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When I found and bought my most fabulous beer tap a while back, I ran across another one I knew I had to buy as well.
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I mean really, how could I not?
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It’s a woodchuck. Holding an apple. They could have modeled him after our yearly brood.
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Perfect for a man cave/barn whose crawl space serves as a seasonal chucker hotel.
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He now has pride of place on an overturned shot glass in between the giant bullet and my freaky cocktail stirrers.
Life is good.
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Autumn is here and it’s by far my favorite time of year. Crisp air, brightly colored foliage, pumpkins, apples… what’s not to love?
Of course if you’re my husband, who just spent countless thousands turning his barn into a man cave, you might not fully embrace the season.
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Because nothing says ‘private domain of men’ more than a strategically placed fall wreath.
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And speaking of turning leaves….
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Ours are just beginning to put on a show. It’s the season I starting twitching for a road trip to the mountains. Whether that will happen is still up for debate.
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Weren’t expecting that?
Neither was I, but it popped up on my FB feed all the same.
🥴
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A photo of Lord Dudley Mountcatten meeting my new toy. He was not impressed, but I am.
Since blowing out my knee last year, getting on all fours to scrub the kitchen floor has been a no no. Enter the Bissell steam mop. Cheap and surprisingly efficient.
How well did it clean the floor?
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So well that I literally gasped at how filthy it had become.
In my defense, I mopped right after a rain storm and had to erase an artful array of the husband’s muddy boot prints, but still.
😬
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Hooray!
We are now officially a two keg family.
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Yes, I finally chose a beer to tap. Naturally it was the most expensive one out there at literally twice the price of my husband’s.
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But look how much more fabulous my tap handle is.
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Duchesse de Bourgogne…. a richly textured sour red Flemish ale with a chocolate top note and wild cherry undertone. Brewed in Belgium and aged in oak barrels for 18 months, it’s pure heaven!
And the husband hates it so it’s mine. All mine.
*cue the evil laugh*
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Look at this handle. I mean really, it doesn’t get much better than that.
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Except for the fact mine towers over the husband’s. That’s pretty sweet as well.
👍
And in case you’re wondering…
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The combination of marshmallow fluff and cream cheese is enough to make me hurl, but I suppose it’s an appropriate name. Eat enough of that and your booty will definitely be dipping.
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If you’ve been in or around the military you’ll be laughing right now. If not, please continue reading.
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A talking pear?
Damn it… now I’ll have to go out and listen to ours.
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There’s no reason for this chicken. He just made me smile.
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That’s one bottle that will not be making it’s way into the man cave bar.
WTH?
🤢
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Well, not really… but it seemed like a better title than ‘Glass Full of Foam’.
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Yes, we let the keg sit still overnight. And yes, we had the kegerator set to the proper temperature… but we were still getting full glasses of foam. The only thing left to do was adjust the CO2 flow, you know…. the thing I kept telling my husband we had to do even though he said we absolutely positively didn’t have to.
So I did what any self respecting beer drinker would do…. I sent him to the house on an errand, then made the adjustment myself.
Viola!
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The perfect glass of beer. ( And yes, the placement of my “At Last” prohibition glass from the FDR museum in Hyde Park was most definitely on purpose )
Did you know fruit flies are attracted to beer taps? I didn’t either, but who can blame them.
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The solution? Plug the tap when not in use. And if you want to put your womanly mark on the man cave? Do it with a pink wine bottle stopper.
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That way it will match the pink bell and pink cocktail napkins already on the bar.
🤣
Next up was the shorty tap handle I ordered from Allagash.
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I’ve been told I can pick something for myself for the second keg. Hmm…
My favorite amber ale? That luscious chocolate cherry sour? Or maybe a nice hard cider?
Decisions, decisions.
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Not wanting to kill each so late in the day, we saved assembly of the kegerator until Saturday morning. Relaxing weekend my *ss. 🥴
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The first step on the way to cold beer was finding a place to fill the (brand new and shiny apple red!) CO2 tank required for tapping a keg. Had I known it would not be coming back home with us, I would have taken its picture. So clean and pretty! But alas in our part of the world no one fills CO2 tanks, they just exchange them. So bye bye lovely sparkling new red tank, and hello old, scuffed, ugly metal version.
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The regulator was easy to attach, and the husband managed to do it without blowing himself up … so I call that a win.
Next up was clamping the hoses to the keg couplers. They came with 4 of these ridiculous plastic things….
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Only one of which worked.
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Husband promptly broke the other 3 then stormed off to the local hardware store for the normal adjustable metal versions.
