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 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
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.
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Don’t fret…

Tomorrow is September. Which means my August break-from-drinking is over. To celebrate I’m drinking a watermelon Four Loko as we speak. Oh yeah, I’m coming back strong. And clearly drunk at 23.5oz and 12% alcohol. I’m already kinda buzzed 1/4th in. Oh lord, I’m fucking back, people. I’m coming back tomorrow. Brace for impact.

Four Loko blog post tomorrow. Get. Excited. Now. Or don’t. But you should. Again, or don’t. But do.

Cheers, Ben

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Forgive my little hiatus…

… I just needed a break from myself and the drinking. Nothing major, I’ve just written about 100+ posts in 7+ months and I felt like I was repeating myself, going a bit through-the-motions on several posts as of late and I needed to recharge a little. I’m not whining, but it’s kind of a bitch doing this much writing on a single subject. I’ve loved it, but it started to feel like work. And screw that, right?  Eh, I’m in a mood. So I’m resting up and then I’ll kick things back off with new drinks new stories and new awkward glimpses into my odd little life just before the start of September. I promise.

But in the meantime, I thought I quell any discontent and remind you of the 100 or so drinks I’ve enjoyed and a link to their stories at the bottom. I’m sure I’ve had a few of your favorites and several you might have never even heard of, complete with a silly, stirring or strange little story attached. And as always, if you notice a drink I should be having, make sure to send that suggestion my way. Your drunken choices are my future stories.

Cheers, my friends, cheers…

  • Champagne
  • mimosa
  • Bud Light
  • vodka & soda
  • sangria blanca
  • moscato wine
  • Corona w/ lime
  • Amaretto Sour
  • Yuengling
  • Chardonnay
  • Old Fashioned
  • Magic Hat #9
  • Kamazee shot
  • Woodchuck Amber Cider
  • Tom Collins
  • New Castle
  • Port(s)
  • Pabst Blue Ribbon
  • Sauvigon Blanc
  • Puptail
  • Pinot Noir
  • Samuel Adams Cherry Wheat
  • Hurricane
  • Merlot
  • Flaming Volcano
  • Fat Tire Amber Ale
  • Asahi Japanese Beer
  • Saki
  • BBC
  • Smoked Sour Apple
  • Nutty Rum
  • Guinness
  • vodka gimlet
  • Michelob Ultra
  • Gentleman Jack & coke
  • Killian’s Irish Red
  • Pimms Cup
  • Frozen Cobbler
  • Stinger
  • 4 Wines Flight
  • Cool Cucumber (Bloody Mary)
  • Stella Artois
  • Vanilla Cherry Coke
  • Butterynipple shot
  • Anchor Steam Beer
  • Bailey’s Irish Cream
  • Strawberry Daiquiri
  • Jager shots
  • Margarita
  • beesknees
  • Cuzco Punch Royale
  • 1924 Julep
  • Georgia Avenue Punch
  • Malbec
  • Frozen Blueberry Margarita
  • Smith Cross Road
  • Arabic Goose
  • Abita Purple Haze
  • RedBull & Vodka
  • Tecate
  • Patron XO Café
  • Sixpoint Sweet Action
  • Sixpoint Apollo
  • Sea Breeze
  • Dirty Saktini
  • Loose Cannon
  • Crown on the Rocks
  • Sex on the Beach
  • Pisco Sweet
  • Mai Tai
  • Budweiser
  • shot of Bulliet Burbon
  • DC Mule
  • Blue Moon
  • Paleorita
  • Peroni Beer
  • Limonchello
  • Jameson & Ginger
  • Gin & Tonic
  • 3 Olive Vodka’s Loopy
  • Summer Shandy
  • Boozy Rootbeer Float
  • Sangria Roja
  • HC Cooler
  • Three Day Weekend
  • Sam Adams Summer Wheat
  • Cuba Libre
  • Jungle Juice
  • Shot of Jameson
  • Rusty Screwdriver
  • Reisling Kabinet
  • French 8407
  • Aligator Piss
  • Belini Mojito
  • Sam Smith’s Organic Cider
  • Sweet Muscat Wine
  • Watermelon Mojito
  • Mike’s Hard Lemonade
  • Bushmill’s Irish Whiskey
  • Piglet
  • Capitol Hill Mimosa
  • Hurricane Zora


