This beer we found at a liquor store in New Hampshire.
It had a rich, dark, oaky finish….. and also made me laugh.
I like :
This meme my husband’s niece posted on FB.
It’s uncannily accurate.
My husband can spot a red tailed hawk in the top of a tree on the northbound side of the highway while flying down the southbound side at 90mph…. but can’t find his socks. Which are in his sock drawer, where they’ve been for the past 35 years.
Someone please explain that to me.
I like :
This giant pink flamingo my husband’s nephew brought out to the Island for the kids to float on.
Did I mention he’s a rough, tough lobsterman…
And it didn’t quite fit on his boat?
I like :
Reusable grocery bags.
Less plastic and less waste to clog our landfills.
Of course I’m proof positive that saying is pure crap.
I’m 55… and not a single thing about me feels new again.
Apparently Brickyard Hollow has been open for almost a year and how we never noticed it is a mystery.
Perhaps because the building used to be a 7-11?
Whatever the reason, I’m glad we know now.
There’s a rustic modern decor… which includes those horribly uncomfortable metal chairs that are popping up everywhere.
For the rounded hipped among us? This is not good.
Uncomfortable outdoor seating as well.
But the appropriate vintage photographs provide a relaxing atmosphere…
And then there’s the beer.
Bring on the flights!
We tried the Belgian, the Trestle, the Blueberry and the Amber and they were all lovely. After ordering some full size glasses, I discovered the cocktail menu.
Which had a boozy Lime Rickey.
Of course Yarmouth is a town famous for it’s annual Clam Festival. And when you’re at the Clam Festival? You have to meet the Clam…
And have a freshly squeezed non alcoholic Lime Rickey… they’re delicious.
But a boozy version?
It’s simple, crisp, refreshing…. and filled with gin.
What more could you want?
Happy as the proverbial clam, I moved on to the food.
Rich creamy clam chowder with just the right amount of everything.
Husband went for Blueberry Moonshine wings while I chose a Black and Blue burger and country fries.
While the burger was too thin for my taste, and slightly overcooked…. it did have a fabulous charbroiled flavor and potent Gorgonzola. The fries were dusted with some kind of slightly spicy rub which I could easily have munched on all day.
So…
Brickyard Hollow rates a solid B.
I look forward to going back and trying Key Lime Scallops, a Cuban and a Crab Cake burger.
After our disappointing visit to the (guess I’m not so clever after all) corner in Winslow, we noticed there was a local museum down the road. Small town museums are usually a hoot, filled with ridiculous stuff only the locals care about… and we try never to miss one.
But first, lunch.
Because otherwise Martin will unfriend me.
There weren’t a lot of choices in dear old Winslow, so we picked the one that said beer.
Not that I could drink since my no alcohol order was still in place…but it was probably a good thing, because the beer list was annoying.
Instead of… what?
The beer gets… what?
Fresh orchard like … what?
Open ended sentences do not make me want to order your beer, they make me want to bounce your menu writer’s face off the bar a few times and then force him to finish his description.
And don’t get me started on naming the beers piehole and sex panther. There’s such a thing as trying too hard.
The decor? Early junkyard.
Our hightop table was an upended road sign.
Chipping paint no extra charge.
The menu?
It had the required Eagle references, and some truly awful sounding food.
Armadillo eggs?
Thank you…. No.
The southwest burger I ordered rare was a well done hockey puck… and just about as tender.
The husband’s Caesar salad? A giant bowl of husks.
Thankfully the museum turned out to be much more palatable.
We were greeted by a local woman who gave us the entire history of the town, whether we wanted it or not.
Once a booming Santa Fe railroad stop, and then a profitable Route 66 destination… the town fell on hard times when families stopped piling the kids in station wagons and hitting the road in search of the World’s Largest Ball of Twine. If it weren’t for the Eagles and their silly song, the place would have dried up and blown away long ago.
Mammoth bone.
Because I promised.
Native American beaded shoes.
Because… shoes!
There was a still.
And a box.
I told you this would be fascinating stuff….
Have you ever heard of the Harvey Girls?
I admit I hadn’t, and my mind is full of perfectly useless nonsense trivia so that’s saying something.
(Pay attention… tomorrow’s post will include an actual Harvey House.)
Naturally, there was a locally famous Harvey girl.
And some of her dresses.
There was also an advertisement that pretty much says all you need to know about Winslow, Arizona.
What’s not to love?
Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
