The year was 1978. A junior at a suburban Maryland high school, my musical taste, such as it was, ran from Barry Manilow to Hall and Oates and around the bend to the Bee Gees. My good buddy, now known to all as "Uncle Freddie", worked part time at his family's record store. I say "worked" in the loosest of terms as it is my distinct recollection that the good Uncle Fred spent most of his time behind the counter underneath gigantic Kazoo like headphones and listening to the latest Top 40 release all the while popping Goldenbergs Peanut Chews.
With or without the headphones - I really don't remember - it was Uncle Freddie who, while undoubtedly in the midst of a self induced chewy chocolate haze - introduced me to the music of Bruce Springsteen.
I am fairly certain that Badlands was the first Springsteen song I ever heard. I remember clearly having to dig deep - very deep - into my pocket for the six bucks it cost me to buy "Darkness on the Edge of Town". Freddie may have squeezed me a discount, but I cant be sure. The album cover was nothing memorable - just a guy in a leather jacket - looking out at me from some room in a beat up old house somewhere. I got my copy of Darkness, fled from the White Oak Waxie Maxie record store and raced home.
When I got home, I bounded up the stairs, closed my door, peeled off the plastic and dropped the vinyl disc onto my record player. Yes, I did say record player - not turntable, not stereo - a real plastic ten dollar record player with one tinny speaker next to the volume control. Trust me when I tell you that the sound quality -well, it wasnt exactly "Bose" like. I will also tell you, with no hesitiation, that it just did not matter. It seemed to me like every song was better than the last, every one hit a chord in a different way - music by a guy who was talking about life, about love, about stuff that really mattered. I can still spit out that setlist as fast as the dates that my kids were born - Badlands, Adam raised a Cain, Something in the Night, Candy's Room, Racing in the Street, The Promised land, Factory, Streets of Fire, Prove it all Night and Darkness on the Edge of Town.
Up until then, I of course had listened to music. I do mean listened, because until Darkness I never reallly heard any of it. It gave me this "feeling" - cant quite describe it. No journalistic metaphor here. No creative quip. It was just - different.
I saved more money over the next couple of months and built my collection - first with Born to Run, then Greetings from Asbury Park and finally adding The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle.
Over the years, Bruce went through marriage, divorce and marriage again. I bought all the albums, almost always on the first day they were available. From Born in the USA through Working on A Dream. Every one. Some I liked more than others. With each release and every purchase, from album to CD, my routine never wavered. Every time I was back to being that 17 year old kid - peeling off the plastic, looking at the jacket and whatever was inside, reading the lyrics and of course, running through the disc, one song at a time, never playing a song twice and, for god sake, never listening out of the order that Bruce intended.
Most Springsteen fans I know find Born to Run to be his best piece of work. Don't get me wrong, I love that record. And every time I hear The River, I turn it up - something about that song, written about his sister, always makes me quiet. But after all the years and all the music, it is always Darkness that I go back to when I want to just sit back and listen.
A couple of months ago, I read that Bruce was releasing a new "old" album - "The Promise" was to contain the "lost songs" that were written during the Darkness years. Songs that , for one reason or another I guess, never found their way "out of the vault" as they say on satellite radio. With record stores long gone, I put my "pre release order" in at Amazon and waited. My girl Julia tried to torment me when it arrived, holding it just out of reach like a kid keeping the Barbie away from her little sister. Of course, I threw her into a choke hold and snared it out of her grasp. Not really. She just handed it over mumbling something that sounded a lot like " big doofus".
You know the drill. In my office I went, peeling the plasitc, reading the jacket from cover to cover. Listened form start to finish, a few breaks, here and there - after all , I have a responsiblity or two that I didn't have in 1978.
What can I say? A bigger and better version of Racing in the Street? Hard to believe, but true. The Way? How did he not release that one? Reminds me of "colour my World" but with a much longer "slowdance". Truly, a lot of great songs. Some recorded when Bruce had the big voice, the voice that reaches way down and pulls at you if you listen close enough. Others were recorded today - more production, more back up, but still - - - you know, different.
Funny thing. One of the tracks is titled "Gotta Get that Feeling".
Yep. I got it all right. Thanks again, Boss Man.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
MY KIND OF TOWN
I spent my first year in law school living in Chicago. 1983 was a different time. I had no one depending on me, no one asking for anything from me. Pretty much nothing in the way of responsibilities. Unfortunately, I also lacked one other item. Money.
Fast forward to September, 2010. An auspicious return to the City of Big Shoulders for a buddy's 50th birthday. Dependants and responsibilities left at home. Unlike 1983, had some money in my pocket and ready to spend, as they say. And spend it, I did.
"now this could only happen to a guy like me, and only happen in a town
like this..."
Things opened up quite nicely, meeting with the fellas at the James Hotel bar. Those in attendance included my neighbor and traveling partner, the I Man, Downtown Johnny B, my TQB brother, the two Goldstein boys - Steven, the planner, and David, the Birthday boy himself. We were joined by a couple of guys I had never met - Donny, a guy who proves that people actually do live in Arkansas, and JP, a smooth talking guy's guy if there ever was one. Sometimes you dont know how things are going to mesh with strangers, but in this case, all it took was about 20 minutes and a few girls named Stella (Artois, that is) and I felt as if JP, Donny and I ran as wing men in some former life.
From The James, we wandered out to an old stomping ground - read "dive bar" - Mother Hubbards. Surprisingly, Mother's is no longer a purveyor of that great Chicagoland brew, Old Style, leaving us to knock back a few buckets of "canned Hamms", play a little video golf and catch the Yanks-Rays game on tv. Tough afternoon at the office. Great dinner and cocktails at The Gage. Not a huge tequila selection, but a little Don Julio did just right to wet the whistle.
It was at The Gage that a bit of my front tooth innocuously splashed into my beer, leaving me to look a bit like Richie Cunningham or David Letterman. Maybe even Anna Pacquin if you were drunk. Either way, I could whistle like nobody's business.
"...my kind of people too. People who smile at you..."
After a little gym time and a gut bending breakfast with the I Man, Friday proved to be a great day to roam the heart of town, up Michigan Ave and the Magnificent Mile, back down to the famed Chicago loop.
For lunch, the fellows chose the patio at a little joint called "The Purple Pig". If you are like me, "The Purple Pig" sounds like a great spot. Big dogs, smoked brats a little kraut on top, right? Buzzzz. Wrong answer. Instead, what you get at "The Purple Pig" is a bunch of little teenie weenie plates to share. Strike one. On the teenie wenie plates are little teenie weenie portions of things like mashed beets with some white glazed sour creamy stuff on top. Strike two. Their signature is essentially the same thing a guy can get transplated down the street at Illinois Massonic Hospital - a plate of bone marrow. Strike 3. Place was gross. For me, anyway. Enough said.
Not surprisingly, my pals' appetites were not completely sated and we zipped over to a real Chicago landmark, Portillos. There, for about 4 bucks, I got a nice sized Chicago style dog and a drink. My travelling cohorts, themselves food experts all, knocked back some dogs and a little italian beef. Back for Round 2 at Mother Hubbards and, having drank them out of canned Hamms the day before, settled for a few buckets of High Life. Miller High life, that is. That's real man's livin, brother, let me tell you.
"...I just grin like a clown. Its my kind of town..."
After a little napper, Friday night kicked off at the bar in the James. Excellent, well portioned cocktails all around, including a nice newcomer to my tequila experience,Deleon. The reposado was really, really nice. A sweet taste, dripping in vanilla, caramel and more. Definitely a keeper. The plata, not so much - a little bitter and a bit of a cheap whiskey burn going down - skip it.
The lobby of the James is really a great place. Tons of folks walking through, enjoying themselves. The women were gorgeous and, if it matters to you, there were plenty of guys roaming as well. At one point, we were engulfed by a bevy of California girls enjoying a little "bachelorette weekend". One young lady made an offbeat coment about "beer flavored nipples". Girls with short dresses and pink penis necklaces... Was that in The Sound of Music? Anyway, don't see too much of that in the normal work week, that's for sure.
Friday night also brought us a couple of additions. My old pal from my law school days in Chicago, Scotty "The Ring" Stephenson and another classic Chicago local, Johnny Z., were brought in to round out the crew. We meandered from The James over to Rosebud on Rush for a great old time Italian dinner. I knocked back a steer size veal parm and a couple of cocktails. Not only was the veal parm good eats for a simple guy like me, but it also served as a great big sponge for the swimming pool of beer that I was to ingest over the next few hours.
From the Rosebud, we hopped a cab over to a reinvigorated part of the city, affectionately known as "Bucktown". Out of the cab, into the bar. For the first time in two days, there it was - the famous "Old Style" sign. My man, JP, immediately "glamoured" a cute little bartender and convinced her to set aside their entire remaining stock of Old Style tall boys. Six 24 ounce cans of what is essentially a cold and pale PBR in a snazzy can. A couple of hours and, incredibly, down they went. What can I say? Classic rock in a sweaty old open air bar just does it to me. Every time.
After polishing off a backyard well worth of the Old Style grog, we taxied back downtown and stumbled into The Red Head. Not in a redhead, I promise. I am a good husband, after all. No, The Red head is a one of a kind in town Chicago bar where you can circle around a piano man, drink if you wish (I did wish) and sing along. Fun, fun, fun and no one had a T Bird taken away.
"My kind of razzmatazz. And it has all that jazz..."
I woke up surprisingly sprite on Saturday and readied for a trip north to Wrigley to see the Cubbies play the Cards. First stop, Murphys. Plenty of Old Style. Cracked one open, and did my best to choke it down, along with a nicely charred brat. From there,well, I struggled. The bleachers were great, the day nice enough and the stadium, well, it is Wrigley. A great, great place whether you like baseball or not. Unfortunately, the reverb from Friday night's festivities hit me like a club. Didn't even make it to the 7th inning stretch. Caught a cab and back to The James with JB, who was apparently feeling the same kickback. A few hours of napping with some Arkansas-Alabama on the tube and the ship was back sailing in the right direction.