Check them ALL out here including fun photos of my Adventures so far, little side stories and additional notes in the Adventures Archive section of the blog. Enjoy! See you in September (just a few weeks away)…

Cheers, Ben

Permalink Hurricane ZoraMy entire life I’ve been surrounded by wild and wonderful women. In my early years I grew up in a home with 4 of them (my mom, sister, and my two aunts), I spent many a weekend with my Grandmother and cousin and so many of my teachers and best friends were smart, crazy ladies.As I got older, I found I was a wild and wonderful woman magnet. High school and college, work and volunteerism, some of the most amazing people I would meet and become great friends with were strong, smart, powerful—but often kinda crazy—women. [insert acknowledgement that I’m kinda crazy myself, it’s not necessarily a gender thing.]Even in my favorite literature, some of my very favorite writers and characters are strong, swift, sharp-tongued women with adventures to share. two of my absolute, very favorite writers of all time are Alice Walker and Zora Neale Hurston. Alice Walker, a more contemporary writer, is best known for (my very favorite book) The Color Purple, writes with a sense of rough-edged depth, emotion and rawness in her female characters that is almost unmatched.  I have read all her books, poetry and interviews and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid to write more if I wasn’t often haunted by knowing I’d never even be a 10th as good as the stuff Alice probably throws in her home office wastebasket.Ouch. I’ve never said that out loud before. Looks weird to read it. Sorry. And then there is Zora Neale Hurston, a pioneer in her time during the Harlem Renaissance, was a well known writer and folklorist in her own circles.  But due to some personal and historic mud-slinging, was almost lost to the great canonization of well known, well read authors until much after her death.  Then after her passing, finally becoming famous for (one of my most cherished books) Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora writes equally as a worldly worn woman and a highly skilled anthropologist of the human spirit’s condition. (sigh) You just have no idea how much I love these women. Moving on…And nothing has changed since being here in DC. Since moving here, I’ve been pleasantly overwhelmed by the women in this city who have wowed me, embraced me and become my friends and contemporaries. One of these amazing women is a the bright, charming, witty and wonderful Elizabeth. We met under strange—but very DC’esque—circumstances about a year ago when I was hired to power-through or potentially dismantle a local non-profit. It was a weird position to take. On one hand the Board had great hopes I could come and fix everything, on the other they knew it might be worse than they’d hoped. It was both. And they were just not ready for any real changes I was prepared to make and so it became clear we needed to close.  It was a very strange, very difficult, kinda dark 6 months. The only bright spot—glowing, glaring, shiny, luminescent—was the friendship, guidance and support of Elizabeth. Having had my job a few years back during the organization’s golden years, Elizabeth was hired on to assist as a consultant and contractor. Elizabeth is brilliant, funny, whip-smart, passionate, well-connected and well-loved. She’s kindly mothering and a shrewd wordsmith and confidant.  And to make a long story sort, she was helpful and soothing in just about every aspect of the highs and the lows. She was literally the calm in the storm. And during this time, she also became a good friend and thankfully a personal cheerleading squad. Lord knows I needed one. I’m not sure I can ever really thank her. I’m not sure she really knows how rough those 6 months were as a new guy in the big city trying to sort out the details of a hopeful mess driving 100mph off a financial and programmatic cliff. But I digress. (Forgive the remnants of something I’m still mentally sorting out from less than a year ago.)So all in all, she and I had thankfully become friends after all the madness, and I’m grateful for that.  