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 Strawberry Frozen Daiquiri There are a handful of drinks that I’ve always wanted to try even when I didn’t care about alcohol. I’ve had my fair share of virgin frozen daiquiris in my day—and they were always delicious—and so I always wondered if adding alcohol would make then better.Yes, a thousand times YES!! Hey, is it weird that I always associate Mexican food and frozen daiquiris? Even more than margaritas, I think. I’m not sure why. But I do. So of course, the first chance I had to get into a Mexican restaurant back on our trip to Ohio, I knew exactly what I was going to be drinking. Joe and I are blessed to have lots of amazing friends. So many in fact, that it’s often difficult to see very many of them when we travel back to Ohio for any reason. I’m not bragging. Yes I am. But I suppose this is really a “good problem” in the big picture, but it’s very real and often very frustrating all the same. Initially we didn’t think we’d be able to visit any friends on our trip this past weekend, but we were able to sock away some time to get in a double visit with our good friends Matt & Meagan and Stacy & Matt.  Two completely different Matts, FYI. Just to be clear.And when we’re back in Ohio there are always several local restaurants we like to/need to/must visit. Getting some solid, cheap Mexican food is always toward the top of the list. I’m sure I could find something good in the burbs, but we haven’t found the right mix of good, cheap and all-you-can-eat chips & salsa (yet). So we decided to meet up with everyone at El Campesino in the Canton area. Sadly, the food and service were a bit lacking from the last time we where there—almost 2+ years ago—but they still serve gigantic cheap drinks. So all’s well with the universe.Basically, in case you didn’t know, a frozen daiquiri is just juice, ice and rum. Oh that rum. I ordered a strawberry daiquiri—mainly because they didn’t have raspberry on the menu. It was just crazy delicious. Fake strawberry flavor, but I didn’t mind. You could taste the fruitiness and the rum mingling nicely. They play well together, I’m learning. Its a pretty simple drink. The rum has adds nice hum to the mix and gives the drink a solid finish that’s clean and crisp. Its cold, refreshing, enjoyable. And much like the drink, the visit was great. We really miss those guys. We don’t get to see them much and we’re trying to get them to travel to DC to come visit (cough, cough). Pardon me. No seriously, get your asses out here. (cough)I’m promising them that if when they come out, they get to pick any of my firstdrinks while they’re visiting. If that isn’t tempting enough, I don’t know what is, am I right?Yep, I’m right. (no matter what Joe attests…)Cheers to you and good friends, BenPS: Bonus side note: if you look at the photo of my drink above, you’ll see an adorable little cameo of Matt & Meagan’s beautiful daughter, Mia. She’s another reason we love to see them—she’s growing up so quick!
Permalink Baileys Irish Cream (on the rocks)There is something you need to know about my Mom. She can sometimes tell you an entire story from start to finish, with high levels of detail, and it will all be a joke. She’s pulling your leg. She’s famous for that.Or sometimes she’ll be talking about “Susan” and at the end of the story—complete with a description of “Susan’s” hair, nails and sweater, she’ll stop just before the end and say “Oh, wait, it was Lauren. Not Susan. Anyway…” It’s not like it happens every conversation. But it happens enough that it happens. (Love you Mom.)So after having an Anchor Steam beer with my step-dad earlier in the evening—to mixed personal reviews: love my step-dad, hate his beer choice—it was getting late in the evening and I was starting to think about heading to bed.My Mom was cleaning up the kitchen and I came in to see her when I remembered, “Oh hey, did you really want to be on the Adventure? Did you have a drink in mind?”“Oh yes!” My Mom excitedly replied. “Hold on, I’m going to go get it.” She stepped away and came back to the kitchen with a bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream. I’ve had my eye on Bailey’s for some time now. I’ve had a few non-alcoholic items in the past that was flavored like Baileys, so I knew I’d like it in it’s purist form. “Mmmm, I love this stuff. I need to remember how to make the drink. It’s Baileys and cream. I just can’t remember the ratio.”Ten minutes in with my Mom on the computer and me on my iPhone, we still couldn’t find a proper recipe for “Bailey’s Irish Cream and Cream”. …Shhh, shhh. Don’t get ahead of me. I’m telling a story.“We don’t need a recipe, Mom. I can just drink it over ice and throw some cream on it.”“No, now, there is a recipe. Just wait a minute. I’ve had this drink a dozen times. I just need to find it.  Normally David makes it for me, but he’s gone to bed.” 10 more minutes later, she settled on just pouring the Bailey’s over ice and we added a few splashes of half-n-half in the drink. “You can add more than a few splashes.” I was admiring the drink when she stopped me and started laughing. “Oh wait. You know what? It’s Kahlua I’m thinking of. Not Baileys. Kahlua and cream. That’s what I like to drink.”I laughed back. “Do you have any Kahlua?” She went to check. No. “Do you want me to still drink this? Do you even like Bailey’s?” “Oh sure, I love the whiskey flavor. But I was thinking Kahlua.” “That explains the lack of recipe.”