Dinner was big, even by Chicago standards. A great mammoth sized T Bone at The Saloon. Unable to even glance in the direction of anything in a bottle or can, I stuck with tap water. Worked fine. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for our buddy Steven, who went down for the count just as his house salad arrived. JP later recalled the great Howard Cosell comparing Steven's fall from grace to a long ago title bout: "Down goes Frazier, down goes Frazier..."
Up early Sunday and back to reality. As we took off and circled over enormous Lake Michigan, I kept thinking of the Sammy Cahn lyrics, the Sinatra voice:
"One town that wont let you down. It's my kind of town."
Chicago IS.
Fast forward to September, 2010. An auspicious return to the City of Big Shoulders for a buddy's 50th birthday. Dependants and responsibilities left at home. Unlike 1983, had some money in my pocket and ready to spend, as they say. And spend it, I did.
"now this could only happen to a guy like me, and only happen in a town
like this..."
Things opened up quite nicely, meeting with the fellas at the James Hotel bar. Those in attendance included my neighbor and traveling partner, the I Man, Downtown Johnny B, my TQB brother, the two Goldstein boys - Steven, the planner, and David, the Birthday boy himself. We were joined by a couple of guys I had never met - Donny, a guy who proves that people actually do live in Arkansas, and JP, a smooth talking guy's guy if there ever was one. Sometimes you dont know how things are going to mesh with strangers, but in this case, all it took was about 20 minutes and a few girls named Stella (Artois, that is) and I felt as if JP, Donny and I ran as wing men in some former life.
From The James, we wandered out to an old stomping ground - read "dive bar" - Mother Hubbards. Surprisingly, Mother's is no longer a purveyor of that great Chicagoland brew, Old Style, leaving us to knock back a few buckets of "canned Hamms", play a little video golf and catch the Yanks-Rays game on tv. Tough afternoon at the office. Great dinner and cocktails at The Gage. Not a huge tequila selection, but a little Don Julio did just right to wet the whistle.
It was at The Gage that a bit of my front tooth innocuously splashed into my beer, leaving me to look a bit like Richie Cunningham or David Letterman. Maybe even Anna Pacquin if you were drunk. Either way, I could whistle like nobody's business.
"...my kind of people too. People who smile at you..."
After a little gym time and a gut bending breakfast with the I Man, Friday proved to be a great day to roam the heart of town, up Michigan Ave and the Magnificent Mile, back down to the famed Chicago loop.
For lunch, the fellows chose the patio at a little joint called "The Purple Pig". If you are like me, "The Purple Pig" sounds like a great spot. Big dogs, smoked brats a little kraut on top, right? Buzzzz. Wrong answer. Instead, what you get at "The Purple Pig" is a bunch of little teenie weenie plates to share. Strike one. On the teenie wenie plates are little teenie weenie portions of things like mashed beets with some white glazed sour creamy stuff on top. Strike two. Their signature is essentially the same thing a guy can get transplated down the street at Illinois Massonic Hospital - a plate of bone marrow. Strike 3. Place was gross. For me, anyway. Enough said.
Not surprisingly, my pals' appetites were not completely sated and we zipped over to a real Chicago landmark, Portillos. There, for about 4 bucks, I got a nice sized Chicago style dog and a drink. My travelling cohorts, themselves food experts all, knocked back some dogs and a little italian beef. Back for Round 2 at Mother Hubbards and, having drank them out of canned Hamms the day before, settled for a few buckets of High Life. Miller High life, that is. That's real man's livin, brother, let me tell you.
"...I just grin like a clown. Its my kind of town..."
After a little napper, Friday night kicked off at the bar in the James. Excellent, well portioned cocktails all around, including a nice newcomer to my tequila experience,Deleon. The reposado was really, really nice. A sweet taste, dripping in vanilla, caramel and more. Definitely a keeper. The plata, not so much - a little bitter and a bit of a cheap whiskey burn going down - skip it.
The lobby of the James is really a great place. Tons of folks walking through, enjoying themselves. The women were gorgeous and, if it matters to you, there were plenty of guys roaming as well. At one point, we were engulfed by a bevy of California girls enjoying a little "bachelorette weekend". One young lady made an offbeat coment about "beer flavored nipples". Girls with short dresses and pink penis necklaces... Was that in The Sound of Music? Anyway, don't see too much of that in the normal work week, that's for sure.
Friday night also brought us a couple of additions. My old pal from my law school days in Chicago, Scotty "The Ring" Stephenson and another classic Chicago local, Johnny Z., were brought in to round out the crew. We meandered from The James over to Rosebud on Rush for a great old time Italian dinner. I knocked back a steer size veal parm and a couple of cocktails. Not only was the veal parm good eats for a simple guy like me, but it also served as a great big sponge for the swimming pool of beer that I was to ingest over the next few hours.
From the Rosebud, we hopped a cab over to a reinvigorated part of the city, affectionately known as "Bucktown". Out of the cab, into the bar. For the first time in two days, there it was - the famous "Old Style" sign. My man, JP, immediately "glamoured" a cute little bartender and convinced her to set aside their entire remaining stock of Old Style tall boys. Six 24 ounce cans of what is essentially a cold and pale PBR in a snazzy can. A couple of hours and, incredibly, down they went. What can I say? Classic rock in a sweaty old open air bar just does it to me. Every time.
After polishing off a backyard well worth of the Old Style grog, we taxied back downtown and stumbled into The Red Head. Not in a redhead, I promise. I am a good husband, after all. No, The Red head is a one of a kind in town Chicago bar where you can circle around a piano man, drink if you wish (I did wish) and sing along. Fun, fun, fun and no one had a T Bird taken away.
"My kind of razzmatazz. And it has all that jazz..."
I woke up surprisingly sprite on Saturday and readied for a trip north to Wrigley to see the Cubbies play the Cards. First stop, Murphys. Plenty of Old Style. Cracked one open, and did my best to choke it down, along with a nicely charred brat. From there,well, I struggled. The bleachers were great, the day nice enough and the stadium, well, it is Wrigley. A great, great place whether you like baseball or not. Unfortunately, the reverb from Friday night's festivities hit me like a club. Didn't even make it to the 7th inning stretch. Caught a cab and back to The James with JB, who was apparently feeling the same kickback. A few hours of napping with some Arkansas-Alabama on the tube and the ship was back sailing in the right direction.
Dinner was big, even by Chicago standards. A great mammoth sized T Bone at The Saloon. Unable to even glance in the direction of anything in a bottle or can, I stuck with tap water. Worked fine. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for our buddy Steven, who went down for the count just as his house salad arrived. JP later recalled the great Howard Cosell comparing Steven's fall from grace to a long ago title bout: "Down goes Frazier, down goes Frazier..."
Up early Sunday and back to reality. As we took off and circled over enormous Lake Michigan, I kept thinking of the Sammy Cahn lyrics, the Sinatra voice:
"One town that wont let you down. It's my kind of town."
Chicago IS.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Captain Dunsel?
Never heard of him? I know you Star Trek fans remember the reference - you know, the episode where Doctor Daystrom and the M-5 computer replaced Captain Kirk at the helm of the Enterprise. You got to know that one. Anyway, for those who have not seen every episode of the original Star Trek series about 186 times apiece, let me fill you in. "Captain Dunsel" is a midshipman's term for a part which no longer serves a useful purpose. Think a politician whose newer and younger party members have party excluded him, a committee chair whose members have tuned her out. And of course, our good Captain Kirk, who was left to watch as a cardboard computer ran his beloved Enterprise.
I have thought much of Capain Dunsel over the last couple of weeks. Much like the ship captain, I was once at the helm of my own vessel right here in the Bulitt home. My crew was made up of little people, all scampering around looking to me for food, for fun, for love - for life. For piggybacks and "speed boat". For "chase me" and "cuss time". A tiring job, a challenging position, that is for certain, but one which I think I grew into and more comfortable as my time in the Captain's chair went by. I didn't think much about it then, but now I do. My days as Captain, my time as the center of my children's lives, it has most certainly passed. Today, my ship largely runs itself, my crew more often than not, much happier to be on their own, making their own way, walking their own paths.
I am Captain Dunsel. Or am I?
Does my oldest still call me every day from college, pretty much without fail? She does. Does my high school senior still rely upon me to help her with getting ready for her next steps in life - beyond high school? She does. And my 15 year old - doesn't she need me now more than ever to help her reach beyond and around her array of issues to be the best she can be? I think she does. And what about my baby? My 12 year old who looks and wants you to think she is really 18. Doesn't she need me to remind her that its okay to be a kid for awhile longer? I know she does.
Do all of my girls still laugh at my jokes? They do. Do they want to tell me about their successes, and sometimes even their failures? Yes.Yes. I believe they do.
Maybe I dont need to be the center of my children's lives to continue to be important to their lives. I think I can still make a difference without having to be the only difference.
Its amazing how a little glass of oaky anejo can give you clarity.
Captain Dunsel? Oh no. Not me. Not now. Not ever.
I have thought much of Capain Dunsel over the last couple of weeks. Much like the ship captain, I was once at the helm of my own vessel right here in the Bulitt home. My crew was made up of little people, all scampering around looking to me for food, for fun, for love - for life. For piggybacks and "speed boat". For "chase me" and "cuss time". A tiring job, a challenging position, that is for certain, but one which I think I grew into and more comfortable as my time in the Captain's chair went by. I didn't think much about it then, but now I do. My days as Captain, my time as the center of my children's lives, it has most certainly passed. Today, my ship largely runs itself, my crew more often than not, much happier to be on their own, making their own way, walking their own paths.
I am Captain Dunsel. Or am I?
