PBR & "Presentism"

True historians deplore the application of current values to the words and deeds of historical figures. They call such sloppy and lazy thinking "Presentism." Persons with such a view of history tend to discount our founders because of the compromises they made in the context of the times they lived. I am no professional historian, but I feel sort of the same way when I order a Pabst Blue Ribbon beer and an observer asks: "You drink that?" (The 'that' pronounced with two syllables).

What could possibly the connection between discounting, for example, the legacy of Abraham Lincoln because he believed in repatriating former slaves to Africa and discounting the quality and flavor of a PBR because today it is a "cheap" beer? Well, if you believe the present view that PBR is the hipster equivalent of "Fatty Natty," only a short history lesson can connect the dots for you.

Back in the day the history of PBR was a case study at the prestigious Harvard Business School used to teach the value of branding. The lesson it taught: Do not screw around with a formula that made your brand the most popular product in your market just to save a few cents per unit in production costs.  The lesson I also see is to avoid "Presentism."

You may know that Pabst was the blue ribbon beer winner at the World's Fair in 1893.  But you may not know that until the 1970s it was considered a premium beer with sales that exceeded Budweiser. In fact, Pabst reached its production apex in 1978 after which it suffered a precipitous decline that has taken years to reverse.  So what happened?

They screwed with success.

Like "New Coke" which came later, the managers of the Pabst brand changed their formula to make production a little cheaper. It was, after all, the most expensive mass produced beer to brew. The change had something to do with buying grains with lower sugar content. The effect however was devastating. The once strong and popular premium brand quickly lost market share and, more importantly, respect as a premium lager.

You also probably do not know that after it was clear the formula change was a bad idea, the company returned to their original ingredients and lowered the price to try to attract former fans back to the brand.  Sales did go up, never to the high of 1978, but the perspective that it was now a "cheap" beer remained.

To most applying a "presentist" view of the product, that has not changed. But recent beer history tells us the PBR has won medals as one of the best American lagers at least 12 times since 1990. It won the World Beer Cup as a "Premium Lager" in 2006.  Once hard to find, you can savor this premium draft beer on tap for ridiculously low prices at Buds. Bottles and cans of PBR are staples at The Pine Bar and Capitol Oyster Bar. Those iconic 16-oz "Tall Boys" are available at El Rey, LeRoy and The Midtown Pizza kitchen.

So though I have been accused of bringing PBR to parties because it was the only beer others would not pinch from the community coolers and that "Bud" snob Cornbread Carp once declared it was the only beer he would not drink, history and my own taste buds have taught me to stick with my favorite beer because it has a premium taste for a "Natty Light" price.

The moral, if you pay attention to history, is that Lincoln is still a great president and PBR is still a great beer.  Rampant "presentism" is truly a lazy and false way to evaluate history. Thankfully, PBR is still around to defend its brand. But "Honest Abe" has to depend on honest and persistent historians.

Let's all raise a cold PBR to him.

"Ever notice how you come across something once in a while you shouldn't have messed with? That's my PBR."

Apocolyst Gump

What with all the turmoil in the world, sabre rattling, disasters and planes dropping from the sky one cannot help but this may be the beginning of the Apocalypse.  I mean, at this particular time we have:  (1) War in the Ukraine including a Malaysian civilian airliner shot from the sky; (2) Civil war in Iraq with the Sunni attacking the Shiite (which has never happened before except a few hundred times); (3) War in the Gaza strip between Israel and Hamas (again not unprecedented); (4) A still missing Malaysian airliner in the Indian Ocean; (5) An Ebola outbreak in Africa (6) A plane crash in Mail, Ethiopia, (7) A border crisis; and (8) Earthquakes in China. Even "traditional" societal mores have been falling like dominoes at a pace never before seen.  Heck, at the current rate of social change, Alabama will soon allow gay marriages, gambling and marijuana sales. Dogs and cats living together will be next.  It's really only a matter of time isn't it? Some even suggest our President should be impeached as the Antichrist. Woe, dismay and worry abound. Other than the gloomy news, there is very little news at all.  No wonder all I watch are Doomsday Preppers and The Food Network.

