On the Side

Cup O' Burnin' Love

For a few weeks now I've had an unpleasant reocurring concern: my pants are too small. You see, now that it is finally pants weather, finally, some of us have unwillingly dragged our Dockers out of hiding only to find they're a bit snug around the waste line. To find that top button straining more than it should. To realize the looseness that should be present around the thigh area has now been squeezed out of existence.

But colder days also mean hot chocolate, and this I shall not deprive myself of. In fact, I had two cups on two consecutive nights this weekend, to the detriment of my pants. Any day now, I expect to sit down and have a button pop off. Not quite as embarassing as referring to a lady as a story subject's mother when she is actually his wife (I did that last week and am still mortified).

Anyhoo, Night 1 was Saturday, when I, the spouse and two friends watched our breath escape from us with every exhale. For two hours. Until well after midnight. But for a good cause. We were waiting in line to get into Fear Factory, which gives all proceeds to the Make a Wish foundation. Located in an old factory at 260 Pine Avenue, adjacent to Lucky's bar, Friday and Saturday admission is $9 and Sundays $7 through Nov. 1. And those are the correct prices, unlike what has been listed for two weekends in a row in the Weekend section of the paper. The folks at Fear Factory have done a fantastic job this year of trying to scare the poo out of people. And they're even selling snacks to the waiting masses. Did I have a cup of burn-your-tongue Swiss Miss cocoa while we shivered? As they say in Alaska and on 'Fargo,' you betcha. It warmed my cockles as I watched underagers smoke cigarettes and shove each other around, and bar patrons speed down Crystal Avenue.

But the fun didn't end that night. It continued on Sunday, when some of us took a tour of Maple Grove Cemetery courtesy of the Hancock Historical Museum. Each year, the museum has people dress in period clothing and they recite by lamplight the lives of some of the more interesting individuals buried out there by the freeway. Not scary, but quite interesting and educational. No hot chocolate at the graveyard, but I whipped out our carton of Hershey's cocoa once we got back home. Yummy. If we go to this next year, I'm bringing a thermos.

What's your favorite cold weather drink?

Candygram

Two years ago, no one in Findlay had really heard of Land Shark Lager, but you'd best believe it was being heavily promoted at Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville restaurants, thereby planting the seeds for millions to carry forth those beerstained memories and want to relive them at home. Many a drinker has already basked in the 110-degree Las Vegas heat and water misters on the chain's third floor, sucked down a cold Land Shark, eaten a cheeseburger and wondered if another gun fight will happen that night on the sidewalk below. Buffett's island aura doesn't need to exist on an actual beach - the desert suffices.

Now it's here in Findlay, and Jimmy is hoping his beer, along with the summer season, will be enough to make up for the too many miles between us and the Caribbean. Land Shark Lager is everywhere it seems, including on one of the big billboards looking west on the overpass toward the Findlay Inn.

It goes down good with any bar food, especially if said food is greasy. It's packaged much like a Corona, with dark lettering highlighting the glowing amber liquid inside. It even has a little kick to it like a Corona, which I kinda like, and that's saying something because I definitely don't like Coronas.

But as many of us know, land sharks can fool you. Take, for instance, Gilda Radner getting her head swallowed by the ferocious land shark played by Chevy Chase in the first SNL season. They'll entice you by trying to make you believe you're getting, say, a candygram when all you'll really be getting is swallowed.

Buffet's beer is marketed as a candygram, particularly to those who like screaming "SALT" after the phrase "shaker of" at concerts and wearing big goofy fin hats. And it is a good sit-down-and-drink-four-of-em kind of brew. But it's really not much different than its cheaper siblings.

Land Shark Lager is described on its website as being "about good times, good friends, good food and a great party on the beach," even if you're in Vegas or Dave's Hideaway, because it's "a state of mind."

But a Vegas bartender last year let us in on the open secret (which isn't so open, because one good swig will tell you) - Land Shark Lager is actually made by Anheuser Busch. That's kept kind of quiet to make us believe we're drinking something more special than slightly jazzed up Bud Light, maybe something that Jimmy himself concocted. But really it's just slightly jazzed up Bud Light with a slightly higher price - earning Jimmy more bucks to buy more sea planes and expand his gazillionaire Jimmy empire. 

