Last supper of the Farmosty weekender, PVD, SoL13

Dinner at Julian's was one of two cultural things Farmosty and I did on the Farmosty weekender. The other was going to an art exhibition but I was still gin-trified from the night before, and I was prairie dogging so that cultural jaunt does not really count.

After waiting for a no-show from SpaceHopper, the most incomprehensible buffoon I know, we decided to mission it down Broadway. SpaceHopper is more evidence arguing against Creationism. Only the lottery of genetics and evolution allows for such a herbert. God would never have messed up. You have more chance completing a crossword puzzle in the Voynich Manuscript than following the train of thought from a conversation with SpaceHopper. Honestly...

Light beers to dark beers. East Side; Mount Hope; Camp Street

Julian's is hipster. My definition of hipster is: 'lots of tattoos, some good, some horrendous; body odour; someone you would hesitate to introduce to your mum'. Inside is like being in a strange time warp. Imagine stepping into the only night club in Homs (in 2013). Mysterious, broody and shouldn't really be there but is. So good for you, Julian's. The bathroom or 'Throne" is worth a visit. Stand and admire the random action figure toys on the walls. Alternatively, sit and watch a cartoon on loop on a small CRT TV. I was half expecting Bubbles (1) to crawl out from a trap door and offer me a couple of leaves of toilet tissue after shaking.

We weren't offered a menu, but simply pointed to a chalk board. I don't understand why Sherman Tanks like to sit in an air conditioned room when outside is perfect for some chit chat over dinner. We sat outside of course and ordered some flights of German and Belgian beer to wet our whistles. I sincerely recommend trying their beers. Thank me later.

Pork chop

In true bloke style, I scanned the menu and made an instant decision. Pork chop for me please. Something nice and kosher. Farmosty got the sirloin steak (which was great!). The wait was excruciating. What were they doing in the kitchen? Incubating progenitor cells (2) to make my pork chop while comparing tattoos? When my meal did finally arrive I can say that it was just about worth the wait. The black things were some sort of rice thing and the other sauce stuff had just about enough zest to massage the taste buds. The pork chop itself was juiced up like Alex Rodriguez. It was definitely a big hit for me. Together, the medley of lemony hummus, chickpea-fennel-pea shoot salad and pork was as pleasurable on the palate as a Berlusconi headline in La Repubblica - bitter sweet.

The Ho Down says: Tatts great!

(1) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bubbles_%28chimpanzee%29
(2) http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/science-environment-23529841

Special post for the veggies, SoL13

Dear Veggies,

Eating a rare to medium rare rib eye steak with a soft bit of fat flopping off the end is like:

1) Having sex. Not the passionate sort but the stuff that is over in 5 min. Think Michael Douglas and Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct.


2) Running onto a pop pass on the opposition 5 metre line, crashing through the defense, flattening the full back and going over to score.



3) Pulling a parachute feeling physics rip through your joints then floating down to earth.



4) Punching the bastard who has been giving you chat all match at the bottom of a ruck and not getting caught by the ref.

Think barbaric, sanguine, endorphins...

PVDG, PVD, SoL13

"The drink of the summer".

Half gin, half soda water, half lime. You might be asking the obvious question. I can tell you now that the answer is a secret - a secret not even Bradley Manning can leak. The answer though is heterogeneous. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts; nothing makes sense on the SoL Express; two limes; I was inebriated when trying to explain what was in a PVDG (actually, I was merely tipsy because I know that my parents read this drivel).

Half Tanqueray, half soda water; half lime; 100 % fun

Another obvious ad hominem interjection might be: "but you drink gin with tonic, you Jastorf simpleton".

In my opinion the soda water complements the gin rather like mayonnaise complements French fries. Tonic water (1) is too brash. It is also packed full of sugar so, for me personally, is too much for a big night out on the razz. Goodbye islets of Langerhans.

Obviously the type of gin makes or breaks your gin tipple. My poison of choice is the dry gin from Charles Tanqueray. Analogies of Tanqueray, Rangpur and Number 10 just for you:
Tanqueray is like taking a shower in your Italian marble bathroom then toweling down with an Egyptian cotton towel. Rangpur is fruitier so imagine sharing a bath with someone... but can't wait to get out and watch Match of The Day. Number 10 is like showering in Fiji water that is poured on you from porcelain carafes by virgins while another virgin bathes you.
If those metaphoric analogies make no sense, Tanqueray is like telling the time from a Seiko; Rangpur is like telling the time from a Swatch; Number 10 is like telling the time from a Rolex Submariner.

The Ho Down says: Tanqueray. All the way!

(1)http://www.boston.com/business/articles/2010/03/01/what_is_tonic_water/

Pouncing at Eastside Creamery, Providence, SoL13

Apologies for having gone AWOL. Inbetween the gin-nesia, I must have mistakenly gone on an Ed Snowden globe trotting package tour. A place I recall that is worth some ink and paper is East Side Creamery.

Situated near PVD Pouncer, this is the ideal stop to refuel after strenuous juniper infused activities, heavy duty loading and unloading or to have the first decent meal of the week. With a dash of Portuguese, East Side Creamery is an oddball on the East Side - like a geek at a rave. 

A favourite or two or three of mine is the hot weiner. All the way of course. You cannot go wrong for the price. Unlike other monstrosities, after putting a wiener away I don't feel as if I have been sodomised by my own army and overthrown into a pit of self loathing. The second favourite is the bifana sandwhich. Well nice. The bread, I am told is Portuguese bread, and is as soft as the European Court of Human Rights. The grilled chicken is marinated in something so good that made me get another one. Third is the Portuguese steak marinated in a garlic sauce that would give Dracula more than a touch of heartburn. I am told that the ice cream is good there too. The verdict is still out pending the recovery of my sweet tooth.

Robbing a Portuguese steak

One of the best things about East Side Creamery is the ridiculous price structure. I feel like I am robbing the place every time I go there. Even Ross McEwan could just about stretch his salary sans bonus for a quick bite to eat. Also, Dodd has perfected the art of wearing white V-neck shirts. The smallest detail goes a long way. On the other hand, the wife has got to be the most miserable person I have had the pleasure of meeting. She always seems irritated to take my cash. Come on, Paula. It could be worse. You could be playing Russian roulette with Ed Snowden and Mohamed Morsi in Oscar Pistorius' bathroom to see who wants to step out first. 

The Ho Down says: Pounce on the Creamery!