Does my oldest still call me every day from college, pretty much without fail? She does. Does my high school senior still rely upon me to help her with getting ready for her next steps in life - beyond high school? She does. And my 15 year old - doesn't she need me now more than ever to help her reach beyond and around her array of issues to be the best she can be? I think she does. And what about my baby? My 12 year old who looks and wants you to think she is really 18. Doesn't she need me to remind her that its okay to be a kid for awhile longer? I know she does.
Do all of my girls still laugh at my jokes? They do. Do they want to tell me about their successes, and sometimes even their failures? Yes.Yes. I believe they do.
Maybe I dont need to be the center of my children's lives to continue to be important to their lives. I think I can still make a difference without having to be the only difference.
Its amazing how a little glass of oaky anejo can give you clarity.
Captain Dunsel? Oh no. Not me. Not now. Not ever.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Key West, FL
Well, it has been far too long since yours truly (TQB South) has posted anything to our blog. Plenty of life getting in the way of posting, but hopefully I'm back in gear now.
Several weeks ago the TQBs got together for a road trip to Key West. It has become a favorite party spot for the boys. I've been heading down to Key West since college Spring Break days and I've always loved the town. It remains a highly recommended destination for all Tequila Boys - young & old.
Things I like about Key West:
* It feels a lot like New Orleans to me (another TQB favorite), but with better weather. It doesn't have the same unbelievable music scene, but the mentality of the folks in Key West is "party-time!" all of the time.
* One of the Key West traditions that leads to that party mentality (and reminds me of New Orleans) is the Go-Cup. Is there anything better than being able to take your cocktails to the street in-between stops?
* There really is a mile-marker "ZERO" at the beginning of Route 1. I don't know why I think being at the southern most tip of the US is so cool, but I do.
* The beautiful Julia and Big Red in their scanty swim suits. I'm sorry all of you can't experience this on your Key West trips. What can we say? We're lucky guys.
* Scootering around town is a blast. It is a great way to see Key West. Although, watch out for elderly Cuban men in the crosswalks.
* The drive down from Miami. I know a lot of people that hate the drive, but I find it part of the magic. The second we hit the outer Keys I'm on "Keys Time" and I truly love the whole drive down. The beautiful blue/green water on either side of the road, the funky old-school bars/restaurants along the way, 7-mile bridge, etc. I just love it all.
* Key West's ability to bring out crazy costumes and body painting. Yeah, there are some women that shouldn't do the body painting, but there are still plenty that should. The only exception for me are the really B-I-G drag queens. People that know me, understand that I have no problems with alternative life styles. But some of these big queens scare me like angry clowns and carneys.
* Reading in the local papers that the "The Man Painted Silver" is seeking a ruling that will force "The Man Who Tells Dirty Jokes" to stand a minimum of 20 yards for him at the Sunsets - only in Key West. Oh yeah, nice sunsets too.
* There is an actual rope swing in my favorite restaurant on the island - Blue Heaven. BTW, if you visit make sure you order the Sauteed Yellowtail Snapper with Citrus Beurre Blanc Sauce. Food doesn't get much better.
* Live music in almost every bar - 'nuff said.
One thing I don't love so much about Key West:
* Key West is actually not a great tequila town. Yeah, every bar has a "top-shelf" of Patron (has any tequila even come close to a better job of marketing and placement??), but beyond that the pickins' are a bit thin. On this trip we discovered that Cowboy Bill's has one of the better selections (although we we forced to endure the tool bartender that was trying to do his best Tom Cruise in "Cocktail" impression). The bar is a bit off the beaten path on the northern end of Duval, but worth the walk - especially on sexy bull-riding night - yowza!
The good news is that we brought our own bottles of Dos Lunas Anejo and Corralejo Reposado for the trip - two TQB favorites. At the least, we always knew we had tasty nightcaps back at the rooms. What a great weekend with some really great friends.
Ahhh, now Sunday night is ahead - time to spend a few hours with Sookie Stackhouse, Vince/Ari & the Entourage and of course, Mr. Don Draper.
Several weeks ago the TQBs got together for a road trip to Key West. It has become a favorite party spot for the boys. I've been heading down to Key West since college Spring Break days and I've always loved the town. It remains a highly recommended destination for all Tequila Boys - young & old.
Things I like about Key West:
* It feels a lot like New Orleans to me (another TQB favorite), but with better weather. It doesn't have the same unbelievable music scene, but the mentality of the folks in Key West is "party-time!" all of the time.
* One of the Key West traditions that leads to that party mentality (and reminds me of New Orleans) is the Go-Cup. Is there anything better than being able to take your cocktails to the street in-between stops?
* There really is a mile-marker "ZERO" at the beginning of Route 1. I don't know why I think being at the southern most tip of the US is so cool, but I do.
* The beautiful Julia and Big Red in their scanty swim suits. I'm sorry all of you can't experience this on your Key West trips. What can we say? We're lucky guys.
* Scootering around town is a blast. It is a great way to see Key West. Although, watch out for elderly Cuban men in the crosswalks.
* The drive down from Miami. I know a lot of people that hate the drive, but I find it part of the magic. The second we hit the outer Keys I'm on "Keys Time" and I truly love the whole drive down. The beautiful blue/green water on either side of the road, the funky old-school bars/restaurants along the way, 7-mile bridge, etc. I just love it all.
* Key West's ability to bring out crazy costumes and body painting. Yeah, there are some women that shouldn't do the body painting, but there are still plenty that should. The only exception for me are the really B-I-G drag queens. People that know me, understand that I have no problems with alternative life styles. But some of these big queens scare me like angry clowns and carneys.
* Reading in the local papers that the "The Man Painted Silver" is seeking a ruling that will force "The Man Who Tells Dirty Jokes" to stand a minimum of 20 yards for him at the Sunsets - only in Key West. Oh yeah, nice sunsets too.
* There is an actual rope swing in my favorite restaurant on the island - Blue Heaven. BTW, if you visit make sure you order the Sauteed Yellowtail Snapper with Citrus Beurre Blanc Sauce. Food doesn't get much better.
* Live music in almost every bar - 'nuff said.
One thing I don't love so much about Key West:
* Key West is actually not a great tequila town. Yeah, every bar has a "top-shelf" of Patron (has any tequila even come close to a better job of marketing and placement??), but beyond that the pickins' are a bit thin. On this trip we discovered that Cowboy Bill's has one of the better selections (although we we forced to endure the tool bartender that was trying to do his best Tom Cruise in "Cocktail" impression). The bar is a bit off the beaten path on the northern end of Duval, but worth the walk - especially on sexy bull-riding night - yowza!
The good news is that we brought our own bottles of Dos Lunas Anejo and Corralejo Reposado for the trip - two TQB favorites. At the least, we always knew we had tasty nightcaps back at the rooms. What a great weekend with some really great friends.
Ahhh, now Sunday night is ahead - time to spend a few hours with Sookie Stackhouse, Vince/Ari & the Entourage and of course, Mr. Don Draper.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
National Tequila Day?
You got it right. National Tequila Day. Right up there with Boxer Day. Crazy. Might as well send a passel of diabetics out for National Donut Day. Maybe free the sex addicts from thir therapeautic environs for a National Vibrator Day. Think of the parades - fireworks? Floats? What a country.
Of course, despite the jokes, it seemed to TQB Nation that the holiday should not go without appropriate revelry. In honor of the historic day, the TQB founders - together again after a two week hiatus - stretched their legs along "the Avenue" as Atlantic Avenue is called in Del Ray Beach, Florida. The TQB were also celebrating some member birthdays and roamed the streets with Flip, the Princess, the LaVigna's (now there's a holiday name in the making...)and flanked, as always, by their female love interests, Julia and Big Red.
Cocktails kicked off at Bluefin, a trendy sushi and seafood spot. A nice black lacquered and circular bar engulfed a few of your basic south Florida bartenders - cute,blonde and busty but slightly "bartender challenged". The tequila selection was weak - Patron silver and reposado and a couple of well bottles of junk. We made the most of it, had blonde #1 pour us a couple of silver's, chilled and up with a little lime wedge. Nothing extraordinary, but certainly refreshing. Blonde #2 pulled a couple of flat beers, but that didnt dampen things for the fellas.
After an hour or so, we headed over to a "gastro-pub" - just dont like how that sounds, between you and me. I do understand this is the latest in themed restaurants for the "foodie folks", of which, as you know, I am not. The joint, called "Taste" was also a very hip spot - our waiter, Kirk, a decent enough fellow, but unfortunately appeared to be stretching his skills a bit in the food service industry. We had an assortment of appetizers, all really good. Of particular mention was the chip and dip plate - really tasty, but did remind me a bit of my Saturday nights babysitting in the 70's knocking back bowl full of Ruffles and a pint of Dean's french onion dip while watching The Bob Newhart Show - no matter, everyone loved it.
To a man. all enjoyed their food - from some extravagant burgers to crab cake sliders. Fellow TQB founder JB polished off a "skirt steak", which by the way was longer and looser then the skirt Big Red had on for the evening. She was, for a birthday girl of any age, much less one in her mid 40's, just plain smoking hot.
Oh yeah - the tequila - again, nothing special in terms of choices, leaving this non driving TQB to top off with a Milagro Reposado - had them chill it a little longer and toss into a martini glass. Again, no award winner, but a nice crisp and refreshing cocktail. No complaints.
The Key Lime Pie that all shared for dessert was also quite good - creamy with a neat graham cracker and cocunut crust, but maybe not as sharp as Key Lime lovers would prefer.
Finished up with an icy cold Anchor Steam. Very Bohemian, I know. Especially for a true blue Anheuser Busch guy. Was good, I will tell you that.
Great friends. Great night. Great holiday.
Of course, despite the jokes, it seemed to TQB Nation that the holiday should not go without appropriate revelry. In honor of the historic day, the TQB founders - together again after a two week hiatus - stretched their legs along "the Avenue" as Atlantic Avenue is called in Del Ray Beach, Florida. The TQB were also celebrating some member birthdays and roamed the streets with Flip, the Princess, the LaVigna's (now there's a holiday name in the making...)and flanked, as always, by their female love interests, Julia and Big Red.