Which, as always, leads me to thinking about Lunch in the Gump.  Assuming the impending collapse of society and the decay of our lunch system as we now know it, I have been thinking about where I would eat while the food was still fresh and hot and then work my way through the remaining restaurants until I have to start foraging. Then I think about the order of animals I would like on a spit as they are literally eaten out of existence. In other words, where would the food disappear from Gump restaurants first and what would be the last animal eaten before we hit "The Road" and start looking at our husky friends and seeing beefsteak.

Think about it, tomorrow the economic system collapses under runaway inflation and your money is no good but you have some 9 mm ammunition or other useful stuff to barter. Where do you do lunch knowing that they will not be open long before they run out of food and other supplies? You need to plan and make a list: Apoca-list Gump!

For me making that list is tough.  Where would I go first?   Right now I would go to Derk's first, give him 10 rounds for his pistol and have a good ole fried pork chop, some squash casserole and spicy cornbread chased by a still-cool bottle of fine pinot grigio. After all, he won the first and now defunct BCS Lunch Bowl championship and the most recent head-to-head survey challenge on the Lunch in the Gump Facebook Page.  I figure the Derk's lunch counter is adequately protected with butcher knives to hold out for a few hours if they gave the hungry zombies bottles of wine or used the bottles as clubs.  If True were still open for lunch, I would stop by there before bugging out but, alas, they are only open for dinner so I would have to just fondly remember by last terrific pork chop and pinot noir there with friends.

After Derk's was eventually overrun by hungry zombies, I would drive my SUV through the mob at full speed and travel over to Michael's Table for some of their Schnitzel and another glass of now room temperature white.  Don't know what I could barter they would care about but some of my fishing lures might interest the chef.  Some may say the best move would be Bud's on the theory that not even the Zombies could find it.  However, I say move downtown and then north to the largest water supply: Lake Martin.

An artist's conception of apocalypse-crazed zombie chile poblano seeking revenge.

 I would stay at Michael's until the ditch behind Zelda Place filled with hungry Chile Poblanos seeking revenge on the patrons of nearby La Zona Rosa.  I would then duck in to Chicken Salad Chick and see if they would "sell me" at gunpoint a quart of their regular chicken salad needed seriously "TO GO" before the Poblano's overrun the area.  Failing that I would rev up the SUV, now covered with blood and gore, and head for Central downtown squishing hundreds of Poblanos along the way.  There I would feast on what was left of Chef Leo's calamari, assuming it was still fresh.

Of course, by this time the sea food at Capital Oyster Bar would be quickly losing its shell-food life and may have to be avoided although it would be temptingly close to the relative safety of the Alabama river which is full of all sorts of questionably palatable river life.  Zombies do not swim although they can walk along the bottom of the river and pop up on the other side.  It is important to treat the river shoreline like a wildebeest expecting crocodiles would.

With my "bug-out" kit full of chicken salad and 9 mm rounds beside me I would then head up to Lake Martin to a secret spot on the water where deer seem to abound. I would think the dams would halt the underwater march of zombies north from the Gump.   But then again, the march from Georgia south perhaps would cause a pile up against the structure. Let the Georgia Zombie War begin!

After cleaning out the deer I would move to the squirrels, then the raccoons and foxes all the while fishing hard for crappie and bass.  I would eventually move on to the polite little chipmunks and then the various birds hitting my feeder.  When that supply was exhausted, I suppose it would be time to give up--even if armadillos were plentiful.  I mean, if you look in the mirror or your reflection in a stream and see yourself eating an armadillo, it may be time to go to..... McDonalds?

Seriously, things have got to get better soon or we will all be fighting over the last shipment of Chicken McNuggets so infused with preservatives that they will last 50 years without refrigeration as we all speak Russian or Arabic.   What is Russian for a Chicken McNugget anyway? Цыпленок McСамородок. This is pronounced: Cureetza McCrapeeza.  Somehow that sounds right. Things at that point could not get any worse.

Pray for Some International Sanity and Stay Hungry My Friends!  Remember our Motto:

 

Lent in the Gump: Week 3: Sunday Blues at the Capitol Oyster Bar, Tuesday Night Cantina Baseball and a Saturday Fall From the Wagon.

