Feeling Poetic…

Note: I wrote this post on July 4, but I’m only getting around to publishing it today.

Today I drove up to Vermont to cover a softball game.  Not just any softball game.  This was a softball game between a group of poets and a group of writers.  I was promised literary trash talk.  I was promised spontaneous recitations of poetry.  I was promised a parade.

(Literally…I was promised a parade. Today is the 4th of July and there was supposed to be a parade.)

What did I get?  Well…15 minutes before gametime, this is what the field of play looked like.

field

Hellooooooo?!?

Eventually, a couple dozen very enthusiastic softball players showed up.  The cheered (but not in rhyming pentameter) and did their best to imitate a softball game (despite the fact that many of them didn’t even know the rules.)  It was a fun time!  But, that parade?

That parade was yesterday.  Apparently they celebrate the 4th on the 3rd around here.

After 2 1/2 extremely high scoring innings, the softball game was called for rain.  The poets won.  And, after a stop at the Econo Lodge for a quick change into dry clothes, I found myself contemplating a very poetic though indeed.

drink

Bourbon. I was contemplating Bourbon.

I found myself contemplating bourbon at a cool little restaurant/pub/gastropub/bbq joint in Waterbury, Vermont called the Prohibition Pig.  This wasn’t my first trip to the Pig.  We came here at the end of my cheese class field trip, and it was one of my favorite memories of that day…

I’m no poet, so with apologies to the bard, I offer you.

How do I love the Prohibition Pig? Let me count the ways…

I love that I can smell your wood smoke and wood smoked bacon from halfway down the block.

Can't you just smell it from here?

Can’t you just smell it from here?

I love that you have a crazy long wine list, and an even crazier long cocktail list. (If I drank beer, I’m sure I’d love your selection of brews as well.)

I love that your list of libations is so incredibly long, that you have to put your liquor bottles on library shelves and everyone once in a while a bartender has to slide over a ladder and climb up to get what he needs.

I totally failed to catch a photo, so I hope the Pig won't mind that I stole one of theirs!

I totally failed to catch a photo, so I hope the Pig won’t mind that I stole one of theirs!

I love that everything, from your alcohol to produce, is locally sourced when possible. There’s just something about eating food that hasn’t spent half its life on the back of a semi-truck!

I love that you have a very yummy list of appetizers and small plates.  Those are always a hit.

Yum!

Yum!

I love that the first time we came here, we had no idea what was good. So we told your waitress to bring us all of your best dishes…and she did.

I love that your “House Burger” comes with pimento cheese, fried green tomatos, and bacon.  Wowza!

And those are duck fat fries, folks. No joke.

And those are duck fat fries, folks. No joke.

I love that you’ve managed to make your decor cool and cozy at the same time.

I love that I can come here on a holiday, sit alone at the bar, and totally not feel like a dork.

I love that someone objected to your bathroom signs…

warning

…so you covered them up and dared people to take a look.

These are awesome. And if you object, feel free to unfollow my blog.

These are awesome. And if you object, feel free to unfollow my blog.

In summation, I love the Prohibition Pig.

It’s a pretty good thing it’s 195 miles from my house, otherwise I might gain 195 pounds.

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