“And why you probably didn’t need the cream.”“Well, it’s almost 11:30pm. It’s just like a really rich late-night dessert.”“Exactly.”She tried a sip, “Yeah, no, that’s good stuff. A little rich, but reallllly good. You’ll like it.”She was right. Bailey’s is like someone launched a MilkyWay candy bar through a whiskey cloud and then it rained this rich, creamy, milky, delicious nectar. It has this sting of whiskey—more than you’d think—but it finishes with a buttery, nutty, cream flavor. Its the kind drink that’s cold but warms you. Coats your tongue like a hug. It’s grown up milk, kiddo. It’s grown up milk. If you didn’t know, Baileys is a mix of Irish dairy cream, Irish whiskey, a secret mix of spirits and a touch of chocolate.My Mom is a mix of Native American descent, with the canning, knitting and creative skills of an Amish woman and the mind of a… well what would you get if you mixed a savvy politician, magician, comedian and surgeon together? Well, whatever that is, you’d get my Mom. With a dash of wild color and tone deafness. Point being, the drink pales in comparison to my Mom.  And it was a damn great drink.So, here’s the deal Mom: I’m saving Kahlua for the next time I’m in town and we’re visiting. No, don’t argue, I am. That is unless you were mistaken. And it’s your sister Laura that like Kahlua. You were thinking of something else. What was that? Damn. You were just talking about it the other day. Crap. Oh well, it’ll come to you, I’m sure. (please don’t kill me, I’m your baby boy…)Cheers & Love, BenPS: 2 down, 3 to go. 3 very fun drinks with some friends and family are coming up next. And you especially don’t want to miss the drink I had on Easter. I might just start a new tradition. It ain’t classy, but it’ll work.
Permalink Anchor Steam Beer. I want to tell you a story. Many moons ago, my mom married a really great man named David. He was this cool guy who we knew from church and he was smart and played like a million instruments and made my mom really happy. I could regale you with dozens of stories about David, but today I’m just going to share one specifically. It is an inside family joke that in the early days, David was called Mr. No Opinion. While it doesn’t quite roll off the tongue, the nickname was because he would always default to my Mom when we had a larger decision to make or a request or just generally wanted/demanded/whined about something as teens often do. Truth is, he and my Mom probably discussed every detail behind closed doors before delivering a decision, but to our observation, David never threw in a peep. And to be fair we were not always the easiest teens to put up with, poor guy. I cannot quite pinpoint the exact moment the flood gates finally opened and David became more forthright in speaking his mind, but I can tell you this: once they were open, they never fully closed. Now, I’m not saying that he blew up and just started opinionating all over the place like a crazy person. Not at all. Not that he couldn’t have. Not that we certainly didn’t provide him more than enough ammo.  But over the years he’s become a really important source of coaching, counseling and friendship. Thankfully, he’s become the kinda guy you want to approach, the kinda guy whose opinion you value and are always grateful for. He’s no longer Mr. No Opinion, he’s a friend, a confidant, a really amazing Father. He’s been there for some great days and for some terrible days. He’s a great listener and he’s fair and thoughtful, kind and authentic. It is a rare instance that I don’t value his opinions, advice and counsel. I really mean that, really rare. So very rare in fact. Which is why having to report that his favorite beer was so terrible hurts a little. But, as you know, I call them like I drink them. And it was unpleasant. I love you David, please remember that. First off, the Anchor Steam was far more carbonated than a typical beer. Bitter and musky, the alcohol flavor was really sharp.  So sharp it overwhelmed the beer in a weird dark and strange way, greatly over-powering the drink. There were notes of malt and deep brown bread that I wanted to like, but the alcohol was kicking my sinuses too hard to enjoy anything else.  The beer is a micro-brew from San Francisco, CA and unlike the city, is devoid of any sweetness. It’s full bodied, with slight orange notes and a green apple skin like finish. All in all, its not my taste in beer. In David’s defense, perhaps my dislike of the beer is an indication of my beer virginity; my inexperience preventing me from understanding it successfully. Or, perhaps I just don’t like it plain and simple. Because it wasn’t very good. At all. Oh, David. I’m sorry. You had the taste required to fall in love with my mom, my sister and I, but clearly you used your will-power up. I feel responsible. Maybe if Elizabeth didn’t dye her hair every other week, or we swore less, or I didn’t hit that plain clothed cop and his wife on their motorcycle when you were teaching me to drive you’d have more energy to enjoy better beers. Maybe. But I guess we’ll never know. I guess we’ll never know. But I love you man. Good, bad and no opinions—I appreciate them all. And I’m giving you at least one more drink to choose on the Adventure. You deserve that much. As do my taste buds. And who knows, maybe I’ll take a Mr. No Opinion approach to that drink. …but probably not. You know me better than that. Sorry. For that and all the grey hair. Cheers, Ben PS: All this week I’ll be releasing drink blogs from my weekend in Ohio where I had drinks with everyone from my very own Mom to my Great Aunt Peggy. You do not want to miss this week. It’s going to be entertaining, I promise.
