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Good pubs, Good Beer, Good People

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Don't Miss This Baby...

Basil T's Toms River is firing up another of its highly acclaimed Oktoberfest Beer Dinners. The date is set for Friday, September 28, 2007 at the upscale Hooper Ave. location.

The last time this event was held it was an overwhelming success, and this year's should be no different. No less a beer dinner authority than the ubiquitous and knowledgeable Mark Haynie claimed in his review of the event that he had been to many beer dinners, but this one was without a doubt the best he had ever attended.

There's good reason for that, too. BTTR goes all out, as a quick look at the menu in the post below will attest. Steve Farley is a wizard in the kitchen. The Firehouse Polka Band, the stunning, efficient and friendly "Dirndl Beauties" who serve, the top-notch food and the beers of Dave Hoffman (Climax Brewing) combine to produce what should be a memorable night.

I'll be on hand for my usual schtick and comic relief, maybe even with a few new jokes. So gussy yourselves up, bring your most photogenic smiles (your smiling face could easily be featured here) and be prepared for a great time.

Bring a big appetite, and don't forget your singing voice, because "Ein Prosit der Gemutlichkeit" is the featured song of the night. But remember that seating is limited, so you want to make your reservations early.

See you down at Basil T's Toms River!

Basil T’s Toms River Oktoberfest 07

BASIL T'S ANNUAL OKTOBERFEST DINNER

FRIDAY SEPTEMBER 28TH, 2007

6:30PM SHARP

HOSTED BY BREWMASTER DAVE HOFFMAN AND THE PUBSCOUT--KURT EPPS

CUISINE AND PARTY BY EXECUTIVE CHEF STEVEN M FARLEY

MUSIC BY FIREHOUSE POLKA BAND

SERVICE BY THE BASIL T'S DIRNDL BEAUTIES

$65.00 INCLUSIVE OF TAX AND GRATUITY

ENJOY AN AUTHENTIC OKTOBERFEST FIVE COURSE DINNER AND ALL OF BASIL T'S HAND CRAFTED BREWS

 
 

RECEPTION:

HUMMER REMOULADENSOSSE

BAVARIAN SHRIMP COCKTAIL

BARNEGAT LIGHT

 
 

APPETIZER:

SCHWAIBISCHE MAULTASHEN

GERMAN RAVIOLI WITH VEAL AND VEGETABLES, DEMI GLACE, CRISP ONIONS

NUT BROWN ALE

 
 

WURST SAMPLER:

WEISSWURST, BRATWURST AND BOCKWURST

WHITE, BRAT AND BOCK WITH FINE GERMAN MUSTARDS, RADISHES, GHERKINS

INDIA PALE ALE

 
 

MAIN COURSE:

KASSLER RIPPCHEM, BIER SOSSO, SPATZLE, APFELMUS ODER APFELBRI, PIKANTER KOHL, KARTOFFELPUFFER ODER REIBERDATSCHI

SMOKED PORK LOIN WITH BEER SAUCE, SPAETZLE, HOMEMADE APPLE SAUCE, SWEET AND SOUR RED CABBAGE, POTATO PANCAKES

OKTOBERFEST

 
 

DESSERT:

BLACK FOREST CAKE

SPATEN OPTIMATOR

 
 

"Gut Essen, Gut Trinken"

 
 


 
 

Sunday, July 22, 2007

An interesting addition to your Lawnmower collection

Just finished washing and waxing the Santa Fe. Hit the fridge and saw a Leinenkugel's Sunset Wheat. It wasn't yet sunset, but I figured, "What the hey?"

Poured it slowly into a clean pint glass and sniffed. Hmmm...interesting methinks.
Sipped. Hmmm...what is that taste? Clove? Nah. Bubblegum? Nah. I couldn't nail it, even though the glass was now drained. What to do?

Easy.

Pour another. (Hey. car washing is hard work, pal. I earned it.)

And then I found the flavor....
Pepper.
Yep. Pepper.
Or at least that's what it tasted like to me. No problem, though. It was different and real good.
Does Leinenkugel's Sunset Wheat make my Lawnmower Beer list?
Yep.
And it should make yours, too.
Now get out there. There are lawns to be mowed and cars to be washed.

Lawnmower Beers

 

First, I need to define what a "Lawnmower" beer is. Simply put, it's a beer you sit down to after you've done physical labor, like mowing the lawn, yard work, a workout at the gym or on your bike--anything which requires the the expending of physical energy, which , in turn, creates a sweat.

For those sessions, I reach for a beer that is, first of all, refreshing and thirst-quenching. A hefeweizen, flavored or otherwise, is usually a sound choice. But a good Kolsch or quality pilsner can also serve.

I'm particularly fond of SA's Cherry Wheat, Hefeweizen or Summer Ale, but Sea Dog's Blueberry Wheat is also a great choice.

Of late, I have discovered Harpoon's Summer Beers, and there are a few that can qualify as good choices.

Most of us recognize the term UFO, and you might qualify as one if you have too many Lawnmower Beers in succession, but Harpoon's definition is for UnFiltered Offering. Both of these are worth your time. The first, with a blue label, is just UFO. It's a standard hefeweizen, true to style though perhaps a bit lighter in color than some hefes. Crisp and refreshing, it will slake that yardwork thirst pretty effectively while delivering nice wheat notes in both nose and palate. A nice bitter finish rounds out the experience.

