Draft Equipment

Garrison Keillor – View of Cincinnati, Love of Beer

Cincinnati Poem

We’re in Cincinnati and it’s good to be here
In a city of pork and a city of beer.
Old beer signs everywhere you walk:
“Good Old” Brucks, Brenner’s XL Pilsener, John Hauck
Barbarossa, King Gambrinus, or Crown.
You eat you some Pork hocks with leeks and garlic cloves, you need beer to wash it down.
Similarly, to go along with a pint of beer, you need more than a pretzel
You need Pork Meatloaf with brown gravy and spaetzle.
A big pork sandwich and something to drink,
Geisbauer, Bierbrauer, Linck.
Nothing chintzy
Here in Cincy.
Like it or not, Cincinnati was not vegetarian.
It went for pork shanks with bread dumplings and a pitcher of Bavarian.
No lemonade, no cranberry juice, no apple cider,
But a big mug of Weber’s, Lackman, Jackson, Mohawk, Gerke, Burger, or Foss-Schneider.
And all of the pig was used, even the snout
To make Bierwurst, Mettwurst, Bratwurst, piled high with sauerkraut.

Beers with distinguished names like Butcher & Weidmann and Windisch-Muhlhauser
To give a sense of dignity to the drunken carouser
City of suds and city of swine,
Some greasy goetta sausage and a glass of Christian Moerlein,
Or Little Kings cream ale

Beer by the bottle, the barrel, the hogshead, and the pail,
Golden brown glasses of beer with nice big heads
And Hudepohl-Schoenling, Cincinnati’s finest, hu-dey “Hu dey think gonna beat them Reds”
It was the national capital of beer.
In 1890, they produced a million barrels a year.
Old breweries along McMicken Avenue on the hill north of Liberty Street,
Making beer out of water, yeast, sugar, plenty of hops, and wheat.
Oh in Cincinnati there was lots to do:
You had a Hudy and a Pork cordon bleu.
Cincinnati was a regular culinary riot.
How sad to be on a diet.
What a terrible loss.
To miss out on the roast pork loin with beer sauce.
And it is politically incorrect
And you may object
To my saying so, but I suspect
Something joyful and boisterous and profane
Was lost when we decided to abstain.
A man sitting down to pork braised, roasted, fried, boiled, battered, with a glass upraised,
A man who is a little fried himself and his eyes are glazed.
That may have been the night he became your daddy
Here in Cincinnati.

_____

If you ever find a place that you want to call home

and you can name off the reasons why,

then you’ll be as lucky as this guy!

How to Get Your Drink the Right Way

Everyone likes going to bars. You meet your friends there. Or better yet, you meet someone new.

Strolling up to the bar is no problem – you know you got it. But the bartender doesn’t seem to think so. There’s definitely something wrong with that.

The wallet comes out, and you pull out your bills. You hold them up in clear view. This is accompanied by shouting out their name.

Doesn’t appear to make any difference, does it? You feel like you’re being flat out ignored. Obviously, you have to wait just like everyone else.

The American Idol-esque karaoke act wasn’t that great either. So you think you can sing? Singing won’t get you your drink, waiting will.

Now you start whistling instead. This is a definite no-no. Bartenders won’t respond to a whistle, since they are certainly not dogs.

If getting that all-important drink will make you satisfied, then pay attention to this. Playing the lost “please help me” look never works either. Basically, you’re at a loss anyway, and you might be standing there waiting helplessly forever.

By the way, trying to impress the cute girl or boy next to you doesn’t necessarily score you points in this situation. Offering them the “go ahead” might backfire. Your place in line just got pushed back a few notches.

So be patient, and try to wait it out. The more you accept it, the better your mood will be. The drink will come eventually – promise.

Once you get your drink, make sure to leave a tip. Bartenders appreciate this. And if you tip a little higher, you will most likely become a household name.

So don’t forget to tip. And put on something hot. Bartenders will notice the attractive people.