Yes, they serve PBR at the COB on feast days.

My head is throbbing as I write this.  I have always known that one should never blog with a hangover.  But since I am probably still a bit tipsy, I have paid that no heed. So here goes:

Sunday is a feast day, I am told. For those who observe Lent, that means you can have whatever you gave up for Lent.  As you know by now, for me that was alcohol.  I understand I am not alone.  I have heard that a Methodist pastor with a large flock challenged them all not only to give up alcohol for Lent but to donate the church the money they would have spent on booze during Lent.  I do not hold with the latter part of that equation.  It would be very embarrassing  for someone like me to write that check.  "Wow," the bursar would exclaim when the check arrived at the church office.  "Mr. Allpots just sent in a Lenten check for $[Here you can fill in some obscene number indicative of a slight alcohol problem]!"

No other restaurant in the Gump can offer this view....

Sunday at the Capitol Oyster Bar.

Anyway, back to the fable.  Where was I?  Yes, that's right. Sunday is a feast day. It is also "Blue's Sunday" at the Capitol Oyster Bar which is now located at the Montgomery Marina on the Alabama River. So it was with great pleasure that I accepted Precious's invitation to accompany her to a birthday party for one of her friends.  Normally, at such functions, I would serve much the same role as a parrot on a Pirate's shoulder.  But as the women huddled and completely tuned out the presence of the menfolk (except when their glasses were empty), I bellied up to the bar for a nice cold Pabst Blue Ribbon only to learn that if I could survive the women until 5 p.m., I would be able to enjoy live music by Bob Margolin. "What a capitol idea!," I remarked to the bar wench with a wink.  Alas, she did not get my pun so I took my cold bottle and strode the premises.  That is where I found the PBR sign near the basketball court. See picture above. It was a fine Sunday afternoon. A clear sky and mid-70s temperatures reminded me why I prefer the Gump to the County Down.

While waiting for the three-man band to assemble and set up, I took the opportunity to snag one of the best cheeseburgers in town.  I know the COB is known for its fried seafood and po-boys, but I have always been partial to their cheeseburgers and fries.  When the order arrived I was there in a corner (away from the prattle) with a cold PBR in my left hand and a warm juicy cheeseburger in my right gazing out across the Alabama River toward downtown.  My dream was disturbed only by a tap on the shoulder from Precious wanting another beer for herself and also wanting to know why I had not ordered her something to eat.  Oh well, back to reality.

Stealing Gasoline by Bob Margolin

I did prevail upon her to remain to see the show which featured some really fine blues guitar and harmonica playing. Why, I was so taken by the event that I actually reached into my own wallet for $20 to buy the CD "Stealing Gasoline." What a better way to spend a beautiful Sunday afternoon (after going to church of course) but to eat a fine cheeseburger, quaff a PBR and listen to some gritty blues at a bar on Shady Street.  Sounds like the makings of a good blues song title to me.

Tuesday at Cantina! and Riverwalk Stadium:


They have this little rivalry here in Alabama between two universities and they force you to choose which one you will support. They also have a game called baseball which they refer to as a national pastime.  And here in the Gump, they have a beautiful baseball stadium called Riverwalk near a pretty decent entertainment district called "The Alley." All of these are combined once a year when Auburn and Alabama play the Max Federal Credit Union Capitol City Classic.

I prevailed upon Precious to go with me.  A poor old Irishman trying to understand the local culture and just wanting to see his "first" baseball game?  Tears formed in the corner of her eyes...as she began to laugh.  "You don't fool me you old coot," she said. "I saw that Evan Longoria Montgomery Biscuits bobble head on your shelf."

 Foiled again!  But she agreed to go anyway.

Although the food at Riverwalk is surprisingly good (they have burgers cooked on a grill and some pretty mean bratwurst), Precious said she would like to try the Cantina which is located in the heart of the Alley.  I recalled that the LITG had been rather hard on the place when it opened but I agreed that we ought to try it out to see for ourselves.  It was a good call.