Cocktails kicked off at Bluefin, a trendy sushi and seafood spot. A nice black lacquered and circular bar engulfed a few of your basic south Florida bartenders - cute,blonde and busty but slightly "bartender challenged". The tequila selection was weak - Patron silver and reposado and a couple of well bottles of junk. We made the most of it, had blonde #1 pour us a couple of silver's, chilled and up with a little lime wedge. Nothing extraordinary, but certainly refreshing. Blonde #2 pulled a couple of flat beers, but that didnt dampen things for the fellas.
After an hour or so, we headed over to a "gastro-pub" - just dont like how that sounds, between you and me. I do understand this is the latest in themed restaurants for the "foodie folks", of which, as you know, I am not. The joint, called "Taste" was also a very hip spot - our waiter, Kirk, a decent enough fellow, but unfortunately appeared to be stretching his skills a bit in the food service industry. We had an assortment of appetizers, all really good. Of particular mention was the chip and dip plate - really tasty, but did remind me a bit of my Saturday nights babysitting in the 70's knocking back bowl full of Ruffles and a pint of Dean's french onion dip while watching The Bob Newhart Show - no matter, everyone loved it.
To a man. all enjoyed their food - from some extravagant burgers to crab cake sliders. Fellow TQB founder JB polished off a "skirt steak", which by the way was longer and looser then the skirt Big Red had on for the evening. She was, for a birthday girl of any age, much less one in her mid 40's, just plain smoking hot.
Oh yeah - the tequila - again, nothing special in terms of choices, leaving this non driving TQB to top off with a Milagro Reposado - had them chill it a little longer and toss into a martini glass. Again, no award winner, but a nice crisp and refreshing cocktail. No complaints.
The Key Lime Pie that all shared for dessert was also quite good - creamy with a neat graham cracker and cocunut crust, but maybe not as sharp as Key Lime lovers would prefer.
Finished up with an icy cold Anchor Steam. Very Bohemian, I know. Especially for a true blue Anheuser Busch guy. Was good, I will tell you that.
Great friends. Great night. Great holiday.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Countdown to the Keys...
No LeBron. I doubt the Spanish World Cup champs be there. Oooster-something? You know, the guy that just won the British Open - Maybe those White House party crashers? Hope not. The Boys, the Tequila Boys will be there. A week from Friday, the boys head south to the isle of Hemingway, 12 toed cats and the usual assortment of miscreants. Thus, we fit right in.
The Tequila Boys begin their first official corporate outing a week from Friday. All are invited to join us roaming Duval from Sloppy Joe's to the dirt floor of the Parrot and all oak bars in between.
12 days, but who's counting?
The Tequila Boys begin their first official corporate outing a week from Friday. All are invited to join us roaming Duval from Sloppy Joe's to the dirt floor of the Parrot and all oak bars in between.
12 days, but who's counting?
Monday, July 5, 2010
"...all I ever wanted..."
...vacation, had to get away... Loved that song.
After a solid run of 70 hour work weeks, could not get the Go Go's out of my mind until I set foot in sunny south Florida.
Fast forward ten or so days and we are at the end of another family vacation. After 24 years of marriage and four kids, we have been fortunate to take a good number of trips, many during the summer. As the last day of another getaway winds down, I do tend to look back at the trip that was and wonder how many more I will get. Things have certainly changed over the years. 21 years of parenthood have taken me from one weekers to the Delaware shore with diapers and "pack n plays" in tow to flights down south with not much more than a book and a couple of kids who think I am from another planet.
This year's family trip was different in many ways, primarily as it was without a third of our family. My oldest elected to stay at school, work and be near her boyfriend. Sucks. Listen - I understand it but if you are a father of a grown up daughter, you know the feeling. And the feeling is, uh.... it sucks. My 17 year old is spending the summer in camp as something called a CIT. For the non campers out there that means "counselor in training". What it really means, however, is that your kid goes to camp,works for the summer and you still have to pay something close to college tuition for the privalege. Whatever. Bottom line, another kid gone for the summer. All together now: it sucks.
The good news, of course, is that there was more time for me to hang with my other two not so little ones. Beach, pool, waterparks, zoos - fun time. Tiring, but I loved every minute of it.
The evenings brought adult time with Julia, Big Red and my TQB brother, Johnny B. Several nights spent together, hanging out and laughing til we cried, sipping some great, great tequilas in the process (more about those in another post).
Not the movie "Vacation", I know. No great Chevy Chase scenes, no Christie Brinkley dropping her white bikini by the pool - but no doubt,like those Go Go's chirped in that eighties 45, "...vacation, all I ever wanted..."
After a solid run of 70 hour work weeks, could not get the Go Go's out of my mind until I set foot in sunny south Florida.
Fast forward ten or so days and we are at the end of another family vacation. After 24 years of marriage and four kids, we have been fortunate to take a good number of trips, many during the summer. As the last day of another getaway winds down, I do tend to look back at the trip that was and wonder how many more I will get. Things have certainly changed over the years. 21 years of parenthood have taken me from one weekers to the Delaware shore with diapers and "pack n plays" in tow to flights down south with not much more than a book and a couple of kids who think I am from another planet.
This year's family trip was different in many ways, primarily as it was without a third of our family. My oldest elected to stay at school, work and be near her boyfriend. Sucks. Listen - I understand it but if you are a father of a grown up daughter, you know the feeling. And the feeling is, uh.... it sucks. My 17 year old is spending the summer in camp as something called a CIT. For the non campers out there that means "counselor in training". What it really means, however, is that your kid goes to camp,works for the summer and you still have to pay something close to college tuition for the privalege. Whatever. Bottom line, another kid gone for the summer. All together now: it sucks.
The good news, of course, is that there was more time for me to hang with my other two not so little ones. Beach, pool, waterparks, zoos - fun time. Tiring, but I loved every minute of it.
The evenings brought adult time with Julia, Big Red and my TQB brother, Johnny B. Several nights spent together, hanging out and laughing til we cried, sipping some great, great tequilas in the process (more about those in another post).
Not the movie "Vacation", I know. No great Chevy Chase scenes, no Christie Brinkley dropping her white bikini by the pool - but no doubt,like those Go Go's chirped in that eighties 45, "...vacation, all I ever wanted..."
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Sometimes a little nothing is all you really need...
As this TQB rounds the bend toward 50, I sometimes look back at the path I have taken over the last half century. I find myself asking more than a few "what ifs" not to mention a random "if only". I wonder - even though I hope that the end is not near, have I done it "my way"?
If it sounds as if I am mired in a deep funk between tequila reviews, believe me that is just not the case. I don't dig ditches for a living. I dont have to pave roads. I have four beautiful kids and go to sleep every night with an amazing and gorgeous woman on the pillow next to me - often snoring by the time I get there, but that's not really the point...
I know that if I get up and go to work every day, I can pay for my house, my kids are taken care of and I usually have enough left over to spot up for a monthly agave run.
ON the other hand..... I spend most of my work days and 60 hour work weeks with folks who most definitely would rather have an intracranial bleed then spend an hour with me. Usually angry, generally sad and almost always in some sort of distress; believe me, the misery index is definitely on the rise. Good for business, bad for blood pressure.
Recently a woman whose ass I literally saved from divorce disaster and who could not thank me enough six months ago now refers to me as "the blood sucking moron". Charming AND creative... I am giving some thought to yanking the nameplate from my door and replacing it with "Blood Sucking Moron". Maybe sell a few tee shirts, you never know - - Hey, you get what you pay for...
What do I do to wind it down? Relax? Find my special place? I do just fine, thanks. Hang with my girls, date nights with Julia, a weekend ride on Big Red. Through it all, I listen to the boys - the band - Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes.
Anyone who listens to music has a favorite - my parents bend toward Sinatra and Streisand; Julia sings along (in fairness, "sings" might not be the right adjective) to Elton and Billy Joel; my kids' tastes run from country and Broadway to Ladies Gaga and Antebellum. But for me, when I want to just sit back, take it in, forget about the problems of others - there is just nothing like the Jukes. Listen, I am a Jersey music fanatic - I love Bruce and the E Streeters, enjoy JBJ, and am even old enough to have liked the Rascals. At the end of the day, though, I just would rather pull up a stool to my bar, stir a little "chilled and up", sidecar it with a cold beer, drop and spin a little Jukes.
I spent four hours at the Birchmere last night. "The Birch" is a great local concert venue and the Jukes generallly visit once or twice a year. Last night, they bounded through about 2 1/2 hours of alternately pounding, throbbing rock and roll, mixing in a little Sam Cooke and even Judy Garland's "Somewhere over the Rainbow" for good measure. The guys have a new CD to promote, and played several songs from the record last night. On one of the new tunes, Southside laments his needing to find a place where he "cant be found"; the lyrics of "sometimes a little nothing is all you really need" strikes and grounds you.
A few simple words sung by a 60 something bandleader reminded me of life's more important moments. Hey, Johnny - you talkin to me? You talkin to me? Because, if you aren't, I want you to know - I get it, oh yes I do. For me though, it is not just a place where I cant be found, but also a place where where I can drift away, nothing much to think about other than the music, your music, a place where "she's still in love" and I can "reach up and touch the sky".... For that and more, thanks to you and all your Jukes...
If it sounds as if I am mired in a deep funk between tequila reviews, believe me that is just not the case. I don't dig ditches for a living. I dont have to pave roads. I have four beautiful kids and go to sleep every night with an amazing and gorgeous woman on the pillow next to me - often snoring by the time I get there, but that's not really the point...
I know that if I get up and go to work every day, I can pay for my house, my kids are taken care of and I usually have enough left over to spot up for a monthly agave run.