Now, I’m not one to share others stories without their permission, but Elizabeth has recently sprung back like a fresh spring daisy from a recent and scary bout of cancer and subsequent aggressive treatment. And while we had talked and visited during this time, it was harder for her to make it out for meals and visits.So when it was finally time to have a proper dinner with my wonderful friend so we could catch up and she could finally meet Joey (I know, weird right, it was almost a full year from meeting her that she finally met Joe between our work, life and her health), I couldn’t think of a better place than Eatonville. A Zora Neale Hurston-themed southern soul food restaurant, and named for her hometown in Florida and one of the cities in her book, Their Eyes Were Watching God; it’s one of my very favorites in the city and for their food and drink.I love their drink menu for so many reasons, but mostly because it’s fun, inventive, southern and Zora-inspired. I opted for their house Hurricane Zora, made from Pyrat XO Gold Rum, passion fruit juice, orange juice and grenadine, it wasn’t my first hurricane on the Adventure, but it’s been the best.Sweet, lush, tropical and almost milky, the Hurricane Zora was just pure pleasure. It was southern sweet through and through and had a really nice solid medium rum kick offering a caramely note and some moderate alcohol sting. The fruit juices were fresh and honest and made the drink bright but still carried some proper heaviness with each sip lingering properly. An orange slice, a cherry on top and served in a handled mason jar, it made me want to go rocking on a swamp-front porch somewhere in the deep, sweet south. Not ironically, there are two areas in the restaurant that model this look with rocking chairs around a distressed table on a porch like setting at the back corner of the bar. Adorable. It was a sweet and delicious as the dinner, company and conversation. As I assumed, Joe and Elizabeth got along really well, both having found topics of mutual interest and carrying on conversation like old friends themselves. And having the opportunity to meet up with Elizabeth weekly in my first 7 months of friendship, it feels like forever when we don’t get to see each other but monthly these days. Oh, but that’s the reality of life, am I right? You never feel like you get to spend the time with loved ones that you’d like so you make the time together as wonderful and casual as possible. Good food, good drinks, great conversation and lots of laughter and raised voices. Someday, when I’m stupidly wealthy, I’ll pull all my wonderful and wild women friends together in some dramatic dinner event and sleep-over like Oprah (can you imagine? the pillow fights?). Until then I’ll just keep them all close and visit them often and enjoy their company when I can. Thank god for that.Cheers, Ben
Permalink Piglet Ah, another first visit to a new restaurant here in DC. Joe and I are kinda addicted to trying the new places, and especially the ones that give us pause. I present to you, The Pig. Yes, The Pig. Just as you’d assume, a place that specializes in snout-to-tail indulgence of the porky kind. They’d been open for a little over a month and we were walking home down 14th for a change and there it was. “I forgot this was open, already.” Joey stopped and commented. We stood there for a minute. So, as you might have picked up over the last few posts, we’d been really, really socially busy. We had come off a really packed, friend-intensive week and weekend and were just commenting how we were looking forward to walking home and just doing nothing. And yet the pull of The Pig was just too great to deny. It’s a really great little place, rustic, playful and nicely casual. They’re another fantastic restaurant from the EatWell DC line of haunts that also happens to have one of our very favorites, The Heights. We were excited to try the newest kid on the EatWell block.  The menu is mostly—ugh—small plates, but there are thankfully some entrees on the menu. And the menu was pretty playful with some form of pig product or truffle—get it?—on the menu except for a few “vegetarian” items and one plate of some pretty damn good buttermilk fried chicken.  Oh, I put “vegetarian” in quotes because if you’re literally a vegetarian for animal-right-social-political reasons, you might as well be a peanut-allergy suffer visiting the Snicker’s factory because you heard they had a variety that contained almonds. But I digress. Food aside, they had a pretty fantastic drink menu too.  I had a hard time picking just one thing for both my interest and the blog. But then I saw it: The Piglet. On their smaller, “tasting” menu, there were a few items for sampling. And namesake aside, the Piglet just sounded fun. Made with Crispin Hard Cider, Aperol Bitter Orange liquor, Lillet Blanc and cranberry anise bitters, the drink was cute and tiny but packed a punch.   Little, refreshing, nice and darkly fruity, the Piglet had this fantastic apple skin richness and crisp pear-like finish. It was tart bordering on bitter, but homey. And the drink had a rich alcohol flavor but some brightness from the Blanc and cider. I liked it. It was complicated yet rustic. It was an educated cider, like it had some college in its years.  A cider with an old soul?  