Happy Hour In The Heptarchy: Arnie P & Apple Butter
It’s five past 5 across Conference III (leave work early, Colorado — you have our permission), time to hit bricks and get that freakin’ weekend started, am I right?
Of course I am.
It’s been a tough week for some of you so loosen your belt, pop a top, grab a spoon and stop being such a sourpuss. III Communication’s got good news for everybody.
“Should be a perfect day to get out to the dog park with your dogs and do dog park things.” [packs up car] “Nope, not a cloud in sight.” [increasingly gray] “What a wonderful Tennessee summer’s day!” [45 minute recreation of Genesis 7]
Guess I’ll just sit in front of the picture window and mix myself up a glass of half lemonade and half sweet tea: the Arnold Palmer, a perfect drink named for a perfect gentleman.
The Arnie P — or a half-and-half for certain companies facing copyright considerations and also monsters who hate Arnold Palmer — is a great refresher for those sultry days when the A/C just doesn’t have enough juice to keep the house comfortably cool and the only thing that can properly quench the thirst that comes from trying to beat the heat by mowing the yard at 9 AM (when the humidity, instead, is 80 percent).
Also this is my favorite golf story ever:
I chased Kelsey, the waitress serving Arnold Palmer yesterday, back to the bar where she was putting in another drink order.
“How did Arnie order his drink?”
“He leaned over and said, ‘I’ll have a Mr. Palmer.’ Then he winked,” Kesley said.
Of course he did.
What We’re Eating: What a delight it was for me to learn that there is a large community of Amish living in Ethridge, just a few hours down a very pleasant afternoon’s drive from Nashville. It’s not because I’m a gaper — though I am perpetually fascinated by Americans who regularly speak leftover languages — but because the Amish produce the best fruit butters on the planet. You can look it up.
My quest to consume as many different kinds of apple butters is only matched in its premature fogeyness by my desire to visit as many lighthouses as possible. On a recent trip to Ethridge, I paid $2.50 for a quart jar of apple butter which lasted about three days in my house. We put it on biscuits and toast and I added it to the cooking liquid for a roast in the crock pot, giving the jus a velvety quality I didn’t expect.
For those of you without a proximate group of Amish, Musselman’s Apple Butter is an OK substitute if it’s what you’ve gotta do, but seek the real thing. Mail order if necessary.
Reasons To Celebrate
Chicago: Making the Western Conference Final is good enough reason to be pleased with yourselves, isn’t it? If not, please note that a student from Barrington came in second at the Spelling Bee — let’s just hope the ‘Hawks fate isn’t the same.
Your Weekend Jam: “Los Angeles is Burning” by Bad Religion
Colorado: If you thought the Rockies would bring you a modicum of sports joy, you were way wrong, kids. At least Seth Jones or Nate MacKinnon or whoever is going to be great! Also: apparently your potatoes are the food of choice for the kooky people who do high-altitude cycling. Who knew?
Your Weekend Jam: “Bicycles Are Red Hot” by TV On The Radio
Your Weekend Jam: “La Grange” by ZZ Top
Minnesota: Apparently, you lot have a fine damn Bradford pear up there on St. Paul’s east side. Holy cow, that’s one helluva tree.
Your Weekend Jam: “3 Pears” by Dwight Yoakam
Your Weekend Jam: “The Man Comes Around” by Johnny Cash
Your Weekend Jam: “My Summer Vacation” by Ice Cube
Your Weekend Jam: “Thick As A Brick” by Jethro Tull