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Tank and regulator placed on shelf? Check!
Hoses clamped onto couplers and attached to tank? Check!
All that was left was to tap the keg…. and since the husband hadn’t done that anytime in the current century?
It did not go well.
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But can I get a round of applause for the perfectly timed photograph?
I’m so good…. it’s frightening.
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Beer went everywhere. On the floor, on the window, on the mini fridge, everywhere but in our mouths… which is usually where you want to direct it.
And then, when the keg was finally put in position and tapped?
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Pure foam.
😬
To be continued….
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Yes, after ordering one in January, receiving it in February, sending it back due to damage in March, waiting for a refund until May, ordering another one in June….
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In August… we finally (why the hell was that was so hard?) have a kegorator!!!
Naturally, with my husband at the helm…. delivery to the man cave did not go smoothly.
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Drive much? And yes, it was my car he used to ram into the garden bed bricks. Geesh!
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Numerous pieces and parts accompanied the unit.
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Which barely fit in between the bar and my (heavily loaded because yes, a girl needs variety) booze laden shelves.
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But there she is… in place, a dual tapper!
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Of course we had to rush right out and purchase a keg of the husband’s favorite Belgian. (Heavier than it looks. Damn!)
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Allagash White, from a local Maine brewery.
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And then came the holy shit we might need an engineer dreaded assembly instructions.
To be continued….
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Last weekend we invited the husband’s 4 sisters who live in Maine to a barbecue/pool tournament/behold the majesty of the Barn Mahal man cave/ party. It was a good time… except for one dastardly deed. You see one of his sisters brought this:
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After I specifically said we were grilling filet mignon… she had the audacity to contribute to the feast.
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A dozen lobsters, fresh from the ocean that morning. Damn her rotten black soul!
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I had to watch those succulent creatures being disbanded…
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Dropped in the pot…. ( Only 2 inches of water please. We steam, not boil )
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Covered with a lid ( And a brick. They tend to buck when dying. Hell, wouldn’t you? )
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Oh, the horror!
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The horror of watching everyone tuck into the delightful crustaceans I can no longer eat.
It was Hell. Pure, unadulterated Hell.
😫😫😫
The only pleasure I took was not being able to find our crackers and picks. Substitutions had to be made.
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Good thing the tool box was close by.
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The husband was schooled at the pool table by two of his sisters, which I thought was fitting punishment for consuming and enjoying lobster in front of his now allergic wife.
But once the party was over, the mess cleaned up and everyone went home… what was almost worse than watching everyone eat them?
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Seeing the two leftover red beauties every time I opened the fridge the next day and knowing I couldn’t make a lobster roll.
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Hell, I tell you.
It was Hell.
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Because no man cave bar is complete without one.
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Yes, I bought the screaming goat.
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And as thrilling as that was, I admit to being a tad disappointed in his miniature stature.
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Here, let me save you the trouble.
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Annoying friends is a super power I already possess, but whatever.
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Ten reasons? I bought a screaming goat! Why wouldn’t I press the button.
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Alrighty then. Behold the majesty….
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Admit it, you’re jealous and want one of your very own. But wait, there’s more.
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So tell me, is anyone interested in taking the goat quiz?
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You know, the one our friends gave us that inspired my husband to spend untold thousands in converting his storage barn to a man cave extraordinaire? Well guess what…. the husband has decided the free table isn’t good enough now and has been shopping for a new one.
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Have you ever shopped for a pool table during a global pandemic that forced everyone to stay home? If not, I don’t recommend it. Maybe it’s just Maine, but up here decent pool tables are hard to find. After exhaustive research ( that would be me, you know he wouldn’t take the time ) and a few disappointing viewings from Craig’s List ( ‘oh yes, the table is nearly new and in perfect condition’ they say… standing over a tilted, dented wreck with ripped felt ) we found a store with two ( yes, that’s all ) tables for sale.
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Did I mention it was a very high class place? I deduced this by the dogs playing poker plastic sculpture that took center stage.
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Swanky pool cue holders were available as well.
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Husband tried this table but it got a no vote from me. If we’re going with better… I want better, not seedy pool hall decor.
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This had a little more style, but the wrong color felt. Turquoise may be hot right now but we prefer the old fashioned green.
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The tables can be ordered and customized with any wood finish as well.
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Out the door, delivered and professionally set up for $3,500. Please note this is a far cry from free…. but not as much as the Brunswick or Olhausen brands. Those babies go for $8,000 – $10,000.
* gulp *
The search continues.
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River's world..... 