The Alley itself was bopping.  I mean high energy like Bourbon Street bopping.  Not only was the pre-game crowd hanging out drinking beer at the outside bar for Dreamland and AlleyBAR, but there was also a crowd in the Alley eating before a performance by Ed Asner impersonating FDR at The Davis Theater. (I can't picture him as FDR myself.  Maybe John Adams or some other short, fat, bald president but not FDR).  Heard he was very good though.

The Cantini Cuban with garlic fries...Muy Bueno.

But back to the Cantina. I liked ordering at the bar and paying first (which is the way they do things in many civilized countries in Europe) and the food comes very fast, which is important when its only 30 minutes to the first pitch.  The Cuban Sandwich with garlic fries were the bomb!  Very fresh. Made to order. I do not understand why more places don't serve garlic fries here in the Gump. Would have tasted even better if I could have had a beer...like Precious with her fancy nachos.

Oh yes, Auburn won.

We even made it to our seats for the first pitch which I should more accurately describe as the "first pitches."  They were a hoot. Apparently, sponsors were allowed to designate persons to be recognized as they threw out a pitch 60 feet from the mound to home plate.  A child and teenage girl did well.  But poor Rich Thomas of Channel 12 did not.

Rich almost bit off his tongue during his attempt to hurl a small object 60 feet.

Not only did he look goofy, but he didn't even get the ball to the dirt surrounding home plate....a three-hopper. Threw like a girr.... (Ok, that sexist). Threw like a retar....(oops, insensitive). Let's just point out that some professional heckler, after seeing Rich's 45-foot pitch yelled in one of those voices that carries even in a crowed stadium: "Take her out coach!"

Again, the weather was perfect and the sell-out crowd was all happy until Auburn began pounding the Alabama starter and in the fifth inning the Alabama coach came to the mound. At that moment the same heckler, who must have been an Auburn fan, yelled: "Leave her in!" Even the Bama fans giggled.

Watching a game with friends at Riverwalk cries out for beer.  But I was good. I bought Precious her souvenir cup of Bud Light and I selected that farce of a beer called O'Douls.  As the urban dictionary says: "O'Douls is made for that poor suckka at the company Christmas party who can't be trusted with a real beer."  Actually, it was a waste of money and valuable stomach space which could have been better spent on some freshly-popped popcorn!  Regardless of my beerlessness, it was still a very enjoyable evening. The fireworks were spectacular.  Which reminds me, the Biscuits open April 15th and I've got to order a ticket package again this year.  Yes, Precious, you were right. I am a season ticket holder.

Saturday Engagement Party Ends Badly....

Which brings me to the end of this sad tale and the reason I am writing this with a headache: The Engagement Party.  Those of you natives know that the Gump is steeped in the tradition of hosting engagement parties for their children who actually bother to get married and do not elope.  Precious was hosting just such an event Saturday evening for The Younger and his ballerina bride, and she insisted I come not knowing that I would have gone to support one of our LITG gang members regardless.  Of course, I let her think she made me go and acted the part.  That was my first mistake.

My second mistake was striking up a conversation with a few party goers about our decisions to give up alcohol for Lent.  Soon we had convinced ourselves that we could substitute the Sunday feast day for a Saturday evening party with an open bar stocked with top-shelf selections.  What a brilliant idea.  Yes, they even had Crown Black and the "Big Fella."

After the first two whiskeys my lowered alcohol tolerance began to take its toll.  I do not remember much after that but it appears my mistakes began to cascade over the falls.

It is said that although I was not invited to give a toast, I insisted and proceeded to give a bawdy Irish toast in my native language. Unfortunately, the dirty words sound much the same in English. If that were not bad enough, I am told that I insisted in taking the Michael Collins bottle home with me only to find this morning that it was empty.  Hopefully I was not the only person drinking from that bottle.  However, my head tells me otherwise.


Oh. I should also add that one of the sure signs that you have been over served is waking up in your bed with your feet at the headboard or assbackwards as you say.  Another is to see the answering machine blinking with an unusual amount of messages from Precious.  I hope the Dear Lord disabled all video capable cell-phones at the party and that I do not appear shortly as a viral video on YouTube. I can just see the caption: "Drunk Irishman Gives Dirty Toast in Gaelic."