Permalink Yet again, another true story on the Adventure. And no, they were not being “funny” but it was certainly funny.  I only wish I knew if they really read the blog to know if they read their own quote. But then again, they’re probably never tell me otherwise or deny it.  Funny bastard.
Permalink Stinger / Yappy HourYou know something is really great when within a few moments you’ve decided you’re going to do it again right away. Case in point, both the drink of the night and the event itself.People love to drink. People love their dogs. And dogs love other dogs and drunk people dropping bar food. The whole concept of the Yappy Hour is pretty win-win-win—ooh, look food—win. I just can’t say enough good things about Jamie and the Blue Banana. His concept of the Yappy Hour on their back patio was just perfect. Great drink deals, pitchers full of dog biscuits, fried food flowing. The whole thing was already buzzing & barking by 6:45pm that evening. By 8pm, we had about a dozen dogs and several dozen humans drinking, talking, barking and sniffing butts with abandon. The patio is modest, but the atmosphere is generous. Several of my friends and family were able to attend, several with their dogs, including a nice sampling of canines and owners from the neighborhood. It was fantastic and people were loving the event. And we raised some serious money for the Washington Animal Rescue League. Everything was so fantastic. So much so in fact, that Jamie and I are planning on co-hosting a monthly Yappy Hour through the spring/summer/fall. Keep your eyes peeled for upcoming dates. Yep, if you missed this one, don’t fret—there are more to come.I should note that the Blue Banana allows for dogs on the back patio anytime it’s open. So if you wanted to get your dog walk and your drink on, this is your kinda neighborhood bar. But oh, let’s talk about the evening’s drink. Oh that drink! One of the more genius elements of each event I’m able to host at the Blue Banana is Jamie’s invention and devotion to my firstdrink project. Each event has it’s own unique cocktail to allow everyone to have their own firstdrink. And tonight’s was just as great—actually better—than the last.Its called a Stinger. A intoxicating mix of twisted tea, lemonade and a solid shot of Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Honey. Hot damn, it literally tastes like the answer to a hot day in July. It was sweet with the crisp ice tea flavor, refreshing with the lemonade mingling and the sweet, slick, alcohol rich honey bite from the Jack Daniels. It was summer in a glass. Sipping sweet tea on the dock. Sharing some southern love through a straw. You get the idea… It might actually be on the tastier drinks I’ve had on the Adventure. It’s one of my top favorites, hands down. I think I could honestly drink a Stinger anytime, anywhere. And yep, I had two. Dogs, drink, friends and fans. It was a damn good night. Thank you to everyone who was able to make it out. Thanks to Jamie and the Blue Banana and thanks to all the sweet pups and their owners who were able to make it out and enjoy a warm March evening for charity.Man’s best friend just got VIP status at your favorite new bar. Raise the woof. (yep, I went there.)Cheers, BenPS: 4… count them, 4 new firstdrinks tomorrow at a special pop-up restaurant. And then I rest? Nope. 2 more firstdrinks this weekend. And then I rest? Oh, who knows anymore. Just enjoy the ride.
Permalink You are looking at a half Irishman, enjoying his first beer (a Killian’s Irish Red) on St. Patrick’s Day.  That’s all that matters, right? Where? Oh, ho ho, don’t you worry about that. What was I eating? Aw, come’on, just focus on that beautiful red-hued beer next to that beautiful red-hued face. Why am I avoiding these questions? Shut, your face, that’s why. Plus, it’s all explained in the blog, *click the photo to read all about it.
Permalink I swear I wasn’t trying to make this adorable face for the photo. But it happened and I couldn’t not share it with the world, right?Admit it, you feel richer for seeing it. Maybe posting it in your locker or cubicle? I won’t tell. It’ll just be our little secret. *What’s not a secret is how much I enjoyed that jack & coke. Click the photo to read all about it.
Permalink Michelob Ultra: for Ultra serious drinkers. Clearly. No, why do I look so intense in this? I’d like to think it’s that sexy kinda intense, but I fear the sweaty brow kills it. Damn, I try and try, but I sweat and sweat. Drinking is probably not helping.  *But if you wanted to read all about my ultra mixed review of my firstdrink of Michelob Ultra, just click the photo, sexy people.
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Vodka Gimlet


