Category: Food and Restaurants
Sometimes I wish I had a scribe. You know, like in ancient Greek times, I could had some nice handsome fellow walk behind me in a toga and with a quill and parchment. I often come up with the most charming and intelligent ideas, and my mind moves so quickly from one charming and intelligent idea to another, that I simply do not have time to notate these gems. Okay, so I'm kidding about my ideas being particularly good, but there would definitely be some merit to having a handsome fellow in a toga follow me around and write things down for me: "Kleenex! Flour! Bourbon Barrel Mead!"
All day long, I knew I had a blog topic, but I couldn't remember it. And now I have. Thanks, scribe.
Last night I went out into the world because my friend Kyle, possibly here-to-fore known as Friend-with-a-cool-new-radio-show, told me I needed to try the Bourbon Barrel Mead at Cumberland Brews.
If you are a regular reader of my blog, you know that I do not drink beer. I am a whisky girl through and through. I like a Guinness on occasion, but generally a nice bourbon or a smoky Scotch is my preference.
Kyle told me he was meeting some friends at Cumberland at 8:30 to drink this Mead before the micro-brewery ran out of it. Apparently, there was only one barrel made, and the servers expected it all to be gone by Sunday.
I got there at 6:00 and had the last glass.
It was absolutely delicious. I mean, I have never felt this way about a beer before. It was sweet and tart, but tasted nothing like a SweetTart (ewww). I didn't ask, because I'm not a food critic, but I'm guessing it's called Bourbon Barrel Mead because it is aged in a used Bourbon Barrrel. Supposedly it takes a long time to age it, so they won't have anymore until possibly Derby time. It tasted almost as if someone dumped a shot of sweet amazing bourbon in a delicious ale, but that description sounds icky. And this beer is not icky; it is yummy.
Kyle showed up with his bass playin' friend and was angry I'd imbibed the last of the BBM. Then the most amazing thing happened, and the waitress appeared with three more glasses of the elusive BBM. There was a wee bit left in the upstairs part of Cumberland.
But don't worry, my friends, it's all officially gone now. If you hear it's back, please let me know. I'll see you there. In the mean time, it's back to bourbon for me.
Sometimes I wish I had a scribe. You know, like in ancient Greek times, I could had some nice handsome fellow walk behind me in a toga and with a quill and parchment. I often come up with the most charming and intelligent ideas, and my mind moves so quickly from one charming and intelligent idea to another, that I simply do not have time to notate these gems. Okay, so I'm kidding about my ideas being particularly good, but there would definitely be some merit to having a handsome fellow in a toga follow me around and write things down for me: "Kleenex! Flour! Bourbon Barrel Mead!"
All day long, I knew I had a blog topic, but I couldn't remember it. And now I have. Thanks, scribe.
Last night I went out into the world because my friend Kyle, possibly here-to-fore known as Friend-with-a-cool-new-radio-show, told me I needed to try the Bourbon Barrel Mead at Cumberland Brews.
If you are a regular reader of my blog, you know that I do not drink beer. I am a whisky girl through and through. I like a Guinness on occasion, but generally a nice bourbon or a smoky Scotch is my preference.
Kyle told me he was meeting some friends at Cumberland at 8:30 to drink this Mead before the micro-brewery ran out of it. Apparently, there was only one barrel made, and the servers expected it all to be gone by Sunday.
I got there at 6:00 and had the last glass.
It was absolutely delicious. I mean, I have never felt this way about a beer before. It was sweet and tart, but tasted nothing like a SweetTart (ewww). I didn't ask, because I'm not a food critic, but I'm guessing it's called Bourbon Barrel Mead because it is aged in a used Bourbon Barrrel. Supposedly it takes a long time to age it, so they won't have anymore until possibly Derby time. It tasted almost as if someone dumped a shot of sweet amazing bourbon in a delicious ale, but that description sounds icky. And this beer is not icky; it is yummy.
Kyle showed up with his bass playin' friend and was angry I'd imbibed the last of the BBM. Then the most amazing thing happened, and the waitress appeared with three more glasses of the elusive BBM. There was a wee bit left in the upstairs part of Cumberland.
But don't worry, my friends, it's all officially gone now. If you hear it's back, please let me know. I'll see you there. In the mean time, it's back to bourbon for me.
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