It’s a sure sign that the summer is drawing to a close; this weekend is for many college students the date that they quit their summer job and head back to school.
We were on Cape Cod one summer at the end of August. Back then I was drinking beer (and it’s heavier cousins). From the short list of brews on tap there was one brand I liked, a stout. I ordered it from the menu. What arrived at the table was a golden hued liquid and a sip indicated that it was in fact an ale.
Catching the harried waitress as she passed by, I told her I had not received the stout I asked for. She told me “Oh no, that is the stout”, I prepared to strongly disagree. My girlfriend interceded and nicely suggested that the waitress check with someone at the bar. A while later, the manager came by with my stout, nicely cold, dark and foamy. He apologized and explained that all his experienced summer help, all college students, had left on Friday to head back to school. He said that every summer he dreaded this weekend because the smooth running operation that he had built fell apart as he tried to find warm bodies to fill the gap until after Labor Day and the crowds stopped coming, when he could get by with his few permanent employees.
So I made a notation on my calendar, annually, to recognize the start of the period when I needed to keep my patience in hand and expectations low until after Labor Day.
I named this period, “Ale vs Stout” weekend. So join me in throttling back your expectations of timely service and cultivate patience for incorrect food orders (dressing on the salad instead of on the side, fried not grilled and Ale instead of Stout.) or receiving the wrong brew.
I’ll be the guy ordering the unsweetened Ice Tea.
I have become quite the fan of stout’s later in my life. I drink a lot less now but drink better.
Some 30 years ago, in Aurora Illinois, there used to be a place called “Walter Payton’s Roundhouse.” They brewed their own beer there. We went there for my first anniversary and I ordered a beer flight. It went from light to dark and by the time I got to the dark, it looked and tasted like motor oil. But at some point later I started to like the darker beers.
One of my favorites is Duck Rabbit Milk Stout” I can get when we go to OBX:
https://bacontime.wordpress.com/2015/08/23/captain-rattys-new-bern-north-carolina/
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I rarely drink beer, ale or stout anymore; it’s difficult enough keeping the weight down without drinking ‘liquid bread’.
A Peroni in Buzzards Bay this week was the first beer this summer, but it tasted so good.
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