The Marrieds. That’s what we call ourselves. No really. Yes, I wish we were more creative too, but all in all it’s accurate.

In short, we’re a group of 4 sets of friends who are all married and half of each couple knows each other from work. The group have been planning for a proper outing for months now and last night it finally it all came together.

Outside of the actual friendships, the whole idea is just a fun, silly little thing for everyone I suppose. And setting up dinner with multiple sets of friends and couples is nothing new to me.

But, to be frank, for a gay guy from Ohio, being part of a group—who I adore—called “The Marrieds” is nothing short of a blessing wrapped in a dream, and deep fried in awesome.

Joe and I have been together for 8 years now. And while our weekday elopement here in DC back in July was a surprise, our intention to marry was not. Other than falling in love with the District, we were also excited to know that marriage was legal here for homos gentleman like us.

For my entire life, all I’ve ever wanted is to feel normal. That or become Batman, but that one’s probably never going to happen…  And Joe makes me feel special & normal all at the same time. [Insert Robin joke? Nah.]

For me, wanting to be married with the person you love is normal. And getting married is normal. So in short, being part of a fun set of friends who who call themselves The Marrieds and like to spend time together, go out eating, drinking (someday dancing?) is the epitome of normal.

And just so we’re clear, being/feeling normal does not mean I’m not a bouncy, goofy, inappropriately wise-cracking, mouthy smart-ass kid inside. It just means I found someone who wants to share the rest of life with me regardless.

Now, whether that makes Joe normal is a whole different story, I agree.

So, The Marrieds went to Cava Mezze on Barracks Row on a packed Saturday night. Cava is a Greek-inspired small plates restaurant well known for their great food, service and inventive drink menu. And it’s like a fast moving show within a restaurant—the wealth of servers run the tables taking orders, dropping off orders, filling drinks, making suggestions, oh, and setting cheese on fire with 5 foot flames. Seriously. It’s all pretty awesome.

The drink menu had some fun stuff on it, but I was looking for something was a bit more standard, classic. I settled on a vodka gimlet called the Kaffir Gimlet made with Kaffir Lime vodka, fresh lime and agave nectar.