A Cognac Moment

There aren't many of us who don't like vanilla. Vanilla ice cream. Vanilla cake. Vanilla with chocolate. Which is primarily why I was recently drawn to Navan.

A sample of it last year immediately grabbed my attention, but I didn't get around to trying a full glass until a few weeks ago. In fact, it was my first full-fledged effort at enjoying cognac like a real grown-up (I'm normally a cheap domestic beer kinda gal). I think I did OK; I neither chugged it nor ordered a second helping. I simply enjoyed.

Like bourbon, a warmed glass of it quickly warmed my heart on another cold winter day. It was distinctly flavorful, like a good dessert. And yes, it was indeed smoooooth.

A quick internet search revealed the House of Grand Marnier launched the Navan brand at the 2004 MTV Video Music Awards, held that year in Miami. At first it seems sort of silly to promote a warm blanky, relaxing type of drink not only during an MTV awards show, but in one of the hottest cities in the country. But then I realized it makes perfect sense. Like I said, who doesn't like vanilla? It's the perfect brew to lure the younger crowd to the higher end liquor market.

It's also no wonder fancy shmancy restaurants across the nation also began incorporating it into desserts.

The company describes it as "a fusion of natural black vanilla from Madagascar with refined French cognacs." Those words alone make me want to buy my own bottle and drink it with a pan of triple fudge brownies while watching either "Top Chef" or "Workout."

Cognac really is more of a seasonal drink for cold evenings. But with the way Mother Nature has been lately, those kind of nights just might continue well into spring.

Various restaurants and bars around town sell Navan, and the Beverage Barn on Tiffin stocks it too.

Are you a cognac connoisseur? If so, which do you prefer?

Step Aside, Meatloaf

I'm doing it this year - heading to the Fern Cafe, 452 E. Sandusky St., just before Christmas to partake of one of their Tom and Jerry's. And no, I'm not referring to the regulars, but rather the bar's signature yuletide beverage. I've been told it's been a fairly long-standing tradition to have a Tom and Jerry at the Fern before Jesus' big birthday. Parents bring their grown children. People meet up with friends there. Merriment abounds while everyone tips a creamy glass of alcoholic eggnog as part of the girding of the loins process whereby individuals muster the courage to return home to loved ones and tolerated ones.

According to an in-the-know Fern bartender, Tom and Jerry drinks will be served this year on Friday and Saturday the weekend before the holiday, and for a while on Christmas Eve day Monday. The exact recipe is a secret, but does call for the usual rum and brandy, served warm. Various internet recipes also include egg, sugar, and sometimes spices like cinnamon and nutmeg. Wikipedia credits sports writer Pierce Egan with creating the drink in the 1820s, but Jerry Thomas, a bartender at San Francisco's Occidental Hotel in the 1860's who put on drink-making exhibitions back then, also could've popularized it, according to www.gourmetsleuth.com.

As most, if not everyone around here knows, the Fern is also known for serving a mean meatloaf sandwich, but I'd dare say this drink's reputation at least meets that of the solidly midwestern spicy beef concoction. The Fern was also known for being quite the dark, smokey establishment for years too. But the smoke ban, along with a good post-flood cleanup, seem to have polished the place up considerably.

To make your own Tom and Jerry, there are plenty of sources on the Web. A basic one can be found at www.drinkstreet.com, which includes a number of interesting comments, particularly from those in cold-weather states like Wisconsin and South Dakota; many people around those parts say they have the luxury of stepping into grocery stores and simply buying Tom and Jerry "batter" - an act that, if tried in other parts of the country where the drink is virtually unheard of, is often met with confusing stares.

Do you know of any other area bar and/or restaurant that also serves a good specialty drink, at this or another time of the year, annually?

Boys And Their Toys

Not long ago I blogged about Boddington's Pub Ale, but subsequent observations have forced me to revisit this beverage, particularly to warn the ladies about it.