ON the other hand..... I spend most of my work days and 60 hour work weeks with folks who most definitely would rather have an intracranial bleed then spend an hour with me. Usually angry, generally sad and almost always in some sort of distress; believe me, the misery index is definitely on the rise. Good for business, bad for blood pressure.
Recently a woman whose ass I literally saved from divorce disaster and who could not thank me enough six months ago now refers to me as "the blood sucking moron". Charming AND creative... I am giving some thought to yanking the nameplate from my door and replacing it with "Blood Sucking Moron". Maybe sell a few tee shirts, you never know - - Hey, you get what you pay for...
What do I do to wind it down? Relax? Find my special place? I do just fine, thanks. Hang with my girls, date nights with Julia, a weekend ride on Big Red. Through it all, I listen to the boys - the band - Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes.
Anyone who listens to music has a favorite - my parents bend toward Sinatra and Streisand; Julia sings along (in fairness, "sings" might not be the right adjective) to Elton and Billy Joel; my kids' tastes run from country and Broadway to Ladies Gaga and Antebellum. But for me, when I want to just sit back, take it in, forget about the problems of others - there is just nothing like the Jukes. Listen, I am a Jersey music fanatic - I love Bruce and the E Streeters, enjoy JBJ, and am even old enough to have liked the Rascals. At the end of the day, though, I just would rather pull up a stool to my bar, stir a little "chilled and up", sidecar it with a cold beer, drop and spin a little Jukes.
I spent four hours at the Birchmere last night. "The Birch" is a great local concert venue and the Jukes generallly visit once or twice a year. Last night, they bounded through about 2 1/2 hours of alternately pounding, throbbing rock and roll, mixing in a little Sam Cooke and even Judy Garland's "Somewhere over the Rainbow" for good measure. The guys have a new CD to promote, and played several songs from the record last night. On one of the new tunes, Southside laments his needing to find a place where he "cant be found"; the lyrics of "sometimes a little nothing is all you really need" strikes and grounds you.
A few simple words sung by a 60 something bandleader reminded me of life's more important moments. Hey, Johnny - you talkin to me? You talkin to me? Because, if you aren't, I want you to know - I get it, oh yes I do. For me though, it is not just a place where I cant be found, but also a place where where I can drift away, nothing much to think about other than the music, your music, a place where "she's still in love" and I can "reach up and touch the sky".... For that and more, thanks to you and all your Jukes...
Sunday, May 16, 2010
DANCING WITH MYSELF...
Billy Idol released "Dancing With Myself" in 1982. It was a great, rough around the edges new wavy rock tune. Every Thursday night at the now deceased Rendezvous Inn just off the University of Maryland campus in College Park (known simply as the "Vous" to the Terp faithful), girls took to the tables with a plastic cups of fifty cent beers in thir hands and rocked out to "Dancing with Myself". Even now, more than 25 years later, I can recall clearly looking up at a particularly curvy little thing from Jersey in some low rise jeans, her "vous shoes" and - - - anyway, I veered off track...
Why you ask, did Billy and his across the pond Brit rock anthem come to mind? A bit odd, actually. I spent Friday night at a neighbor's 50th birthday party down the street. You know the drill - lots of food, beer, big tent out back, bar on the deck and big ol' speakers blaring somebody's favorite mix of rock, old disco and a way too early in the evening spin of Barry White. The tequila was clearly purchased by the uninformed - Jose Cuervo and uh - - - Jose Cuervo. No me gusta.
Without any real tequila, I was fully prepared to spend the evening sipping from a cold longneck Bud and with the hope of catching the lovely Julia after the party in the right white wine induced frame of mind, if you get my drift. Overly optimistic? I'll never tell.
As if sent by an agave angel, some guy showed up about an hour or so in with a bottle of Milagro Reposado. Ca-ching!
Dont get me wrong, the Milagro is no top of the line tequila. What you do get for a very reasonable price is a nice, refreshing and sweet sipping tequila that makes for a quality sidecar to a cold and sweaty bottle of Bud.
So at that point, the world was again spinning in the right direction. A cool night, comfortable spot on the rail of the birthday boy's deck, couple of cocktails and yakking it up with dependable guy's guy, my neighbor Philly Walt. And then i saw him. Pasty guy. White shorts, way too short, red Under Armour golf shirt and flip flops. Dancing - - - - with himself. Bad news, Bonzo. There is simply nothing good that can come of a guy who dances with himself - under any circumstances.
"...Well there's nothing to lose and there's nothing to prove and I'm dancing with myself - oh, oh, oh..." Cool lyrics. Cool song. Real life, not so much.
Rebel yell, anyone?
Why you ask, did Billy and his across the pond Brit rock anthem come to mind? A bit odd, actually. I spent Friday night at a neighbor's 50th birthday party down the street. You know the drill - lots of food, beer, big tent out back, bar on the deck and big ol' speakers blaring somebody's favorite mix of rock, old disco and a way too early in the evening spin of Barry White. The tequila was clearly purchased by the uninformed - Jose Cuervo and uh - - - Jose Cuervo. No me gusta.
Without any real tequila, I was fully prepared to spend the evening sipping from a cold longneck Bud and with the hope of catching the lovely Julia after the party in the right white wine induced frame of mind, if you get my drift. Overly optimistic? I'll never tell.
As if sent by an agave angel, some guy showed up about an hour or so in with a bottle of Milagro Reposado. Ca-ching!
Dont get me wrong, the Milagro is no top of the line tequila. What you do get for a very reasonable price is a nice, refreshing and sweet sipping tequila that makes for a quality sidecar to a cold and sweaty bottle of Bud.
So at that point, the world was again spinning in the right direction. A cool night, comfortable spot on the rail of the birthday boy's deck, couple of cocktails and yakking it up with dependable guy's guy, my neighbor Philly Walt. And then i saw him. Pasty guy. White shorts, way too short, red Under Armour golf shirt and flip flops. Dancing - - - - with himself. Bad news, Bonzo. There is simply nothing good that can come of a guy who dances with himself - under any circumstances.
"...Well there's nothing to lose and there's nothing to prove and I'm dancing with myself - oh, oh, oh..." Cool lyrics. Cool song. Real life, not so much.
Rebel yell, anyone?
Monday, April 26, 2010
"...but she's got a great personality..."
Have you ever been in a situation where a buddy tries to fix you up with a date? You don't know who she (or he, for that matter, to be PC) is, what she looks like or anything about her. You ask a few questions - tall, short? nice legs? blond or brunette? Your friend answers something like "...uuuh , but she's got a great personality..." The kiss of death to be sure. It is unfortunate, it is sad, but it is true. We often judge others by what they look like long before we get a feel for who they are and what they are like "inside".
Such was my dilemma walking from the parking lot to "Azul 17", an upscale, trendy restaurant/tequila lounge in.... a strip center. I know, I know - you cant judge a book by its cover and all that. I just really hate going out on my Saturday date night to a place that is next door to a dry cleaner. Call me crazy.
Anyway, on to Azul 17's personality.
The place is essentially divided into two sections. Nice sized restaurant to the right, bar to the left. I went to the left. Shocking, I know.
The bar is very cool - lot of blue lighting, flat screeens with a running video of what I think were agave plants in various stages of growth along with with some shots of the cocktail waitresses with drinks. A little weird, but not particularly offensive. Lots of room, very nice bar - sort of an art deco look to the place. A kind of funked up xydeco sound thumped overhead - again, not my style generally , but I am trying to be more open minded to places that dont serve up some classic rock to its patrons.
As for the tequila, I will tell you without reservation, Azul 17 has the best selection around and one of the best I have seen, with the exception of Cowboy Ciao in Scotsdale, AZ and the legendary Roccos in West Palm Beach. Truly a terrific cross section of platas, reposados and anejos alike. Even a nice list of the Extra Anejos (aged 3 years or more), not that anyone should drop a hundred bucks on two and a half ounces of liquor - - well, maybe...
Knowing I would be there for awhile and have dinner (not that the food was of any interest to me), I budgeted myself three "chilled and ups" for the night.
I opened up with the Partida Anejo. A buttery beauty. Smooth, sweet and de-licioso. Unfortunately, a critical bartender error - some of the crushed ice from the shaker found its way into my glass. Unacceptable, but in a crowd of folks, I took a breath, shook my head, and savored it anyway. Also, the tequilas were all served in a very cool brandy type glass. Almost made up for the bartender's blunder.
I followed the Partida with another anejo - Voodoo Tiki. This is a popular pour in south Florida - having had the reposado before, thought I would give the anejo a shot. My friends, this one gets thunderous applause - it was like drinking the beautiful Julia from a glass - soft, gentle but a little dirty. Very, very nice.
I truly had a difficult time deciding on cocktail number three; did my best to lean toward a reposado, but just could not bring myself to lighten things on my palate. After much soul searching, I went to an old favorite and a TQB "home court" - the Gran Centenario. I raised my glass and quietly toasted JB, my down south TQB brother.
No need to get into the dinner - again, dont really care. Azul's atmosphere was cool, the tequila top shelf. Would I go back? Would you date her again? I dont know, but hey, she has a great personality...
Such was my dilemma walking from the parking lot to "Azul 17", an upscale, trendy restaurant/tequila lounge in.... a strip center. I know, I know - you cant judge a book by its cover and all that. I just really hate going out on my Saturday date night to a place that is next door to a dry cleaner. Call me crazy.
Anyway, on to Azul 17's personality.
The place is essentially divided into two sections. Nice sized restaurant to the right, bar to the left. I went to the left. Shocking, I know.
The bar is very cool - lot of blue lighting, flat screeens with a running video of what I think were agave plants in various stages of growth along with with some shots of the cocktail waitresses with drinks. A little weird, but not particularly offensive. Lots of room, very nice bar - sort of an art deco look to the place. A kind of funked up xydeco sound thumped overhead - again, not my style generally , but I am trying to be more open minded to places that dont serve up some classic rock to its patrons.
