing after just 1/3rd into this firstdrink. This stuff sneaks up on you. And I’m a 200lb+ grown man. But no regrets. Well, some regrets. But again—I stress—if only people had suggested something, anything, I would have maybe made a better decision. So I need your suggestions. I’m 4 months away from ending this little goofball project. So send me your best suggestions!  I’m for-sure trying Heineken this weekend, but anything after that leading up to December 31st is still up for grabs outside of the 100+ drinks I’ve already tried since January. And I’m done with Four Loko. Well, pretty sure. There is rumor they have a sour-apple flavor. I’m not going to lie… no you know what? I’m AM going to lie. That sounds terrible. I’m never going to try it. Ever. Gross. (this is all your fault)Cheers my friends, BenPS: Hiatus over! From now until next year, I’m going to get in my 2-4 new drinks a week and blog blog blog. If you were hoping to share a drink & a story with me to try or together, let me know. Half the fun of this project is sharing the favorite drinks with friends and family.