You see, part of the uniqueness, or marketing genius perhaps, of Boddington's and a few other canned brews like Guinness is the fact that each Ball Metal can contains a nitrogen "widget." Pictured here is the Guinness widget (the Irish-based company first introduced it in 1989). According to www.howstuffworks.com, these are small plastic devices that contain nitrogen. They happily bob along just below the surface of the beer until the can is cracked open - an action that forces the nitrogen out and causes it to mix with the carbon dioxide, thereby creating the "creamy head" normally only enjoyed via a tap. "Brilliant!" as the British are fond of exclaiming (and they should with their Boddington's beer because it's brewed on their island).

In fact, the Brits in 2003, for an online survey that generated 9,000 responses, named the nitrogen widget as their most admired invention (well in front of, say, space exploration), according to a Toronto Globe and Mail story. In 2005 the widget won a Queen's Award for Technological Achievement.

Anyway, here's what the ladies need to know about beers with widgets (or floating tops, as Boddington's has): it drives the guys nuts. Or rather, it piques their curiosity so severely that they are distracted for a great long while. They must find out what that plastic thing is that's rattling around in their can, what it's used for and how it works. If they have a pocket knife handy, they'll use it to extract the sphere. Then, as I've observed, they may even ask for a glass of water so that they can test to see how it actually floats. Like little fellers whose dads let them help work on the lawnmower for the first ime, or who finally discover that girls have boobs, they are mesmerized. As a woman out on a date, you may find yourself batting your eyelashes, crossing your legs and generally preening more than you normally would in order to compete with the little plastic widget - and you'll probably lose. Because a sure thing is one thing, while an illusive curiosity grabber is another.

Boddington's Pub Ale - buy it for the great taste, but be prepared for widget-mania.

I Love Your Bodd

A light bulb went on over my head last Thursday and a cartoon bubble appeared with the word "IDEA!" - boldface, and all in caps, of course. On rare occasions, this happens, more so with others than with me, I suspect. My revolutionary thought involved actually not drinking a Bud Light, which has, for the past decade or so, been my automatic alcoholic beverage of choice (unless I'm offered another kind for free). I know how pathetic that sounds, but there you have it. I cannot tell a lie (and if I do it's usually written all over my face).

"You've grown up. Have your taste buds?" questions a menu board at The Gathering. Evidently not, methinks. And so, after batting options back and forth, I chose a Boddington's Pub Ale. For your viewing pleasure, I went back and took a blurry picture of it just before the lunch crowd piled in today. Notice how Whoopi and Joy Behar seem to be checking out the Bodd? In fact, I urge all of you, if you haven't already, to partake of a Bodd yourself, particularly if you're out and about with a member of the opposite sex. I contend it's the ultimate date beer and here's why: it's fun and it's really bloody good (that's Brit-speak for "really freakin' good").

Many of us think of Ireland and Germany when we contemplate the ultimate beer tasting experience, but this Yank likes this British brew quite a lot. The back of the can states that in the pubs of merry olde England, it's served "using the traditional hand-pulled method." It gets even better - using a patented "Draughtflow system," the beer mixes with air to "produce a distinctive creamy head and smooth body, with little gassiness."

"Good God, you can't ask for much more than that!" I proclaimed after reading that description. Giggles followed. Then I took a sip, and it was indeed creamy and more than smooth and slightly sweet. It had no bite to it and I found myself enjoying every glass tip with nary a bitter beer face. If anyone had interrupted my Bodd drinking experience, I would've told them to bugger off. This isn't a chugging beer, rather, one that I'm told pairs quite well with cheese cake. And you get a whole pint of it (the Europeans definitely have it figured out).

Being the pessimist that I am, I thoroughly checked my can for any sign of domesticity (no, not that can - the one with the beer in it!). While it was bottled in St. Louis using cans manufactured right here at Ball Metal in Findlay, the light amber liquid did indeed appear to come from the other side of the pond.

As the can neared emptiness, something began to rattle around inside of it. "What is that?" I wondered aloud. "Maybe it's a mouse," the spouse said (thank you, Doug McKenzie - no way, eh!). Further investigation revealed something that looked like a small plastic top. As it turns out, this is a "nitro beer." Some breweries are now using nitrogen to make their products more frothy and creamy, and this is one of them. It's part of that whole Draughtflow deal. The spouse was disappointed that it wasn't a mouse.