Perhaps Precious will take me back and The Younger will forgive me.  I am, after all, suffering today for my misdeeds and steadfastly trying to climb back up on the wagon.  Wish me better fortune in week 4.

Oh no. I just realized that Saturday March 17th is St. Patty's Day.

Put me on your prayer list.

Squeak Peek: Capitol Oyster Bar Sea Dogs Relocate As River Rats

We at LITG had been saddened to hear of the closing of our enigmatic Capitol Oyster Bar given our high rating while at its former location in a prior post. We were also disappointed that the Marina Bar & Grill had closed even though we still miss poor Nibbles, our fallen GGP comrade, starved by the slow service experienced when the Marina Bar and Grill opened in March of this year.

There was, therefore, much excited squeaking around the GGP barracks when we received hard intelligence that the COB had recently reopened at "The Marina" on Shady Street (a more aptly named street there has never been). Of course, the GGPs were tasked with visiting the recently opened COB and clearing it for LITG regulars. And we did.

It was, alas, a mixed result. The experienced staff and cooks at the COB can and will make the best of any surroundings. After all, they made a grungy Pizza Hut building on the Southern By-Pass seem like it was Tacky Jacks on Perdido Bay. And today they were still working out the kinks with a location with severe kitchen size limitations. Ticket to table today timed out at over 30 minutes (that's 1 1/2 months in Guinea Pig years). We almost would have lost Sgt. Puffer but for the abundant saltines in the basket at the table. We were also a little taken back by the prices. The cheapest meal for lunch is going to be $9.95 without the $1.50 tea. You could, if you were crazy or Cajun, order the frog legs as an appetizer and save a buck. We GGPs find them too similar in size and appearance to the Ecuadorian delicacy Cuy.



The food (fried oysters and shrimp) when it arrived did somewhat save the review from negativity. The COB slaw has always been very good. It rivals the slaw at Jubilee. Their fries are also decent. However, you can hold the "Texas toast" (between your knees) as far as I am concerned. Next time I will get the much better Hush Piggies. The oysters were reported by Sgt. Puffer to be tasty but I found the fried shrimp to be average. They we also not as hot as you would expect when you receive your lunch 30 minutes after it was ordered. That is especially true when you know the experienced staff working in a small kitchen would never miss an opportunity to get food out the door. The portions are certainly fair as the picture below attests:


Upon departure the review was completely redeemed by all of the cool "Blue's" posters tacked in the entrance area documenting the many known and obscure Blue's bands which appeared at the old location over the years and with the owner's promise that the COB will have more of the same at the new location at the Marina. The owner also promised that their liquor license was one/two weeks away and they would have Pabst Blue Ribbon just like they did before. We all know that fried seafood tastes better with a beer--especially a PBR--even at lunch. So our company left the COB encouraged that they would work out the kinks with practice and alcohol. The promise of a better day and the truth of the application of alcohol to the COB clientele was proudly displayed on this poster over the shelves where the liquor will soon be:


When they have the PBR, we will return!

[UPDATE! September 2, 2011: Capitol Oyster Bar now has liquor license. Great deck to watch sunset with your favorite beverage. They have PBR Cornbread Carp!]

It's Who We Are: PBR at the Capitol Oyster Bar

The Capitol Oyster Bar oozes Gumpness like an open sore. It is located at 115 East South Boulevard in the first Pizza Hut building built in the Gump in the 60s when Normandale Shopping City and Cloverland were thriving shopping centers and the now-defunct Montgomery Mall was not even a gleam in a Jim Wilson's eye.

Then and now...the red roof is the dead giveaway.

But, as long-time Gumpers know all too well, the COB area of the Southern Gumpass has deteriorated such that most original buildings are--like the KFC/Snuffy Smith's/Bonanza Steak House--now the home of seedy bars filled with sketchy residents of nearby nameless motels run by Patels. Regardless of the outward appearance of the area and the buildings, the COB has stubbornly refused the clamor to "move East" and has stood its ground like a hair on a biscuit as a haven for beer drinking, oyster shucking, crayfish sucking good ole boys and girls of all persuasions.

Good ole' Bammers and their Aubie ladies....