Eh, you catch my drift. Oh, but—and you’ll note this is rare—even better than the drink of the night was the dessert. And no, it didn’t contain any alcohol. But it did contain blood. Yep. Pig’s actually—I know, shocker. Called the Sundae Bloody Sundae, it was chocolate & pig blood ice cream with ginger whipped cream, a brandy cherry and spicy bacon peanut brittle. It was like this rich fudge cream with all the delightful toppings in tow. You couldn’t taste the blood—bummer, kinda—but you could tell there was something different and richer, creamier. It worked. Well. I was impressed it was not only on the menu, but it was real and really good. The Pig. The Piglet. Sundae Bloody Sundae. Oh sure, they’re driving the theme hard, but not into the ground. Oh no, I’d never let anything from that kitchen or bar make it that far from my mouth. No worries. Now go… go and be Pig. You’ve been commanded. Cheers, Ben
Permalink Watermelon MojitoImpromptu date night with my husband! Why? Just because, actually. I’m an adult, I can do what I want, dammit. So we had a very fun, very long, long, long week a bit over a week back in terms of work and evening events. We had something going on every single night. Good things, fun things. Spending time with friends and family things. But we were busy!And finally, after 6 days in a row of hold-on-to-your-hat living, we were excited to have a Friday to ourselves to get home, put on pajamas and just chill. Watch some crap tv, lay on the couch. Do nothing. At least that was the plan. “I’m kinda hungry.”  (spoiler, we’re always hungry)Yeah? “Yeah. And we’re already in downtown. What do you want to do tonight.”I thought I already knew what we were doing. But you see, Joey, is rarely coy. By that I mean, he’s rather direct or just generally pretty quiet. So in his own playful way, he was trying to get me to consider a place for happy hour or someplace for dinner to kinda enjoy our first evening alone. “I just want to spend time with you and have a nice night.”It was so sweet. And I was actually up for having a little date night to ourselves instead of just going home, watching tv and eating Nutrisystem.Yes, Nutrisystem. Hey, say what you want, but between that and running a 5k every morning, I’ve lost 25lbs successfully and feel great. Joe’s lost 30lbs. We look pretty good. We want to look better. But that’s comes with time and dedication…Sometimes we like to be tourist in our own city. Sure, we’ve only lived in DC for a little under 2 years, but we travel the city often, we have friends and family out frequently, so we make the rounds pretty much every few weekend. But other than monuments and Smithsonians, we tend to steer clear of traditional tourist traps like massive national, thematic restaurants. But come’on… it’s me and Joe. We gotta ultimately try them all, am I right? Right.So we settled on a rather popular tourist spot, Cuba Libre on 9th. How do I put this? It’s the kinda restaurant that’s actually pretty great and food is pretty authentic, but it’s also the kinda place that’s heavily highlighted in In-Flight Magazine. Next to Playboy approved steak places and four star Brazilian meat-on-a-stick joints. Cuba Libre is a giant, heavily themed and tourist-heavy Cuban food and rum bar. The food was actually pretty damn good. We really loved everything we got including a more modern contemporary appetizer called El Chinito Cubano, or Cuban sandwich spring rolls. They are exactly what they sound like, except they taste like sweet, savory heaven.Fantastic food aside, the star of the night was a simple but delicious Watermelon Mojito. Cuba Libre had one hell of a mojito menu—complete with several levels of rum infusion and dozens of classic and modern variations. Nicely watermelon heavy, slightly minty, sweet and kinda salty, the mojito was a blast of summer love. It was delicious and refreshing, highly tangy, slightly acidic it had a borderline tropical flavor with the watermelon adding a light earthy note. It was almost sweet & sour’ish. The rum was nicely subtle, allowing the delicate flavor of watermelon to shine though. It wasn’t alcohol heavy, but you knew it was there. It wasn’t at all like biting into a juicy watermelon, it was more like having a rum-soaked one squeezed into your mouth. Joe had a few mojito variations too. One with pear and one with a more rum-heavy attribute. Apparently they were both very good. I had an itch to try another too, but I kept it together. Maybe another visit someday. All it all it was nice, fun, and I love the moments when I can experience a new place, good food, a nice drink and the company of my loving husband. Oh sure, it’s a little mushy, maybe a touch trite, but that’s the point of a date night, right?  We’re supposed to share a plate of food, joke with the waiter, gaze into each others eyes and laugh about nothing over a modern Cuban dessert. Or at least that’s what we did. Damn I love being an adult. Taxes aside, its pretty awesome when it’s with the one you love.Cheers, Ben