Make a note of it: Boddington's Pub Ale. It gets a wink, a smile and two hearty burps from me.

James' Favorite Drink?

I'll admit it: I'm a brand slave, a proverbial whore to many marketing pimps out there. I come from a skeptical and wary generation raised in an atmosphere of recession, uncertainty and pop culture maintsays like Serpico and Michael Jackson, so companies have had to try harder over the years to acquire customers like me. And once I find something I really like, I'm hard pressed to switch products. J.Crew lures me with it's barely affordable Hamptons image of basic T-shirts and cotton sundresses while Nars' bold, black cosmetics packaging assures me that I am woman, hear me roar. But subtle cleverness, irony, sarcasm and humor appeal to me too.

The other day bottles of Tazo green tea caught my eye at Bread Kneads.The brand's letters look like ancient symbols. Words like "Zen" and "Buddha" came to mind. I bought a bottle of Giant Peach green tea (James was no where to be seen), cracked it open and savored the fact that the title matched the taste. More juice than tea, it both satisfied my sweet tooth and artificially made me feel superior because I was drinking "green tea" - the so-called weight loss elixir of all teas. And I could live with its 90 calories.

Today I hopped on the company's website at www.tazo.com and realized I'm probably just the kind of person it hopes to entice. Visitors can ask the "Great Oracle of Tazo" to "consult the mysteries of tea leaves for a glimpse into the unknown" by providing answers to questions like what your favorite planet is and whom you have a secret crush on. "You will win the Nobel Prize for tea," the Oracle told me, although it also maintains that "your actual future may vary." The rest of the site not only features such tongue-in-cheek reverie about the "Tazo Stone" and the fact that Tazo buyers are required to have "somewhat oversized bladders" because of the amounts of tea tasting they must experience. If you visit, be sure to check out the picture offered under "positions available." I got a few giggles out of some of the stuff. On a more serious note, it also details the company's "social responsibility" ventures, and offers precise definitions of different teas.

The founder, a man by the most American name of Steve Smith, started the company in 1994 and it was bought by Starbucks in 1999. Smith wanted to rejuvenite the tea drinking experience, which had quite the fuddy duddy image here in the states at that time. So he hooked up with Wieden & Kennedy's creative director Steve Sandoz and came up with the unique brand identity. Once Sandoz came up with the name, he developed "ten really stupid definitions for it, and once I did that, I was convinced we should make up a history," he told Corporate Design Foundation for a story. He used a typeface that resembled Celtic and alchemy symbols, came up with the tagline "The Reincarnation of Tea" and set about creating a product that would "seem more exotic and foreign," but highly approachable. Jackpot.

Are any of you extremely brand loyal to any particular food or drink products? Other than actual quality and taste, were marketing ploys, like the packaging, part of what what drew you to them?   

Tequila Madness

On this, the first full day of Memorial Day weekend for many of you, I wish you happy partying, relaxing and drinking (for those of you who partake). Repeate after me: "There will be no sad, or mad drinking this weekend." Good. Now, be sure not to turn into a blithering idiot like I do when I consume too much of that fine south-of-the-border liquor we all like to call tequila. Best just to stay away from it completely if you can.

Ah, I remember my first tequila buzz well. I was boating on Lake Erie with three friends when it was decided to stop at a Kelley's Island bar for lunch and a couple adult beverages. It was a hot summer day and we started off with margaritas and a few appetizers. Before we knew it, we had been sitting there for over two hours. I had no idea how the food or drinks really tasted because, let's face it, when you're hanging out on an outdoor island bar patio amidst warm summer breezes, it's all good. The shocker came when I agreed to pick up the tab for all of us. How bad could it be, I figured? How about $80 bad (back in 2002).

A good portion of the rest of that evening was spent arguing with my boyfriend about whether he had slept with prostitutes while stationed as a Marine in Okinawa (long before I had met him, about 6 years prior). Good times, good times.

These days, I try to limit my tequila consumption, particularly at Oler's on Lima Avenue, where they make them about as good as they come, but pack quite a wallop (even the small ones).

So let this be a lesson to you, dear readers. Keep moderation in mind this weekend. Remember, there is to be no sad, or mad drinking this holiday season.