Bottoms Up Beer and D' Road Cafe

Unlike some Gumpers, I did not give up adult beverages for Lent. As a pooch with opposable dew claws, if I were so inclined I would have to give up something more canine appropriate such as sniffing butts or eating yummy pressed chicken jerky. So in the unexplained absence of Allpots I am filling in with a couple of reviews that may be of interest to those of you who occasionally venture outside of the Gump.

Fresh Venezuelan/Italian Fare

First, I want to give a shout out to D' Road Cafe which is located in the same strip center as Mr. G's Italian and Greek Restaurant (see our prior review here). It's run by a nice Venezuelan couple who emigrated to the U.S. to live the American Dream of owning their own business. Janet, I believe her name is, runs the kitchen and sets the menu. They provide a traditional meat and three steam table for lunch that always has something special influenced by their home country which, I have learned, is highly influenced by Italian cuisine. Why that is I do not know, but Janet told me it was true so I believe it.

The "Pepito": It's a Dandy.

Our friends on Facebook mentioned the place some time ago and the descriptions of the Pepito Sandwich drew me like a puppy to a chew toy. This steak sandwich is served on homemade bread and served with fresh spices, onions and green stuff. Its a real treat that travels well on the to-go. You might want to call ahead to make sure they have not exhausted their fresh buns before you get there. When you pick up your Pepito, ask Janet why they named the place D'Road Cafe.

Notice the petite fan in the plaid kilts.

My other contribution involves an invention I was told was dreamed up by two Colgate or Cornell college students and, as you would suspect, involves the efficient delivery of beer. While visiting my cousins Beau and Maui--two Westies who rule Cen-Flo--I happened to find myself at a Phillies Spring Training Game in Clearwater, FL being played on St. Patty's day. I learned two things: (1) Phillies fans take St. Patty's day very seriously and (2) they serve beer there in cups that fill from the bottom and do not leak (except when a drunken fan sticks his finger in the bottom to see how it seals). Hard to describe how it works but I did take a video that is posted up on YouTube with some of my favorite videos of me playing and doing my tricks. The link to the video is here. We've got to get one of these in the Gump soon, I say. It would be very cool if they could get them at Riverwalk before the Biscuits opener April 15. No spills no foam.

The best thing since adding wheels to luggage....

And, if anyone sees Allpots hiding from the crowds but eying their adult beverages, give him a message from me: Come April 9th we will welcome you back with open forepaws.

How the Irish Saved Western Civilization...and Whiskey Making

St. Patty wondering if you can make whiskey from a shamrock (he actually wore blue you know).

On St. Patrick's day I dined at the Gumpwood CC and Snobatorium where they served an very fine Irish Whiskey dinner. On the menu was a wedge with Jameson Blue Cheese followed by a corned-beef brisket simmered in Jameson Irish Whiskey. Both were positively superb. During the dinner we sampled 12 and 18-year-old Jameson and a single-malt Michael Collins. Dessert was a divine chocolate cheesecake served with hot Irish coffee. After dinner I enjoyed Arturo Fuente 8-5-8 cigars and a ride in a new Porsche Panamera S which was unfortunately not mine. Why am I telling you all this?

Because, my dear, we would be speaking Arabic now but for our dear Irish ancestors and their perchance for copying and hiding historical manuscripts along with making what we now know as Irish Whiskey from barley, yeast and water.

Being a decayed Irish gentleman and our resident snob, I offer the following history lesson as a public service to those of you protestants who wrongfully drink Scotch out of ignorance or spite.

You all probably know that between the fall of Rome and the rise of medieval Europe Irish monks hid the famous manuscripts from Rome and Greece, as well as the new testament from the mongol hordes during the dark ages.  They also copied them adding beautiful illustrations by hand.  My alma mater, Trinity College in Dublin, is the home of the Book of Kells which is one of the earliest such preserved copies of the New Testament. Most copies of historical manuscripts that we have were saved from destruction by the Irish monks.  By the way, the St. Patrick we celebrated today was the former slave who lead the scribes who copied the thousands of Greco-Roman and Judeo-Christian manuscripts which served as the repositories for our culture. Without their brave and devoted service, there is no saying what we would be boring our schoolchildren with today nor what language we would be jibberbabbering. But enough about that,  on to my personal favorite: The Story of Irish Whiskey!

In the middle ages there were over 1,300 distilleries in Ireland making whiskey.  By the end of the 19th century, Catherine the Great of Russia confirmed the general belief at that time that Irish Whiskey was the finest whiskey in the entire world.  Unfortunately, because of prohibition in the U.S. and elsewhere, most of the distilleries in Ireland failed and due to our dust-up with Britain, Irish products were banned from England during WWII so that the American G.I.s were only allowed to drink that disgustingly peaty and smokey product from Scotland.  Hence, millions of G.I.s returned to the U.S. with a taste for Scotch unaware that a finer and smoother whiskey was available across the Irish sea.