As for the tequila, I will tell you without reservation, Azul 17 has the best selection around and one of the best I have seen, with the exception of Cowboy Ciao in Scotsdale, AZ and the legendary Roccos in West Palm Beach. Truly a terrific cross section of platas, reposados and anejos alike. Even a nice list of the Extra Anejos (aged 3 years or more), not that anyone should drop a hundred bucks on two and a half ounces of liquor - - well, maybe...
Knowing I would be there for awhile and have dinner (not that the food was of any interest to me), I budgeted myself three "chilled and ups" for the night.
I opened up with the Partida Anejo. A buttery beauty. Smooth, sweet and de-licioso. Unfortunately, a critical bartender error - some of the crushed ice from the shaker found its way into my glass. Unacceptable, but in a crowd of folks, I took a breath, shook my head, and savored it anyway. Also, the tequilas were all served in a very cool brandy type glass. Almost made up for the bartender's blunder.
I followed the Partida with another anejo - Voodoo Tiki. This is a popular pour in south Florida - having had the reposado before, thought I would give the anejo a shot. My friends, this one gets thunderous applause - it was like drinking the beautiful Julia from a glass - soft, gentle but a little dirty. Very, very nice.
I truly had a difficult time deciding on cocktail number three; did my best to lean toward a reposado, but just could not bring myself to lighten things on my palate. After much soul searching, I went to an old favorite and a TQB "home court" - the Gran Centenario. I raised my glass and quietly toasted JB, my down south TQB brother.
No need to get into the dinner - again, dont really care. Azul's atmosphere was cool, the tequila top shelf. Would I go back? Would you date her again? I dont know, but hey, she has a great personality...
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Party Down
No tequila for this TQB over the weekend. However, dinner party for 7 at Casa Baldwin (major props to CB's beef bourguignon!) revealed 8 empty bottles of wine this morning. So that's why I was feeling a bit rough...
So to lick my wounds this morning I turned to On Demand for some lighter fair. Discovered Starz's "Party Down" and proceeded to watch 4 straight episodes. Premise is various Hollywood wannabes working steady catering gigs to pay the bills. Each show features a new gig. It was just what the doctored ordered -- some very funny shit. I found myself laughing out loud on more than a few occasions. Well-written, witty, great main characters, plenty of LA cynicism, excellent acting and MANY great guest appearances (often playing themselves). It might not be for everyone, but it was definitely for me. I think new episodes are Friday nights @ 10, but On Demand is our friend. Give it a shot next time you're looking for some mindless chuckles.
Soon, I need to give my thoughts on my recent Sunday evening past times - HBO's The Pacific and Treme. Sunday night IS HBO.
Can't wait to see the Azul 17 review from Ol' DB. Props to Robin and Bob Ur for the recommendation.
So to lick my wounds this morning I turned to On Demand for some lighter fair. Discovered Starz's "Party Down" and proceeded to watch 4 straight episodes. Premise is various Hollywood wannabes working steady catering gigs to pay the bills. Each show features a new gig. It was just what the doctored ordered -- some very funny shit. I found myself laughing out loud on more than a few occasions. Well-written, witty, great main characters, plenty of LA cynicism, excellent acting and MANY great guest appearances (often playing themselves). It might not be for everyone, but it was definitely for me. I think new episodes are Friday nights @ 10, but On Demand is our friend. Give it a shot next time you're looking for some mindless chuckles.
Soon, I need to give my thoughts on my recent Sunday evening past times - HBO's The Pacific and Treme. Sunday night IS HBO.
Can't wait to see the Azul 17 review from Ol' DB. Props to Robin and Bob Ur for the recommendation.
Monday, April 19, 2010
HAS THERE EVER BEEN A MAN SUCH AS CRIXUS?
Well, has there? I know, this is not a question that dangles from the lips of our fellow TQB populace. Some of you may be ahead of this curve, many others probably asking themselves: "Who the hell is Crixus?" For those of you not in the know, Crixus is a main protagonist in the new Staarz series, "Spartacus, Blood and Sand".
Anyway, a local Olney legend and fellow TV afficionado mentioned to me several weeks ago that "Spartacus" was the latest "cant miss" cable series. By way of background, I still watch the reruns of HBO's "Rome" and will, of course, catch Russell Crowe and "Gladiator" any time, day or night. Friends and I still whisper "Thirteen" and shake each other's forearms in greeting a la Rome's "Titus Pullo".
My interest sparked, I sat down about 10 days ago and began my foray into "Spartacus, Blood and Sand".
From the outset, lets be clear about a few things. This does not look like an expensive production. Unlike "Rome", which had literally thousands of extras and an abundance of sets and scene locations, Spartacus has but maybe four or five basic sets. Thats it. The special effects are a little corny (similar to the film "300")and no one is going to be looking at an Emmy for costume design, trust me. The men essentially are divided into two categories - the slaves/gladiators, who wear only a small leather loin cloth and the Romans who are either in a halloween type soldier costume or a tye dyed sheet that looks like a toga and belt. The women wear almost nothing - and that goes for the slaves and their masters. Note here that Lucy Lawless of "Xena" fame appears regularly with full "boobish" - very impressive, even by super hero standards.
The storylines themselves are not unfamiliar - revenge, jealousy, power, rage, to name a few. What is unique, however, is the consistent complexity of all the main characters, including the aforementioned Lucy Lawless as well as Battiatus, Spartacus, and, of course, my main man, Crixus. Each of the main characters are complicated folks - not one, withthe exception of Asher, the "Battiatus bookie", feels at all similar or cliche like. The acting is nothing short of terrific. With the lack of effects and visual support, the series would fail miserably absent the great cast.
Every episode is flushed with "in your face" sexual scenes. This includes a lot of full frontal male shots (I looked away), graphic sexual encounters and more great looking women than a sunny Saturday in South Beach.
For those of us looking for some testosterone pumping violence, trust me when I tell you that Spartacus serves it up - buffet style. This is blood lust to the nth degree.
All told, it took me about a week to watch the entire 13 episode series. I simply could not rest until seeing it to the end, apologies to my children and dogs. The series begins introducing us to Spartacus and the others; it climbs in rancor, tension and violence from one episode to the other. The season ends with a tidal wave of bone chilling violence, deception, dishonesty that eventually washes you away - literally in a sea of red.
My advice to you is simple. Get the kids to bed. Pluck up a lusty bottle of anejo, saddle up in a favorite chair, sit back and enjoy. By episode 3, I am quite sure that you too will be asking yourself and anyone else who will listen: Has there ever been a man such as Crixus?
Anyway, a local Olney legend and fellow TV afficionado mentioned to me several weeks ago that "Spartacus" was the latest "cant miss" cable series. By way of background, I still watch the reruns of HBO's "Rome" and will, of course, catch Russell Crowe and "Gladiator" any time, day or night. Friends and I still whisper "Thirteen" and shake each other's forearms in greeting a la Rome's "Titus Pullo".
My interest sparked, I sat down about 10 days ago and began my foray into "Spartacus, Blood and Sand".
From the outset, lets be clear about a few things. This does not look like an expensive production. Unlike "Rome", which had literally thousands of extras and an abundance of sets and scene locations, Spartacus has but maybe four or five basic sets. Thats it. The special effects are a little corny (similar to the film "300")and no one is going to be looking at an Emmy for costume design, trust me. The men essentially are divided into two categories - the slaves/gladiators, who wear only a small leather loin cloth and the Romans who are either in a halloween type soldier costume or a tye dyed sheet that looks like a toga and belt. The women wear almost nothing - and that goes for the slaves and their masters. Note here that Lucy Lawless of "Xena" fame appears regularly with full "boobish" - very impressive, even by super hero standards.
The storylines themselves are not unfamiliar - revenge, jealousy, power, rage, to name a few. What is unique, however, is the consistent complexity of all the main characters, including the aforementioned Lucy Lawless as well as Battiatus, Spartacus, and, of course, my main man, Crixus. Each of the main characters are complicated folks - not one, withthe exception of Asher, the "Battiatus bookie", feels at all similar or cliche like. The acting is nothing short of terrific. With the lack of effects and visual support, the series would fail miserably absent the great cast.
Every episode is flushed with "in your face" sexual scenes. This includes a lot of full frontal male shots (I looked away), graphic sexual encounters and more great looking women than a sunny Saturday in South Beach.
For those of us looking for some testosterone pumping violence, trust me when I tell you that Spartacus serves it up - buffet style. This is blood lust to the nth degree.
All told, it took me about a week to watch the entire 13 episode series. I simply could not rest until seeing it to the end, apologies to my children and dogs. The series begins introducing us to Spartacus and the others; it climbs in rancor, tension and violence from one episode to the other. The season ends with a tidal wave of bone chilling violence, deception, dishonesty that eventually washes you away - literally in a sea of red.
My advice to you is simple. Get the kids to bed. Pluck up a lusty bottle of anejo, saddle up in a favorite chair, sit back and enjoy. By episode 3, I am quite sure that you too will be asking yourself and anyone else who will listen: Has there ever been a man such as Crixus?
Friday, April 16, 2010
TQBs normally don't like to gush, but...
When reviewing tequilas, TQB don't often heap too much praise onto a particular bottle. I think the reasons are a couple fold.
1. Unlike sophisticated wine tastings, we don't like to prattle on with lengthy analysis and comparisons of tequilas. We like most of them very much - 'nuff said.
2. Often times the taste of the tequila is simply a distant secondary goal of the evening. On many occasions we just like to throw back the shots and get crazy with some friends. That warm, incredible tequila buzz is our mission and after 4-5 shots who really gives a crap about the taste?
However, sometimes you encounter a tequila that deserves some major props. I did so this evening and I'm going to allow myself to gush...just a bit.
First things first...
