It is that time of year when you start peaking at the position rankings and have those “I didn’t realize player X signed there…” moments. It’s when you begin thinking through strategies thanks to a dearth of A-list running backs or an abundance of quarterbacks. It’s when you begin thinking about mock drafting with the other crazies neglecting their families or killing time while we suffer through the sports wasteland of July…it’s fantasy football season, or is it? Continue reading
Now that you have spent some time researching that all-important big boy drink, its time to move on to the next step; a cocktail. In order to keep all of this manageable, I think its best to select a cocktail derived from your booze of choice. There are only three cocktails a man can order at a bar with any amount of pride: martini (gin or vodka), old fashioned, and the manhattan. I will, of course, allow an exception for white russians on account of The Dude.
Before, we begin discussing the selection of your cocktail, let’s first understand the cocktail. The cocktail is meant as a refreshing way to enjoy your liquor of choice. It also must have at least three ingredients, with one of those being your “spirit” of choice. I hope you have now realized that rum and coke or gin and tonic is NOT a cocktail so don’t even think about coming at me with that weak sauce.
As I previously discussed at length, through a bit of soul searching and some trial and error, I am a bourbon man. As such, I have two options for my cocktail and I enjoy them both; the old fashioned and the manhattan. The Old Fashioned is considered by some to be the oldest of cocktails or the “original” cocktail. While, I can’t speak to that I can confirm it has enjoyed a revival over the last five years thanks in large part to this man. It’s a pretty simple concoction of bourbon, sugar, bitters and citrus that is a “build” cocktail, meaning it is prepared within the glass it is served. The sugar and citrus act to take the edge off that good ole bourbon kick. While, it is a mighty tasty drink, it is a bit sweet for my taste and I find it hard to drink more than one (which is probably not a bad thing).
My cocktail of choice is the manhattan. The manhattan is a pretty simple cocktail prepared in a shaker with a near 2 to 1 ratio of bourbon to vermouth (I would recommend sweet) and a dash of bitters shaken and served…I have to stop here because this is vital. If you order a manhattan at a bar, it will be served in a martini glass, and if you are like me, you get Sex and the City flashbacks and a sudden desire to stab your eye with a cocktail umbrella. I recommend requesting it over ice, but that is a personal choice…in a glass over ice with a lovely maraschino cherry garnish. I would also urge you to select a middle to high end bourbon as the base for your manhattan as this cocktail allows the character of the bourbon to show through. I personally enjoy it with Bulleit and I might even suggest trying it with the Bulleit Rye.
Regardless of your cocktail, I urge you to be a man, belly up to the bar, and order like you know what you are talking about.
At some point a couple years ago, most likely during a marathon Mad Men session, I decided I needed to start drinking scotch. I was an adult…kind of, and I should start acting like one. I needed a drink when I went out for work that didn’t need a bottle or draft clarification. In order to prepare, I asked for some recommendations and headed out to the ABC store. I got a couple different kinds and went to it. While it wasn’t terrible, I very quickly realized I was not a scotch guy, especially the brands that taste like burnt leaves. Continue reading
Saturday was a big day. It is a day I will always remember, and I will tell my son about it so much, he will think he remembers. It was his first UNC basketball game and his first trip to the Dean Dome. He has been to see the Heels play football many times and even made trips to Carter-Finley and Dowdy-Fickly, but the first basketball game was always going to be more of an event. As a Tar Heel, basketball is extremely important, it is part of how we describe ourselves. When people think of UNC they think of basketball and Chapel Hill. For better or worse it is part of who we are. We love our football, baseball, and soccer, but basketball defines us.
My only experience as a father is with little boys, so I can’t vouch for the fairer sex, but it is extremely easy to brainwash your kids. You can tell them to eat dirt and as long you keep up the act, they will eat dirt and think it’s fantastic. What I don’t know is how long said brainwashing will last, though I assume a while since I have no other way to explain anyone under 40 who voted for Romney. Anyway, I have been constantly talking up the Tar Heels to my oldest son. He has been wearing gear since he was born and he even knows the fight song. I am in a bit of pickle as my lovely wife went to the vocational school in Raleigh and I am the only one in my family who attended UNC so I tread carefully. I never tell him not to root for someone or that one team is bad, but I focus solely on the good that is UNC; the well, the girls, not having to go to class. Its been easy and a whole lot of fun. Taking him to his first basketball game is a very important part of this process…
Some may ask how a kid growing up just outside of Ft. Lauderdale, Florida with parents who went to ECU and worshiped at the altar of the great Jimmy V ends up a Tar Heel. I owe my inner Tar Heel to my Grandparents and Aunt. My grandfather fought in WWII and when he returned to Lumberton he had to find something to do. Taking advantage of the GI Bill, he decided to head North to Chapel Hill. He spent two years in Chapel Hill before returning home to take over the family business, but the impact was profound. He spent the next 60 years watching the Tar Heels play basketball and saw the Heels win five national championships (though its unclear how much he saw of the 05 and 09 finals as he was prone to fall asleep in his chair after partaking in a martini or two.) He also spent that time making converts of my Grandmother who went to a small school in New York and my aunt who went on to earn two degrees from UNC. Somehow my dad slipped through the cracks choosing to attend school in Florida, which was home for him. By the time the family’s first grandkid arrived they were itching to pass on their Tar Heel traditions. My parents resisted as any ABC’er would, but after moving to Florida where we lived for 11 years, the pull of a home I barely knew was too much.
Passing on your love of an institution is delicate game. Push too hard and he may come to resent your passions, if you don’t emphasize it enough, he may gravitate somewhere else. My dad is convinced my boys will grow up to hate UNC since he automatically rooted against any team my grandfather cheered for. Once famously cheering against the Dolphins in the Super Bowl, which drew the great ire of his father1. I have decided to approach it with constant positive reinforcement. At the game I pumped him full of sweet and salty snacks hoping the brain will associate the Heels with that instant sense of joy. I also don’t make him watch the games, but always let him know what’s going on. This is a process and I am in it for the long haul.
My grandparents flew me up to North Carolina when I was a Freshmen in high school. My aunt took me to Chapel Hill and toured me around campus, including the Old Well, the Rathskeller, and of course the Shrunken Head. We watched the Heels lose to Clemson in football and also went to the Blue-White game. You can imagine which had the greater impact. It was Fall of 1994 and the Heels were breaking in two all-world Freshmen onto a National Championship winning team. Watching Jerry Stackhouse dunk in the warm ups insured I would be a Tar Heel for life, and explains why I still wear a nasty #42 jersey when a little good karma is needed. From that point on I was a Tar Heel, and I haven’t missed many games or Inside Carolina threads since.
We got to the game on Saturday a little late since my wife wanted to go to Spanky’s, a Chapel Hill staple and one of the few remaining restaurants from my college days. I told him how special the Dean Dome was and he commented that everything was Carolina Blue. While, he does love the Heels I must admit his immediate worry was when we were going to get some “snacks,” not the Heels 8-0 deficit to the Hokies. We got some popcorn and settled into our seats. We cheered when the Heels scored and joined in on TAR – HEEL chants. The game went into overtime and he sat patiently as I tried to explain the concept of “free basketball.” It was easy to tell he enjoyed the game, though not as much as I enjoyed being there with him.
I can’t guarantee he will be a Tar Heel, and I will be proud of him wherever he ends up. But, I have done my part and he will be a Tar Heel Bred.