Lime. Lime, lime and more juicy, tart, lime. The gimlet had a smack-you-in-the-face alcohol bite that was complimented by the lime’s bright, bitter sting. It was sweet, but not cloyingly, thanks to the agave nectar that helped sooth the drink on its finish.

It wasn’t a complicated drink in flavors or profile, but it was fantastic. Every sip filled my sinuses and glands with a welcome, striking sting—like when you try hot sauce or yellow mustard and it seizes your senses, but in that good, makes you feel, kinda way.

In short, have you ever doused a lime with alcohol, set it on fire and then tried to drink the juice? No? Well if it sounds like a challenge, it probably is. So, I would instead suggest Cava’s Kaffir Gimlet.  No seriously, sure it sounds scary, but it’s simple, delicious yet visceral—if you’re into that sort of thing.

On the menu side, Cava’s food blew our doors off. There wasn’t a single item we all didn’t devour, or want to order again. Their staff is smart, attentive and quick. And their drinks are creative and delicious—as agreed by all of The Marrieds.

I will be back to Cava again. Hopefully soon. Not just for the firstdrink opportunity—they make a cucumber-habanero margarita that sounded like fun—but for the service and about 30 additional small plates I want to try.

You know, in the end, I am a believer that being part of groups and experiences that make you feel whole and normal is important. That said, pushing yourself, trying new things and taking risks—often while surrounded by solid friends and family—is also important.

These days, thanks to my friends, family, Washington, DC and Joe, I’m able to lump all these things into one big long adventure. Seriously? It might not be your normal, but it’s my dream come true.

Cheers, Ben

Permalink Dark, rich, bold and stiff. And that was just the woodwork at Nanny O’Briens. Oh, and I suppose the Guinness had some of those similar traits too. And I guess I am drinking a Guinness in the photo. Sorry if I confused you. If you were interested in what I actually thought of the Guinness, by all means my post isn’t all about the bar’s woodwork. It’s about Irish people and Native American drinkers and meeting new friends and twitter. No, seriously. *click the photo to allow me to prove it.
Permalink I had 3 signature cocktails, but only one signature modelesque face—so I wasn’t going to terrorize you with 3 separate photos. You can thank me later.However, this is a good one for showcasing how red I get when I’ve been drinking/running/walking/sitting/being me. 35years later you get used to being me.*click the photo to read all about the Nutty Rum, Smokey Apple Sour & The BBC cocktails.
Permalink Oh wine, you take me on a completely different Adventure each and every firstdrink. Some are good, some are great, some in this case taste like cleaning supplies.As you’ll see in the photo, I’m drinking it. However, it was a brief photo shoot. Oh sure, I had about 1/4 cup in total, but I didn’t finish the sauvigon blanc. I’m told I can use it for cooking. I’m going to try it on my windows and mirrors first. It can’t hurt to try!  *click the photo to read the post.
Permalink Ah, PBR, all my hipster/redneck/hometown/cheap friends are right now going “Um, yeah, we’ve been drinking that at a bar you’ve never heard of for, like, ever, dude.”  Yes, I know.You know, there is something about drinking beer out of a pint can that really makes my hands feel small. And yet I have these bowling pin fingers. I’m a mess. Oh, and if you ever get a chance to visit DC-3 to try a regional or international hotdog, run, don’t walk. RUN there. FASTER! They have hotdogs wrapped in bacon! RUN to DC-3!!!(click the photo to read all about my latest firstdrink, Pabst Blue Ribbon)
Permalink In retrospect, I should have taken more photos of me moving furniture and boxes to prove I’m not just some guy always drinking alcohol. Oh well, enjoy this photo instead. You have an imagination, use it.Click the photo above to link to my firstdrink of Magic Hat #9. Or don’t, I’m not the King of You, I guess.
Permalink When you’re here, you’re… wait. Wrong FauxAmericanizedItalianBigBox Restaurant. Its hard to tell with all that free bread & olive oil, rocky Tuscan plaster and random wine bottles all around. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a 3rd loaf of bread to request… new feature: click my photo to read the chardonnay blog post!