You know that you're getting old when the thing that beckons you into a bar is a sign outside advertising 'leg of lamb on roll'. Today being a day off, I headed off to the tavern-laden commercial strip to run some errands, when I saw that sign in front of The Heritage Bar and Restaurant. After performing the requisite tasks, I found myself inside the aforementioned Heritage, a worthy establishment, ordering a shot of Tullamore Dew with a Guinness stout chaser. Soon after, the lamb sandwich, the promise of which lured me inside, arrived. Lamb is my favorite meat (except perhaps the similar-tasting goat), and the sandwich did not disappoint- it was perfectly cooked, tender without a hint of dryness, and dressed with a hint of caramelized onions. A second Guinness made a capital accompaniment, and a third Guinness a perfect dessert.
It's here where I note that I enjoy day drinking (I told the bartender this, and another patron replied, "The only kind of drinking."). I enjoy the slight sense of licentiousness that arises when one looks out the window of a dark tavern interior to see the bright sunlight outside. Even the feeling of blinking, half-blind and slightly buzzed, in the daylight after leaving is pleasant, in a hard-to-describe way. More salient, hiding away from the news of the day, more-than-typically dire this week, wasn't a bad activity for a couple of hours.
There's time to catch up on the current horrorshow, but sometimes, a person just has to indulge in some low-key hedonism. I think I might have to make lunches like this a part of the typical running of errands. The local establishments can use the business, and I can use the R&R.
4 comments:
That sounds nice. Buen provecho, cheers, and good health to you and yours.
You done spoke my language--tasty meat and worthy drink. It's a damn shame the tastiest of eatables are adorable animals but I've always told myself, eh. They had to look somehow or other. I'm drinking because I do, but WW the 3rd and Nazis among the GOP also seem like fine reasons to me these days. I take my moments of grace where they come. I feel lesser for not having a taste of Tullamore Dew for a while though, like I'm not keeping a righteous sacrament of my libationist urges nor my ethnic heritage.
I know that feeling. Sadly, I know it too well.
It made me smile ...
"low-key hedonism". I'll drink to that! I used to work swing shift. If your weekend is on a Tuesday and Wednesday, it is what it is. And a big YES to Tullamore Dew.
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