Long known as a good place for a seafood lunch, it was Tayteese herself who somehow suggested that we try COB for dinner Friday night. What caused that idea to pop into her pretty head is probably a whole 'nuther story, but since I could not remember EVER eating there for dinner I was tentatively game for a "new" experience and a break from the expense of going to Jubilee Seafood.

The first thing we noticed when we arrived around 8ish was the large numbers of cars in the lot and the relatively small size of the Pizza Hut building we were about to enter. Seems, however, they have built a tent on one side of the place where they can handle "events" like the Maxwell Country Club members who were apparently having a shindig that evening.

The second thing I noticed was that the crowd had the same demographics as the city and they were eating and drinking in harmony like we all know is a lot more common in the Gump than Yankees seem to think.

But the most important thing I learned when I sat down was that they proudly serve my favorite and the wrongfully maligned Pabst Blue Ribbon beer.

Why, I will have another....

Once the best-selling brew in the USA, it permanently lost market-share when they screwed with the formula to save money. Now they brew it the old way and still people think it is a "cheap" beer. Well, it is inexpensive but it is not cheap and it goes very well with fried seafood. And fried seafood is what they do best at the Capitol Oyster Bar.

Our guests ordered raw oysters (one half from Apalachicola and one half from Mississippi) and an order of Oyster Rockefeller. Yours truly has had issues with oysters in the past and will not touch the raw ones, but the Oyster Rockefeller was delicious. I stayed with the seafood gumbo which, unfortunately, was not hot and contained more sausage than seafood. However, even luke warm it was flavorful and spicy.

I ordered the special Yellowfin Tuna medium rare. After what seemed like a long wait, Tayteese and I received our orders before our guests. They begged us to eat and I am glad we did because their orders came out a full 15 minutes later and long after ours dishes would have been stone colder than Steve Austin. My tuna was a little overcooked but still very good. I was told to send it back by my salivating and impatient guests but unless it makes me gag, I will eat it.


Now what I thought would make me gag was frog legs. Seated next to us was the chef Coratio formerly of Bama Bistro fame who had ordered fried frog legs. After Coratio offered a leg my guest--who had still not received his entree--shamed me into trying a bite. Well, despite my reservations about eating amphibians, I must say it was good. Not a lot of meat (if frog is a meat) but certainly not bad at all.


Like any working man restaurant, you should not expect linen napkins or your sour cream to come in one of those spinning servers with bacon bits and chopped onions. In fact, the sour cream comes in a squeeze-out like toothpaste pack and the butter comes in plastic tins you have to peel open. Unfortunately, by the time I got the butter thingy's open the bread was not warm enough to melt the butter. Another cold PBR distracted me from that minor problem.

PBR heals all....

The crowd was lively and the place was loud. The waiter was pleasant and apologized for the delays. The booth next to us was jammed full of a six overweight lady's who raised some sand about how many "Appletinis" they ordered and the waitress pushed back a little so it was tense for a second or two. The waitress was, presumably, less intoxicated than the patrons and her version of the number of drinks was documented so I found her version more credible. Nevertheless, the waitress in the Aubie hat huddled with the manager and reluctantly wrote off one drink while informing the table that she was still right. This appeared to offend one of the ladies. I noticed after they departed in a huff that one of them had apparently spitefully snacked on the fin of the sail fish above their booth. It was also probably a little tough.

Note the damaged bottom tail fin above the telltale straw. Incidentally it does look like at least 4 Appletinis to me.

The prices were very reasonable for dinner: Cup of Gumbo: $4.50; Catch of Day Tuna: $18.00. Certainly less than Jubilee but just as certainly not as good. But despite was may appear as a spotty dining performance, I can recommend the place without hesitation as a fun place to eat with your fellow Gumpers. The place has a local feel and attitude unlike any other seafood restaurant in a Pizza Hut building I have ever patronized. Nothing captures this 'tude like the bumper stickers over their kitchen door:

The true essence of the place really is that it is primarily a "bar" where people go to eat seafood with their alcohol. One of the stickers says it all:

The closest thing the COB patrons have to "meetings" is when they gather at their favorite Montgumphery seafood restaurant amongst like-minded friends. I would recommend you give it a try to see if you feel as comfortable there as did we. It is certainly worth a look.