Permalink Sweet Muscat WineYou know what keeps me happy sometimes? Being surprised by the universe here and there. Keeps me from feeling like I’m becoming jaded. Just every so often I’ll experience a series of entertaining, sometimes annoying, often oddly surprising moments that will give me pause.Take last Wednesday, for example. For Joey’s birthday this year, we and our friends Courtney & Jordan got tickets to a summer concert. It was at Wolf Trap, a local open air venue with tickets for the lawn. For you see, on the lawn, we can eat, drink and be merry on the grass and under the stars. It is summer, after all.It was a Bare Naked Ladies concert. Joey loves them. I’m personally on the fence. I mean look, I can say with great conviction now, that for the most part, BNL are basically the Wiggles for adults. Bouncy, goofy, they repeat themselves a lot and everyone around them are sipping off bottles and dancing awkwardly. But that wasn’t the surprise of the night. No. Everyone knows BNL are goofballs that white people fawn over. No the surprise my friends, took the form of a series of impressive American Sign Language interpreters stationed on the side of the stage. For you see, apparently the Wolf Trap is not just a concert venue, but also a National Park and arts center. So they try and offer an ASL interpreter for every show all summer long.Pretty bad ass, if you ask me. But here is where the surprise got impressive.  Do you remember BNL’s big hit “One Week”? You know the speedy, quick-as-lightening-lyrical upbeat little ditty that almost borders on Canadian rap?  Right, that one.Well the woman performing ASL knocked that particular song out of the f’ing park. They had been round-robining the interpreters for much of the concert. And they were all great, bopping to the music, signing the words. Even the band played into this, goofing around, talking in-between sets to make her sign crazy little things.  But “One Week” is it’s own beast. But the interpreter was a pro. She was full of steam and chugging away, signing the song like the real rockstar. So much so, the audience went from going ape-shit-bananas over hearing the song and started cheering wildly for the interpreter, even ending with a standing ovation—everyone facing the woman, letting her drink in this moment. In fact even BNL walked over and bowed down to her.It was epic. It was refreshing and impressive, a nice humanity-affirming surprise of the night. In fact, it was almost amazing enough to make me forget about the terrible wine I bought for the evening.  Did you forget this was a drinking blog? Yeah, I kinda did too for a moment. Sorry.Oh that fucking terrible wine.And it’s all my fault. See, when I choose my own mixed drinks and cocktails, I’m fine. Shots, I’m ok. But beers and wines. No, lord no. I need a Sherpa for those choices. And I’m ok with this, but choosing the Sweet Muscat Wine only confirms it.Made in Greece by Samos Vin Deux, the Muscat is from a community collective and are made with tiny little sweet yellow grapes. Did I say sweet? Because I meant sweet. Like sugar water mixed with grape juice and then blended with Splenda and honey sweet. Sweet. Sweet.Sweet.Oh sweet lord, sweet.It was so gross. Like we poured the wine in cups for all four of us and it was Jordan who looked me straight in the eyes and simply said “Dude.” Can I take a moment?  Thanks.  If you don’t know, the simple “dude” can say so very much when wielded by a guy for a guy. It can mean “Wow, this is amazing.” or “Holy shit, did you see that?” or “Woah, do you smell what I smell?“  or “Damn, did you see those?”But, yeah, no. This “dude” basically meant “Are you kidding me, Ben? Are you trying to give me diabetes? Epic fail, man. Epic fail.”It was totally deserved. The wine was straight sugar, and had far more of an alcohol scent than flavor. It had this odd honey-like kool-aid style flavor, fruity, with a sweet green grape finish. It had a candied lemon peel appeal, a little tart in the backnote. Look, it was so sweet it was hard to frown, but we were far from happy. It had a touch of tin in it’s sip and would have been pretty one-note if it wasn’t so layered in it’s sugars. Oh, but to be fair the sugary delivery of BNL almost rivaled the wine. Or at least that was my jaded perspective. Courtney, Jordan and Joe were bopping along, singing, cheering and even dancing a little. It was adorable. Maybe the sweet alcohol overtook them. Or those Freddy Spaghetti melodies. Who knows. But it was a good night by all. So my crap choices in wine aside, it was a pretty wonderful night to celebrate Joey’s 31 years on this earth. Great friends, solid music, entertaining wine and a beautiful night on the lawn. I’m a lucky guy. My blood alcohol content is now 31% sucrose, but I’m a damn lucky guy.Cheers, Ben
Permalink