Today, there are only three distilleries in Ireland and only one is still owned by an Irishman. Bushmills Distillery (located in Northern Ireland and not something any respectable Catholic Irishman would drink) is the protestant distillery. Middleton (Jameson) Distillery in County Cork serves the good Catholics. The Cooley Distillery in County Louth is still Irish owned and produces the brand Michael Collins, who was a leader in the Irish rebellion which lead to Irish independence from Britain in 1921. The English would call him a terrorist but he is revered in the Republic of Ireland. Michael Collins is generally less-expensive than Jameson or Bushmills and is now available in our state-run liquor dispensaries oddly called ABC Stores.

Scotch and Irish Whiskey are made with exactly the same ingredients. But because Irish Whiskey is made with barley that is mostly* malted in gas-fired ovens (i.e. not fueled with that smelly peat-moss), it has a smoother and less smokey taste. Most Scotch drinkers given a choice and a blind taste test would choose any blended Irish Whiskey over any blended Scotch, I mean those with functioning taste buds would.

*The single-malt Michael Collins is "slightly peated."

If you are currently a Scotch drinker and take nothing from this post I trust you will show some humanity and gratitude for the hard work of St. Patrick and his monks and put in an order at your favorite pub for a spot of the finest whiskey in the world.  And that would be a spot of the Irish Whiskey!

Happy St. Patty's day to the lot of you! Sláinte! (Cheers!).

Pot-O-Gold Found at O'Shashy's Irish Bakery on Mulberry St.

As St. Patty's Day approaches, I long for my homeland where the Guinness flows green in Dublin. So much do I pine for my Erin Go Bragh that I swear I see Irish themes in the strangest of places. Recently, after sampling many of the local eateries in this area, I had come to believe that the same Leprechaun that set Mobile all abuzz had migrated to this area and for some inexplicable reason now operated Shashy's Bakery and Fine Foods on Mulberry Street. Of course, all I had to go on was this amatuer sketch made by a resident of Mobile a few years back.

Amateur sketch of the Mobile Leprechaun.

Upon arrival at Shashy's I was affirmed and delighted to see the owner of Shashy's nimbly leaping from table to table like a capuchin monkey dressed like the Notre Dame mascot. He bore a striking resemblance to the amateur sketch (as would anyone in a green hat).

Being originally from Ireland, I knew that Leprechauns each guard a pot of gold so I was comforted by my belief that if I deviated from the regular lunch menu and north of the ten-dollar lunch Tojo-Line, there might be a source of payment nearby IF I could catch the little fellow and make him tell me where it was hidden.

But this Monday, the Ides of March, it was "Et Tu Carpe?" Indeed, it was the Cornbread Carp who called in his marker for a free lunch and then piled on by insisting that we lunch at expensive Shashy's with all the girls in tennis outfits fresh from their lessons at The Club. I could not tell whether the Carp was trying to maximize the value of his prior wager or just wanted to ogle the hotties. Ahh, the younger generation: Money is no object when someone else is paying and cute girls are involved. But back to the review:

Located across from the old Rexall Drug Store on Mulberry (where as a pippin I gambled for speckled gum balls that entitled you to a highly-coveted "Shrunken Head" toy each day on the way home from Forest Avenue School), Shashy's has been a Gump Icon for about 15 years as a bakery and as a lunch haven. Now they even serve breakfast! Of course, the Carp saw the "Fresh from the Famer's Market Vegetable Plate" came with cornbread and added the meat loaf covered with Creole sauce just to stick it to me for another buck fifty (2 Euros). The Carp almost fainted when the cornbread arrived warm with a pat of REAL BUTTER (not that crappy Promise spread). Yes it melted! It melted so fast the Carp could not devour the square before it was saturated in delicious buttery buttered butter-flavored sweet creamery butter. The vegetables were fresh, fresh, fresh: squash, onion, and field peas. So tasty but $11.50 without tea. See below:

Quite a plateful: Real Butter not shown.

Bama Bing and the Show Dog were also along (but I could not comp their meals without a loan from the 'chaun's Pot-O-Gold). But even though they were paying their own way, they went off the regular lunch menu to order the special Shrimp Etouffee which were each $12.95 (a buck more than the crayfish version and about three times what the same dish costs at Baumhowers). Bing did note that the extra shrimp cost about a buck each. The recession must be over or they had more incentive to catch the 'chaun! They both raved about the buttery roux. Money means nothing to Bing as he also ordered the tea bringing the total for his indulgence to $15.90. Funny, but even though Show Dog had exactly the same order, his totaled up at $14.80. Must have been the fact that Bing never takes off his sunglasses and they thought he was blind.

I opted for the local favorite Po-Boy and was not disappointed. With water, I left Shashy's sated and with change for my ten-spot. No need for me to catch the Leprechaun and make him talk. The po-boy was outstanding!

Since the service was pretty good, we left fairly hefty tips, for us.

Only bad experience was having my bubble burst by being assured I was just imagining that Jimmy Shashy was Irish when, in fact, I am told the Shashy's are of Lebanese descent (or something like that). I know they have been in the Gump for at least two generations and their dad doctored most of us in the 60s when we got sick eating the Atomic Fireballs. Regardless, on St. Patty's Day everyone is Irish at Shashy's, one of the Gump's best places to have lunch--and perhaps even breakfast. On behalf of the entire LITG crew, we apologize for not reviewing this "Pot-Of-Gump-Gold" sooner.

Go n-eírí an bóthar leat!