I started the evening with a nice shot of Partida Blanco - chilled & up. It was new to the establishment where I was drinking and my bartender wanted my opinion. The Partida Blanco was a nice start. It was crystal clear, crisp with plenty of full-force agave to the taste. It had a citrusy finish with licorice and pepper. If you are a Silver/Blanco fan, I think most of you will really like it.
It would have been a nice find for the evening, if I didn't follow it up with...
...the STAR of the evening, earning my highest praise ...the Dos Lunas Anjeo.
You know those butterscotch hard candies you used to suck on as a kid? Well, this tequila bottles it with a scorpion stinger of well-bodied agave to boot. This is one tasty and silky smooth drink of tequila. If you want a great tequila, that won't break the bank and I think everyone in your party will really enjoy, Dos Lunas Anjeo is your ticket muchachos. I highly encourage you to try some and let us know what you think.
Gush over...
1. Unlike sophisticated wine tastings, we don't like to prattle on with lengthy analysis and comparisons of tequilas. We like most of them very much - 'nuff said.
2. Often times the taste of the tequila is simply a distant secondary goal of the evening. On many occasions we just like to throw back the shots and get crazy with some friends. That warm, incredible tequila buzz is our mission and after 4-5 shots who really gives a crap about the taste?
However, sometimes you encounter a tequila that deserves some major props. I did so this evening and I'm going to allow myself to gush...just a bit.
First things first...
I started the evening with a nice shot of Partida Blanco - chilled & up. It was new to the establishment where I was drinking and my bartender wanted my opinion. The Partida Blanco was a nice start. It was crystal clear, crisp with plenty of full-force agave to the taste. It had a citrusy finish with licorice and pepper. If you are a Silver/Blanco fan, I think most of you will really like it.
It would have been a nice find for the evening, if I didn't follow it up with...
...the STAR of the evening, earning my highest praise ...the Dos Lunas Anjeo.
You know those butterscotch hard candies you used to suck on as a kid? Well, this tequila bottles it with a scorpion stinger of well-bodied agave to boot. This is one tasty and silky smooth drink of tequila. If you want a great tequila, that won't break the bank and I think everyone in your party will really enjoy, Dos Lunas Anjeo is your ticket muchachos. I highly encourage you to try some and let us know what you think.
Gush over...
Sunday, April 11, 2010
LEWNES LICENSE COMMOTION
At long last, for her anyway, the oldest daughter of one of the TQB founding fathers became "of age". Wasn't it just a week ago that the kid was wearing a Bulls jersey and throwing a beating on the neighbor's kid?
Anyway, to celebrate the event, Old DB brought Mandy B home from the world of Gamecock to spend the weekend with her family in Maryland. On Saturday night, we took her to an old favorite, Lewnes Steakhouse in Annapolis, to enjoy a big fat steak and a legal cocktail, or so we thought, anyway.
We have been to Lewnes maybe a dozen times over the years. The only negative i can tell you from all of those visits is the parking situation. Sucks a "donkey dick", so to say. Saturday night was no different. After dropping the gorgeous Julia, Mandy B. and her (boy)friend Josh - more on him later - at the front door, I spent about 15 minutes before finding a slice of on street asphalt within which to wedge the Wrangler. Another five minute walk to the joint, and I was ready for a nice cold beer. Unfortunately, upon reaching the table, Julia was in a major lather, having been told by the Lewnes "powers that be" that Mandy would not be able to get a cocktail because she was in possession of a "vertical license". Julia did what any normal, cool headed patron would do - she instructed management to contact the Anne Arundel County Police and send an officer over in order to verify the legality of the "vertical license". Long story short - cops came, approved the license, cocktails all around...the world was at peace.
Please understand that this TQB does not in any way fancy himself "a foodie". Dont like sushi, not into middle eastern or anything else I cant pronounce. My idea of a great restaurant is anyplace that has PBR on tap and a decent selection of tequila.
Ordered my steak the only way a man is supposed to eat a hunk of another mammal - "pittsburgh style". Amanda's (boy)friend, Josh - a very nice and decent fellow who reminds one of "Man Mountain Dean" from Aesops Fables - he ordered it the same way - washed it down with a couple loaves of bread and bucket or two of potatoes. My kind of guy.
As always - food was great - very different from your chain type steak house (think Mortons, Ruths Chris) - lot of great atmosphere, absolutely no complaints. The tequila selection was thin, but featured the Sauza Tres Generations Anejo. With that at the bar, frankly, you dont need to go much further. A buttery, mellow anejo - "mothers milk" as a buddy of mine says. Just great - served chilled in a mini-carafe awith a chilled martini glass - I had two and turned the keys over to Man Mountain Dean for the 45 minute ride home.
Good food + good tequila = good time for this TQB. Mission accomplished, despite the "vertical license"...
Anyway, to celebrate the event, Old DB brought Mandy B home from the world of Gamecock to spend the weekend with her family in Maryland. On Saturday night, we took her to an old favorite, Lewnes Steakhouse in Annapolis, to enjoy a big fat steak and a legal cocktail, or so we thought, anyway.
We have been to Lewnes maybe a dozen times over the years. The only negative i can tell you from all of those visits is the parking situation. Sucks a "donkey dick", so to say. Saturday night was no different. After dropping the gorgeous Julia, Mandy B. and her (boy)friend Josh - more on him later - at the front door, I spent about 15 minutes before finding a slice of on street asphalt within which to wedge the Wrangler. Another five minute walk to the joint, and I was ready for a nice cold beer. Unfortunately, upon reaching the table, Julia was in a major lather, having been told by the Lewnes "powers that be" that Mandy would not be able to get a cocktail because she was in possession of a "vertical license". Julia did what any normal, cool headed patron would do - she instructed management to contact the Anne Arundel County Police and send an officer over in order to verify the legality of the "vertical license". Long story short - cops came, approved the license, cocktails all around...the world was at peace.
Please understand that this TQB does not in any way fancy himself "a foodie". Dont like sushi, not into middle eastern or anything else I cant pronounce. My idea of a great restaurant is anyplace that has PBR on tap and a decent selection of tequila.
Ordered my steak the only way a man is supposed to eat a hunk of another mammal - "pittsburgh style". Amanda's (boy)friend, Josh - a very nice and decent fellow who reminds one of "Man Mountain Dean" from Aesops Fables - he ordered it the same way - washed it down with a couple loaves of bread and bucket or two of potatoes. My kind of guy.
As always - food was great - very different from your chain type steak house (think Mortons, Ruths Chris) - lot of great atmosphere, absolutely no complaints. The tequila selection was thin, but featured the Sauza Tres Generations Anejo. With that at the bar, frankly, you dont need to go much further. A buttery, mellow anejo - "mothers milk" as a buddy of mine says. Just great - served chilled in a mini-carafe awith a chilled martini glass - I had two and turned the keys over to Man Mountain Dean for the 45 minute ride home.
Good food + good tequila = good time for this TQB. Mission accomplished, despite the "vertical license"...
Saturday, April 10, 2010
TQB NORTH ENJOYS HOME COURT ADVANTAGE
TQB North enjoyed an evening in the comfy surroundings of a perpetual home base, The World Famous Club Boulez. Why? Well, it was Friday, for one. As if we needed added incentive, the TQB North hosted a few locals to join in celebrating Mandy B's 21st birthday. The gorgeous Julia, I-Man and Amy D , Uncle Mick and Sue, along with Philly Walt and his woman joined in with Mandy's (boy)friend, Josh - both in for the weekend from The Palmetto State.
A little Caps hockey on the bar-vision followed by the great Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes on the overhead and all was as it always is at Club Boulez - - -
To mark the event, TQB decided to run through a few anejos with one common thread - supremely excellent looking bottles.
The TQB gathered first around a spanking new bottle of Corazon Anejo. The bottle itself is accentuated by quite a long neck - think Bud 12oz size x 2. The color is, frankly , a little odd for an anejo - pale - much more of a reposado or gold type "hue" - - - I-Man noticed an "apple" taste. Apple? Maybe he's gay, not that there is anything wrong with that. Julia took a sip to chase a couple of glasses of pinot grigio - - - "not the worst thing i ever tasted" - a ringing endorsement to be sure. Ol Db was a fan - not a fovorite, but "supreme drinkability..." And yes, that was my line, not at all stolen from the Bud Light commercials...
Next on the line was the Cielo Anejo - another very cool bottle - the neck wrapped in rope - I Man liked the S & M reference... This is another interesting, tasty ,if not "top of the heap" agave - - filled with lots of cool flavors - a mix of vanilla, licorice and coffee was the general consensus.
The final entry was a gift from a recent traveller having returned from the jalisco region of mejico - - La Fugata Anejo - bottled in a short, stumpy bottle - very dark in color - almost looked like root beer. Uncle Mick loved it - but again, after 3 or 4, he probably could'nt tell the difference beteween tequila and worcestershire sauce. This was undoubtedly the most interesting of the group - lot of spices, very complicated. Cant say I would pick it to sip, but certainly unique -
The bar closed with a live version of SSJ's "Talk to Me" - all in all, pretty, pretty good - - -
A little Caps hockey on the bar-vision followed by the great Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes on the overhead and all was as it always is at Club Boulez - - -
To mark the event, TQB decided to run through a few anejos with one common thread - supremely excellent looking bottles.
The TQB gathered first around a spanking new bottle of Corazon Anejo. The bottle itself is accentuated by quite a long neck - think Bud 12oz size x 2. The color is, frankly , a little odd for an anejo - pale - much more of a reposado or gold type "hue" - - - I-Man noticed an "apple" taste. Apple? Maybe he's gay, not that there is anything wrong with that. Julia took a sip to chase a couple of glasses of pinot grigio - - - "not the worst thing i ever tasted" - a ringing endorsement to be sure. Ol Db was a fan - not a fovorite, but "supreme drinkability..." And yes, that was my line, not at all stolen from the Bud Light commercials...
