I went across the street for a calzone and then listened to the wind inside my room all night. In the morning I woke up to see the following devastation…
OK, so it might not seem bad, but this is directly outside my room. Yes it is 6 floors below, but that’s not the point… This is a Tropical Storm that killed at least 100 people in the Dominican Republic, and all I get out of it is a Port-O-Let laying on its side in front of the boardwalk.
What am I to do? I’m certainly not going to set it upright. Not by myself anyway. And nobody else seems to care. There is only one thing I could think of to do in a case such as this…
That’s right. I drove to North Carolina for some Barbecue! I checked out Chowhound.com and found a place about an hour away that is supposed to have some pretty good “Q”.
The slaw was cut into small squares instead of shredded (not the greatest). The hush puppies were pretty good and the pork barbecue was excellent. I had the North Carolina style vinegar based sauce with it, but brought home two different sauces with more Q. The sweet tea was not very sweet, which was OK with me because I’m not a huge sweet tea fan anyway (but … when in Rome). The banana pudding was OK, but it was too fresh. It would’ve been better given a day or two in the fridge. I got a pint of BBQ to go.
Afterwards I headed down to the Weeping Radish Farm/Brewery. I tried a selection of their beers and brought back a mixed case of the Helles and Weise style beers. They also had a Kolsch, an Alt, a Fest, and a Schwarzbier (Black Lager). All were decent, although the Alt was a little run-of-the-mill, and the Kolsch was nothing special (but then I haven’t had one that was).
They will soon open a butchery there complete with a German butcher. I can only hope that they will have Blutwurst, because everyone I know here is dying to try some (nudge nudge).
Definitely a worthwhile trip.
This past weekend Pete and I went to the West Point vs. Rutgers football game. It was miserable. Pete made me walk up - what felt like - every step at West Point … in the rain.
Once at the stadium we were confronted with a dilemma. You see, we had a flask full of bourbon … and at the stadium entrance were security guards. Everyone going into the stadium had to go past said guards. Now, being a veteran of 15 Kentucky Derbys, I know a thing or two about smuggling alcohol into large events. However, I usually have a bit more time to plot a strategy. And I’ve never been up against metal detectors with a pewter flask on my person. I’m thinking that I should’ve just stuck it in Pete’s coat while he wasn’t looking…
So we are sitting in our seats passing a flask of bourbon back and forth, and it is still raining. And it keeps raining. And it’s cold. Not real cold, but cold enough so that sitting in the rain makes one miserable.
People were still streaming into the stadium at the end of the first half. It seems like after one good year, everyone in Jersey is a Rutgers fan. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great that people are finally getting behind them, and I’m happy to see them do well. It’s just kind of funny going to a game and everything that says Rutgers on it is new. I think I saw one hat that may have been more than two years old.