checking in, thinking, drinking and being late to my own party…

…Basically, this is a long ass title to express that I’m 6 drinks behind on the blog and to let you know they’re coming. They are. I swear.

Joe and I moved to DC to expand our lives, make more money, do exciting new things, make new friends, explore more of this country, and enjoy a better life. This past week we had something exciting going on every. single. night. with friends, fun and family. In fact, we didn’t make it home from one event or another before 11pm every night. It was insane.

Note: these are not complaints.

We’re cooking for friends, attending concerts, running charity happy hours, having date nights, traveling with new friends to river cottages… seriously, absolutely no complaints. This is the life of lives.

But it’s having an affect on my blogging. Not my drinking, mind you. But certainly my blogging. And I’m going to repair this problem this week, trust that. I have 6 drinks to share… some awesome classics and modern classics. You won’t want to miss them. But in the meantime, I need to fucking sleep. Do you sleep? I miss sleep. Oh, to dream to sleep. sleeeeep. (I miss you)

So tonight you get an apology, I get to sleep and tomorrow you get a post on some disgustingly sweet wine and a concert. Thanks for your patience. And brace for impact, the blogs are coming…

Cheers, Ben

Permalink The absolute best Yappy Hour at the Blue Banana yet! Over 20 dogs, dozens of owners, lots of money raised for the Washington Humane Society, and tons of fun with my handsome husband posing with the pups as Summer Santa! If you want to see all the Santa fun photos, check them out HERE! Woof!
Permalink Samuel Smith’s Organic CiderThere are a few things I get kinda excited/nerdy about: superhero movies, office supplies, developing cool inventions, creating non-profit programs and fundraising ideas and helping people with their resumes.As to the resume thing, I don’t know why. Even in my very first professional job, I was working with late teens and early 20somethings and part of my role as manager or supervisor was to help them with resumes or career advice and it’s always been something that I found pleasure in.So anytime anyone says “hey, would you be willing to look at my resume and give me any feedback?” I get this weird twinge of excitement. I know, it sounds weird. I just assume it’s like those people who love gardening, or tech, or chocolate or porn. It gets me pumped. Gets me hot. I like to see how people present themselves, think about their best attributes, organize their thoughts. And I like to be helpful in that adventure. Sometimes I find that people are so template-based in building their resumes that they virtually show no personality. Or they’re trying too hard, multi-fonts, too many colors, dozens of bullets, every job ever worked listed. Oh, you’re 32 and you’re listing your high school summer landscaping job? To highlight your early background in self management and hardworking spirit? I see.Hey, why are you mentioning you are “proficient in computer skills”. You’re 28. You should be fluent. “Proficient” looks like a downgrade, at best.You were Junior Class President in High School? Awesome. As a 40 year old looking for work in IT that’s really important to highlight.  I admit, it looks pretty damn fancy next to the bullet highlighting your work in college as Secretary of the Campus Recycling Committee 91-92. But yeah. No. Ok, they’re not all that bad. But you get the point. So recently a co-worker exploring new career options asked me to help him with an update and to refresh his resume—completely out of the blue. Like he could smell the interest on me.Maybe he could. Hope it smells sweet, like chocolate or porn.So he sent it to me and told me I could “to go to town” if I wanted. (my absolute favorite allowance…) And so I did. New format, added a color, updated his font, paired things down, moved things around, highlighted his strongest attributes. Told a story. Painted a picture. He had great experience, good bones. I just toned up the body, added a little fashion, offered some narrative—at most. I try to put people on paper. He loved it. Thank god. You never know. People sometimes want help, but don’t always like help. They like to learn, but hate to be taught. They want some refinement, but hate to be edited. I’m personally not any better, but I think that’s what sometimes makes me a decent educator/editor/presenter—because I sometimes come from that place of guarded request. But yeah, he loved it. Was really appreciative and liked the method to my madness, thankfully. So much so he bought me a bottle of his favorite hard Cider to thank me, a large bottle of Samuel Smith’s Organic Cider.  Thanking me with booze? Ok, that’ll work. I do this for free, normally. The opportunity is payment enough.  