The second is Raspberry Hefeweizen, distinguished by its red label emblazoned with a ringed framboise. Like its sister, this beer is crisp and refreshing, and the raspberry nose is definitely present, though it doesn't overpower on the palate. The raspberry notes are not sweet, but tantalizingly tart, and it, too, will quench that workout thirst. Raspberries will linger on the tongue in the finish.

The third suggestion is named simply Summer Beer, and it's served up in the classic Kolsch style. With its smooth mouthfeel, this golden light-bodied beer should please both beer nut and newbies alike. It makes a nice transition beer for those who are tentatively venturing into the world of craft beers.

So get out the mower, clippers and weedwhackers, spruce up your property, put the gear away and relax with one of these as you contemplate your handiwork.

That's what summer is for.

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

Happy Birthday America::By Armstrong Williams

French Writer and politician Alexis de Tocqueville noted over a century ago:

"I sought for the greatness and genius of America in her commodious harbors and her ample rivers, and it was not there; in the fertile fields and boundless prairies, and it was not there; in her rich mines and her vast world commerce, and it was not there. Not until I went into the churches of America and heard her pulpits aflame with righteousness did I understand the secret of her genius and power. America is great because America is good – and if America ever ceases to be good, America will cease to be great."

 
 

Inserted from <http://www.townhall.com/columnists/ArmstrongWilliams/2007/07/04/happy_birthday_america>

Independence Day

Worth recalling on July 4, 2007...click below 

Townhall.com::Independence Day Messages From John Adams::By Michael Medved

Sunday, July 1, 2007

Paul Revere's Ride by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

1807-1882

Written April 19, 1860; first published in 1863 as part of "Tales of a Wayside Inn"
  

Listen my children and you shall hear

Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,

On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;

Hardly a man is now alive

Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, "If the British march

By land or sea from the town to-night,

Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch

Of the North Church tower as a signal light,--

One if by land, and two if by sea;

And I on the opposite shore will be,

Ready to ride and spread the alarm

Through every Middlesex village and farm,

For the country folk to be up and to arm."

Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar

Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,

Just as the moon rose over the bay,

Where swinging wide at her moorings lay

The Somerset, British man-of-war;

A phantom ship, with each mast and spar

Across the moon like a prison bar,

And a huge black hulk, that was magnified

By its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street

Wanders and watches, with eager ears,

Till in the silence around him he hears

The muster of men at the barrack door,

The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,

And the measured tread of the grenadiers,

Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,

By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,

To the belfry chamber overhead,

And startled the pigeons from their perch

On the sombre rafters, that round him made

Masses and moving shapes of shade,--

By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,

To the highest window in the wall,

Where he paused to listen and look down

A moment on the roofs of the town

And the moonlight flowing over all.

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,

In their night encampment on the hill,

Wrapped in silence so deep and still

That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,

The watchful night-wind, as it went

Creeping along from tent to tent,

And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"

A moment only he feels the spell

Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread

Of the lonely belfry and the dead;

For suddenly all his thoughts are bent

On a shadowy something far away,

Where the river widens to meet the bay,--

A line of black that bends and floats

On the rising tide like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,

Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride

On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.

Now he patted his horse's side,

Now he gazed at the landscape far and near,

Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,

And turned and tightened his saddle girth;

But mostly he watched with eager search

The belfry tower of the Old North Church,

As it rose above the graves on the hill,

Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.

And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height

A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!

He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,

But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight

A second lamp in the belfry burns.

A hurry of hoofs in a village street,

A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,

And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark

Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;

That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,

The fate of a nation was riding that night;

And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,

Kindled the land into flame with its heat.

He has left the village and mounted the steep,

And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,

Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;

And under the alders that skirt its edge,

Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,

Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock

When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.

He heard the crowing of the cock,

And the barking of the farmer's dog,

And felt the damp of the river fog,

That rises after the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock,

When he galloped into Lexington.

He saw the gilded weathercock

Swim in the moonlight as he passed,

And the meeting-house windows, black and bare,

Gaze at him with a spectral glare,

As if they already stood aghast

At the bloody work they would look upon.

It was two by the village clock,

When he came to the bridge in Concord town.

He heard the bleating of the flock,

And the twitter of birds among the trees,

And felt the breath of the morning breeze

Blowing over the meadow brown.

And one was safe and asleep in his bed

Who at the bridge would be first to fall,

Who that day would be lying dead,

Pierced by a British musket ball.

You know the rest. In the books you have read

How the British Regulars fired and fled,---

How the farmers gave them ball for ball,

From behind each fence and farmyard wall,

Chasing the redcoats down the lane,

Then crossing the fields to emerge again

Under the trees at the turn of the road,

And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere;=

And so through the night went his cry of alarm

To every Middlesex village and farm,---

A cry of defiance, and not of fear,

A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,

And a word that shall echo for evermore!

For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,

Through all our history, to the last,

In the hour of darkness and peril and need,

The people will waken and listen to hear

The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,

And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

 
 

 
 

 
 

 
 


 
 


 
 

 
 

 
 

 
 


Historical Documents

 
 


National Center Home Page

 
 

 
 

 
 

Inserted from <http://www.nationalcenter.org/PaulRevere'sRide.html>