I once found the KBS on tap in St. Paul, MN. It was happy hour and the bar tender didn’t know what he was pouring. I got a full pint pour for something silly like $6.
I think I would have been happily horizontal - even sober - and just deliriously found some sort of peculiar scientific piece of equipment - akin to a pipette - to - imbibe such nectar. Sort of like the mouthpiece (there is a specific noun, but it escapes me - a proboscis?) - of a hummingbird...
Yum.
My point exactly.
After a couple of those you wouldn’t be able to!
That, too, is true.
Tonight, I had a fight (after two sublime bottles of CBS) with a bottle of port, a bottle of Dow's 1994 to be exact. That, and a desiccated cork.
I understand economics, economic history, and economics of scale. I even understand the dismal and and downright depressing economics (even if I deplore it) of selling your soul.
But, the sort of economics I cannot understand is that of charging an arm and a leg for a quality beverage and putting sub-standard corks into it.
Anyway, I felt as though I had spent some time in Downton Abbey; the cork disintegrated and then, ended up in the (expletive deleted) bottle. Cursing, swearing sulphurous oaths in fluent Anglo-Saxon, I decanted that damned port.
Into two stunning Art Nouveau bottles (for port, or sherry, or madeira) with silver filigreed tops, and a date (hallmarked) telling me that they originated in Edinburgh in the first decade of the twentieth century.
Sipping Dow's Port from 1994.