Next on the line was the Cielo Anejo - another very cool bottle - the neck wrapped in rope - I Man liked the S & M reference... This is another interesting, tasty ,if not "top of the heap" agave - - filled with lots of cool flavors - a mix of vanilla, licorice and coffee was the general consensus.
The final entry was a gift from a recent traveller having returned from the jalisco region of mejico - - La Fugata Anejo - bottled in a short, stumpy bottle - very dark in color - almost looked like root beer. Uncle Mick loved it - but again, after 3 or 4, he probably could'nt tell the difference beteween tequila and worcestershire sauce. This was undoubtedly the most interesting of the group - lot of spices, very complicated. Cant say I would pick it to sip, but certainly unique -
The bar closed with a live version of SSJ's "Talk to Me" - all in all, pretty, pretty good - - -
Monday, April 5, 2010
TQB TRIP TO ANNAPOLIS, MD'S "LEWNES STEAKHOUSE" COMING THIS WEEKEND
The TQB are loooking forward to a Saturday night visit at Lewnes Steakhouse in Annapolis, Maryland. Opened in 1921, it is a real steakhouse and saloon in the old school fashion - - a full report on the menu and , of course, tequila options will soon follow!
Friday, April 2, 2010
Amigos III - Jupiter, FL
I was flying solo today for my weekly Friday trip to Amigos III. Ol' DB was invited to ride shotgun, but was busy readying his family for the trip back North - if only vacations could last forever.
Anyway, Amigos III has been my weekly spot during Lent. Their CHEESE nachos (more on these later) have been a Friday lunch staple for the past month as I avoid meat on Fridays. Yes, mysterious old Catholic rituals remain hard to break. Of course, there are no rules to my knowledge about chasing said cheesy chips with a fine Tequila - even on Good Friday. What Tequila Boy wouldn't?
Just a quick side note on the Nachos @ Amigos III if you are ever here in Jupiter, they soar where few eagles even dare. Whereas most places leave me wanting for more cheese, especially after that first layer of chips is done, our Boys at Amigos III actually put on more cheese than even I can handle. I've actually left beautiful, gooey, melted cheese on the plate even after the last chip has been devoured. Unprecedented, for anyone that knows me.
And the service is always friendly, food good and plenty of quality choices of our favorite spirit available to sample.
Today's selection was the Corralejo Anejo. It was light in color for an Anejo, but very smooth and packed with plenty of flavor. 12 months in charred oak will do that for you - giving it a nice smokey flavor with hints of vanilla. It actually reminiscent of one of my gold standards - The Gran Centenario Anjeo. I would definitely recommend it when sitting around with good friends. Its tall, red (signifies prosperity in Mexico) bottle was pretty cool too.
My bartender Nicolas then tempted me with the Dos Lunas Anejo. He was interested in me giving it a try once he heard about the Tequila Boys blog, but alas I had to resist given it was a working day lunch. He did pull down the bottle and gave me a whiff. Tons of vanilla and caramel to the nose - my mouth watered. It was very tempting, but it will have to stay for the next trip. As you know, Tequila ain't cheap these days. Hell, most shots are more expensive than a blowjob from a Juarez whore (or at least so I've been told).
Did that somehow just cost me 10 Hail Marys?
Anyway, Amigos III has been my weekly spot during Lent. Their CHEESE nachos (more on these later) have been a Friday lunch staple for the past month as I avoid meat on Fridays. Yes, mysterious old Catholic rituals remain hard to break. Of course, there are no rules to my knowledge about chasing said cheesy chips with a fine Tequila - even on Good Friday. What Tequila Boy wouldn't?
Just a quick side note on the Nachos @ Amigos III if you are ever here in Jupiter, they soar where few eagles even dare. Whereas most places leave me wanting for more cheese, especially after that first layer of chips is done, our Boys at Amigos III actually put on more cheese than even I can handle. I've actually left beautiful, gooey, melted cheese on the plate even after the last chip has been devoured. Unprecedented, for anyone that knows me.
And the service is always friendly, food good and plenty of quality choices of our favorite spirit available to sample.
Today's selection was the Corralejo Anejo. It was light in color for an Anejo, but very smooth and packed with plenty of flavor. 12 months in charred oak will do that for you - giving it a nice smokey flavor with hints of vanilla. It actually reminiscent of one of my gold standards - The Gran Centenario Anjeo. I would definitely recommend it when sitting around with good friends. Its tall, red (signifies prosperity in Mexico) bottle was pretty cool too.
My bartender Nicolas then tempted me with the Dos Lunas Anejo. He was interested in me giving it a try once he heard about the Tequila Boys blog, but alas I had to resist given it was a working day lunch. He did pull down the bottle and gave me a whiff. Tons of vanilla and caramel to the nose - my mouth watered. It was very tempting, but it will have to stay for the next trip. As you know, Tequila ain't cheap these days. Hell, most shots are more expensive than a blowjob from a Juarez whore (or at least so I've been told).
Did that somehow just cost me 10 Hail Marys?
Cabo Flats Tequila Bar- Palm Beach Gardens, FL - Part 1
April 1, 2010 -
Our first official tasting after several years of sipping the stuff just for fun so to speak.
Cabo Flats is located in the Downtown area of Palm Beach Gardens, Florida. A very cool upscale vibe; bar was booming with plenty of room both inside and out. Best of all for the boys, classic rock from Steve Miller to the Stones, running overhead. Nice start.
Got ourselves a table outside with our two personal assistants, Julio and Big Red. Life was good.
On to the tequila. How to drink it? The only way the boys do it of course, chilled and up.
We opened with the El Mayor Anejo. Off the bat, want to let you know that the size of the cocktail was impressive. Most places serve the tequila in a small shot glass, sometimes a martini sized glass. These glasses a solid 2-2 1/2 shots. Take it from a former bartender. Anyway, JB liked the taste, "very smooth", but "almost too smooth", apparently comparing the El mayor to that ever tanned actor, George Hamilton. Big Red was a big fan. Julio stuck with her pear vodka. Ol DB liked the smooth draw, definitely a nice flavor, but ultimately not one i would remember tomorrow.
Round 2 brought us the El Jimador, another anejo. We decided to make it an anejo night at this point. This was unanimous "best in show" selection for the night - great oaky taste- big hard wood as JB called it. Ol Db not want to go there.
We followed that up with the Partida Anejo. Another smooth operator. Went down easy. Ultimately though, somewhat like a Disney show. We enjoyed it, it was fun, but we didnt take pictures and not much to think about after we leave.
Round 3 brought the El Tesoro Anejo."TOOEY" was DB's response. That Cuervo garbage, but without the burn. Where's the worm? JB, however, was not nearly as offended: "Very forward - I liked the taste..."
Tres Rios Anejo closed us down. We gave it credit for timing, as it arrived during the Stones "sympathy of the Devil". Ol Db was disappointed - "thin and not a lot going on. I love tequila, so enjoyed it, but woudl not buy it again. Not a big fan..." JB agreed -"Hey, if you dont like tequila, its good tequila." We think that about says it all. Of course, it did fall at the tail end of 4 solid rounds when it started to look as if we had 4 waiters... We may give it another chance just to be safe -
As for Cabo Flats itself - we both are unanimous - loved it. Service was good, food excellent and reasonably priced. The Tequila Boys will definitely be back...
Our first official tasting after several years of sipping the stuff just for fun so to speak.
Cabo Flats is located in the Downtown area of Palm Beach Gardens, Florida. A very cool upscale vibe; bar was booming with plenty of room both inside and out. Best of all for the boys, classic rock from Steve Miller to the Stones, running overhead. Nice start.
Got ourselves a table outside with our two personal assistants, Julio and Big Red. Life was good.
On to the tequila. How to drink it? The only way the boys do it of course, chilled and up.
We opened with the El Mayor Anejo. Off the bat, want to let you know that the size of the cocktail was impressive. Most places serve the tequila in a small shot glass, sometimes a martini sized glass. These glasses a solid 2-2 1/2 shots. Take it from a former bartender. Anyway, JB liked the taste, "very smooth", but "almost too smooth", apparently comparing the El mayor to that ever tanned actor, George Hamilton. Big Red was a big fan. Julio stuck with her pear vodka. Ol DB liked the smooth draw, definitely a nice flavor, but ultimately not one i would remember tomorrow.
Round 2 brought us the El Jimador, another anejo. We decided to make it an anejo night at this point. This was unanimous "best in show" selection for the night - great oaky taste- big hard wood as JB called it. Ol Db not want to go there.
We followed that up with the Partida Anejo. Another smooth operator. Went down easy. Ultimately though, somewhat like a Disney show. We enjoyed it, it was fun, but we didnt take pictures and not much to think about after we leave.
Round 3 brought the El Tesoro Anejo."TOOEY" was DB's response. That Cuervo garbage, but without the burn. Where's the worm? JB, however, was not nearly as offended: "Very forward - I liked the taste..."
Tres Rios Anejo closed us down. We gave it credit for timing, as it arrived during the Stones "sympathy of the Devil". Ol Db was disappointed - "thin and not a lot going on. I love tequila, so enjoyed it, but woudl not buy it again. Not a big fan..." JB agreed -"Hey, if you dont like tequila, its good tequila." We think that about says it all. Of course, it did fall at the tail end of 4 solid rounds when it started to look as if we had 4 waiters... We may give it another chance just to be safe -
As for Cabo Flats itself - we both are unanimous - loved it. Service was good, food excellent and reasonably priced. The Tequila Boys will definitely be back...
Thursday, April 1, 2010
The Boys - Who are we?
Who are the Tequila Boys? Quite simply, we are good friends with many common interests, including good bars, great wives and, for the purposes of this column, great tequilas. We will bring you along from bar to bar and shot to shot in the way we most enjoybour tequila - chilled and up. Come along for the ride.
Ol DB and JB, your agave guides...
Ol DB and JB, your agave guides...
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