But a chance to try a new drink on the fly? Awesome.Crisp, slightly musky, sharply, tartly apple and blandly spiced, the organic cider was refreshing but was missing something. It has this nice golden apple flavor and was only sweet enough to taste delicious, without pushing for sugary. It almost had this homemade quality. I don’t know. I felt like the Woodchuck Amber Cider—admittedly my only other cider—was more lush, had more depth, was more… appletastic? Sure, we’ll go with that.Smith’s Organic Cider was tangy and pleasant, but slightly subtle and flat. Oh sure, it was bubbly but not rich. Appley, but tasted a few too many steps away from the tree, if that makes sense. I could blindly suggest the organic nature is what turned the volume down, but I’ve had enough experience with organic produce to know that’s not the answer. I think if you like apple, but a subtle, dryer, calming drink, this is the Cider for you. The alcohol flavor was almost non-existent.  It was diet RC Cola to Pepsi. Yeah, that’s the best way to explain it. Still perfectly cola, but not COLA. But I digress.Anyway, it was a great gift and a drink I may have never found on my own. So win-win, if I do say so myself. Plus, its becoming really helpful to be able to compare types of drinks to each other. I’m slacking on my cider intake, to say the least! So thanks to my buddy at work and I wish him the best of luck in his future career search with a new resume leading the way. I’m glad I could be part of his Adventure just as he contributed to mine. Cheers, Ben
Permalink Bellini MojitoSummer. 101 degrees. Dinner at The Heights in DC. 101 degrees. And yes, it’s worth repeating. As most of the country knows, it’s unbelievably hot these days. Scorching, disgusting, sweat-like-you’re-getting-paid-to-sweat hot. Baking cookies on your dashboard, even the breeze is 98 degrees and sprinkler water is 89 degrees hot. I think I even saw a 7lb poodle burst into flames. Maybe it was already on fire. Who knows.But seriously, it’s been 101+ degrees in the District for days. I mean, its been in the 98+ space for a few weeks. It’s gross. My white sugar does have a melting point, people. No one wants to see that.In fact, have you ever considered what a leading national tourist destination with a healthy homeless population smells like at 101 degrees? Wait. Hold on. Sorry. Don’t. Sorry. I’m sorry I even brought it up. My mistake. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Ignore me.…Anyway, the game plan every night is finding something cooling to do. Movie night, ice cream parties, quiet evenings at home in the A.C., naked dives into tubs filled with soothing frozen cubes of blue and red jello—you know it’s time to get out when you’re just sitting in purple goo. And on this occasion the plan to stay cool included a nice dinner out at one of our very favorite local restaurants, The Heights in the bustling, typically steamy Columbia Heights neighborhood.Home to a few former firstdrinks, Three Day Weekend and a Cool Cucumber Bloody Mary variation, and hands-down, the absolute best poached eggs for brunch, we were there to have a nice dinner, catch up with Chris & Natalie and hopefully drink something cold and refreshing.Scanning their summer July seasonal menu, I was looking for something with the fresh and delicious flavors of summer, but that refreshing straight from the firehose cool factor. And then Natalie found the potential cool summer drink holy grail: a full pitcher of Bellini Mojito.Part summer peach sparking wine, mixed with cooling mint and simple syrup, it just screamed “best suggestion” to beat the heat. Now, I’m not going to lie. In my head, I was hoping it would be peach wine mixed with white rum, simple syrup and muddled with mint and frozen peaches. I know I’m still the Virgin, but if you’re going to mastermix two classic summer drinks into one monster of a winner, go whole hog. But this was certainly close enough.Sweet, tangy, peachy, subtle with a nice sparkle from the clean, clear wine. Nicely refreshing, smooth but with a hint of alcohol, it was really lacking mint flavor but certainly had lots of mint leaves throughout. On one hand, it didn’t really have the peach punch of bellini, it didn’t have the sweet, minty spice of a mojito and while similar, it also didn’t even have the depth of a simple white sangria. It was tasty and thirst quenching in this heat, but it was more of a hyped peach wine water with some fleck of green garnish.So how do I put this? Its like when you ask for dessert and someone brings out a cheese plate. Sure, it’s dessertesque and it’s delicious, but it’s not what I asked for—or in this case what it was described as. So, one one hand I liked it and on the other it was kinda disappointing. Not that it matters, The Heights, you’d have to literally ruin 6 meals in a row for me to lower my love for you. No seriously, I’ve never had a bad meal. Or a bad service. So one mediocre drink isn’t sinking any ships. And it did make me forget about 101 degrees for a few sips. And for that, I thank you.Cheers, BenPS: It’s July! And next week we’re celebrating Christmas in July at our monthly Yappy Hour for Charity at the Blue Banana, supporting the Washington Humane Society. And this event even has an official beer sponsor, the aptly partnered Flying Dog Brewery!  First 20 people get a free Flying Dog brew, ALL dogs get free dog biscuits and come get your dog’s picture taken with Summer Santa (aka, my husband Joe in a summer Santa suit… no, I’m not kidding. He wishes I was…)